Chapter 4: Dreams Of Yet Another Retro Geek Part 2

Despite litter being hugely frowned upon, a recycle bot could be found around every city block. Their smooth carapaces hid small robotic arms that picked trash and dispensed it into one of many properly labeled receptacles: aluminum, glass, plastic, paper, carbon fiber, nuclear waste, and the list goes on with color coding. ÔUnknown' trash went into the sad face receptacles. The bots always got it right, however. Polished surfaces explained why Jessica nearly smashed into one; their carapaces matched the pavement.

On the next block, Jessica and her fellow New Sumerians crossed incoming traffic through an arch bridge. Her trek then carried her between terraces: row after succeeding row of round posteriors and cement blocks. The small houses began at ground level and rose in successive rows, each with a better view of the street. Stairs parsed them into clusters, some separated by one and two-story markets: shops, humble restaurants, and cafes. The plan landed all a person's wants and needs within walking distance. Recycle bots patrolled here as well, the difference residing in their green shells. Green bots recycled fallen leaves and trimmed the many hedges. Without greenery, the neighborhood would mimic a blank canvas.

Overhead traffic curtailed as the bicycle lanes opened. Jessica mused over how the speed of her board without its inhibitors. But that would be illegal. She skated near a pair of cyclists until one of them, a dirty-blonde young man, saw her alone. He flashed a quick smile whiter than the pavement when his front wheel hit a hydrant, and the poor cyclist lost grip, front-flipping on his back. Fortunately for him, his collar-bound airbag deployed. Suppressing the urge to laugh out loud, Jessica leaned over his body.

"Are you alright?" she said.

"I'm good!" he moaned, trying to play it off.

"Well, I would go to the dentist if I were you."

"Why the dentist?"

"Because you just ate shit!"

Useful technology, the airbags. Sophisticated. They inflated around the body to cushion the biker's impact, and fit into a waterproof collar. Jessica had a rare moment to appreciate their effectiveness and remember why she wore one herself.

At the end of the housing clusters, Jessica reached a corner complex: eight stories of blue windows surrounded by lush clusters of oaks. Just down that sidewalk, she glanced a park where hipsters played old-fashioned basketball.

Inside the complex, she uttered "But doc," retracted and hopped off the gravity board, then gleefully skipped past the scanner. "Good morning, Misty," it said. "Welcome back."

Up the elevator, after the fifth floor, she scurried across pink carpet and white plaster until she reached the sliding door with number 59 illuminated. Her e-card triggered the sliding door, to rediscover a pair of armoires that framed the center window. Only a mild glint of tinted sunlight reflected bounced off the violet walls. Otherwise, her suite was as plain as the bed attached to one of the armoires, with its black sheets and lacquered drawers beside.

Above the bedrest, a clothing rack held five of the same red, white, and green jumpsuits. Shelves below and to the side of the rack contained rows of black cases. If not for the Stevie Nicks poster by the door, the room might have suffered from a lack of character.

Jessica's cornered the clothing rack, replaced her casual getup with the red, white, and green jumpsuit with a T-top, and it automatically shrunk to fit her body. Nearly skin tight. To top it off, she donned a green hat whose black letters spelled Tacquizza in a yellow oval. Board in hand, she departed.

***

"Thank you for ordering from Tacquizza, where your satisfaction is ours." Jessica maintained her widest smileÑnot very wideÑwhile reciting the delivery message.

The resident, a man in a white tank top, ignored everything but the carriers in her hand. He appeared in his forties, balding, and had hairy arms. "You got here fast, at least," he said raspily.

Jessica presented the receipt on her tiny tablet. "Eight tacos: four carne asada, four el pastor, all with salsa and lettuce and a side of lemon."

"I didn't ask for lettuce."

"I know, but we're obligated," Jessica replied matter-of-factly. "Insurance reasons."

"No tip for you, then!" He touched his thumb on the tablet, seized the carrier, and the door immediately slid shut behind him.

"You're not supposed to tip me!"

36, 37, 38, 39...

"Thank you for ordering from Tacquizza, where your satisfaction is our satisfaction."

A youthful brunette holding a crying baby gawked from the doorway. "Right! Right!" she exhaled. "Be right back!" When the woman returned with her card, Jessica began reading the receipt out loud. "Is the chicken farm raised?" the woman interrupted. "I just wanted to know because I read an article about how farm-raised chicks are healthier."

Jessica darted at the woman in disbelief, but she took a quiet breath and replied, "They are whatever you want them to be, ma'am." The woman simply nodded absently and accepted the box carrier before sliding her card.

60. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7...

"Thank you for ordering from Tacquizza, where your satisfaction is our-"

"I placed the order over thirty minutes ago!" snarled the young student, whose stomach nearly blocked the entrance to his dorm room.

Jessica noted that if he were any bigger, he would be illegal. That was a real thing Ð The Azareans outlawed obesity a long time ago because obesity reflects maltreatment of the self, and aliens were all about that self-loving. Few exceptions remained, however. Any uncontrollable medical problems, for instance, provided they were properly diagnosed.

Darting her eyes from side to side and cupping her chin, Jessica double-checked her tablet and found the record of when the order was placed. "Martin Haussman?" she asked.

"Yes!"

The screen read 13:14. Four more seconds to 13:35. She watched the minute strike from 13:34 to 13:35 on her watch. Who taught you how to count? she wanted to say. Rather, she politely reminded him that no payment meant no food.

Begrudgingly, the student inserted his card, mumbling something in German, to which Jessica replied "Das ist unhšflich, Ruck." She delivered the carrier and left.

Later that afternoon, outside another terrace home. "Food's here," Jessica said, and the door slid open. On the other side stood a boy of about twelve years. He had short hair, brown skin, and looked stalky in a white shirt whose tapered letters spelled Iron Coffin.

"Apa!" the boy exclaimed, looking away. A man in his thirties, wearing a yellow jumpsuit, stepped in front of the entrance.

"Hello!" he greeted with a silky accent. "What do I owe you?"

"Thirty solidus y diecisiete centavos," she replied.

"Hablas espa-ol?" he said energetically.

"Si hablo espa-ol."

"De quŽ tipo?"

"Puertorrique-o, y conozco un poco de Espa-a."

"îrale, jefa!"

"Ich spreche auch Deutsch. Beide sind nŸtzlich."

"Calmate, jefa. Ya no sŽ lo que est‡s diciendo."

After an exchange of exclamations, the man paid with a final comment on the deliciousness of the pizza. "Que te vaya bien!"

"A ti tambien!" The door closed. It was the difference between a bad day and a good day. By her estimation, the current time was 15:47. Glancing her watch, she saw the time was 15:47. "Thank goodness for five-hour work days."

At the base of the terrace stairs, she fastened her goggles before peeking at the low sun. "McFly." She rode to the next sidewalk corner, due east.

Travel via gravity board was simple, thanks to the lack of physical barriers per housing cluster. No gates, no fences, only convenient railings for elderly and handicapped citizens. Of course, grinding on the rails was frowned upon, but the vectors from point A to point B made it ever so tempting. Pythagoras came to mind as Jessica hovered down the sidewalk, around a park of pines.

New Sumer's sprawl was comprised of a series of circular neighborhoods, with the tallest buildings in the center. The Azareans praised the Parisians for being among the first to exemplify such urban planningÑeven though many would argue the French did not plan deliberately. Also, Azarean plans allowed more living space. Modern communities accommodated larger populations per square mile than pre-alien society.

They could accommodate more humans if they so choose but understand that we're not sardines.