The Compass of Life: (A Novel)

By Harold Stoler and Ira Karten

Once inside, he opened his safe and proceeded to shred each page of his notes on the mutated form of the AIDS virus, which he had been working on for all those years. Then he destroyed all but a syringe full of the microorganism, which he then proceeded to inject into himself through his thigh. A contented feeling passed through his body, as the beginning of his plan advanced without a hassle.

Imagine a world where the AIDS virus mutates into a more deadly form that becomes communicable by touch and leaves those it doesn't kill sterile. The top scientists in the world are baffled-and they can't stop it.

This nightmarish scenario becomes reality in the year 2241. The remnants of the biological catastrophe caused by FS Syndrome have created a world where any type of intimacy is strictly prohibited. It is here that Susan 170 and Bob 162, two very different people, fall in love with each other. Follow their saga as they attempt the unthinkable possibility of a physical relationship and as they are pursued by two ruthless, unrelenting police officers out to protect society by destroying them.

Can the compass of life determine the future of these individuals and this world?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Apr 3, 2012
• ISBN: 9781475904666

Harold Stoler

Ira Karten and Harold Stoler both live in New York City. These two longtime friends and collaborators combined their ideas about a possible future and based some of the characters in The Compass of Life on their friends' unique personalities.

Book preview

Prologue

(The Present)

After landing at Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport, Firas Felhemas took a taxi to his office at the Center for Disease Control where he proceeded to delete all his computer files and shred his extensive notes on the mutated AIDS virus. Then he opened his safe and destroyed all but a syringe full of the microorganism which he then proceeded to inject into his thigh. A contented feeling passed through his body.

Later that evening, Firas drove to midtown Atlanta. Cruising along Eighth Street, he stopped at the sight of the first prostitute he saw. As he lowered his window a scantily dressed hooker in a skin tight pink dress with seven-inch stiletto heeled pink boots approached, leaned into the open window and in an seductive voice solicited, looking for a good time, baby?

How much? Firas shot back.

Keep your pants on Sweetie. How do I know you ain’t a cop?

I’m not a cop, how much? Firas shot back.

With that grumpy attitude the cops wouldn’t want you so for you fifty bucks.

Okay get in. Where do we go?

Sweetie, just park around the corner I have a place. My name is Pinkie, what’s yours?

No names no small talk, got that? Firas growled backed.

Anything you want but baby you’re going to enjoy what you are going to get and then you won’t be such a crab, the tart remarked as she powdered her nose.

Pinkie took him to a rundown shabby hotel where she led him to a room on the third floor. Inside, Firas grabbed the prostitute and threw her on the bed. The harlot began to protest, not so rough sweetie. Firas never heard her. He roughly ripped her dress open and yanked her legs apart.

Hey take it easy! she protested.

Ignoring her complaints, he inserted his penis into her uncovered clean-shaven genitals and began to hump her with a fiery ferocity until he climaxed. He sighed with relief as he zipped up his pants, threw fifty dollars on the bed next to the stunned hooker and left. The only thing that pleased him was that the rapidly spreading bacterium was planted.

Firas embarked on this same routine each night for the next three weeks. He would plant a seed and return home to sit in a chair and stare off into space until he would fall asleep. In the morning he rarely ate. He would just head off to work go to his office lock the door and sit at his desk staring blankly out the window never saying a word to any of his colleagues.

One Friday evening after one of his excursions, he came home feeling hungry, something he had not felt in weeks. He went to the kitchen to get something to eat where he noticed a picture hanging on the refrigerator door. It was a picture of his family drawn in crayon from the hand of his youngest son, Makki.

He just stared at that picture as he let his mind drift to the day he left his family in his parent’s home to take a walk in the city of his birth, Hebron. Before he turned a corner a car pulled up. Two men got out and ordered him to get in. Firas was about to protest but was quickly convinced at the sight of their guns. Inside the car a hood was placed over his head. He was shoved down in the back seat. The car seemed to be turning everywhere. Sweat poured from his brow and his heart beated so furiously he thought he was going to die. Firas had no idea where he was or what they had in mind. Suddenly the car stopped. He was hurriedly taken from the car and shoved into a nondescript hut. As the hood was removed, it took a few moments for Firas to adjust his eyes to the dimly lit room. He looked around puzzled until his eyes recognized a vaguely familiar face.

Umar, is that you Umar Yafafed?

Yes, Firas, it is your old pal. I see America has been very good to you. Nice family, nice clothes, a hundred more pounds around your waist. Not bad Firas.

I see you have not changed much either still as bossy as ever the man in charge. That is a commander’s uniform is it not?

I am a commander in the Fattah, Umar said with pride. I’m sorry for the way we had to bring you here but I am a wanted man, you see.

Are you still leading the mobs throwing rocks at the Israelis?

Not mobs, soldiers in our jihad against those pigs, Umar shot back.

Still the same old hot head but in twenty years your hatred must have festered.

America has made you smart Firas, if only you had witnessed what those bastards had done. The media in America has not given you the true picture. They do not see it from our side. They don’t see the blood in our streets among our families, our young, our loved ones or how many good men have been killed including my two brothers. Now they imprisoned one of my sisters. The Israelis are nothing but scum, Umar said this with venom shooting out of his eyes. Such hatred, Firas had never seen in anyone’s eyes before. He knew this was real and he now was beginning to realize why he was brought here.

Umar, you want something from me but before you ask I cannot get involved in your struggles, nor do I want to. I must tell you my answer is no to whatever you want.

Then you betray your own people.

Betray my people? You are wrong, Umar. I am saving them. Whatever you want doesn’t know the difference between Arab and Jew. It will wipe out both sides then where would your jihad be?

Let us worry about that. All we ask is for a small amount of a biological agent known as Serin Gas.

Alarmed, Firas replied, you have no idea what that stuff is and what it could do, do you Umar? You heard what it did in a subway in Japan and it’s now the answer to your prayers? I have no access to any of that so you cannot get any from me. If that is why you took me here then you might as well kill me now.

Umar paced around the floor. What do I have to say to you to make you believe the Israelis are treacherous bastards who must be erased from the face of the earth?

There is nothing you could say to convince me to get it for you even if I can. Your hatred is consuming you, Umar. I am sorry for your loss. Your way is not the right way. One day your hatred will destroy you and all that you believe in, Firas said sadly.

Umar took his fist and smashed it on the table shouting, then I will have to prove it to you and make you see what these Israeli scumbags are capable of and then you will come to me and beg to join our crusade.

Umar, I am a research scientist. I find ways to heal not to kill. Now, if we are finished here let me go I want to spend time with my family. I have traveled far and I have no time to stay and talk about what will never come to pass.

You may leave. The car outside will take you back to Hebron but you will be back. Trust me, my dear old friend we will discuss this further.

Umar turned his back as a hood was put over Firas’ head and taken out. If the cause were not so important he might have killed his friend right then and there. He was not one of them. America had changed him. He was now happy and content.

A man entered beckoning to Umar, everything is in place and we are ready.

Good, let’s get out of here. They hopped into a dirty old Ford and drove off.

About the same time Firas and Umar were having their talk, an Arab boy no more than ten years old walked into the Israeli Military Headquarters outside of Hebron looking for someone to listen to him. When a soldier came over he told him he over heard some people talking about three men holding hostages in a house in Hebron. If they paid him he would tell them where. The soldier took him to his captain.

In the Felhemas’ household three men in ski masks were holding Firas’ wife and family along with his parents hostage at gunpoint. Not long afterward, two Israeli tanks appeared on the street heading for the Felhemas household. A helicopter began to hover overhead. The men in the house opened fire at the tanks. The Israelis have a policy of shoot first ask questions later. It was a policy of survival. The tanks returned fire as the helicopter dropped a bomb on the house. It did not take long before the house was flattened into rubble.

When Firas was dropped off all he saw was rubble where his parent’s home once stood. His eyes told him no one survived this atrocity. His family was gone. He immediately realized his life was over. Firas Felhemas plunged into total shock as he started to tremble uncontrollably. He just stood there in disbelief. How could this be? He kept saying to himself. How could this be? How could two peoples hate each other so? Innocent lives taken and for what reason? Here lies the hatred of the world and its consequences. Only people hate without people there would be no hatred. In his clouded mind a horrible thought began to emerge. He had the power to stop the hate by getting rid of the people. In his deluted state of mind, no matter how demented, he felt compelled to save the world in the only way he knew how.

Now, staring at the picture tears fell from Firas’ eyes. The haze lifted from his tormented brain. He fell to the floor with uncontrollable sobbing. What have I done? he kept saying out loud over and over again, what have I done? What have I done? I can’t do this any more. I have to put an end to this. He got up and went into his bedroom took a box from his closet and hurried into his den and closed the door.

On Monday when Firas did not report for work his co-workers who had been worried sick after watching his appearance and behavior deteriorate, called the police. A patrol car was dispatched to Firas’ home. Two police officers knocked on his door but got no answer. After talking with his neighbors and seeing a car in the driveway they decided to force their way in. Searching the house one officer opened the door to the den. He took one look into the room and immediately turned a ghastly green and ran to the bathroom to throw up.

Are you all right? asked his partner.

Take a look for yourself, the officer said as he wiped the vomit from his perspiring face. The other officer cautiously looked into the room. What he saw turned his stomach. Firas Felhemas had shot himself in the groin. Blood and guts were strewn throughout the room. There was a deep gash where his once proud genitals lie.

It was apparent that Firas did not die immediately. He had suffered before succeeding in what appeared to be a horrendous act of suicide. There were pools of blood all over the room.

The officers found a note written in Arabic with a very shaky hand. It too was covered with blood. When translated the note simply said, ‘OH GOD, WHAT HAVE I DONE? WHAT HAVE I DONE? ALLAH, HAVE MERCY ON MY SOUL.’

PART I

THE NEEDLE TURNS SOUTH

Chapter 1

In order to save what was left of human race from extinction by a worldwide malady, with the advice and consent of the people, laws were written to give absolute power to one central government to protect humanity from itself. One of these laws confined people to live only in cities. Over 200 years later the narrow island of the City of New York became the largest of the fifty-one cities comprising the United Cities of the Planet Earth. A magnificent metropolis where 2.2 million people lived and worked in massive apartment dwellings, tall skyscrapers with wide open streets and wondrous parks with vast gardens full of green pastures to give its residents ample room to move about. Hidden cameras and security screens were everywhere under the ever watchful eye of the Sex Police, the enforcing arm of the government.

On New Year’s Eve in the year 2040 rain spattered a window on the sixtieth floor of a huge housing complex overlooking the East River. This apartment was furnished in the contemporary style of the day. Inside was an immense living room that had six matching blue leather form-fitting chairs situated far apart around a uniquely shaped coffee table centered in the middle of the room, by a bay window the occupant kept his favorite chair away from a large security screen built into the wall that overlooked the whole room. In an alcove was a small eat-in area where the cater the food producer was located. Off through a doorway was a bedroom simply furnished with a bed, a dresser and a long closet for the occupant’s large collection of jumpsuits. Various shades of reds and blues accented the rooms from floor to ceiling. Only family photographs and two large security screens on opposite sides of the room decorated the walls. A door led to the bathroom which was equipped with another security screen, a shower and a small basin. Another door took you to a terrace where the occupant kept his sleek eight-foot long delta shaped Flying Eagle Mach VI skycar.

The dweller of this apartment was a man approaching middle age by the name of Bob162. Bob considered himself to be good-looking. At a youthful fifty, Bob stood six-foot two inches tall, with bright blue eyes and a slim physique. Bob had a full head of black wavy hair which he kept neat and trimmed along with his mustache. He did what he could to keep himself healthy and in shape. He kept his residence tidy and magnificently clean not a gadget was out of place.

This evening he was getting ready for his family’s birthday bash, Bob chose to wear a red striped jumpsuit one of his best and he looked great in it. It conformed perfectly to his body. He pulled the hood over his head and put on a matching pair of gloves. Satisfied, Bob pronounced himself ready to go but his patience was wearing thin.

It is almost five where the hell is everyone? he cried out to his image just to release his frustration. If we miss our flight, I am going to get very angry.

Finally ten minutes later, his brother Leon arrived wearing a burgundy jumpsuit almost similar to Bobs. Stocky in appearance and losing his battle with his waistline, Leon was wearing a matching colored hairpiece his way of keeping his head covered in compliance with the law. The moment Leon talked, he began preaching his latest gospel, religion and finding God. Leon was a born again Zealot. He believed God came down from heaven and protected mankind from its peril with the Sex laws and only God can take them away. He would recite versions from the Bible to prove his point.

Bob a true believer in the Sex Laws but not the religious aspect of it immediately brought up a different topic. How is your environmental science research coming along? Leon went into a whole monologue about all his problems with the studies, his supervisors and his co-workers. In addition, he squawked about how he hated working on the moon. Leon was never happy with whatever he did. Bob thought if he didn’t change his attitude he would be reassigned to some remote research center orbiting a moon around Saturn.

Again Bob changed the subject to Leon’s waistline. No time to worry about weight, Leon lamented. As he dropped his huge body in one of the chairs, he continued. I’m too busy, too much going on. But don’t worry about it. I can lose it as easily as I gained it.

Leon returned to complaining about his job when the door swung opened. Their sister Diane vociferously entered the room with her three black ponytails flying out from each side of her bonnet. She dropped her packages all over Bob’s neat apartment.

After her last package fell, one of the security screens snapped on and a commanding voice proclaimed, there are two or more people congregated in one room. Gloves most be worn at all times. You are now in violation of civil sexual penal code 100.9. A glove had slipped off Diane’s hand when she dropped her packages. She immediately put it back on showing her hand to the screen. The screen went silent.

Diane was happy to see Leon. The last time she had seen him was two years ago before she was assigned to the Mars Medical Center as an associate medical research scientist.

She sat in one of the chairs opposite her brothers and chatted about missing Earth where she could engage in her favorite pastime shopping for jumpers and shoes. This time it was at an antiquated department store in the Village district. Diane never liked purchasing anything on the Inter-City Access Line, no fun, she would proclaim, then how could I have the excitement of haggling and bargaining before I return what I don’t like?

As she continued to rant a miniature image of a man materialized on the coffee table before them. Their brother Paul stood grandly with his black curly hair covered by an oval shaped tan cap. He was wearing a distinguished brown jumpsuit. He wanted to know when they would be leaving for the Space Station. Bob told him they had a seven o’clock flight and if Max ever showed up they would get going. Don’t linger, Phyllis put together something special and she can’t wait to spring it on us. See you soon," Paul’s image faded away.

Twenty minutes later, Max made his entrance. At that point, Bob was furious. Apologizing for being late, Max said he was held up at his museum doing some research on the ancient subway system that used to transport people around the city.

Max, of all the 162 brothers was the most disheveled and unkempt portly man with black hair sprouting wildly around his bright orange octagon cap. A man full of strange habits and phobias. For the evenings’ festivity he wore a sparkling silver jumpsuit with lavender footwear.

Again the security screen snapped on informing them about sexual penal code 100.9. Max, being a bit absent-minded, forgot to wear his gloves. As he was putting them on, Diane scolded him, I haven’t seen you in over a year and you are still wearing the same scruffy pair. Couldn’t you wear something to match your outfit? Or get yourself a new pair you know they are free, the government warehouses are stocked full if you can’t be bothered going to a store to buy a pair.

Max just shrugged his shoulders and said, i’ll get around to it so don’t sweat it. Bob had been pestering him about his gloves for a while now maybe he would listen to Diane.

Diane and Leon wanted to know more about the subway. Bob had no patience for this. He just wanted to get going so he barked out, who cares about how people rode in a hole in the ground. You can talk about it some other time it’s been buried for over two hundred years it not going anywhere so let’s get going or we will miss our flight. Patience was not one of Bob’s greatest virtues.

They went onto Bob’s terrace to board his Flying Eagle. Leon was impressed with the new wings. Bob gave him the salesdroid’s line, three thousand mile flying radius on one fuel cell and this baby has a maximum speed of five hundred and seventy-five miles per hour.

Leon wanted to know how much this baby set him back. Bob told him to just get in. He didn’t want him to know he would be paying this sucker off for the next ten years.

Once inside they went agog about the interior, the wide plush light blue silky leathery seats with form-fitting technology and a camera to watch their every move. Bob commanded the sound system to play some soothing music as the engine started the holding clamps along with the tether line released automatically. Slowly rising to an altitude of one hundred feet above the building they flew off for their ten-minute flight to the spaceport.

Diane and Leon were impressed that the skycar had voice command. It must have set you back a pretty credit, Diane said.

Bob just replied, not as much as you think. What Bob didn’t say was it was standard equipment on this model. Max just sat there looking bored.

Traffic was light due to the rain but it took ten extra minutes for Bob to find an open landing spot. They barely made their seven o’clock flight.

Mankind’s quest for knowledge made it essential for humans to live and work in space. Amendments to the law allowed bases on the moon, the planet Mars and various other locations throughout the solar system including the Chaffee Space Station all under the vigilant eyes of the Sex Police.

Diane, Leon and Max had been in space before but it was Bob’s first time. Since it was just a thirty-minute flight, he became mesmerized watching the approaching speck loom larger and larger through the window. The Roger Chaffee Space Station was built in space in the year 2072. The station had been expanded many times to its present size of over five miles long and two miles wide with five main sections all held together by a labyrinth of spider-like limbs reaching to and fro every section and gyrating slowly like a pinwheel some three hundred miles above the Earth. As the ship approached the landing bay Bob noticed scores upon scores of ships arriving and leaving he station no wonder the station was known as the Chaffee Stop. It was the stopover for travelers to all the laboratories, factories and military bases anywhere in the solar system.

After the ship docked and the siblings passed through security Paul met them with a hovercraft. When they settled in Paul guided the vehicle through a long maze of corridors to section three of the promenade deck where the Pleasure Bastion was located.

The promenade deck was tremendous. It stretched across the entire deck and five more above and below with room for everyone on board to have ample space. The Pleasure Bastion was located in the center of a large collection of fine shops and restaurants.

Just across the way from the entrance to the Bastion a demonstration was going on protesting the Sex Laws. This started a small argument between Bob and Paul. Bob felt very strongly that these laws were protecting society from total annihilation. Paul thought otherwise. He felt the disease that brought about the Sex Laws was long extinct and therefore the laws were no longer needed. Diane ended this before it could escalate into a heated argument reminding them why they were here.

Phyllis wearing her favorite yellow flowered jumper with a huge daisy affixed to the brim of the headpiece met them at the doorway to the Bastion. She hustled them inside to change clothes and to meet back here for a picture. Bob protested he had put on one of his best outfits. Phyllis ignored him and ordered him to change. The way she said it he had no choice but to comply. Once inside the dressing room he had no idea how to put on the clothes that were laid out before him. The computer gave him step-by-step instructions depicting how to wear them.

Once dressed Bob looked at himself in the mirror. He was wearing a dark purple double-breasted pinstriped suit with wide lapels, a white shirt with a red tie and a sharp Lowry hat. The image he was looking at made him feel snappy and dapper. However, the white gloves clashed with the outfit.

Bob returned to the entrance hall where he found all his brothers wearing the same dark suits with Lowry hats but in different colors and styles. His sisters were wearing dresses with hemlines about two inches below their knees. Their legs had some kind of clear colored nylon stockings on them making all the brothers a bit uncomfortable. It was the first time any of the boys had ever seen their sister’s legs.

A festive feeling flowed through the 162s as they laughed and enjoyed their attire telling each other how good they looked. Phyllis with her black hair neatly combed under a veiled hat covering her bright blue eyes gave them a sign saying, ‘The One Hundred and Sixty-twos.’ They held it in front of them and stood about a yard apart. While they were still laughing and waving a computer snapped their picture. It turned out to be the best picture ever taken of the 162 family. Bob already selected a spot where he would illustrate it on his wall.

Phyllis did all the research on Bob’s historical database at work. She knew her family were suckers for anything historical. Phyllis led the way to the Emerald Dream Suite118 where their entertainment haven was to be held. Paul through his connection had been able to get the suite on New Year’s Eve. It was hard to book anything at the Chaffee Stop’s Pleasure Bastion since the waiting list was over two years long.

Phyllis did her homework well. Upon entering the reality suite time whisked them back to a restaurant called the Stork Club, circa 1940. Its authenticity went right down to the tiles on the floor, the decor, the tablecloths and even the ashtrays. The only thing that was real was the food, the serving droids and the drinks. The place was packed full with virtual reality people that even felt and smelled real. Everything looked so amazingly authentic. Smoke even filled the room but twenty-third century technology manipulated the air keeping their lungs clean. Of course there was a couple of giant security screens on the walls.

A girl dressed in a green bathing suit type outfit which showed her shapely long legs were covered with some type of silk fishnet stockings took the siblings to a table with a reserved sign on it. The table was right next to the stage. As they were sitting down Phyllis told them their sexdroids would arrive after supper.

A serving droid came over to their table with a bottle of champagne and poured the liquid into glasses so they could make a toast. Bob was given the honor. He cleared his throat. I want to thank Phyllis for planning this wonderful celebration and Paul for breaking through the cobwebs in front of his credit vault to pay for this extravaganza. And here is to our long-lost brother, Steve. May he return to the fold one day soon. We are not the only One Hundred and Sixty-Two families in this world but we certainly are the greatest. Drink up and let’s make this evening something to remember for ever. They chugged down their champagne as the waiter passed out menus.

A waiterdroid with pad and pencil in hand took their orders. Leon, Paul, Phyllis and Bob ordered sirloin steak with a baked potato along with a salad and a shrimp cocktail as a appetizer. Max ordered the roast duckling with wild rice as well as the shrimp cocktail. Diane was up to her old tricks. She could not decide what she wanted asking the waiter over and over what was good. She finally decided on a medium rare steak. The family couldn’t help teasing the waiter while playing along with Diane.

With a round of drinks the appetizers were brought out. The lights dimmed, an orchestra appeared on stage, and a singer by the name of Bing Crosby stepped forward. After the applause he made a few jokes about some guy named Bob Hope. Bing began to sing some songs in a style called crooning. The 162’s liked it. It was quiet and very simple nothing like the singers of today if you can call screaming and shrilling singing.

When the steaks came out Diane complained hers was cold and not medium rare. So back it went. Now the family teased Diane. She did this all the time. It was just good natured ribbing and Diane played along. When Diane’s steak returned, it was still not exactly medium rare but she thought better of it and started to eat it, she was happy she did, because the steak was superb juicy, and succulent. Max enjoyed his duck as grease dripped onto his jumpsuit.

A tireless Bing Crosby was still crooning away when the 162s finished their meals. Tumblers full of brandy were placed before them and they began to puff away on long brown sticks given to them by a girl who was carrying a box full of them, calling out, Cigars, Cigarettes, Tiparillos.

After a while, on a command from Phyllis the room changed to what she called The Glen Island Casino. A waitress served them another round of drinks. The orchestra became a dance band with someone named Glen Miller holding a trombone telling everyone in the room to dance, as he led the orchestra, in a piece called ‘String of Pearls.’ The sexdroids entered the room on cue.

Bob’s sexdroid stood about five feet, eight inches tall which had the emblematic plastic-colored face typical of sexdroids. It had green eyes and red hair and looked bizarre in a short red velvety dress exposing most of its legs and showing so much cleavage it left little to the imagination. It had a stupid giggle which Bob thought was a malfunction but later found out was part of its programming. This droid’s name was Taffy and at this moment was programmed to dance. Bob grabbed it and pulled it to the dance floor dancing with it cheek to cheek. His brothers and sisters did the same with theirs except for Max, who never liked sexdroids.

The band was playing something called ‘In the Mood,’ as Bob fox trotted with this droid. He tripped over its feet a number of times. He was never much of a dancer. He usually took a sexdroid right to bed. His sisters and Paul danced with their droids in a throng of reality dancing couples. Leon’s droid was programmed to act alluring using its smile as bait to excite him. He did not wait long for him to find his bedding room.

When the orchestra sprang into a number called, ‘Moonlight Serenade,’ Taffy’s giggling got more sensual and it started to lean closer to Bob rubbing its rubberized body against his while its hand moved down the back of his buttocks. Bob knew it was time to go to his room.

The room was decorated with wine colored satin curtains covering the walls. A huge circular bed sat in the center. Bob didn’t see any security screens maybe they were hidden behind the curtains. He didn’t really care as he proceeded to remove his clothes including those fangled gloves. Taffy watched then slinked over to him and in a low sexual voice asked him to unhook its dress. The dress fell right off exposing its raw rubberized firm round breasts.

A natural and familiar sensation arose within him. Here he was alone in a room with a sexdroid and he could touch it without any gloves on. He could also touch all those virtual-reality people but not any member of his family even with gloves on. That’s the way it should be. Paul was so off base with his thinking but Bob was about to have sex with a droid and didn’t particularly care about anything else at the moment. He turned his attention to Taffy.

In his suit pocket he found his sex genital and gave it to Taffy who inserted it into its loins. Bob switched its program file from dance to sex in the missionary position. Taffy laid itself down on the bed and purred as Bob hopped on top of it.

Bob commenced kissing it. Taffy’s purring turned to a smacking sound as it attempted to return his kisses. This was not his first time with a sexdroid and Bob found himself getting excited as he normally did. When he satisfied himself he rolled off of Taffy and just laid there thinking. He enjoyed the act but something was wrong. Taffy was giggling again it was getting on his nerves. It didn’t want to stop so he decided to get dressed dismiss this giggling machine, and return to the fantasy world Phyllis created. He ordered the droid to remove his genital. It gave him the impression it wasn’t too happy when it said sadly, I am programmed to comply. Did it want more? It apparently did because he still had twenty-five minutes left on the program. He didn’t care. He was finished with this thing. Droids were cold and impersonal and that was what he hated about them. Bob commanded it to dress and to return to its sanitary compartment.

Opening the door Bob walked into a Las Vegas gambling den. Knowing Max would not use a sexdroid, Phyllis programmed a mid-twentieth century Las Vegas casino for him so when his family left the room the space changed so he could gamble on roulette his favorite pastime.

Bob had to push his way through a packed crowd of virtual-reality people just to get near to where Max was playing roulette. Across the table he asked how he was doing. Max pointed to eight-stacks of chips piled high. His favorite number fifteen came up four times. Too bad I’m playing with 1940 money and not twenty-third century credits, he moaned.

Paul was playing near Max. He apparently came out from his encounter with his droid a short time before Bob. Paul asked if he enjoyed it.

I did but that thing kept giggling, it irritated me to no end.

Paul countered by saying, you should try the real thing.

Puzzled, Bob had no idea what he meant by that.

Leon returned with a big wide smile on his face and his hairpiece way out of place revealing the few black hairs he had left on his scalp. When Paul mentioned it, Leon ran as fast as he could to the nearest restroom. Vanity was Leon’s biggest vice.

Bob and Paul looked around for Phyllis and Diane. Finding them playing on some kind of machine with a handle they kept pulling on, they walked over to them. An opening in the crowd exposed Bob’s bare hands. The security screen snapped on, you are now in violation of the civil sexual code 100.9. He pulled them out of his packet and put them on in view of a screen.

Bob wanted to know what kind of machines these were when Phyllis’s machine started to make a metal clanging racket. Suddenly metal coins fell into a basket attached to the machine. I won! she shrieked. She told him this was a slot machine, showing him how to put a nickel in the slot and to pull the lever than to watch the three wheels. When the wheels stopped spinning if all three stopped on three of the same fruit or bars you win. She pointed out her machine had just hit three oranges so she won fifty nickels. With approximately fifteen minutes before the New Year Bob gave it a crack. Phyllis gave him a roll of nickels which he promptly lost. These machines are nothing but one arm thieves in a metal can, he muttered, after he lost his last nickel.

As midnight approached the virtual-reality people vanished. Phyllis made sure her family was spread out far and wide. The room blurred, Bob found himself standing in a very large and extremely noisy crowd. He was facing a twenty-five story triangular building that had a newsreel rotating around it repeating the words Happy Birthday to the 162s. A crystal shaped ball sat on top of a pole above the building.

Bob could not find his family anywhere in the multitude of people. With all the pushing and shoving he knew why Phyllis had separated them.

Looking around Bob found a street sign saying West 45th Street and two more saying Broadway and Seventh Avenue. He was in Times Square and that building was the old Times Building in the year 1940 two minutes before midnight. He remembered seeing pictures of this event when this was a yearly tradition. The reality people were dressed in jackets to protect them against the cold. That was for effect to make it look authentic as well as the men in military uniforms and sailor outfits all dressed for authenticity too he thought.

The ball on the Times Building began to descend. The raucous crowd got louder and louder, Bob began to scream as well. It became contagious. When the ball hit the bottom, a sign lit up saying ‘2241’ and ‘Happy New Year to the 162s.’ The roar of the crowd became deafening. Fireworks lit the sky spelling out ‘Happy 50th Birthday to All of Us,’ as the group around Bob started to sing Auld Lang Syne.

With virtual reality people all around him he put his arms around the group and joined in with his lousy singing voice. He was really getting into it when all of a sudden everything blurred. He was facing his family in a very wide arc facing a nightclub. It seemed they had all gotten into the thrill of the celebration complaining to Phyllis that she ended it too soon.

Sorry, she said, but the show is about to start.

They entered the nightclub. The 162s were about to be introduced to an ancient style of music called jazz. A woman with a light brown complexion led them to a table in front of the stage. They put on party hats, ordered drinks from a cocktail waitress with an even darker complexion and toasted the NewYear. The lights dimmed and some one named Louis Armstrong stepped out on the stage. He called himself Satchmo and wished the audience a Happy New Year. He gave the 162s a special birthday salute as the guests of honor this evening. While holding a handkerchief in his hand he raised a trumpet to his lips and with the orchestra, started to play something called ‘The St. Louis Blues.’ They were playing jazz in the Cotton Club in historic Harlem.

Bob really got into this type of music. It was free and easy. This Louis Armstrong played it with gusto really feeling it as he played something called ‘Rocking Chair.’ Afterward he sang ‘Lazy River,’ with a female singer by the name of Bessey Smith.

They were on their fourth round of drinks when suddenly a bell rang, alerting them to the fact that it was two in the morning and their flights back to earth would be departing in less than an hour. Reluctantly the 162s went to their dressing rooms to change laughing and joking along the way.

Climbing into the hovercraft the siblings sang Phyllis’s praises for planning this wonderful evening. It had to be the best celebration they ever had. No one but Phyllis could have pulled it off so well.

Paul guided the craft slowly through the corridors weaving the way back to the docking bay but not before he banged into two walls and another hovercraft.

Diane planned to spend the night in London with Phyllis. Their flight would be the first to leave. At the docking bay Paul crashed into a maintenance vehicle, overturning the craft and throwing them all onto the floor. The way they were feeling none of them felt a thing. They kept tumbling on each other, laughing hysterically which brought the sex police running. They surrounded them and tried to make sure they did not linger in this position. The Sex Police finally got fed up and pulled them apart with giant claws.

Phyllis and Diane barely made their flight after the Sex Police lectured the family for their immoral behavior. Diane stumbled up the boarding ramp. Their space shuttle soon rolled to the gate and zoomed off into space. Max and Bob’s shuttle was ready for boarding. They said goodbye to Paul who had a business meeting on the station in a few hours and Leon who had a flight to the moon in an hour.

The moment Bob took his seat and fasten his harness he fell right to sleep. When he opened his eyes again the shuttle was back on Earth pulling up to the terminal. Bob flew Max home and commanded the auto-home to fly him back to his apartment. He did not trust himself. His head was aching from all that drinking. It had been some evening. A good night’s sleep was what he needed.

In the morning Bob stared at himself in the bathroom mirror bleary eyed with a massive headache. He stood there for several seconds cursing that he allowed himself to over-indulge last night. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he wearily asked his computer for a hangover remedy. A blue pill materialized on the small cater shelf next to the mirror. He immediately placed it under his tongue. As it dissolved he started to feel better. He than commanded his computer to shave him. A blue laser beam silhouetted his face an in an instant the stubble on this face was gone. After he rinsed his face and brushed his teeth he felt better.

Feeling hungry he went to his eating area and instructed his cater to produce two eggs scrambled with crisp bacon, toast and a cup of black Moon Dazzle coffee. The breakfast appeared on his table within moments along with silverware. Bob hungrily guzzled it down.

1. As he ate memories of the last nights’ festivities flooded back into his head. A smile appeared on his face as he looked at the picture already on the wall above a one of his screens his family standing in front of the Pleasure Bastion laughing and waving.

Bob placed his dirty dishes back in the recycling unit of his cater. Still wearing his bathrobe he sat down in his favorite chair as his computer buzzed signaling an incoming call. Diane’s image appeared before him dressed in a loose fitting old-fashioned green jumper ordained with multi colored triangular patterns contoured with diamonds sprinkled all over it nothing was revealing not even an inch of her body just her pretty face.

"Hi, Bob, you certainly look better this morning