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Wrapped in one of the Egyptian cotton towels I’d gotten as a housewarming gift, I noticed that the inventory of berries available in the fridge were duly plundered, along with no small portion of banana and orange juice. Once whatever was left was joined in happy harmony in the efficiently German stainless steel blender, I pushed the button and unleashed the high vitamin twister.
After stowing what was left in the uncannily modern Freon-free fridge in order to save some time later, I took a drink. The concoction flowed down my throat in the sweetest waterfall, pleasing my tongue at the same time that it nurtured my stomach.
Fighting the inevitable brain freeze, I counted backwards from a thousand, paying careful attention to each number as it passed in smooth succession, once again reassuring me that my mental faculties were indeed intact. You could never be too careful with all the additives being put into nearly everything these days.
I wasn’t paranoid, per se. More like possessed of a reasonable caution based on a scientific fact.
The towel furled away like a loose flag as I traversed the bedroom, glorying in the feeling of full nature. It was what my hippie, pagan parents called being starkers. Or ‘naked,’ to put it bluntly.
Standing in the full glory of the creators' gifts, I opened my wardrobe. Antique and distinctly Narnian in design, it always put me in mind of my boyhood adventures at my grandparent’s place upstate. It had been a world so separate from the forced civility of the city that it felt as though there had been an air of magic about it.
There were even tales, mostly online in the same forums that went on and on about SlederMan, of a town tucked away in the wilds made up almost entirely of paranormal creatures, with regular mortal humans like me making up only 10% of the population.
It didn’t seem likely, but anything was possible. In my experience, people like my folks could do ten allegedly ‘impossible’ things before breakfast.
The choice of possible clothes to wear was dizzying but no less surmountable. Neatly divided by clearly marked signs, the pre-set suits stood in line like loyal sentinels awaiting inspection by their emperor. After I opted for traditional black, it was then a simple matter of wrestling my newly revived body into the tailored silk lining.
Most of what I had, including the condo, were perks of birth. While my mom was a hippie and managed to coax my dad in that direction as well, they were both from families that could best be described as filthy rich. Some would argue that ‘idle rich’ would be kinder, but it was in no way accurate.
The alarm tweeted its happy tune as I approached the beloved beast. It had taken some doing to get an alarm system put into a 1945 BMW, but persistence won out in the end.
While there were millions of non-drivers in the Big Apple, the subway being a viable option for most, there was still no shortage of vehicles on the busy streets. I wouldn’t have driven myself were it not for the fact that trying to take the subway always made me late. As though granted a wish by my fairy godfather, the switch from subway to driving took me from getting in five minutes late every morning to arriving just after the receptionists had unlocked the doors.
Others in my position would have had a driver, for plausible deniability if anything else. But alas, my fiercely independent nature made me want to drive my own bus, so to speak, in all aspects of life.
The only exception to this otherwise ironclad rule were those above me at work. Mostly because I was barely aware that they were there. As long as my department made more money than it lost, I didn’t hear a peep out of them.
There were still a few company-wide regulations that applied to everyone, including the department heads. Except this was a bit like an empire having a law for all its subjects with no practical mode of monitoring or enforcement that law. I didn’t do well with illogical rules in general and it was a relief not to have too many of them to deal with and try to get around.
The fine beast inched onto the road, ever cautious of oncoming traffic. Hitting my tempo at just the right time, I pulled out right before a maniac could try and take the front end off with their SUV.
Everything in life had a degree of risk and, as far as I could tell, driving was also safer than taking the subway. Accidents happened, but when they did, both parties were already in a metal box.
It was also much harder to get knifed while in the car with the windows up than on the G-line at midnight. It all came down to a matter of degrees.
