Destinations 7.

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Chapter 38

“Stealing a kiss. Groovy! I always enjoyed to steal a kiss. The last kiss. Last kiss goodbye. How many? Who knows. Never took the time counting them.” Speaking to herself, taking a break when crossing past the anode, Rivkah won’t hear any voice, no answer returning her words, just silence. “Ah, so good to be alone, so nice to steal the last kiss. Enoch’s kiss! Who would have dreamed of such a feat? This is so fucking awesome! I am speechless. Yet I speak. To myself, to make it count. This must be the one and most-- or? Okay, the first and better than all taken together. To date. Yeah!! ...Yes, girl. Fly up, fly out of this hollow thing. But how could I fly beyond the encasing? What kind of reality flip is waiting for me? Next. Ne...”

Slowing down, her skydiving spirals less and less, tighter and tighter, until her bare feet touch the waters of the Styx. Gently, giving her shivers, mild shivers up the spine, into the rear of her head.

“Oh, Lord, Iisus Xristos, Son of God, have mercy on me.”

Breathing deeply.

“Oh, Lord, Iisus Xristos, Son of God, have mercy on me.”

Breathing deeply. Twice.

“Oh, Lord, Iisus Xristos, Son of God, have mercy on me.”

Deep breath, three times, and eject!

“Oh my, oh my, what’s with this vast track around me? Where am I?” Confused, she looks left and right – nothing to see, other than the never ending track – then ahead. “Ah, there’s an edge. Let me see.”

Approaching the edge, she sees herself walking. This because the edge is a mirror. A never ending mirror, as long as the track beneath her soles, as long as one can dare, left and right.

“Do I look older? Are my boobs saggier? Uhm, are these new wrinkles on my face? What’s going on? What is this mirror doing to me? Or is this how I really look? The mirror can’t do better than any other mirror. It returns light back at you. What you give is what you get. Makes sense, no? As simple as that!”

Rivkah is intrigued enough to touch the mirror with her finger. “Am I an old lady now? Hum... Well, after all, according to the earthly calendar, I should be a couple of weeks beyond my 270th birthday. Who would have thought? Good. Let me put it this way: for a two hundred and seventy years old bag I’m a helluva looker. See? That’s better.” Confident enough, she pushes her palms against the mirror. Flip.

“What on earth are all these buildings, and trains, and elevators, and flying machines? Is this some kind of Manhattan of the future?”

“Welcome to the Katholikos, Madame...?” A green, no, blueish, nope, more like turquoise, nah, green again, rather mint and seafoam, or in between. Never mind, a young lady flying towards her and wishing to know. Curiosity or not.

“Rebecca. My name is Rebecca Johannson. And you are?”

“Matild, guardian second rank, Sector Lambda. Do I know you? I can’t find a match for you, in my data base. Any match, in their data base. Where do you come from?”

“From the mirror. Guess it flipped me out, on your side.”

“This is not possible. Not any more. Only Astarte could flip out. In and out, actually. But she is gone now. What a tragedy.”

“Sad, indeed. But you gotta mark your calendar: I flipped from behind the mirror. It happened to me. Dunno.”

“You’re not from this earth then?”

“Dig deeper. Don’t you have historical data bases?”

Matild complies. “Oh, oh, Madame la colonelle!”

“Hey, hey, not that far down the line. I used to be around when Astarte has arrived. That’s all, more or less.” Rivkah looks sideways to the mirror, searching for more wrinkles. Not that she could find them.

“You’ve got insecurities? So many white ladies have a similar problem. If you’d ask me, my take is that this matter is overrated, way too much. You are white and you look great, wrinkles or not. Besides, here!, take this gel,” after massaging her inner thigh, Matild hands Rivkah a tad of gel, yellowish green, like lime, “dip two fingers and spread over the wrinkles, yes, those two, edging your mouth, up and down. Look in the mirror.”

Following Matild’s indications to the letter, Rivkah stares at her image in the mirror, as her fingers massage around her lips, down her chin, and neck. Then up on her cheeks, and forehead. “Quite impressive. No more wrinkles. Is this a snail gel?”

“It is my own gel. I produce it, like sweat.”

“You’re not from this earth, are you?”

“Oh yes, been born here, right in the Lambda Sector, closer to the axis, line five. Same as my parents. But my grandparents are immigrants, from the Sirius system.”

“They were lucky to be accepted here, in the Katholikos, I guess.”

“From their stories, I learned that people from all around the galaxy wish to move here. Do you know why?”

“To see God coming, before the game ends.”

“Precisely. We live in such an amazing time. And this killing of Astarte, the Solar battle, everything is both terrible and terrific at the same time. Sordid and sublime.”

“All endings open new doors, new beginnings. May I ask you something, Matild?”

“Sure. Anything.”

“Can you give me access to your data base? I’m looking for a guy.”

“You’re quite bold. But what the heck, you’ve been longer in the force than I.”

“When have you joined the force?”

“Twenty years ago. Martian Military Academy, SonderStormTroopers, promotion 115 (that’s earth year 2171).”

Rivkah pretends to be interested in the conversation, while her eyes keep rolling over the lines in a shared data base. “No person, no person, no person. I’m looking in the wrong place. That damn thing is A THING! Yes, energy spikes, look for spikes in the field... Ah, there you go! But, wait a min-- How’s that possi--?”

“You found what you looking for?”

“Dunno, dear. Maybe you could help me. Here, in the Sigma Sector, four seconds before I flipped. See this marker?, this when I came here. Now look back, four seconds back, at the record from the Sigma Sector. There! See that anomaly? One kilometer and three hundred meters long. That is what I’m looking for. Can we get there?”

“Hold my hand.”

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