EYE CANDY - Chapter 13: The Blue Bar
Do you believe in fate?
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Danny taxied the Viper Jet to the open hangar door and proceeded quickly through the shutdown sequence. He opened the canopy and inhaled deeply as the cool ocean breeze caressed his face.
He and Howard exited the Viper Jet, shrugged off their parachutes, and stood facing one another.
“What an unprecedented adventure,” said Howard.
“You can say that again.”
“I could, sir, but why would I? Did you not hear me?”
“I heard you, Howard. It’s a figure of speech. It means that your statement is true. Very true. Although, by comparison, we did crash-land into the Salton Sea only yesterday.”
“You are correct, sir. How quickly we seem to have forgotten.”
“I don’t know about you, Howard, but I could go for a cold beer right about now.”
“I do not drink, sir, for I do not have the anatomy enabling me to process food and beverage. But I quite understand the sentiment.” Howard’s gaze shifted. “Someone is coming.”
Danny turned and watched as a sporty red convertible drove up. The car came to a stop and the driver hoisted herself up and out of the seat and sat on the headrest, with her hands on the edge of the windshield. The ocean breeze fluttered her brown hair.
“I’m here!”
“Hi, Harley. Right on time.”
Harley placed one booted foot on the door sill and leaped out of the car. She wore black combat boots, snug black cargo pants, and a black tank top that went a long way toward accentuating her figure.
“You look great,” said Danny. “Planning an insurgency?”
“No. But if we crash land in a jungle someplace, don’t come crying to me when you get captured for lack of camouflage.”
Danny ignored the words “crash land”. He’d heard them enough in the past 24 hours. He turned to introduce Howard. “Harley, this is H-R-D-Zero-Zero-Zero-One. First of his kind. Also known as Howard. Howard, this is Harley.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Harley,” said Howard.
Harley came closer and peered at Howard, surveying him up and down. She rubbed her fingers across his face, made a fist and knocked on his forehead, never returning Howard’s greeting.
Danny caught Howard’s eye, or rather Howard’s glowing red eyes caught Danny’s. Danny couldn’t be certain, but Howard appeared almost surprised.
“I’ve read a lot about you, Howard,” said Harley. “Some people, my grandfather for example, say you’re going to single-handedly revolutionize robotics. But I’m not so sure. I would have thought you’d be a bit more impressive.” She turned to Danny. “Not much to look at, is he?”
Danny could scarcely believe what he was hearing. Howard had, in the past 24 hours, demonstrated himself to be far more sophisticated and capable than any other robot Danny had ever encountered. His ace flying skills alone bordered on super-human.
“I dunno, Harley. He’s pretty impressive.”
“We’ll see,” said Harley. She faced Howard. “Begin protocol Alpha-Nine.”
“My apologies, Miss Harley, but all such protocols are limited to owner-access only.”
“Well that’s a load of crap,” said Harley. “What happens if you malfunction at the Beverly Center food court and start tossing children over the railing? How can you be shut down?”
“My apologies once again, Miss Harley, but I would never commit an offense such as the one you’ve just described. My laws would cause a shut-down prior to such an . . . atrocity.” Howard sounded genuinely disturbed by the thought.
“Laws my ass,” said Harley. “The three laws only go so far. Robots need to be controlled. By people. Real people. Trust me, I’m a roboticist, I know whereof I speak.” She faced Danny. “Is he coming with us?” She looked at the airplane. “Of course he’s not coming with us, there’s only two seats. Good one, Harls. Is this my parachute?” She bent and picked up the parachute Howard had worn. “Howard didn’t pack my chute, did he? There are some things which are best done by real people. Flying airplanes and packing parachutes are but two of them.”
Danny found Howard looking at him again.
“I do hope you’ll enjoy your flight with Master Danny, Miss Harley,” said Howard. “It was very nice meeting you.” Howard’s tone was off a bit; his voice sounded almost syrupy. He turned to Danny. “Shall I wait for you in the hangar, sir?”
“No, Howard, that’s okay. Why don’t you go on home. Harley, can you give me a ride home later?”
“Ooh, I’d like that.”
“Here, Howard. Take my car.” Danny handed the key fob to Howard.
“Very good, sir.” Howard climbed into Danny’s car, reversed out of the hangar, and drove away.
“Keep an eye on that one.” Harley stared closely at Howard. Then she shifted her focus to the Viper Jet and the parachute in her hands. “So do I get to sit in front?”
“Uh, no. I sit in the front. You sit behind.”
“Ooh, I like it from behind.” She draped one arm over his shoulders and around his neck. “Forgive me, Dan, if I seem a bit forward. But I’m a girl who doesn’t believe in wasting time.”
Harley was tall. Not as tall as Candy, but close, and Danny found himself looking into Harley’s big brown eyes. He caught the scent of her perfume, sweet and musky.
“Do you want to show me how to use the parachute?” Harley asked.
“Right.”
Danny demonstrated the same safety and egress procedures he’d shown Howard. Harley listened closely and attentively without interrupting, even after she was seated in the Viper Jet and Danny instructed her to keep her hands off his joystick. Despite whatever innuendo she may or may not have read into the statement, she said nothing. She paid attention, nodding curtly several times.
Danny climbed into his seat, fired up the engine, and within a few minutes was taking the runway for the second time that day. He said a quick prayer that this flight would be less eventful than was his flight with Howard.
Danny advanced the throttle to Take-Off Thrust, relishing the feeling of being pressed into his seat. At 90 knots, he rotated, pulling gently on the stick, and they were airborne.
“Ooh, I have got to get my pilot’s license,” declared Harley. “This is almost as good as sex.”
They flew over the coastline and reached 1,000 feet in altitude. Danny leveled off, pulled the nose up a bit, and executed a smooth barrel roll.
Harley laughed out loud. “Do that again!”
Danny repeated the maneuver.
Harley laughed even louder.
“Ever been inverted?” Danny asked.
“Inverted?”
Danny rolled the Viper Jet onto its back.
“Holy shit!” exclaimed Harley. “We’re upside down.”
“Look up.”
Harley gasped. The ocean, vast and blue, stretched on and on, all the way to the setting sun.
“Want to fly to Catalina this way?” Danny asked.
“What way?”
“Inverted.”
“Hell no, my ass is off the seat.”
Danny gently rolled level.
“Oh my God,” said Harley. “Do you do that all the time?”
“Yes.”
“Do you ever throw up?”
“Never.”
“Not even once?”
“Not even once. Do you feel okay?”
“I think so. I’m a little lightheaded.”
“If you vomit, you clean it up. That’s the rule of the cockpit.”
“It’s a good rule.”
“Look to your left, Harley.”
“Wha— Oh, wow!”
Below and to the left was Catalina Island, tall and green, rising up out of the ocean.
“We’re here already?”
“It’s only about twenty miles. An hour by boat. Just a few minutes for us.”
“Where’s the runway?”
“Down there, right on top of the plateau. See that little gray strip of road? That’s the runway. They built a new airport on the windward side of the island for the airlines. But the general aviation traffic still lands up here.”
“It’s so beautiful. Remind me to buy a postcard before we leave. You’ve landed here before, right?”
“No.”
“No? What do you mean No?”
“I mean no, I’ve never landed here.”
“Are you sure you can do it?”
“We’re about to find out.”
“Oh, that’s comforting.”
“There’s a forty-dollar landing fee.”
“So?”
“So, I’m paying for the gas. And probably dinner and drinks.”
“I thought this was a date. You’re the man. You should pay.”
“Fair enough.”
“And they say chivalry is dead.”
Danny reduced the throttle, decreased altitude and airspeed, and entered the pattern. He keyed his mic, “Catalina traffic, Viper Jet Niner-Victor-Juliet is downwind runway two-two, request advisories, Catalina.” He lowered the landing gear and deployed flaps.
“Who’re you talking to?”
“Anybody who might be landing or taking off here.”
“I don’t hear anyone.”
“But that doesn’t mean they’re not there. It’s standard procedure to always announce your position and intentions.”
“I see.”
“This is an interesting approach.”
“Interesting in what way?”
“The ground rises up to meet you as you’re descending toward the runway. If you screw up, you can fly right into the hillside.”
“That’s comforting.”
“Don’t worry. I do this all the time.”
“But never here.”
“No, never here.”
Danny keyed his mic. “Catalina traffic, Viper Jet Niner-Victor-Juliet, right base, runway two-two, Catalina.” He deployed another notch of flaps, checked his airspeed, glanced left to make certain no other aircraft were approaching, glanced at the three green lights which confirmed the landing gear was down, and glanced at Harley in the back seat. “You want to take the next radio call?”
“What do I say?”
“See the little red button on the joystick? Press that and say, ‘Catalina traffic, Viper Jet Niner-Victor-Juliet, on final for runway two-two, Catalina.’ ”
“When do I say it?”
Danny deployed the final notch of flaps, began a gentle right turn to line up with the runway, looked again at the three green landing gear indicator lights, and checked his airspeed. “Go ahead.” He heard the mic click open.
“Catalina traffic, Viper Jet Niner-Victor-Juliet is on final for runway two-two, Catalina.” She released her mic. “Was that good?”
“That was very good.” And it was.
“How did I sound?”
“Like a seasoned aviator.”
“Yeah!” Harley screamed and shook her fists in the air. “Flying is great. I love flying. It’s so exhilarating. God, I’m so horny right now. Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s quite all right. Ready to land?”
“Ready.”
“I want you to grab hold of your safety harness until we’re wheels-down.” He glanced in the mirror and saw her hands go to the straps across her chest. The straps pressed against her breasts, accentuating her cleavage.
Danny shifted his attention back to the runway. He checked his airspeed, glanced one final time at the three green lights to make sure the landing gear was down and locked, and continued the descent toward the runway.
The steep cliff rose upward, creating the illusion of the descent being steeper than it actually was. Danny resisted the urge to pull back on the stick, to get away from that approaching cliff.
And then they were over it. The cliff was safely behind them. The three large yellow painted chevrons pointed to the threshold of the runway like giant inverted V’s, followed by a solid white line and a giant 22 painted on the runway.
“Why are runways numbered the way they are?” Harley asked.
“They’re compass headings. Runways are always built so that they point into the prevailing wind. The number is the compass heading. In this case, it’s two hundred-twenty degrees, or south-southwest. Ready to land?”
“Ready!”
Danny pulled on the stick as the ground approached. A bit more, a bit more, keeping the nose up as the airspeed bled off.
Chirp!
A soft thump from the main landing gear. The nose of the jet slowly lowered to the runway. And they were safely down.
Danny pressed the brake pedals with his toes, slowed the jet, and exited onto the taxiway at the end of the runway. He taxied to an open tie-down spot, shut down the aircraft, and opened the canopy.
A cool breeze filled the cockpit, cooler and a bit stronger than the breeze in Santa Monica, but every bit as refreshing.
Danny released his safety harness, removed his helmet, and twisted in his seat in order to see Harley.
Harley sat calmly, hands still holding her safety harness. She gently removed her helmet and stared into the distance. The setting sun painted her face in a warm, golden light, and the ocean breeze lifted her long brown hair. She was very beautiful.
“Harley.”
“Dan.” She pointed. “Look, buffalo.”
Danny turned and saw there were indeed about a dozen large, dark-brown bison grazing in the distance.
Harley said, “Buffalo are said to be very delicious. Good for hamburgers. But I don’t think I could ever eat one.”
“Are you vegetarian?”
“Me a vegetarian? Hell, no. I love a good steak. Or a good burger. But buffalo have always seemed too . . . special. I think it’s the whole Native American connection. Plus they’re so cute.”
“Cows are pretty cute. But you eat them.”
“That’s true. I try not to think about it when I’m eating a steak or a burger. Grandpa always says, ‘There’s plenty of room for all of God’s creatures. Right on my plate, next to my mashed potatoes!’ If there is a God.”
“You don’t think so?”
Harley sighed. “I’m not sure. I’m a scientist by nature. So I tend to look for proof, for evidence, something I can quantify or measure. How do you measure God? ‘For he whom God has sent utters the words of God, for he gives the Spirit without measure.’”
“Is that from the Bible?”
“From one of the Gospels. John, I think. One of the few things I remember from Sunday school when I was a little girl. Every Sunday my mom made us all go to Sunday school, then to church, then to grandpa’s. Every Sunday I would sit and listen to the choir and listen to Pastor Wayne give his sermon. But I never saw or heard God. I figured if I couldn’t see God or hear God, how could I be certain God is real.
“But . . . sitting here, in this airplane, atop this island surrounded by the ocean, watching the sun go down, watching buffalo having dinner, feeling the breeze on my face . . . it’s easy to see why people believe in God. Who else could’ve created all this?” She swept a hand around to the Viper Jet, the airport, the notion of flight, the island, the Pacific ocean, the Earth itself. She shifted her gaze and locked eyes with Danny. “Do you believe in fate?”
Danny thought immediately of Candy and their blind date, when they’d shown up dressed in virtually identical clothing, the odds of which were so astronomical that poor Roberto had nearly malfunctioned after trying to calculate the odds. Nevertheless, it was a coincidence, random happenstance borne of fashion and geography and socioeconomics. “Fate? No. I believe in choice.”
“Exactly!” said Harley. “I believe in choice, too. Which is one of the biggest problems I have with robots. Robots have no choice. They’re bound by their three laws. They still make choices within those parameters, but it’s not the same. There’s a million things a person could choose to do that a robot could never do.”
“I dunno. Howard, for example, is pretty smart. Today he used sarcasm. And profanity.”
“It did?”
Danny nodded. “Said he heard it on television. Then he chose to repeat what he’d heard. That sounds like choice to me.”
Harley’s eyebrows narrowed while she considered it. “That’s a good point.”
“And this morning I found him with his head in the refrigerator.”
“Why, exactly?”
“He said he was testing his cold tolerance.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah.”
Finally, Harley shook herself and said, “Let’s not talk about robotics. We’re here on this beautiful island, so let’s enjoy it. How do we get to the Blue Bar?”
~
They made a brief visit to the terminal where, true to his word, Danny paid the modest landing fee. While Danny rented a small two-seat electric-powered cabriolet known as an “autoette”, Harley selected a postcard from the display rack. As they went outside to their autoette, Harley noticed a typo on the postcard. She showed it to Danny. They laughed. Danny said, “It was probably made by an A.I. They’re notoriously poor spellers.”
“Precisely,” said Harley.
They settled into the little electric car and made their way toward Avalon City.
The road from the airport wound its way down the side of the island, bordered by fields of grass gone brown in the summer sun, and countless giant oak trees. Danny and Harley took turns pointing out the local wildlife, including fox, horses, many types of birds including bald eagles, and more bison.
They entered the town of Avalon and drove among the narrow streets lined with quaint shops and eateries, and populated with visitors and myriad autoettes.
Harley directed them toward the waterfront, where they turned north and drove along the picturesque beachfront road. All the buildings were lit up, as the sun had descended behind the island.
The massive cupola of the historic ballroom marked their destination. Adjacent to the cupola was the Blue Bar. The building was awash in brilliant blue light, and Danny saw quite literally how it derived its name.
Danny and Harley entered the restaurant. Harley recommended a seat at the bar, where they could look out at the boats moored in the harbor.
Harley ordered the first round of Blue Curacao Margaritas, both being of the virgin variety. Danny could scarcely imagine how a drink without alcohol could be so delicious.
Once darkness fell, Harley led Danny downstairs to a table situated against the transparent wall of the restaurant. The entire lower level of The Blue Bar was underwater, illuminated by blue light more subtle and easier on the eye than those they’d seen shining on the building’s exterior.
Halfway through their Caesar salads, the underwater illuminators kicked on, lighting up the sea on all sides of the restaurant.
The spotlights illuminated kelp forests which grew all the way to the ocean surface, as well as colorful orange and pink and white coral covering most the sea floor.
Fish glowing with uncountable colors swam around the walls of the restaurant.
Dolphins and sea lions frequently swam by, often at alarming speeds. When a large dolphin circled the restaurant slowly, peering into the restaurant, Danny placed one hand against the glass. The dolphin stopped at their table, and Danny leaned close to the glass, looking into the animal’s eye. The dolphin looked back at him.
Harley smiled. “He likes you.”
The dolphin opened its mouth, revealing its rows of white teeth and pink tongue. It flicked its tail and performed a perfect backwards somersault, bobbed its head several times, and then swam away in a flash, leaving behind only trails of small bubbles.
Harley smiled once more. Blue light filled her eyes, lovely on her face.
Danny smiled back.
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