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“Right off the bat?” he frowns. “What do flying mice who eat insects have to do with this?”
“Oh, sorry,” I say, chuckling. “That’s a human colloquialism which means ‘immediately.’”
He snorts with laughter, and points at the lot.
“So what’s so wrong with this place?”
“Look at the uphill grade. Most of the lot is on a hill. We would have to fill in a lot and then the parking lot would be slanted, and it’s all just too steep.”
“Very well. Let us go to the next one on your list, then.”
His big, ridged fingers tap the screen of his com pad, as he removes this lot from the list. We move a bit further away from central Touchdown for our next lot. There’s plenty of space once again, but there are other problems.”
“Many of these trees would have to be cut down,” he murmurs.
“Yes, and not to mention it’s a swamp. Thank you, next.”
We climb back into the car and take off for the next locale. The sight is perfect in many ways. The ground isn’t swampy, there’s just the right amount of greenspace, and it’s as flat as a pancake.
One problem—a pond in the middle of the property which happens to be an Astralgator breeding ground. The reptiles are big, surly, and will eat almost anything that gets too close.
Another swamp, teeming with space leeches, and finally we find a good spot. Not just a good spot. THE spot.
We’re back at the place with the waterfall.
“What are we doing here?” he asks.
“Well, I liked this one the best.”
“If you liked this one the best, why not say so? Why go look at all of the others?”
“I wanted to make sure that my opinion was objectively good. Now I don’t have to feel selfish.”
“This was my favorite spot as well. The distillery and fermentation chambers can go here,” he points at an area a good distance from the stream. “While the administration building can go here.”
“Yes, and a garden here,” I say, pointing toward the stream “where it will be easy to irrigate. Oh, and we can have a good-sized stage here between the garden and the admin building, and this space in the middle can be a kitchen. I just happen to know a good chef…”
Yarvok listens to my ideas, growing more delighted and intrigued. Gordo doesn’t stand a chance.
Twenty
Yarvok
Thanks to the magic of holographic technology, Olivia is able to create a three-dimensional model of her plans for the Brewery.
I have to admit that I never thought it would be this intricate. I had imagined a simple warehouse type operation. Production and distribution. I never thought about having the general public around before.
“Yes you did,” she says when I bring it up. “You said that tours would be an extra source of revenue. Well, we can still do the tours but imagine if we had a galaxy class chef working in our restaurant? Not to mention serving our product directly to the public in a tavern section.”
“But the live performances, are those really necessary? It will require us to get additional licensing from the Erebus Collective.”
“True, but we want to recreate the atmosphere of that hootenanny where we danced the first night.”
“It was a hoedown, not a hootenanny, and it’s besides the point. We will have to pay the acts.”
“We can hire local musicians who will do it primarily for the exposure, and it will give us a rustic hometown feel. Which is what we want. One of the best things about this place is the feeling of frontier community. We want to capture that essence if we can.”
I stare into her lovely dark eyes and find myself falling into her. I remember how good it felt when we first kissed. That sensation of connection on a primal, intrinsic level. There’s a name for it, but I’m afraid to even think of it right now. I don’t want to curse myself by trying to force it into existence.
