Chapter 14

George never flew anything but business or first class and this trip back from his New York morning news triumph was no exception. He was seated on the isle with his portable computer on the tray table and his Perrier on the center table. A conventionally beautiful woman was seated in the window seat. The shade of her red lip gloss had taken her hours to choose and it perfectly matched the hue of her viciously long nails and her recently colorized hair. She was reading, no rather perusing, let's face it, she was simply turning the pages and letting the images bounce off her retinas.

George paid her no attention at all. He stopped his work, extended his arm gently forward while twisting his wrist to see the time. He made the mental calculation for the time shift and realized that Caroline would be on her commute. He reached up and got the inflight phone. He dialed the number in Caroline's Mercedes Coup. A few seconds later, the connection was made.

Caroline had been in the San Francisco office and was now returning home. She was just crossing the suspension span of the Bay Bridge when the cellular phone rang. She was tastefully appointed as always. "George, oh, it is good to hear your voice." Caroline looked at her watch. "You must be over Kansas if the plane is on time."

"We are running a bit late, but good guess. I will be home around midnight. My car is in long term parking." At this point a Japanese steward in a chef's hat and smock, with a red scarf around his neck, black trousers, and a waist belt with several large knives started to push a large cart down the isle.

"How was the interview? You looked marvelous."

"I know how objective a wife can be, but thank you."

The cart had a stainless steel top and the steward pulled out a sharpening rod and began to sharpen his jinsu knives, after a few seconds he whirled the knife around like a gunfighter with a pistol and dropped it into his holster. He brought out a small jug of cooking oil and poured it across the grill. A spatula emerged from the holster and he began to spread the oil in great swirls. With the choreographed motions of a culinary ballerina, he produced twelve prawns, filleted, scaled, removed the tails and then deveined them. He tossed the prawns on the grill and then whirled the knife into his belt. "It was an intense experience. Every one of those anchor persons was exceptionally bright and conscientious. I talked to Nonwhile before the show and she was really interested in the project." The chef then brought out a large bowl of cut cucumbers, onions, and bean sprouts. He carefully arranged each in a spot on the hot grill. A spice rack was produced and he gave the veggies their own special mix of herbs and spices. He cut up a piece of garlic and a placed it with ginger in another pool of oil. Next came the beef, which he cut into small pieces while it sizzled on the grill.

"She clobbered you with that germ warfare question." Caroline changed lanes and past a large truck. She then cruised thought the Yerba Buena tunnel.

"It was well deserved. How would you feel if you were a Venusian and Earth planes bombed your planet with blue green algae and sulfur fixing bacteria?" The chef continued while George was totally oblivious despite the proximity. By this time there was a crowd of tourist class travelers who were waiting to use the rest room and were trapped by the steward. Our chef resharpened his knives and holstered them before serving George. The man in the front of the washroom line crossed his legs and squirmed a bit as the second beer began its filtration run through his kidneys.

"Upset, but I would hope they brought gifts and development money." Caroline changed lanes again and accelerated down the stretch into the Port of Oakland.

"I think it will all sort out. I got a call after the broadcast from Martin Oberg. He was quite pleased and wanted to go before the Congressional committee for Space Development next week." Another stewardess drew the curtain between business and tourist class and sent the now weak kneed gentleman to the aft rest rooms. He of course was now at the end of the line.

"What do you think the time table will be?" Caroline flipped down her sunshade and opened the lighted vanity mirror to check her makeup while changing lanes yet again to pass another truck.

"It's quite simple. If you decide how long it would take a reasonable person with no skills, talents, or abilities to invent, discover, develop, and construct whatever it is you want, you then multiply the cost by 100 and the time by ten and you have a good estimate of how much and how long it will take for the space industry." Behind George a white globular object rose and then fell above the curtain between the classes. It then rose and fell again. The object got a little thinner and flatter with each flight. It was obviously spinning.

"What do they spend all that effort on?" Now sure that her makeup was perfect, or at least perfect enough to climb the grade to the Caldecot tunnel, Caroline flipped up her vanity mirror.

"Studies, lots and lots of studies. That is the greatest cost. How long it will last, and when it fails how will it fail." At that moment the plane dropped and then rebounded in an airpocket. George was oblivious to the fried shrimp and bean sprouts that became airborne only to drop back into the bowl. The jinsu chef was less lucky and used the stainless steel fry surface to stop his fall. He quickly looked left, right, forward and aft only to shove his hands into the nearest iced liquid, George's Perrier. George was oblivious to all but the phone and the computer screen. With the second jolt the curtain between the classes parted and another steward dressed in a rakish low beret chef's hat and smock fell to the floor with the dough saucer falling onto him. His cart covered in jars of pizza sauce and toppings mercifully remained upright but began the long roll toward the aft men's rooms, since the Luigi of the airlines failed to set the brakes. The cart quite miraculously waited until it hit the line of rest room patrons before tipping over. The pizza sauce and toppings make it look a bit like a scene from Jason 12, Jason Does Take Out. George took a mouthful of ice from his empty drink, shook his head in surprise, and then touched the call button to get a refill. "Gotta run love. It's dinner time. Love ya. Bye." He shut off the phone and his computer. Only then did he look to the isle at the parade of chefs.

Chapter 15

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