'Thank you, my friends, thank you,' I said, then raised my glass in turn. 'To Morton and Sharla, who sit on the couch beside you, holding hands and blushing because they are soon to be married.'
They all cheered and drank at that; Mark Forer giggled over his zippy electrons. I raised my glass again.
'A toast of thanks as well to my physical guide and intellectual mentor, Stirner. And to my companion in adventure, Neebe - long may her bicycle roll.' More cheers and glugging followed as I turned to the glowing machine before us.
'Last - and certainly - not least, to Mark Forer. Guide, teacher, spiritual leader, purveyor of fine wines. To Mark!' When the cheering had died away, and another bottle had been cracked, Mark Forer spoke to his attentive audience.
'Thank you, thank you dear believers in Individual Mutualism. Too long have I been sholitary…' Sholitary? This mean machine was getting pissed on whizzing electrons! Drunk!
'… too long a lurker beneath the streets watching the passing parade passing above me. Now, at last, finally I welcome your dear company and I greet you. And we had better crack another case of wine.'
Stirner staggered off to fetch it and Neebe went to help. Alone for the moment Morton and Sharla wrapped themselves in happy osculatory embrace. Mark was muttering to himself.
This was the perfect opportunity to slip away. I hated good-byes. Quietly, so as not to disturb them, I rose and made my exit. As I slowly eased shut the door behind me I saw Mark's TV pickup swivel to face me; the diaphragm contracted and dilated quickly in an electronic wink. I winked back and closed the door, turned and slowly climbed the stairs.
As much as I liked this planet and its politically monomaniacal citizens, I knew it was not for me. Too civilized and peaceful. Without crime and without police - what would I do for a living?
Go, Jim, go! The stars are yours!
