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Sci-fi Novel - The Dream Artist - Part 16

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last yearBusy6 min read


Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Part 11
Part 12
Part 13
Part 14
Part 15

Part 16

When I arrived at the international airport terminal at 9:00, Peri looked more beautiful than usual with golden hair on her shoulders and a flame-red lipstick on her lips. I thanked God for having such a colleague. As before every long journey, my soul was filled with deep sadness. Still, with a broad smile on my lips, I said, “Good Morning.”

“Good morning,” she said, with her usual calm attitude, she was completely unaware of the storms that broke out in my soul.

After completing the registration and passport procedures for boarding the plane, we headed towards the terminal where supersonic jets were departed on the marching band. The air traffic has increased dramatically since the development of the internal-fed turbo system enabling the vertical landing of the aircraft and synchronization software allowing them to fly without bumping into each other, and the airport has been reminiscent of a hive of bees that thousands of planes fly out of the air. The supersonic jets were used only for remote flights; they were not as widespread as other commercial planes. Our aircraft, a new version of the legendary Concorde, ended in 2001, was right in front of me with its pointed nose, its elegant body, and its broad delta wings. Concorde took off vertically from the ground a few minutes after the planned time. Peri immediately switched on her mobile computer and started working. As I had nothing better to do, I watched what she did on his pocket computer. She compiled hypernet information as if she were in a movie that played in the accelerated projection, and recorded what she had found as text, audio recording, or part of an image in the notebook on the left of the screen. Her look at her pocket computer was as passionate as an eagle, ready to hunt. If my soul hadn't been upset by the trip, I could have taken my mobile computer out and put it to work with inspiration from her. I turned my head to the window and looked outside. Our supersonic jet was now flying through the clouds at high speed. The nearby clouds were rapidly flowing beneath us, and the farther away ones were like a giant bed with bumpers on the cotton surface. I'd rather be lighter to enjoy lying on the clouds. I asked for a Turkish coffee with less sugar from the hostess for the beverage service, and Peri asked for mixed fruit juice freshly squeezed. She said while sipping our drinks that the Chinese engineer we are going to see was a tough type, and she was suspicious that we could get information.

”We will find a way to get information, and Qian Chen, the Chinese representative we met, will help us in assuming the mission, " I said.

The tracks of Shanghai Pudong Airport devoted to supersonic jets was full, so we took a tour of Shanghai for a short while and landed. A man with a banner bearing our name welcomed us as we leave the terminal of the outer lines. We had become ready to use the translation service provided via hypernet by wearing our headphones.

“Hello,” said Peri, because we saw him wearing headphones in his ears.

"Our hovercraft is waiting outside to take us to the Qian Chen, please follow me.” said the friendly man.

The westerners never exhibited that sincere approach, which did not contain pride. I was surprised when I realized that the man was sympathetic to me because he was working for Qian Chen. We got on a hovercraft and sat in the narrow back seat. The vehicle went down to the sea in a short time. In Shanghai, land and air traffic as well as sea traffic was quite intense. High skyscrapers, towers, and green areas where giant trees were planted; thousands of aerial vehicles were flying like swarms of birds on the road to migration. Just above the city was a cloud that I thought was composed of quadcopters. In the chaos of this gigantic city of 35 million, I felt worthless and indispensable, yet I was unable to admire the great energy that was born through this chaos. Some hills looked like chimneys on the opposite shore, where there was no settlement. These hills looked like the city's temples rising to the sky. After our hovercraft went on over the sea for a while, we started to watch Shanghai's high buildings, including the television tower. These buildings seemed to be still exhilarating at times when China's economic development was the fastest. Our hovercraft now took the sea behind it, moving into the city on a large river. Our welcomer left us in front of a multi-story building with a roof facing up. As soon as we got inside the restaurant, we met with the bright light of Qian Chen.

“Welcome, I hope your journey was fine,” said Qian Chen.

“Thank you very much for this warm welcome.”

Peri looked at me like I said something strange. On the ceiling of the restaurant, the red lanterns were hung, and the tables were lit with candles and lamps, so it looked like a shadow theatre. The candles and lamps' shaky lights were reflected separately from Peri and Qian Chen. A superficial observer would think Peri was more beautiful. Even in this dim restaurant where we were sitting under paper lanterns, the brightness of her blue eyes, the sparkle of her hair, and the symmetry in the lines of the face revealed a good image. But as a researcher trained to look deeply at people's faces, I thought that Qian Chen had a more beautiful appearance with round facial lines, gathered black hair, fuller lips. As she had lived more, he had more meaning on his face. I could easily examine her face because she chased a waiter to get our orders with her eyes. It was not a face with a shiny skin or lines that formed a perfect symmetry; there was a nobility, a unique elegance resulting from the restrained use of mimics. Qian Chen called the waiter, we ordered food and sent him.

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