FOOD  FOR  THOUGHT


                                                                   ©     Copyright April 1973. David Barry.                         
                                                      ©     Revised version June 1998. Copyright David Barry.
                                                                           

                      Cal  stood in the queue at the ship's airlock,  a  small case  in his hand containing a book,  a "Kirly Q" puzzle,  and  a  well used, battered pocket Solitaire game. In front of him,  the  queue was steadily transferring through the chute from the Lander to the robocar  that would take them to the city centre. He was anxious to get a   glimpse  of this famous, not to say notorious,  planet.  Neither  he,  nor any of the other emigrants who had been his  companions for the past seven weeks on the deep space journey from Terra had been given any idea what they  were walking into; but then, that was half the incentive of the  WEGS system. You  were classified in one of half a score  categories, then offered a choice of half a dozen planets to emigrate to.               
 
"We   never   give  information  as  to   the   planet's   sociological,  ecological,  or  economic  balances,"  the   WEGS representative   had  said.  "That  way  there's  a  spirit   of  pioneering, of colonisation; a new life!"

Cal thought he detected a note of fanaticism.      

"But  surely people want to know some details about  the  world they're going to live on for the next five years?" he  had  asked.

The WEGS man waved his hands expressively.  

"You're  told  all  you  need to  know,"  he  said,  not unkindly. "Average  working  week,  type  of  jobs  to  suit   you particularly,  average  weather, average salaries. A  few  other bits  and  pieces. If we laid out  detailed  information  sheets about  each planet people were entitled to emigrate  to,  they'd probably  spend weeks poring over the sheets, unable  to  decide which one to go to.  Let's   face  it,  it's  not  as  if  there's   anything unpleasant  on  any particular world. We do  everything  in  our power  to  see  that conditions are 85%  satisfactory  for  each individual.  It would be impossible to find a planet that  would be  100%  satisfactory by virtue of the fact  of  human  nature,   which hasn't changed much in the past three thousand years."   
He   leaned  forward  and  assumed   a   more  businesslike   manner.  
" Anyway, -  you've   picked   planet   number  G/2793/413/7/ZOL, better known to the general public by the  not very complimentary name of Graffiti."
His eyes twinkled.
"On behalf of the World Emigration Guidance System, may I wish you a pleasant voyage and enjoyable stay on Graffiti."

                      And  so here he was, shuffling along with  eighty  seven other people who had elected to make Graffiti their home for the next five years. Only after that five year period could anyone travel Offworld again, either for a holiday or to emigrate somewhere else.  He settled himself in the robocar and  prepared to watch the countryside during the short journey. He  was disappointed. It looked much like Earth,  except  that  he  couldn't  recognise  the trees  and  shrubs.  As  they approached  the  city his disappointment turned to  dismay.  The architecture was even more similar to Terran design than the WEGS brochures and the Net information had suggested.                       

"This  is a bit ridiculous," thought Cal morosely.  "I'm classified as independent, adventurous, romantic, and  requiring something  to  occupy my freelance instincts and taste  for  the unusual.  How  in the name of Aardern of Link am I  supposed  to  find  adventure and romance on a planet the same in  nearly  all  respects as Terra? Mind you," he added to himself, "they do  say  that the girls of Graffiti are a real Wow!"

And being of a romantic turn of mind, Cal went off  into  a reverie about the girls of Graffiti. He was awoken from it  by the sound of the robocar saying,

"Your  attention please, your attention please.  We  are about  to  arrive at the city of Nampf. Will you  please  ensure that you leave nothing in the car, and that you insert your WEGS card into the receptor at the exit. Thank you."    Five  minutes later, Cal was standing on  Graffiti  soil for the first time. And precisely 6.25 seconds after that he saw his first Graffiti girl.

"By  the Holy Teeth of Muldheim of Sheg, Wow!" said  Cal and then added, "Oh, brother!"

        The  girl was walking towards him from what appeared  to be a hotel on the opposite side of the street, although no  name was visible on its facade.  She was quite small in stature, but with a full  figure. She  was  wearing a tunic of translucent but  highly  iridescent material that glowed as she walked; a shifting whorl of  colours that   shimmered   and  glistened  and   flowed,   a   veritable kaleidoscope  of impressions. The tunic was short,  very  short,  and  it showed her tanned legs to perfection, from  her  shapely  thighs  to  her shapely ankles. Her face was  oval,  elfin-like, with  large eyes that were softly appealing in  their  greenness, set  exquisitely in a face of pure unblemished skin.  Her  mouth was full, the lips warm and smiling, without makeup.
             
Through  the shifting spectrum of her tunic,  Cal  could  see her firm upthrust breasts. He thought he'd never seen such a  desirable looking female in all his life.

"If all the girls on Graffiti are like you, I'm going to have myself a ball!", thought Cal dreamily. As if in answer, the girl smiled at him and Cal experienced a physical sensation that was as old as Adam.

 "Good  evening," said the girl. "Would you accompany  me  to the hotel, please. You will be staying there for two or three days   while   arrangements   are  made   for   your   permanent accommodation and vocation."

Her  voice  matched the rest of her;-  a  soft,  gentle, rounded, delightful butterfly tickling at his ears. Cal  allowed himself  to  wonder for a few seconds if her touch would  be  as light as her voice.

"Are  you with the hotel?" he asked, visions  of  highly personal  room  service flitting through one half  of  his  mind whilst  the  other  half  rapidly tried  to  think  of  ways  of  prolonging their acquaintance if she should prove to be merely a temporary guide.

The  girl  chuckled,  a  softly  tinkling,   mischievous cascade of fairy bells.
"Yes, I'm employed there."

"Good,"  said Cal. "Are all Graffiti girls as  beautiful as you? Back on Terra, we're told that you're all a real w-- er, you're all really gorgeous by our standards."

 The girl flashed her eyes demurely; delightfully.  "I  have  heard  that Earthmen seem  to  like  us,"  she answered.

"You  bet!" said Cal, and let his thoughts drift into a limbo of  ‘101 Ways to Seduce Graffiti Girls.'                       

This  particular  girl, whose name Cal  discovered,  was Serena - that being the nearest Terran translation - saw him  to his  room, which was similar in most respects to  any  expensive  Earthside  hotel  room; and promised to arrange a meal  for  him shortly.

"Will you join me?" asked Cal.

"My  instructions  are to look after you until  you  are  settled in," said Serena, "so I would be delighted. It will give  me  an  opportunity to find out more about you and we  can  talk about your stay here."

Cal  thought, yes, and give me a chance to find out  more  about you! He put the vision this conjured up firmly out of his head.
                      
"Thank you," he said. "I would be delighted to have your company for a meal."

When she had gone, Cal spent some time in thought trying to  figure  out  the best way of getting  Serena  interested  in someone who was a complete stranger, and an Offworlder, at that. It  was rather difficult as he had never tried to seduce a  girl  from  another  planet  before and wasn't at all  sure  that  her responses would be as predictable as those of a Terran girl.  

A  drink  clumsily spilt, perhaps, or he could  try  the  "delightful surroundings! --   all-I-need-now-is-a-beautiful-girl"  routine.  He turned from his meditation of the bed to find  that  Serena   had  entered  quietly,  and  was  standing   behind   a  dial-a-tray.

"Oh!" said Cal. "You were mighty quick!"
                     
 "We aim to please," said the girl.

Was  it his imagination, or did her mouth quirk slightly as  she said that?

 "Right then," said Cal. "Let's tuck in."              

After the meal Serena seemed quite willing to sit and talk, even to  the  extent  of sitting next to Cal  on  the  couch  without waiting for him to ask, and showing no sign of hesitation at his nearness.

"This  gets  better  by the  minute!"  thought  Cal.  He  decided  on the spilt drink
routine, and forthwith asked  Serena  what she fancied as an after dinner liqueur.  
                     
"Let me," the girl smiled.
                     
She  dialled  the drinks from the tray.  After  a  three second  wait, they arrived. She carried them over to  the  couch and sat down. As she did so her elbow hit Cal's arm and most  of her  drink ended up in her lap. To say that Cal was  dumbfounded would be an understatement.

"Oh, I am stupid!" wailed Serena, making futile brushing movements at the liquid.

"Er-  no,  not at all," mumbled Cal. "It  was  my  fault entirely. I shouldn't have left my arm lying about."  
                     
"Of course it wasn't your fault. Ah- could I borrow your bathroom?" added the girl shyly.

 Cal  had by now regained his composure. He gave Serena his  most  winning smile.

"Of course you can! Be my guest!"                   

"Please, please be my guest for the next five years!" he  added silently to himself.

 Serena disappeared into the  bathroom  and Cal stood up and rubbed his hands, a huge grin on his face.
                       
"By  the  Sacred Horn of the Muldheim of Sheg!  This  is  unbelievable!"  he  thought. "The fates are  certainly  with  me tonight!"

 He heard the soft whoosh of the air dryers as the girl dried the soft  fabric of her tunic. The thought of the air  jets  blowing the translucent material against her body made him gulp, and  he took  a large swallow of his drink. He resumed his  former  seat  just as Serena returned from the bathroom. He patted the sofa.  
                     
"Come and sit down here and relax," he said comfortably.  "There's  lots  of things I want to know about  Graffiti.  After all, I'm going to be here for the next five years."

He added silently to himself:  "And  if tonight's anything to go by,  I  shall  enjoy  every minute or it!"

"Shall I try again with the drinks?" Serena asked with a laugh.  She dialled again, and this time completed the  exercise without mishap.

"What  would you like to know?" she asked,  sipping  her drink.

"Well, I'm still trying to figure out what's special  to Graffiti - apart from the girls, of course."
                      
"Don't  the  WEGS  tell you anything  about  the  planet you're emigrating to?" asked the girl in surprise.
                      
"No, not a great deal," said Cal. "Part of the incentive is to leave the individual to find out what will appeal to him -  or her - particularly on any one planet. All the WEGS  guarantee is  that  it  will be at least 85% satisfactory,  and  that  any  individual  will find something on his planet that will  satisfy his - how shall I say- most ardent desires. Of course, there may be  a downside to the planet as well. Which is why I'd  like  to know more about this place."
                      
Serena sipped thoughtfully.  "85% isn't a very good bet," she said.

"Oh,  I  don't know," said Cal. "I mean,  they  wouldn't  send  a person with a dread of spiders to a world  inhabited  by  arachnid  life. The 15% you take a chance on is whether  it's  a   bit  on the warm or cold side, say, or whether the natives  have  blue skin and pink hair. I think they do quite well, considering  the enormity of the task."   He paused to drink.
                       
"I suppose so," Serena said dubiously.
 
"Anyway, we're supposed to be discussing Graffiti,"  Cal reminded  her reproachfully. "It seems very much like  Terra  to me. There must be something pertinent to it that will appeal  to me."

He slipped his arm behind Serena and let it rest on the back  of  the couch, his fingers curling round her shoulder.
                     
 "Now tell me all about life here," he suggested,  giving a slight squeeze.
          
Serena  moved  fractionally closer to him, settling  herself  so  that  she was resting comfortably in the crook of his  arm.  She told  him  about  the various jobs that  were  available,  about social  customs  (and taboos), about public  services,  cultural pursuits,  leisure activities, wildlife, and warned him  not  to tangle with the "Haegnverd". She talked for an hour, and at  the  end of it Cal was somewhat worried.

"I see," was all he said.

Serena looked at him quickly.

"Don't  you  like  the  sound of  it,"  she  asked.  

Cal shrugged.

"I  dunno. It sounds a hell of a lot like Earth  if  you disregard   the  whatnots  that  are  obviously  particular   to Graffiti.  It  doesn't seem to be all that vastly  different.  I  thought  there  would be something unusual, or  -  or  exciting;  something  that would make a person like me have to be  careful;  to be on his toes all the time."    He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling.                       
"Oh I don't mean that I should be a criminal, always  on  the  run  from the "Haegnverd" or whatever you call  them.  It's  just,  oh,  I don't know; it seems dull, that's  all.  It  needs something to add a bit of spice to life."
              
There was a silence.

"I - I hope I haven't offended you," Cal said awkwardly.
               
Serena shook her head and finished her drink.
 
"I  mean,  I've  already said that the  girls  here  are  absolutely the greatest!" Cal went on hurriedly, feeling that he  ought  to make amends somehow. Serena set her glass down on  the floor and snuggled closer to him.

"Thank  you. I'm glad there's something you  like  about Graffiti, anyway."

"Oh,  I like, I like," said Cal softly, and  kissed  her  gently.  
"You've got it made!" he thought jubilantly. "At  least this will make up for the lack of excitement here, even if it is  only temporary."
              
He kissed her again, and slid his other hand round her waist.
                     
"Are  you going to stay here, or  ask  to  be  moved  somewhere else?" murmured Serena, between kisses.
              
Cal smiled.   "The way I'm feeling now, stay!"

Serena pulled him gently on top of  her.

"I'm glad Cal. Because there is one thing I haven't told  you about Graffiti."
She kissed his neck, nibbling gently.
                      
 "What's  that?" murmured Cal, not really paying so  much  attention  to what she was saying as what she was doing and  the feel  of her body through the thin tunic. Her hand  stroked  his face.

"Well,"  she said, in between kisses. "It might  provide some of the excitement you're looking for."

Cal  felt that any further details about the planet  could  wait  for a more propitious time.

"Couldn't we leave that for the time being?" he murmured  gently.  He  kissed her firmly on the lips  to  prevent  further distractions.

"I thought it was important to you," she said, when  she eventually  drew away for air. "I thought you were  looking  for excitement."

"Oh, I'm excited alright!" breathed Cal.
                      
"I  noticed,"  she  said. "But I really  think  this  is   something you'll want to know about."

Cal resigned himself.

"Surprise  me,"  he  murmured,  nuzzling  her  neck  and  allowing his hand to roam inside the tunic.

"Oh,  that's  nice!" she breathed. "Well, you  see,  all Graffiti born people have a certain inherent characteristic."

"Yes,  you're  the most beautiful, gorgeous,  sexy  girl I've ever met!" Cal whispered. "That's your main  characteristic and I love you for it!"

As  Serena's hands explored the contours of his body  he  realised that her touch was indeed as light as her voice.
                     
"But- we have- another special- characteristic--" Serena  said, her breath coming in short gasps.

"And  what  might that be, my  darling?"  Cal  prompted,   anxious  to  put  an end to conversation and  devote  his  total  attention to Serena's soft, supple, vibrant body.
              
Serena caressed him and nuzzled him and kissed him.
                      
"Well, darling," she confessed, murmuring softly as  she nibbled  gently  at one earlobe, "I think you should know that we are all highly telepathic."



                                                                           THE  END.

                                                                  ©  Copyright David Barry. 1973
       
 ©  No  part of this story or manuscript may be reproduced,  stored in  a  retrieval system or transmitted, in any form  or  by  any means, including electronically,  either wholly or in part without the written  permission  of the copyright holders. 

David Barry. April 1973.