SG: Rad #100 (1/5): Almost

[Gary W. Olson]

                                 RAD
                             Episode 100
                  [ Rad Returns, Part Ten of Ten ]
                   "Almost Like We've Never Left"
                                 by
                            Gary W. Olson,
                           posting on the
                        twentieth anniversary
                          of Rad Episode 1

                                 ***

     *kzzzzzzk*
     "--are still discussing details of Space Security Council
oversight of Aurora--"
     *kzzzzzzk*
     "--Jonas Brothers explained their decision to cover Ramrod's
'Trust the Government, Girl' by--"
     *kzzzzzzk*
     "--Governor Spoonman of New Jersey is considering a presidential
run.  Though perhaps hoping to emulate Manny Seconds's success in
1992, some analysts believe--"
     *kzzzzzzk*
     "--China's state-run super-team, the Peoples Glorious Team of
Liberating Super Fighting, today announced a five-year plan aimed at
diverting the Nun on the Road off of National Highway 225--"
     *kzzzzzzk*
     "--threat to this country posed by illegal immigrants from
Terrania, coming in and taking Renaissance Festival jobs away from
decent, hardworking Americans--"
     *kzzzzzzk*
     "--spokesperson for Tyler Industries denied that it had a giant
flying 'T' in the works--"
     *kzzzzzzk*
     "--was the scene yesterday of a massive confrontation between two
massive flying battleships, a horde of what have been described as
'demon monkeys,' armed goats, pseudo-ninjas, pseudo-zombies, private
security for Harxxon, Inc., some men claiming to be in the employ of
the long-defunct Mega-Intelligence Bureau, long-missing villain Dana
Wader, and several current and retired superguys, including members of
the former superguy group known as CalForce."
     Rumiko Moroboshi set the remote down on the table.  She was in
the employee breakroom for the employees of 'Dave's Place,' the
upscale L.A. restaurant that was, that evening, hosting a private
function--the 'welcome back' dinner for Rad and Glum, her parents.
Though her family had only arrived on Earth three days ago, the event
had been in the works for months, and they had--after hurried
discussion--decided that having fought an epic battle against invaders
from another dimension only the night before was no excuse for
cancellation or postponement.  There had been no confirmable
fatalities in the battle--a minor miracle, given the chaos involved--
and if the demon monkeys or goats had suffered any, they were not
around to say.  Besides, given how scattered their friends and
acquaintances had become, and how far some had traveled to be present,
it seemed only fitting to carry on.
     Rumi, Rad, and Glum had arrived early, while the staff was still
setting up.  Hal de Macobe, the owner, gave them a tour of the three-
floor establishment while discussing the battle as he had seen it on
the news.  He had sounded mildly disappointed that he had missed it,
though Rumi did not see what he could have done had he been there.
Though once a Computer Intelligence that had served with CalForce, he
was now an ordinary, non-super-powered human.  Whatever skills he
might still possess in the cybernetic realm, she thought, would not
have transferred well to the cause of fighting demon monkeys.
     Rather than return to the top floor and wait, Rumi had asked if
there was a television around that she could watch for a little while.
She wanted to see what the local media thought had happened the night
before.  Hal guided her to the empty breakroom on the kitchen/
administration level, and now she had found what she was looking for.
More or less.
     On screen, as the unseen male reporter talked, a film of the
post-battle landscape was being shown.  The wreckage that had been
Dodger Stadium was illuminated, as was the shattered parking lot, the
pieces of several bronze-gold sphere-ships smashed during the
fighting, Harxxon helicopters, a lot of police cruisers, a lot more
media vans, a smattering of concessions vendors, and a few vehicles
that had no identification yet managed to look Official.  The place
swarmed with people, most too indistinct to identify.
     She had been too swept up in the aftermath of the battle to see
the news before now.  There had been wounded to tend to, crowds to
move back past hastily-erected police barriers, statements to give,
and time just spent waiting.  Much of the waiting had been for Glum,
whose nectarisite-enhanced bioelectricity proved successful in
rendering inert the radio control chips that had been implanted in the
'pseudo-ninjas' and 'pseudo-zombies.'  Rumi and Rad were then cleared
to leave, and returned home to their beach house, where Rumi slept
until well into the afternoon.  Her mother had returned by then,
seeming very awake and energetic despite not having slept all night,
and having swept Harxxon's Los Requemados site with bioelectricity in
order to render inert the nectarisite wiring that had infested it.
The _Vander Harkness_ returned to its ground site, and the work of
repairs had begun.
     "Reports concerning the battle have been incoherent," the still-
unseen reporter continued.  "But we were able to identify one of the
important participants, one who agreed to speak to the people of Los
Angeles and unravel the mystery of this night."
     Who had they found, Rumi wondered.  She and her father had not
been interviewed, and she doubted her mother would have sat still for
it.  Someone with past or present authority then, from either the
private or public sector.  Manny Seconds?  Elizabeth Tirkoff?
Chalandra Harkness?  Or maybe a noted scientific authority, such as
Dr. Gigawatt.  Someone who would be trusted by the viewers watching...
     "--d been on my way to this photoshoot with 'Us Weekly,' you see,
and then I get this call.  And of *course* I immediately sacrifice my
contractual obligations to come out here and fight this menace.  Did
any of you catch that, by the way?  On film, I mean?"
     As Yury Mitsuke talked, Rumi tried to make sense of what she was
seeing.  Not the actual image--Yury surrounded by flashing cameras,
her attractively disheveled red hair and crimson leather bodysuit
perfectly framed by a cameraman who seemed more concerned about
keeping her cleavage in the shot than the top of her head--which was
for better or worse self-explanatory.  As Yury continued talking and
waving her hands, Rumi wondered at how Yury had been chosen for this
at all.
     "--and then I flew, like, whoosh!, and went 'take that!' and
blasted the ships with my flames, and Raddy flew in and went 'pow!
pow! pow!' and knocked holes in them, and all these demon monkeys went
'eee! eee!' and teleported all over the place, and then all my
CalForce buds got together and said 'hey, stop that stupid (beep),'
and they were all 'shaa, as if,' and---"
     Sure, she was a superguy, Rumi thought, and had been in the
battle, and was mostly famous these days for making movies and being
photogenically scandalous, but how did that make her the best choice
for spokesperson?  What did it say about the people in this city?  On
this world?
     She had known coming in that Earth was weird.  But not *this*
weird.  Or that, despite herself, she would want to know why it was
how it was.
     The click from the other side of the room drew her from her
thoughts.  Cendra Seconds peered through the now-open door.
     "There you are," said Cendra, as she stepped in.  "Your folks
asked me to find you, and Hal told me you'd be here.  People are
arriving, and... hey, is that Dr. Gigawatt?"
     Rumi glanced back at the screen.  It was indeed Dr. Giuseppe
Henri Gigawatt on the screen, in a studio interview setting.  An
unctous male voice, which Rumi surmised to belong to the unseen
interviewer, posed a question.
     "Doctor, you say you are Harxxon's resident expert on these...
er..."
     "Demon monkeys," Gigawatt supplied.
     "Demon monkeys," the interviewer echoed.  "That and the metal in
one of the battling airships.  'Nectarisite,' you said?"
     "Indeed," said Gigawatt, as he leaned back in his chair, ready to
impart scientific wisdom.
     "These monkeys... are attracted to the nectarisite, correct?"
     Gigawatt blinked.
     "I don't think..." he started.
     "They eat the nectarisite, right?" asked the interviewer.
"That's why they showed up, is it not?"
     Gigawatt blinked again.
     "What?" he asked.
     Rumi chose that point to press the 'mute' button on the remote,
causing the set to fall silent.  She had no idea where to even begin
asking questions about *that.*
     "Chalandra told me that Homeland Security's been laying down
false rumors about what went on last night," said Cendra, as she sat
down in one of the breakroom's orange plastic-back chairs.  "They've
got the crash site of the _Subtler Than Light_ locked down, and
they've got all the pieces of the crashed sphere-ships whisked away to
who-knows-where, but they're worried that Homeland's rivals--the CIA,
NSA, those guys--might try to find their own supplies, nevermind that
Gigawatt believed he had the world's supply before last night, and it
barely amounted to a... hey, there it is."
     Rumi looked back at the screen, which now displayed the _Subtler
Than Light,_ as seen from a helicopter flying earlier in the day over
the crash site.  Afternoon sunlight caught the portions of the hull
not coated with dust and debris, giving the entire scene a brilliant
bronze-gold glow.  The ship, though it had a couple of Mighty-Guy-torn
holes, seemed otherwise intact.  The same could not be said for the
beachfront strip mall it had landed on.
     "I was out there this morning, with Chalandra's consulting team,"
Cendra said.  "It's a mess, but fortunately, the mall was closed for
the night, and the security guard on site got away with only light
injuries.  We only went inside for a few minutes, enough to confirm
the power was out and it was monkey-free."
     "But if it's an unknown technology," Rumi said, "how did--?"
     "Esteban," Cendra interrupted.  "Well, probably Coco, but Esteban
spoke for him.  Gigawatt saw him flying around in Los Pantalones and
about had a fit.  All this time he's been trying to figure out the
secrets of nectarisite with a sample that would fit in the palm of
your hand, and here's this kid flying around with half an armored suit
made of the stuff."
     "What did Esteban think of that?"
     "Miguel stepped in and calmed the Doctor down," said Cendra.  A
smirk crept into her expression, and Rumi found she could well imagine
how the sight of a massive and muscular black-furred werewolf
intruding on the scene might have calmed almost anyone's agitation...
or at least refocused it.  "Esteban told the Doc the brief version of
how he got Los Pantalones, and why he kept them secret, and what
little he and Coco knew about how they worked.  Which led to them
talking through a good part of the night, until I dragged both him and
Miguel back to my parents' house for a few hours sleep."
     "What about your apartment?"
     "Pretty messed up.  Well, our stuff we can salvage, but I think
the management would like us to pay for the damages and leave, not
necessarily in that order.  Chalandra said she'd cover the damages
bill--she's already underwriting the Dodger stadium cleanup, and I
think she's going to buy up the land the _Subtler Than Light_ crashed
on.  It's right on the beach, too... got to be expensive, but probably
petty cash for her.  Anyway, I don't think Esteban's going back to
working for Critical Studios... the ship was all he could talk about
coming home."
     "Really?" Rumi asked, thinking about all that had happened in the
hidden base eight-and-a-half miles beneath the surface.  "He didn't
talk about..."
     "Not with Miguel around," said Cendra.  *And neither should you,*
she telepathically added.  *Even though his sense of smell isn't too
good, for a werewolf, he does have very good hearing.*
     Rumi looked to the door.  *You knew Esteban's secret,* she
thought.  Though not a telepath, she knew that Cendra would hear her,
so long as she allowed it.
     *I knew he was gay before he did,* Cendra replied.  *Until he met
Lemon last year, he just didn't want to accept what he was feeling.
And he was so guarded about it I didn't see a way to even start
talking to him about it.*
     *So what happened?*
     *Once we got back from that Burning M00se,* Cendra thought, *he
was convinced... and scared.  Of what kids at his school would think.
What Miguel would think.  What his parents would have thought.  What
*I* would think.  So, one day when Miguel was at the radio station, I
sat Esteban down and told him I knew.*
     *Didn't he panic?*
     *Yeah,* Cendra thought.  *Even after, it took him a while to
trust me enough to actually talk about it.  I don't know how long
it'll take with you--*
     The door opened, and Miguel poked his head in.
     "There you are," he said, looking from Cendra to Rumi.  "I was
sent after you.  If I'm gone too long, I think they're sending the
donkey and a crate of grenades, so---"
     "We're coming," Cendra interrupted, as she stood.  Rumi stood as
well.
     "Hey," Miguel said to Rumi.  "How you feeling?  You don't look
too bad after a night of monkey-fighting."
     "Bruises and shallow cuts," Rumi answered.  "They pretty much
faded.  And once my folks' ship got back to Earth, they used the
autodoc on it to give me a once-over."  She looked at Cendra.  "What
about you?"
     "No injuries," Cendra said.  "I haven't shapeshifted since
getting bathed in nectarisitic... is that the word?  Sounds like I
went for a dip in fruit juice... anyway, since I got bathed in those
energies during our battles down below.  Not that that means anything,
I used to sometimes go weeks between shifts.  Once I ate enough to
replenish my strength, I was fine."
     "Her shifting's not a lot like mine," said Miguel.  "Her clothes
appear and disappear, depending on what she turns into.  Mine tend to
just rip.  But we both have high metabolic rates, and can replenish a
lot of energy from a good meal.  Or even a bad one."
     "Those hot dogs weren't *that* bad," Cendra replied.  "It's
possible that what was in them was once at the same address as a cow."
     As Cendra spoke, Rumi considered Miguel, thinking back to what
Cendra had earlier said about him and Esteban.  Not as she might have
ordinarily considered him--an attractive and well-muscled hispanic man
in a slightly ill-fitting suit-and-tie--but as Esteban might.  Why
would he be afraid of talking to his older brother?  Was he abusive,
either verbally or---
     *No,* Cendra interrupted.  Though the word had not been
telepathically shouted, it had been firm.  *He has not and would not.*
     "Anyway," said Miguel, oblivious to the non-verbal defense of
his temperament, "You ready?"
     "Yeah," said Cendra.  "Rumi?"
     "Yeah."
     *The only person who can answer your question is Esteban,* Cendra
thought at her as they left the breakroom, entering a narrow hallway
that ended at an elevator bank.  *And good luck with that,* she added,
a gentle but sardonic note in her 'voice.'
     Rumi wanted to ask what she meant, but decided against it.  She
would find out soon enough.

                                 ***

     The view of Los Angeles at night was still special to Joe
Moroboshi, who was better known to the world as Rad.  Though he had
been in many cities on many worlds, it was the light of this city on
this world he always compared against.  On some nights, it would rise
from the streets as though from a furnace, and the wind would be hot
an dry and he would know there would be trouble.  On other nights, the
lights would seem as diamonds, the air would be calm, and trouble
would stay low.  On still others...
     Forget 'still others.'  This was a night of diamonds.
     He wished he had not had to put on formalwear for the event,
though he had done so at Glum's insistence.  The tiger-striped coat
over his Salonian silk shirt was as good a fit as ever, though he
planned to get something else to wear to any future formalwear-
required events--items from his married-into-royalty past had had
their day.  Aside from that, of course, he wore only his black swim
trunks--he had never believed in formality below the waist.
     "Hello, Rad," said a mellow and familiar voice at his back.  He
turned to see Hal de Macobe, standing as if he had been there for an
hour, and would wait another for a response.  He was nearly as tall as
Rad, though not so muscular, and nowhere near as superlatively tanned.
His tailored silver-and-black suit was both simple and elegant,
complementing the streaks of silver that had entered his shoulder-
length black hair.  His expression was serene, and in his brown eyes
Rad could only see patience and friendship.
     "Hey, dude," Rad replied, stepping up and pulling Hal into a
rough hug.  Though off balance, Hal managed to hug back gracefully
enough before Rad let him go.  "Like, this place is awesome, dude.
This, like, is the first time I've been, y'know, back in ages."
     The awesome place referred to was 'Dave's Place,' the fine dining
establishment they were in.  It was at the top of the C Building,
which was at the northern edge of downtown Los Angeles, and had
impressive views of both the city and the Pacific ocean.  Though it
seemed to Rad as if the entire six-hundred-foot-diameter dining area
was in the open air, with nothing to keep one from stepping over the
edge and falling, he knew that a variable-density 'force bubble' made
by Ottsamaddawiduan [space science!] was behind this illusion, keeping
air pressure and temperature pleasant as well as keeping diners in and
birds out.  In the center was a circular, non-rotating bar, which
featured a transmat square used by the staff to move between this
floor and the kitchen/admininstration floor.  Aside from that, two
elevators, and three staircases leading down into the enclosed dining
level--not in use this evening--it was just tables and chairs and the
night sky.
     Something tugged at Rad's memories.  He had seen this view
before, and not just because he had been here over a decade before...
     "I believe that your brother Kaoru will be arriving momentarily,"
said Hal.  "If you will..."
     "Dude," said Rad, "like, didn't I see all this, like, in a
movie?"
     Hal did not seem to hear the question at first.  Then he pressed
his lips together, tight, as if holding back an initial response.
     "You are referring to 'Triumph of the Sheep,'" said Hal.  "A
scene was filmed here, I believe.  I was... not around to protest."
     "Whoah, dude," Rad replied, realizing his faux pax.  "I, like,
totally forgot."  He looked past Hal, to the bar where Templar
Maccabee sat, drink in hand, talking to a grizzled man Rad did not
recognize.  He thought about the Genocidal War, and how it unfolded.
He thought about his frustration at the time at being unable to
intervene, lest other galactic powers of less noble civic intent took
it as their cue to intervene as well.  He thought about the movies.
     There had been no pictures on the wall from this period at
Critical Studios.  Rad doubted it was a time that Templar wanted to
remember.  He had been among those captured by the forces controlled
by the Unimaginable League Amoral, and had won a measure of freedom by
collaborating in the making of propaganda films.  Three movies made
fast and cheap, but more than enough.
     True, once the war was over and the truth could be told, the
world learned that his apparent collaboration had been a cover for
passing on vital information to the Allies, information that aided the
retaking of California.  His status had allowed him access to the
elite of the southwest's segment of the Unimaginable World Order, and
his charm loosened their lips.  It had been a difficult and dangerous
job, made moreso by the fact he could not consciously know what he was
doing, and could only pass information to and take assignments from
his handlers via dream.  So the world gratefully acknowledged his role
in ending the ULA's brief domination, then quietly decided they were
not quite so interested in his movies as before.  That he still made
movies at all, if only direct to DVD, was a testament to his
dedication, his determination, and the fact that some people will buy
just about anything if someone else tells them not to.
     Hal had spent most of the war in a work camp, where he had been
taken after slagging the original Ottsamaddawiduan force-bubble
circuitry and other alien tech in the restaurant to prevent its
falling into villainous hands.  The powers that had been had either
not recognized who he really was, or perhaps had not considered him a
threat.  Rad thought that foolish--though Hal was now a human, he had
once been a Computer Intelligence, and his knowledge of virtual space
was formidable.  Had he escaped... but he had not.  They would have
known he would not.
     Rad wondered if Hal was reflecting on the same events now, as
they both contemplated Templar.  Eventually, Hal spoke.
     "I forgave him, you know," he said.  His expression was
impassive; he could have been discussing the weather.  "But I do not
believe that he has forgiven himself for what he had to do."
     "I know, dude," said Rad.  "I... like, hey!  Rumi!"
     Cendra Seconds, Miguel Veracruz, and Rumi Moroboshi emerged from
one of the elevators.  Grateful for the chance to duck out of the
conversation with Hal, he headed toward them.
     "Hey, dad," said Rumi.  "Don't worry, the posse found me."  She
looked around.  "Are Esteban and Lemon here yet?"
     "Don't know if Lemon's going to be here tonight," said Miguel,
who did not exactly sound broken up about the prospect.  "That'll
depend on his dad.  As for Esteban... right down there, with Tom,
Laura, and their kids."
     "Great," said Rumi.  "See you later!"
     She took to the air, soaring over tables and diners on her way to
Esteban's table.  Miguel and Cendra, meanwhile, headed off toward the
bar.  Rad started to do the same, but was cut off when the door of the
largest elevator opened, admitting Kent Clark, Key Clark, Johnny
Clark, Yury Mitsuke, and Iris Adams to the restaurant.  Key and Yury
turned heads with their matching short red dresses, while Johnny
seemed uncomfortable in his adorable suit jacket.  And Kent...
     Kent's suit jacket was silver lame with taupe stripes, with a
gray, blue, and yellow cummerbund.  The brown shirt beneath featured a
pattern resembling multiple coffee stains.  His silk pants were a
fluorescent green.  His shoes were encrusted with rhinestones.  Rad
found he could not look at Kent's tie long enough to discern anything
about it.  The outfit, Rad realized, was the 'inner clothes' Kent got
from the Tailor Twins over a decade ago.  He had never seen Kent
wearing the clothes in person, and he could feel his mind vigorously
and vainly trying to scrub the memory away, even as it was forming.
     "Ah, Rad, there you are!" Kent exclaimed, rattling several nearby
tables.  Rad was aware that there was Ottsamaddawiduan technology
below the floor that would damp down the typical destructive results
of Kent's Mighty exclamations--something Hal had requested of the
techs that had, following war's end, had replaced what Hal had
slagged.  He hoped tonight would not give it too stern of a test.  His
beach house, which also was greatly enriched with Ottsamaddawiduan
auto-repair technology, was still getting itself back together
following Kent's visit from yesterday.
     "Like, hey, Mighty Dude," said Rad.  "You are, like, looking...
like, whoah."
     "Indeed!" Kent exclaimed.  "Everyone's eyes seem to widen and
tear up as they see me!  They must truly be impressed!"
     "Do they sing happy birthday at this restaurant?" Johnny asked.
The five year old was, surprisingly, anvil-free this evening, and
seemed not to know what to do with his hands.
     "I don't think so, dear," said Key.  "And your birthday isn't
until September anyway.  Tell Uncle Rad how you did playing tennis."
     "Like, tennis?" Rad asked.
     "Yes!" Kent replied.  "I was astonished to learn there was a
tennis court not too far from here, made entirely of awesomeantium!
All the time I was in Los Angeles with CalForce, I never knew it was
there!"
     "Iris discovered it in the foreclosure ads," said Yury.  "She,
Kent, and Johnny went to check it out today, while Key and I got
caught up on old times."
     "It was so neat!" Johnny exclaimed.  "I could swing my racket,
like, ker-pow!"  Johnny swung his hand in imitation of a serve.  The
table whose edge he struck went end over end into the air, struck the
top of the dome, and careened away.  Rad winced as it just missed
taking out the bar.
     "Now, Johnny," said Iris--nominally Yury's top personal
assistant, though she had also shown some unexpected nannying skills a
day ago.  "What did we learn yesterday about expressing ourselves with
our hands?"
     "That it's fun?" Johnny asked.  Key and Yury looked at one
another and barely held back laughter.
     "Indeed!" Kent replied, before Iris could answer.  "But it should
only be done with the noblest of intent, the truest of aims, and the
greatest care in execution!"  Following this, he looked at Key for
confirmation, and noticed something else.  "Also, watch out for
walls!"
     "I shall have to remember to emphasize that," said Iris.  She
flew to one side to avoid the chunks of plaster as Kent extracted his
hand from the elevator wall, then took Johnny's hand to lead him to
their table.
     "I'll catch up in a minute," said Yury, as the group left.  "Hey,
Rad, you see today's 'Daily Planted'?"  Before he could answer, she
produced the copy she held beneath her arm and opened it up so that
the front page was on display.  It covered a variety of subjects,
including a purported affair between a celebrity and a boy band star,
an affair between another celebrity and alcohol, and a promise of
hundreds of photos exploring celebrity body issues and why they could
possibly be having them.  But the largest and most central picture
needed no explanation.
     "I think it's a good shot," said Yury, as she considered the
picture of her and Rad in serious liplock.  Rad realized it had been
taken early yesterday evening, when he had emerged from Miguel,
Cendra, and Esteban's ravaged apartment to see whose arrival had
caused a commotion.  "But... look, I didn't plan this.  I just wasn't
thinking when I jumped you."
     "Yeah," said a familiar voice just over Rad's shoulder.  "That's
what they all say."
     "Like, hey, babe," said Rad, as Glum stepped past him.  Her
tiger-striped dress was as form-fitting and accentuating as Yury's,
though its hemline was not half as close to committing a misdemeanor.
Yury's eyes slightly widened, but she otherwise did not move as Glum
took the paper and considered the picture.  "That, was, like,
yesterday, y'know, and I never, like, got around to---"
     "How come you never kiss me like that?" Glum asked.  Rad took a
moment to realize the question was not directed at him.
     "Well, I... er..." said Yury.  "I... mmmmph!"
     Rad watched, impressed, as electricity surged from Glum to Yury,
and as flames sprouted from various parts of Yury in response.  Rad
looked up, saw a sprinkler, and disabled it with a small psychokinetic
bolt before it could go off.
     By the time the kiss ended, a traffic jam had formed around them,
consisting of people trying to get off the amazingly-still-functional
elevator, people trying to get to the bar, people trying to get to
their tables, and people who just like a show.  Some clapped, while
others took pictures with their cell-phone cameras.
     "Dude," said Rad to one of the picture-takers.
     "Sorry," Dr. Gigawatt replied, as he put his phone away.  "I
don't even remember reaching for it.  Dare I ask...?"
     "Woo!" Yury exclaimed.  "My head is tingly!"
     "I'm still expending the nectarisitic energy I absorbed last
night," Glum replied, smirking a bit as she took a step back.  "I was
all over last night, and I'm still wide awake."
     "My toes are tingly!" Yury noted.
     "Did Bhossi and Cla'rabhelle take all the readings they wished?"
Dr. Gigawatt asked.
     "They said so," Glum answered.  "Are they here yet?"
     "Like, over by the bar, y'know?" said Rad.  At the bar, the
bovine scientists were explaining something to the bartender, who
appeared a bit too distracted by their foot-tall pulsating
transparent-helmet-shielded brains to get their drinks mixed right.  A
plastic jug rested on the bar, filled with a liquid that changed
colors every few seconds.  Rad guessed that the Mu'Kaos realized the
bar would not have all the ingredients their drinks required, and had
elected to provide what was missing.
     "My liver is tingly!" Yury declared.  She paused to consider
this.  "I need a drink," she concluded.  Flashing them both a grin,
she patted out the flames on her dress and set off for the bar.
     "You, like, have such a, like, way about you, babe," said Rad, as
he slipped an arm around his wife's waist.  Electricity sizzled
through him, causing his blinding grin to pop and spark.
     "It's like she doesn't even remember the old days," Glum replied.
"We still have the grocery receipts."
     "Like, we do?"
     "In a scrapbook somewhere.  I think."
     "We've, like, been away too long, like, y'know?" said Rad.
     "Too right," Glum agreed.  "Come on, let's go say 'hi' to
people."
     They plunged into the crowd, even as the elevator disgorged more
guests.

(continued in part two, following...)
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