"So, Darlin', just who is it that you want me to find? I ask.

Actually, I really don't care who she wants me to find, or why.

In a life such as that lived in Mega City West........

A life where all is the same.........while at the same time........the Enemy is just a Light Jump away from destroying the illusion that is called Mega City West........

Long.....long ago......... everything became..........well........ taken care of......... the Powers that Be........ the Smarter than the Rest........ put into motion forces which were well..........

Quite beyond their, or anyone else's, control........

They knew, they just KNEW that they knew how to take care of everybody, and do every thing.....they told themeslves that they were the people who knew....

Medicine was automated........food was automated........the automation was ..........automated.........

Then.....after a while......what was there left to do?

Nothing.

And then occurred the first time that the people who actually thought about things..... people who thought deeply about things....came to "the Great Realization".

The Great Realization was..... that........ there really are those people who would "do" things and then.......there are......the rest of the people......

The problem then was...........and still is..............

That those who "do".............

Will sacrifice themselves for the good of the many........

And when those who "do"........are all ..........sacrificed.................

What is left for the "many" to do.............?

Why,

Why........

Why......... ...........

Why am I flying?

Flying above Mega City West.........?

And watching those who "do things"........lifting off...

.....to sacrifice themselves ............

***********************


I must go down to the seas again,
to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star
to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; (1)


***********************


.....to sacrifice themselves for those........who............

who........

.....................

"So....Darlin' ..just who is it that you want me to find"?

"As I said before." her lips part ever so elegantly, "We met on the Rim."

"It was one of those 'whirlwind' things, kind of like what you see on the vids from YesterYear.....

"'Jeny Macdonnnaly and the Mounted Policeman'..... only we didn't sing to each other..." she smiles a kind of crooked smile and the tip the first finger of her left hand plays on the wooden top, highly polished, of Antonio's table.

"It was one of those.......'Navy things'..........

"He was on his ship and I was on mine...."

"I'll never forget the night that, for the first time, we were actually here, here.... back on Terra. We met at a restaurant in New Britain..... down in the restored Old Town............ "

her.....mind.......is wandering.............

her lips........

she is tasting the wine that they shared....anew...

"It was one of those old places......You know....... real wood, real leather....... "

The hint of a wistful smile is dancing at the edges of her red lipstick lips...and her eyes close a little...

The tips of her elegant fingers are playing on the lusterous shine of Antonio's wood table top...and I just know, sometimes one just knows things.... I know that either he paid a lot of cred for that dinner or he at least knew people........nobody could have planned that ahead of time unless he was well......."

I take a sip of Antonio's excellent Ezpresso........

"We met several times..... and then........he just........disappeared........ I really don't know why.......I don't know when.....I don't know........where................I just know that I want to see him again.........."

'Why am I flying'?

'The Silent Sea is below me..........'

'Her face is before me...........'

'Who is this man ..................a man who could create THAT kind of relationship with.....such...a woman.....'?

'Why am I flying'?

The blimp is overhead again..........the Oriental Lady is winking at me.........

I like the Oriental Lady..

Why am I flying.....? It is so cold ......above, the cold.....Silent ...Sea...

We are alllllll.....

Alllll...........

In a Dance of Death..............

A few of us know that, deeply, fundamentally, we are ...aware........

But the rest of the world........those who walk the boulevard....never looking up.....never looking up at those who do know... those hurl themselves into a maelstrom from which they will probably not return......

'Why am I flying'?

My Ezpresso is cold.........

Not Antonio's fault.....Antonio makes the best Ezpresso...he always serves it at exactly the correct temperature....

And then he smiles, beloved Antonio, and wipes his hands on his very clean, very crisp, white apron....and backs away...smiling....

I like Antonio...

She reaches into her purse......when was the last time that I, ever...., saw a purse...no woman carries a purse in this day and age...although a lot of men do.... and she draws a slip of paper from it...

'No!...well I'll be jiggered!'....I have to consciously remain silent.....it is a slip of onionskin!

And she is slowly, enjoying the feel of it...slowly sliding the onionskin across Antonio's real wood table top, so lovingly polished....

It is folded once... it is a small piece of onionskin...of such small things great things have been done.....

I toy with the small, folded, slip of onionskin on Antonio's wood table top, so lovingly polished, and then lift my Panama Hat and slide the slip of onionskin into the sweatband, 'How many other pieces of destiny have I slipped into that sweatband...?'

"Well........My Darlin'...... I'll see what I can do........."

"No guarantees....."

I stand and extend my hand...........

Her hand flutters a little, rather like the little brown birds that sometimes land on the railing of my verandah ... and then she grasps mine with strength...

Her hand has seen work...

What kind of work I do not know............but the woman has seen work........

'Work of a most violent kind'........I think to myself............

We step out to the kerb...it is cool even through my shoes.....even with the heat of the throng that wanders aimlessly not a meter away from us...

And we look up, and we see drifting down, down, down, down, between the kilometers high walls of cold steel.... the first snowflakes of Christmas...........

Of such small things great things are done.......




*************************************************

(1) from I Must Go Down to the Sea by John Masefield.

The link below is purposefully not from Wikipedia but from a fellow who has felt the power of the sea.

http://mrmarmalade.hubpages.com/hub/IMUSTGODOWNTOTHESEA