«It’s good», abruptly the woman cast the flowers around the corner of the neighboring building on the ground.
Behind the building chirred cyber cleaners.
«Are you a member of the reconstruction club?» Mansour asked, having acquired the ability to think logically again.
«Which club?» the stranger asked. Then she pondered turned to Mansur and said: «Anyhow, who cares?»
She took Mansour by the hand and, looking into his eyes, said:
«Let’s walk! In our time, people have completely forgotten what it feels like…»
«Sure thing!» Mansour happily agreed. «We are just near a pond. So you don’t know anything about the reconstruction club. We live in the past. At least, a couple of weeks a year, we try to live as if we are the people who lived in the twentieth century. An obsolete era that was full of romance… Imagine – there were no fly-mobiles and Artificial Intelligence… Here, on the lower level, there is almost no this ubiquitous CCTV – quite like in those days.
It was, but fifty years ago and many old cameras were dismantled because of inadequacy. Throughout the entire lower level, two or three chambers remain – it is enough to maintain order. While in alleys – generally like in the Stone Age, no supervision! Hmmm… But I see you are not interested…»
«No, no, go on!» the woman exclaimed. «Say anything, just speak! I feel the need to listen to you right now».
«Here», the pleased Mansour pointed to the left. «I am sorry, I still didn’t introduce myself. Mansour Bulgakov, level indigo».
«Margaret Kennedy», she responded grumpily and, having rolled up the sleeve, showed him a bracelet on the wrist. «White-gold, as you can see».
«Wow, respect!» Mansour stumbled, then restoring balance, gave Margaret a short bow.
«Screw it!» the woman threw a bracelet off her hand into the alley between the houses.
Mansour rushed after the bracelet – and managed to pick it up earlier than the cyber cleaner. He couldn’t let such a valuable thing to go to waste. Sure, now, Margaret was angry, but by morning, she’d definitely come to her senses and remember that some Joe Blow dared not to pick up her identifier.
Right now, though, he had to make up to her for picking up the bracelet. God Dimmit, why is it always so hard with women? Although, how would he know what really works with them?