Edgley was not looking at his breakfast. He was staring beyond the table at the
SPECTACL field. He was almost ready to
cry. STC's stock was now worth 10 times
what it was worth 2 days ago. Edgley had
one hundred and seventy five million dollars in cash when he should have had
one point seven-five billion virtual dollars.
He just stared at the image. He
stared some more. The freaking stock
went up again and he slammed his fist on the table and covered his face with
his other hand.
Mrs. Edgley was really enjoying the hotel's buffet and returned to the
table with her third plate, this time with some more cottage cheese and an
array of fruit.
"Put the banana and the apple in your pockets," she told
Edgley.
"What?" said Edgley.
"Put the banana in your pants," said Mrs. Edgley.
He just looked at her, uncomprehending and getting seriously
peeved. "Whom are you trying to
impress?" he asked.
"No, you idiot," she said.
"We'll be hungry later, when we go to see the music and we'll want
something to eat."
"So we're going to steal it?" said Edgley.
"It's an all you can eat buffet," said Mrs. Edgley.
"Is it an all you can eat today
buffet?" asked Edgley.
"What is your problem?" she said. "It comes with the room."
"Sorry," said Edgley.
"It's this freaking Waste-REL thing."
"What?" said Mrs. Edgley with a mouth full of cottage
cheese. "I thought that it was a
good thing."
"Do you know where they predict it's going to land?" said
Edgley.
"No, where?" she said, feigning interest.
"In Texas or the Gulf of Mexico," he said. "I may have to leave."
"Why," she said.
"Are you planning to go get them in your scuba gear?"
"No," he said.
"But it is my company. I am
supposed to be there when they arrive."
"You listen to me, Ward Edgley," said Mrs. Edgley, a piece
of cottage cheese waggling about on her lower lip. "I've been looking forward to this music
festival for two years and you are not going to ruin it by leaving unless there
is a legitimate emergency and they need you.
For heaven's sake, for all you know this could be the best place to be
-- it could land right here."
"In the middle of the crowd?" said Edgley.
"Sure," she said, smiling.
"There's always a little bit of heaven in a disaster
area." She waited to see if he
understood, but he didn't.
Edgley thought his wife must already be "on" something and,
of course, she was.
"Anyway," she continued.
" -- you can't get out without a helicopter right now, the roads
are one way - coming in. Did you see the
traffic jam from our hotel room window.
It goes all the way to Oklahoma."
Edgley knew she was right. It was best to stay put. She was also right about something else. He'd better get a helicopter pilot on the
SPECTACL and set up a contingency exit plan.
She could always drive the car home, even though she hated driving. After all, driving here was more like parking
with an occasional 3 feet of forward movement and then re-parking.
The Waste-REL was beginning to approach Earth. Jules had plotted the descent after the
Sagittarius satellite and Jules had agreed on exactly where to land. The flight path brought the Waste-REL in on a
steep angle, cutting the atmosphere just right so the craft would not bounce
off. As the Waste-REL approached, the
magnetron burst into life and the Waste-REL picked up a load of space junk, but
this time the junk became a heat shield.
The flames streaming off the surface of the second stage rocket shell
(that made up the bulk of the leading edge of the space junk) whisped around
the outside of the golf-ball shaped Waste-REL. The descent heated up the Waste-REL's
tiled surface, but not near the temperatures that the Waste-REL would have
experienced if it tried to enter the atmosphere alone.
It was a rocky ride because the air temperature kept changing up and
down as they descended and there were pockets with less or more
resistance. Inevitably the worst was
over, a little door on the top of the Waste-REL popped off and three colourful
STC parachutes inflated above the craft.
This was the one lurch for which the crew was glad to have seat belts.
"That's it," said Jules.
"You can unbuckle if you like, we'll float down pretty gently from
here on. I suggest you change your
clothes."
"Are we landing in water or on land?" asked Ayame.
"We're going to come to a nice gentle rest on land," said
Jules. "It should be quite a
show."
"Where are we landing?" asked Verna.
"North of Houston," said Jules. "In Texas."
"Well, isn't that convenient for STC?" said Portia,
smirking.
"There's a crowd waiting for your arrival," said Jules. "It should be a pretty big crowd."
"Gee," smiled Verna impressed. "Really?"
"Like an old fashioned reentry," said Ayame. "I didn't know anyone was paying
attention."
"Oh, they'll be paying attention," said
Jules.
When the Edgleys got into the preferred-seating section, sponsored by
VistaCard, the slave showed them to their seats, which were upholstered chairs
in bleachers that allowed an elevated, and therefore much more comfortable,
view of the stage.
It was starting to rain.
"Hey, If we think really hard," said DJ Sloppy Dog’s massive
projected head.
Many in the crowd completed his thought on mass: "Maybe we can
stop this rain!" And then the crowd
cheered themselves for being so "with it".
But they couldn't stop the rain this time any more than they had at
the original Woodstock and frankly, if they had, the local farmers would have
been furious.
However, the rain did come fast and hard and most folks retreated to
their tents. The Edgley's were protected
under the awning that stretched above the bleachers.
Slopp
started to lament the loss of his audience into their tents: "Hey, y'all. Get back out here. We're not finished partying yet! We're not afraid of a little rain are
we?" In the distance there was
thunder, but no one, including Sloppy could hear it over the constant beat of
the bassist playing behind him.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, it's time to give it up for the one, the
only, the incredible: "WHAT?!".
Suddenly Tony Peterson came running across the stage, arm swinging out
chord after chord and the crowd came out of their tents and went wild with
adulation. Even the Edgleys stood up and
applauded.
Inkelis was having one on with Daffi in the tent when the band
"What?!" came out. This was
his cue and he had to stop.
"Sorry, baby," he said.
Daffi just popped a bubble of chewing gum, smiled, shrugged and lay back
to read her magazine.
Inkelis pulled up his pants and started to line up
his shot, except there was some fool standing in front of his tent, jumping up
and down.
Mr. Summers had spent the last hour searching for Mrs. Summers. Now it was raining and he splashed his way
back to his tent. She said she was going
to get some recreational chemicals, but she had obviously forgotten to include
him and he was feeling very left out, since the entire festival smelled like a
rope factory was burning down.
When the band "What?!" finally came out, Mr. Summers had
turned to see Tony Peterson nearly slide off the end of the ten story high
stage. "That would have been worth
the price of admission," he whispered to himself.
"Get out of the way!" said Inkelis. "Move your ass!"
Mr. Summers turned around to see Reed Inkelis' head sticking out from
between the flaps at the front of his tent.
"Oh, sorry, man," said Mr. Summers. He looked around. Why am I here? Oh, yeah.
He started heading back as rain dribbled onto his face. He nearly tripped over Mrs. Summers, who was
lying on the ground, soaked, staring at the top of Inkelis' tent.
"Darling," said Mr. Summers, a bit acerbically but mostly
relieved. "Where have you
been?"
"Do you see it?" she said.
"Do I see what, dear?" said Mr. Summers.
"The dog, the big fire-engine red dog," she said. "On the top of that tent."
"No, darling, there's no dog," said Mr. Summers.
She looked in her husband's face as he lifted her from the
accumulating mud and she started to laugh.
"We forgot to feed your parents," she said. "We just left them in the basement!"
"No," said Mr. Summers.
"There's a fridge down there.
They'll be okay."
Now that she had her husband back, Mrs. Summers felt safe. She giggled and then threw off her blouse in
one fell swoop. She ran in her brassiere
down the row, her arms in the air, her face to the sky, the rain pelting her.
Mr. Summers picked up her blouse from the top of Inkelis' tent and
chased after her.
Soon he saw more people running down the rows, coming towards him, all
shirtless, all allowing the rain to pepper their faces and semi-naked
bodies. It was hard to find his wife in
the growing crowd. He spied her and
chased after her, calling "Haileeeeeee!!!"
The crowd began slipping into the mud and getting
covered in its wet gooeyness. It felt
cool and fun and soon the entire population of the city of New Woodstock began
rolling in the mud and throwing mud at each other as the rain poured down and
the music made their hearts crazy.
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