Make IT Real!, Sander R.B.E. Beals [uplifting novels .TXT] 📗

first, with a grocery list, or the list of ingredients like the one that came with the recipe.

I alter the list first, to adapt it to the amount of work I'm willing to put into our dinner: some of the ingredients I order whole, intending to slice and dice them myself. Feed the list into the machine, wait for the ready sign, open the door, and presto: ready-made groceries, some completely prepared.

I take it all out, and put it on the counter. Grab a large skillet, and melt the butter in it. While it melts I chop up the beef into bite-size chunks, and toss them in as well. I regularly stir it, and in the mean time slice up the jalapeno and the habanero peppers with the nano-honed knife. It's cutting edge is only a single atom thick, sharper than a samurai's sword. And my android's hand is fast like a chefs: the knife is a blur as the garlic is turned into teeny tiny little bits. All goes in, except half of the onions. Delightful smells are emanating from the skillet, and a curious little lady comes walking in to get a taste. I hand feed her a chunk of beef, which has already achieved a nice brown tan. Then I grab her by the shoulders, make her turn around, and send her packing with a friendly pat on the behind. I think she got the message: the kitchen is mine for now, and she's only invited for the candlelit diner later on....

The first set of ingredients is done, so I'm gonna need a bigger pot. The contents of the skillet go in first, followed by tomato sauce, beans, and the various spices. The exact mix isn't a properly kept secret, but I can't tell you anyway: I'm a so-called intuitive cook, and my fine touches are very dependent on non-obvious variables, even I cannot fathom fully. Nevertheless, my twin and me always find the end result to be thoroughly enjoyable.

After half an hour it's time for the last of the ingredients to go into the pot: Worcestershire sauce, and some more cumin and chili powder. I'm stirring it properly, and set it up to simmer for another two hours. The original recipe called for a quarter beer, but I've decided to go for some wine instead. Rather than make a list for the replicator again, I just call out to it, and open the door. A nice Cabernet materializes before I can peek around the door. With all complete, I put the lid on the pot, and turn it down. The rest of the onions, and the cheese and crackers I stash away, until serving time.

Then it's time to provide the ambiance for tonight's romantic dinner party. I tell the furniture server to dematerialize the solid oak dining table, instead I select a very special table-a-deux: heart shaped, with a low bench on either side. We'll be dining like the Romans used to do.

Next, I go into the bedroom, and find that my love has apparently been peeking around the corner: she welcomes me wearing an off-white tunic. On the bed she has something similar for me. But since the chili still has another hour to go, I focus not on my tunic, but on Selina's...

She laughingly tries to fend me off, but the tiny lady wouldn't be able to win if I really did go for bust. As if she really wants to anyway....

4444AD, Day 257, 20:45, Home

“Sander, wake up!” I slowly come out of my way too nice dream, and the reality of life comes back to me: dinner is about to be served, that is if there is someone awake enough to serve it. I escort Selina down the stairs, and invite her to the heart shaped table. While she plays the wifey who's about to be surprised, I put the chili on our plates, sprinkle the grated cheese and onion rings on top, and serve it with the Cabernet of which a generous remainder will serve us just fine. Finally the crackers, and I can lie down opposite my lovely companion.

A quick virtual blink to the home entertainment system produces a couple of Spanish guitars, and the nearby vidcloth displays the artists in their traditional Mexican attire. “Delicious!” my lady exclaims. She's a sucker for spicy dishes, and if anything can be said about this recipe, it is that it's hotter than Hell, I made sure of that!

“Did you get any further with the info on that ancient memory card?”, Selina asks. I tell her about the diary, and how it forced me to update my knowledge of Dutch. “Am I in it?”, my lovely wants to know. “Your past self is, yes, and quite frequently as well”, I reply. We chat on about it, about how it was used quite frequently, until around the turn of 2010. Then, entries became very sporadic. The final entry mentioned the marble pyramid, and the fact that the card was going in there. That was on December 21st, 2012.

“Darn, it is spicy!” I'd been so wrapped up in answering Selina, I totally forgot to take a bite. But the first spoonful did work its magic, and the next few minutes I spend savoring my creation. Boy, is that good! “Do you think he needs another push?” Selina's question comes hesitant, as if she's afraid to ask. I sense inside, back to my past self, and concentrate on the period where he'd virtually stopped writing in his diary. I know him well enough to know he would always be writing something or other, so if it wasn't the diary, what would occupy his mind? Only one image comes to mind, which makes me answer Selina with a reassuring tone: “I'm quite convinced you've totally permeated his mind, but perhaps we could slip in a little incentive to keep him writing. I'm quite certain he's writing something that's close to his heart.”

“Can you figure out what it's about?”, Selina wants to know. I reflect again, and come up with a title: “Make It Real it's called, he's writing a novel”, I clarify. I've even figured out just what he wants to make real, but decide to not volunteer the info. “Come on, out with it!”, Selina says with an ear to ear smile. She always was a mistress at knowing when I wasn't being complete. “He's trying to materialize YOU!”

“Good, that means we have a starting point for making the two of them come together. But how are we going to pull it off?”, Selina grins. Looks like she's got a tiny plan up her sleeve, as far as tunics have sleeves, that is.

Thoughtfully tasting my chili, I ruminate about the best possible moment for the merging of the twins. “I figure we have to wait until he's finished the book, just so the work is complete before we completely overturn his life”, I reckon. Selina agrees, and asks me to figure out from memory just when that would be. “I reckon November 11th, 2011”, I say after a few meditative moments. That feels most right, and highly typical for the sync-driven nature of my past self. “He's gonna love it!”, I conclude.

After the chili, we top things off with a nice chilly lemon meringue. That is a nice contrast with the peppers in the chili. Selina loves the sour taste of the dessert, and finishes first. After I'm done too, we get up from the table-a-deux, and have the furniture server replace it with the oak dinner table once again, just like we bring the kitchen back to its last checkpoint. Beats having to do dishes any day!

We land on the couch together, and chat some more about our plans. Both our memories are still fuzzy about what exactly is going to happen, and we want it to be as heavenly for our past selves as we can possibly make it. “Have we left him any direct or indirect lines back into her existence?”, I inquire. Selina thinks about it for a while, and shakes her pretty locks: “None that I am aware of, so she'll have to come to him”, is her definite reply. “But how do we change her back to a single without going against anybodies free will?”, I interject. Selina looks at me intensely, and volunteers some info I never knew about her past self: “Back then, she was already doubting if her marriage was based on truth and trust. If her husband were to find the novel and suspected she was the leading lady, he might be inclined to go for his secret lady friend instead”. I wonder if she was talking from direct knowledge of the husbands life, or from conjecture based on the feelings of her past self. Selina replies that it was the latter, but that at the time she had evidence of that situation. She just didn't want to upset the apple cart without having a backup, and she'd lost the address of the one guy she'd consider.

“Set then, we just have to contact the higher self of her husband, and put the question to him. I feel he'll go for it, and volunteer to confront her with the novel!”

And speaking of a novel, with Selina taking a bath I'd have plenty of time to do some more reading.......

'the Man in the Moon'

That's a bit how I feel, as the disc lowers itself below the lunar surface. When I look up, the starry sky has already made way for a dimly lit ceiling, that indicates that no one will ever know that we are here. LeeYooh maneuvers our disc into a spot that seems to have been left over just for us, and we all get out.

Although the setting is quite a bit more modern, it looks like a bus station. Lots of beings walking in every direction, but none of them appearing to be in a hurry. Actually, the atmosphere here is just as relaxed as Inner Earth, a far cry from your average surface city. All kinds of races here, and from the looks of them, they have far less DNA in common than us humans. To me, that is hardly important anymore. What matters most, is the one thing we all do have in common: we are all living beings, part of the same Cosmos, and as such, inextricably linked to one another.

Just as we are discussing what to do next, Kayim suddenly takes a communications device from his pocket. Being used to our cell phones, that rely on a vast network of relay stations to do their work, I am amazed that his device actually works here. He talks for a short while, then turns to Valerie. “I have to go home”, he tells her. “Now? Immediately?”, she says, hardly able to hide her disappointment. Kayim explains that his father has fallen, and is severely injured. He thinks there is no reason to cut our visit short, because he will most likely return before we lift off again. We accompany him to a room two levels down, that provides the fastest route home.

We all say our goodbyes to Kayim, especially Valerie. It is obvious that she would love to go with him, but the young man is very insistent: "No, you belong here, with your family. I'll be back before the loneliness really kicks in." And with those words he grabs on to the handles protruding from the wall. His body gets a shiny finish, like it is all covered in glass. Then, the contents of the glass start to disappear, like somebody has stuck in an invisible straw, and sucks the glass dry. The moment it is empty, the outer shell vanishes into thin air, and Kayim is gone. I can see Valerie intently looking at Kayim's communicator, which he has left with her. I guess all of us outer Earthlings are willing it to ring, and it does. Just to comfort Valerie,