She-What’s car zooms

through the city

at computer-controlled velocities

ever-fluctuating to compensate

for atmospheric conditions,

the complex, towering landscape,

and the potentially volatile

traffic.

The black sky shimmers

with limpid neon light.

The Diamond District comes into view —

an ultra-exclusive residential area

for only the richest of the richest

consisting of a concatenation

of interlinked nature-domes

shaped liked giant eggs

that float lazily in the sky

like happy clouds.

Here, the security in the city is the heaviest,

and the most serious.

The largest, most prominent

of these giant structures —

floating above all the others —

is the Supreme Executive’s private residence,

a suitable aerie

for the god-emperor of the world.

An icy voice

comes over the car’s phone —

“That you, Princess Adena?”

“Of course it is, Cyloclax,”

She-What responds irritably.

Cycloclax is the Supreme Executive’s

personal security master,

a prototype android

of startlingly inhuman

capabilities.

“Just doing my job, Princess,”

Cycloclax replies back,

his bio-sculpted voice disinterested

as his eyes read his scans

of She-What and her car.

“Just don’t waste my time,”

She-What mutters.

“You’re all clear, Princess,”

Cyloclax says after a moment.

“Have a lovely evening.”

She-What’s car passes through

the last security barrier, and approaches

the Supreme Executive’s nature-dome.

An airlock on its surface

yawns open,

and the car floats inside,

where it is bombarded with

Polk Radiation

to kill any unsavory lifeforms,

biological or mechanical.

Clean nature-air hisses into the airlock,

and She-What opens her car window

to breathe in the processed

sweetness.

The inner airlock opens,

and golden, artificial sunlight

pours in.

Inside the dome,

it is a late afternoon day,

the sky is blue,

and a gentle wind like a frolicking child

tumbles through the air.

A family of deer feed themselves

in the meadow down below.

Startled by the car,

they disappear into the woods.

She-What flies over the mirror lake

and the Supreme Executive’s

Grand Lawn,

and the car lands in the dock

in front of the opulent mansion.

She sighs, checks her makeup,

and then opens the door,

stepping out

into the sunshine

in a powder blue dress

and her hair in a ponytail.

She recognizes some of the other cars

but not all.

Ahead, at the door

at the top of the front stairs,

a couple is being let in

by the butler.

A grizzled voice teases from behind her,

“A pretty young lady like you

should have an escort.”

She-What spins round,

a big smile on her face.

The voice belongs to Moses Fawkes,

the Black Hemisphere’s

preeminent scholar

and She-What’s lifelong tutor.

Moses is a tall, gaunt

black man

in his early seventies,

with a neat gray beard,

horn-rimmed glasses,

and a receding hairline

that makes his tall forehead

taller.

The old intellectual

stands beside his car

leaning on his cane,

dressed in a checkered blue suitcoat

and a green bowtie.

“I should think,” says Moses,

as She-What embraces him in a hug,

“That a man such as I

would be extremely fortunate

to have such a woman

on his arm.”

“Oh, Moses,” She-What laughs.

“It is I who am fortunate.”

He takes her by the arm,

and they walk up the front path.

“So,” says Moses, “I hear you have just returned

to our fair city.”

“Yes,” she answers,

thinking about the feel

of his jacket against her bare arm.

“You are always off having adventures.”

She-What scoffs.

“Some adventure.”

“Oh?”

“We came back empty-handed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Moses says.

“Tell me,” says She-What,

“Have you ever heard of a man

named Phantos Geist?”

Moses looks up at the blue sky

and shakes his head.

“No, I don’t think I have.”

They climb up the front stairs

slowly,

Moses carefully placing his weight

on his cane as he lifts his feet

up the steps.

At the imposing front doors,

the Supreme Executive’s butler,

Wilhelm,

greets them and comments

on the weather.

“Just this way,” Wilhelm says,

holding the door,

and extending his arm.

“The Master is awaiting you.”

She-What and Moses enter the

magnificent foyer,

filled with sunlight,

and babbling goldfish ponds.

The smell of cooking meat

tickles She-What’s nose.

Conversations splash

through the rooms of the mansion.

Laughter rings,

male voices boast,

and unobtrusive rock music

colors the air.

Moses slips his arm out of She-What’s

when they see Secretary Fumeo,

accompanied by his latest mistress.

Fumeo and Moses shake hands

while everyone ignores the mistress’s

presence.

When Moses and Fumeo

start discussing business,

She-What slips away,

through the media room,

out the sliding glass doors,

onto the deck,

which overlooks a lake.

Someone She-What doesn’t recognize,

a woman,

probably some starlet,

has her bare feet in the lake

while a man in a rumpled suit

dares her to go deeper.

She-What knows

that her father is not mingling

with his guests.

He finds no enjoyment in such functions,

and employs his underlings

to do it for him.

She steps down the deck steps

and walks across the grass

to her father’s boat house

where she knows

he will be rinsing off

his sailboat.

He loves to take a little sail

before dinner,

it clears his head

after the workday,

and she knows he lets

no one

touch his boat.

At the hinges of the sky,

She-What can see a pale orange color;

the day is getting late,

and she is sure

dinner is scheduled for sunset.

to be continued...