the joint between pelvis and femur

I am sitting outside a high society sleep chamber for the paralyzing affluent. So far I've gone about my business undetected. I am wearing black which is the "new black" I am told by some fashion sources popular in cyber space. I am hiding behind some Kurt Vonnegut papers in hopes no one will take notice of my antennae. I have ordered some squishy brown meat wrapped in a slimy goo shell along with a glass of white mead juice. I am fond of my server; his smile is genuine and rare among the plastic plants that collect dust in the lobby. The heat lamps are buzzing and I cannot help but wonder if the buzzing stopped would I lose my ability to compute new information? I kick it and look around to see if anyone is stirred by my inspection.

The platter arrives and the smoke settles directly around my cheeks. I wish it didn’t make such a commotion. I exchange a pleasant auditory barter with the waiter. We find common ground around the current weather forecast and then exchange a metaphorical wink. We both know the other does not belong here.

I start with the prologue of my reading material. My radar picks up a low frequency. It is hard to decipher at first. And then, there it is. I have located the source. A table about 10 beats behind mine: MALE /AMERICAN EARTHLING / 5’7” / DESINGER SHOES. I must rely on my devices for my read, a complete turn around would blow my cover and engage the Subject in a conversation about place of birth and favorite shape of pasta. No time for that, I must gather sound bites.

“Oh yeah, I ran with the bulls in Pamplona two years ago.” Pamplona….scan my mental files…look under the p’s yes yes there it is: Running with the bulls. Some young earth males find it exhilarating to run down narrow streets with a hungry, angry and abused bull poking them in the back side with their pointy horns. Some young earth males find it even more exhilarating to talk about it years later around a table of strangers in a sort of, “when I was young and adventurous” kind of way.

Having this information stored in my bank already I decide to give up on this subject and wait for new information to appear on my scanner. I go back to the first page of my papers. I do not get very far. Subject’s frequency is now off the scale.

“You know what’s hip? I’ll tell you what’s hip.”

Hip? herm... scan the database: 1hip \'hip\ n : the fruit of the rose hip n 1 : the part of the body on either side below the waist consisting of the side of the pelvis and the upper thigh 2 : the joint between pelvis and femur 3. hip also hep adj hip-per; hip-pest 1 : keenly aware of or interested in the newest developments 2 : WISE, ALERT

Oh yes, got it. This is good information. “I taught myself how to play Led Zeppelin on my acoustic guitar in my basement. I just ripped through those cords.” Interesting, last time I ripped through cords I spilled some purple stuff on my mother board and had to be rewired. Good information.

“I don’t know man. I guess I should learn how to play the guitar I have. It’s just that all of them, each one of them is special, has a different sound, something new to offer. I guess it would be smart to master the one I have...but a new guitar is just so exciting. I lose interest in the one I have.”

At this point all my instruments are beeping. There is a change in Subject's pitch. There is a new emotion attached to Subject’s voice. It loses strength….not as confident.

An updated profile appears on my display: Subject 35 YEARS OF AGE / SINGLE / COMPULSIVELY LONELY / FEAR OF COMMITMENT

Got it. I save the information and close my identifier. I take a sip of my liquid mind enhancer and realize my new best friend has brought me another receptacle full of the stuff. I am about to return to the same page and same sentence of my booklet when I am spotted. The 4th wall has been scaled and I am verbally apprehended.

“What are you reading?” The fancy lady wearing face paint to cover up her wisdom can only be talking to me. The shiny jewels suspended from her ears, wrists and neck send a blinding beam into my retinas and I need to put on my visor to adjust my vision. My identifier is beeping furiously. I don’t have to look. I recognize this mode of human interaction. Fancy face paint asks me this question not to get to know me better, nor to befriend me or even to enrich her own library. She asks me this merely as an appropriate preface to…

“Well have you read any Dan Brown?”

The white juice has made my motor slow.

“Well, Dan Brown wrote 'The Di Vinci Code' and he is an excellent author. I am on my third book by him.” I am proud of my new companion merely because she is so proud to share her feats of literary accomplishments with me as well as her superior ability to annunciate. I decide that if I went too far in this discussion I would be discovered and politely shoved into the service closet with the other vacuum cleaners.

“Yes, I have heard of it.” Actually the title reminds me of an old comrade of mine named Di Vinci Code. I met her in a human vessel sculpting class. She is a senior comander who demonstrates an astounding ability to “tsk” and judge in silence. I admire the way she wildly swings her arms and twists her torso to the techno version of “Forever in Blue Jeans”.

My brevity dissuades the painted lady. I scribble my signature on a small piece of paper along with the number 419. This exchange marks the end of my observation session for the day. Now I will return to room 419 with the oversized mattress. Tonight I decide to catch up on my essential human behavior telecourses. Tonight's topics: flirtation, tension and impatience from a tutorial program called “Cheers”. I will then plug myself into the wall, shut my eyes and recharge my battery for tomorrow’s activities.