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The Joracian Mystery

By Dennis Charles Weiser All Rights Reserved ©

Fantasy / Scifi

Vivaldi!

Àkbä told me a great many other things: that Joracians had discovered a way of living in total peace and harmony (they had not had a war in 100,000,000 years), that they were telepathic, that they could easily teach former Earthlings these skills. Meanwhile, we sped across galaxies, nearing our destination.

We emerged from the big green mushroom directly into the interior structure of the main building of what was to be my new home. I mentioned the blackout I experienced while boarding the craft back on Earth, and now asked Àkbä what our means of locomotion had been.

“Telekinesis,” he replied.

“Tele…?”

“Just like Star Trek,” he said, somewhat condescendingly.

He escorted me to an intimate space, the walls and ceiling of which seemed a kind of free-floating, gauzy, curtainy substance; this substance appeared to be blowing, almost breathing. The chamber was outfitted with a green coal like the one I had seen on the spacecraft.

“This will be your sleeping quarters for the present. An attendant will see to your dining preference when it is time. Everything from the National Voice Library, Library of Congress and University of Texas at Austin will be placed at your disposal. I leave you now to your rest and rejuvenation. But first, a surprise for you.” With that, he was gone!

Through the gauzy, blowing curtain came a tumbling figure I was delighted to see.

“Sylvia!” No sooner had I spoken her name than we were in each other’s arms, a greeting that quickly blossomed into serious kissing.

“New York was horrible,” Sylvia said. “I mean, I went to this party, and it was okay, but everyone was so cold…” Her voice trailed off as she began to consider her surroundings. “Sam,” she whispered. “What are we on?”

“Didn’t the fellows from outer space explain things?”

“I thought they were from New Jersey!”

This was going to take some time, I could see at once. But first, Sylvia and I had more pressing business to attend to. “Come here,” I said, taking her hand in mine. We knelt down beside the green coal. To my amazement, as we kissed, our garments began melting away.

“You think it’s okay, Sam—I mean—here?” she asked, a sigh of paranoia.

“It’s our bedroom,” I declared. “We can get something to eat later.”

“Great, I’m starved!”

“So am I!” With that, an uncontrollable bout of kissing broke out, as down Hedon’s slippery slope we both commenced to slide. Gradually falling into other routines, I began to notice a familiar sound washing all around us.

“Vivaldi,” Sylvia crooned, a wet velvet slurp in my ear.

“It’s about time!”

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