In Harry’s Reality, it is the one percent that is the most endangered. They aren’t the last of their species, but they may be the first to go the way it looks because they are the only ones fighting for the human race. Now, that Harry, an Insider who sees through SensaVision fantasy, who knows how it used to be, who may be the one to lead them out of the Shadows has joined them.
He could be an Insider spy. There is that. Outside you don’t take many chances. And, you don’t trust strangers. “I never trusted him.” “He’s no leader.” “He’s a coward.” “Can I kill him, Carlos?”
“Not now.”
That is not an actual blurb, but a quick thought-blink, as Harry would say. He does that, too. Below is lighter moment that turns into something else. That something else I didn’t supply, but just to show you that the novel isn’t all that dark, here is Harry trying to have a normal assignation or “date” as we call them.
On appearances alone, this match-up didn’t seem unusual. It was his usual dinner with intimate talk to follow. In the past, he entertained his dates by showing them portions of his vid collection, but they had seldom been as excited as he was about them. More often they were shocked that Harry dared to break the law by showing them to someone else. Did Makr know? Of course, He did; Harry never saw any of those dates again. Onward, he pledged to be more compliant.
He sensed something was different. There wasn’t the usual tension. There was sexual tension, yes, but not the kind of social tension when people stand back and ease into a social pairing. So, what else was different? The instructions for this date were minimal. Harry usually watched a few hours of Makr-approved vid programs or talked with a SensaVision counselor before having a date for dinner.
Without the necessary detailed instructions, Harry was going to have to improvise. Odd that Makr should allow an uncontrolled match-up. He caught himself questioning the logic of it all. Go with it, be a different Harry—a new and improved version, he told himself. Makr knows best.
He jumped up rather quickly from dinner, startling his guest.
“Surprise!” he said, remembering and relishing the act of saying the archaic word. “I have a surprise for you.”
“What’s a ‘sur-prize’? Is that the word?” she asked, clueless to what he was talking about.
“Inquiring minds want to know,” he said, and grinned. “A dessert—a special dessert.” He raised one eyebrow and smiled conspiratorially at the use of his own trivia.
A bit shaken, but more stirred, she gave him an intriguing ‘I’m-interested’ look.
“The surprise in not knowing until the last second,” he continued. “I make it myself. The recipe’s not on the Cyber menu.”
Harry eyed her suspiciously, looking for clues to her guilt or innocence in some plot to catch him at this most vulnerable moment. As he was about to reveal the real Harry, he felt unprotected, exposed—with his pants down—figuratively speaking.
“Shall we?” Harry said in his most charming voice as he offered her his arm for the trip to the kitchen.
“Yes. Why the hell not?” She accepted his offer. “I’m up for something new.”
That didn’t sound like something an Insider would say, but Harry brushed it off as refreshing.
In the kitchen, Harry ordered Annie to put herself away until morning. As soon as the Cyber cook left the immediate area, he went to the freezer and took out three containers of different flavored ice cream.
“Do you like ice cream?” Harry grinned. Of course she did, or they wouldn’t have matched.
“Yes, of course,” she answered cautiously. “Doesn’t everyone?” she quipped as she buckled up for the unknown and the unexpected. So far, he hadn’t shown her much of either.
“The rest is personal,” he announced.
Next, he proceeded to make the two of them a giant sundae in a single bowl, topped it off with some of his favorite sweet, fruity, and nutty ingredients—then after she added some of her favorites, he topped it off with lots of whipped cream. This sundae was not just a sundae or a combination of flavors, it was a union of individual preferences—a shared affinity only he and Donna could have. Harry was beaming with pride in his creation.
Now, for the experience…
With spoons at the ready, Harry and Donna clinked them together in a toast to the unknown and unexpected delights they were about to share. Harry began first by dipping his spoon in the sweet concoction and offering it to her. Still in her devil-may-care mode, she took it with a flourish, closing her eyes. The result was dizzying. She opened her eyes widely, letting Harry know she loved it, and fed him a spoonful of her choosing. Then, the silliness began.
“It’s good! Wonderful! Mmm!” She and Harry couldn’t stop talking. Trivial exchanges of words. Happy emotional remembrances. They swapped happy ice cream memories. Childhood memories. Ice cream dribbles. Harry laughed and wiped her chin. She laughed and wiped his. More laughter.
“Alarm! Alarm!”
Laughter stopped in midstream. They both became very quiet—and serious.
“There is an unsanctioned presence at the door.”
“Who is it? Home Security, identify.” Even though exposure to the rebel lifestyle had prepared him to look over his shoulder even at home now and then, his heart skipped a beat.
“The presence is not registered. Repeat. Presence is not registered. Cyber security notified.”
Harry knew the Cyber security would take only a few minutes to arrive and remove the intruder. He switched off the automatic door security system, and the door opened. It was Desiree.
“Hello, Harry.” Pause. “I see you do not lack for company, sanctioned or un-.” She smiled, but it seemed somewhat hypocritical.
Both Harry and Donna looked like dirty-faced children, shiny with streaks of chocolate and strawberry ice cream, and dried whipped cream; guilty of wild abandonment and irresponsible behavior. Harry, unable to contain himself, blurted out: “Desiree!”
Silence.
Why didn’t she say something—anything? The pause was too unnerving, so Harry broke the silence.
“I…I’m….I’m glad to see you again.” Still no response, so Harry stumbled on uncomfortably. “Uh…uh…this is Donna.”
“I see,” she finally said rather coldly. “I didn’t know you were ‘friends’—is that the word, Harry?” The ice cream had given them away.
Shaw's Reality 