The Eurasian -- fourth installment

Here are chapters 7 and 8. As you will see, I've now added chapter titles.

Chapter 7

Francis Baguette

The way to Francis Baguette's farm went through a community of adobe huts at the mouth of a canyon, and then up the canyon itself. Local women were washing clothes and small children were swimming naked in the stream that ran along their path.

Albert commented, 'Jimmy Khoo like to see Indians, ah? Why he not come with us?'

Inside the canyon, the houses were farther apart, some were farms, others, Mickey suspected, mines or quarries.

It was cooler now that the sun was beginning to set. This would have been enjoyable, if not for the prospect of never finding their way home again.

As usual, Philip was staying very close to Mickey as though he were the only one he had.

The path began to go up the side of the cliff, and then through a passage between two cliffs, and then down again into another canyon. Here, there was a lot of flat land at the bottom, with a small stream running through it. In the middle, was a two storey, part wooden, part stone and part adobe house with a courtyard. It looked like it had been extended several times. Solar panels lined the roof. There was also a barn, a shed and what looked like a corral with about a dozen cows. Other, smaller houses were scattered about the area. Some of the land was planted with corn and other crops, while sheep grazed in some of the fields nearer by, and cattle in the more distant ones.

They drew close to the house. The front door was set into a corner, where the wooden section joined the stone, via a section of the courtyard.

Ham-bone yelled, 'Hey, Frank!'

The door opened, and out walked a tall, thin man; old, except his hair was jet black, grew down his back with the corner locks braided on both sides, topped with a cowboy hat. His scowl was typical of the Native Americans they'd seen so far.

'Visitors,' said Ham-bone. 'They were en rout from San Francisco to Dallas, but some militiamen from Central West Aryan State brought them down and hijacked their hover car. This one says he's heard of you.'

Mickey passed him the small envelope from inside the one his aunt had given him.

'What the...' muttered Albert.

Francis opened it and read it without showing any reaction.

The others also gave Mickey strange looks. He smiled back weakly and shrugged his shoulders.

'Come on in then,' said Francis. His scowl remained fixed, but the monotone voice had a slight welcoming ring.

He showed them in through the door built of oak beams, which led into the wooden portion of the house. It was a large room with a rough terracotta tile floor, and a big stone fireplace on one side. Opposite the fireplace were wooden and glass doors leading into a courtyard. In the room itself, there were several very old sofas arranged around the fireplace.

'Rest yourselves here. There's water on the side table. Bathroom down the end of that hall. I will go and make sure they prepare enough food.'

'I'll be off then,' said Ham-bone.

Francis grunted in reply, and Ham-bone was off.

'What's the story with the envelope?' whispered Yorba Linda.

'Yeah, la!' said Philip, 'and how you know him?'

'It's a bit complicated,' replied Mickey. 'I'm rather muddled about it myself.'

Suddenly, there was the whirr of an electric motor, and a cool breeze began blowing across the room with the same fragrant scent as they had noticed in the tavern. Whatever it was, it made the room all the more welcoming.

The others were too tired to question Mickey any more, so after a refreshing drink from a long handled dipper, the seven slunk down in the sofas. For the first time, they could rest. Ham-bone's transmitter tower wasn't conducive to relaxation. Micky sat in the middle of the three-seater, with Philip's head resting on his shoulder, and Riu snoring on the other side of him. Seymour and U Ta shared a two seater sofa, Yorba Linda sank into an overstuffed armchair and Albert took off his shoes and stretched out on a three seater. The others were either snoring or breathing heavily, as Mickey wondered again how they had managed to find the home of someone who previously existed only as a name on an envelope his aunt had given him in Bangkok, and living in an area completely unknown to anyone he knew -- including Yorba Linda.

* * *

They were awakened by a short stubby man wearing a dirty apron.

'This way, if you want dinner.'

They wanted dinner, so they followed the man out to the covered patio next to the courtyard, where a few people were lounging. The middle of the court yard had a stone lined pond partially surrounded by a cactus garden. A couple of young boys were wading, floating a toy boat in the pond. The door on the left led into the stone section of the house. It was a big room, with a long table running almost the whole length of it, with kitchen facilities an the far end.

Francis Baguette stood next to the near end, which was set for eight. He thanked the man in the apron, calling him Paco.

'The others have eaten already. We saw you sleeping, so we understand you had a difficult day and needed your rest. Come, I will join you.'

They sat down. Francis directed Mickey to sit across from him.

The pot in the middle of the table contained something called chile verde. There were two stacks of a sort of flat wheat bread, like nan, one on each side of the pot. Francis called it 'fry bread'. They followed his' example in spooning the chili on to the hollow side of the fry bread, and eating them with their hands.

'So,' began Francis, 'you are the nephew of Rosemary O'Brien?'

'Yes,' replied Mickey.

He was silent for a while.

'You all dropped out of the sky, by accident, just outside of Cactus Head?'

'We had a little help,' said Yorba Linda.

'Yes, with help from the Nazis.' He was silent for a few more moments.

'So, how did your aunt know to send me a message through you, if you arrived by accident?'

Mickey couldn't find any words.

'You are more mystified than I am,' said Francis. 'Now, what about the memory chip I am supposed to copy?'

'Er -- the only chip I have is this one,' Mickey pulled out the envelope from his pocket, 'but someone gave it to me long after I got the envelope from my aunt -- who doesn't even know her.'

Philip said, 'Your aunt we meet in the toilet when we get on the bus?'

'Yeah. That's when she gave me the envelope. She said, "Don't open until you get to Cactus Head". I didn't know any "Cactus Head" until we landed here. It doesn't make any sense!'

'Nothing about your aunt has ever made sense,' replied Francis, 'except she is always right.'

'How did you meet her?'

'That is another long story, even harder to believe than this one. I will copy this and give it back. In return, I will give you a spare e-tablet so you can use it yourself.'

He went on, 'All of you are welcome to stay here as long as you need to. However, after three days, you work to earn your keep.'

Mickey heard a few suppressed gasps, but only Albert said anything out loud:

'Ayo! Work ah?'

'Most visitors that stop through here get one day of free hospitality. I'm giving you three. This land will only support so many people without help to make things grow faster. I think you can enjoy what I give you to do. How many can ride a horse?'

No one responded.

'How many would like to learn?'

Albert, Seymour and U Ta indicated interest.

If you get good at it in three days, that will be your job.

Yorba Linda spoke up: 'We do appreciate your hospitality. I think we owe it to you to help in any way we can. But my question is, do you have any idea how we can get home again?'

'I know of no way into the Multinational Corporate Zone. They build their walls very high and secure so no one can get in or out.'

'The what what zone again?' asked Seymour.

'Multinational Corporate Zone. Run by multinational corporations.'

'Ah,' said Philip, 'The Matrix!'

'A good description. They very carefully carry on the illusion that they control all of America. Those within what was once USA think they are under US government, those in Canada think it is Canada, and likewise Mexico. Really, it is all one system, which also covers parts of Australia, New Zealand, and some parts of Europe. There are no borders in the MCZ, only virtual ones. Even the classical democratic system with the executive and legislature in Washington DC is computer generated.'

'My Uncle Rodrigo used to say that,' said Yorba Linda.

'But I think most of you are not from MCZ.'

'China!' said Albert.

'Yes. I think Rosemary was from there, and Bangkok. It would be far easier to go there from here than into the MCZ.'

'So, what's this Matrix?' asked Yorba Linda.

'You don't see The Matrix?' began Albert. 'There's a computer whiz one, Neo, ah? And he meet Morpheus on Internet, ah? Like he cool black dude, like sat sat bo chia one, ah? And he tell him, like, everything he see all fake fake, but have prophecy, la ...'

'I have the video,' interrupted Francis. 'I will play if for you this evening.'

'Do you have Internet?' asked Philip.

'There is an Internet in the Free Zone. But there is a strong firewall protecting the MCZ from all outside signals.'

'I can hack,' said Philip. 'I call Monterey Jack.'

That gave Yorba Linda a start. 'Wow! Do you think you can?'

'I will turn on my satellite dish and router tomorrow for you to try,' said Francis. 'Right now, I get out the video player.'

By the end of the evening, Yorba Linda thought she knew why she had never seen The Matrix.

* * *

Most of the group were given rooms in the upper floor of the wooden section of the house, approachable via the stairs ascending through the inside of a square tower joined to the adobe built section of the house. This feature gave the whole house the appearance of a castle.

There was a large bathroom at the back, consisting of several semi-private bathing areas surrounding a well with a hand pump. The choice was to take a bath by the pump or to fill up a bucket and take it to a bathing area behind a wall, hoping those who walked past a certain point would be polite enough not to look. Since there was no privacy at all by the pump, Mickey and most of the others did the latter. Albert was a bit more daring, but no one else was about anyway.

Mickey shared a room with two sets of bunk beds with Philip and Riu. That part of the house was kept cool by what Mickey now knew was an evaporator fan, a large contraption with a rotating cylinder fan pulling air through a fabric network that had water constantly dripping through it. This sort of fan was only effective in an arid climate, which is why he had never seen one in Asia.

They settled down in their bunks. Philip was in the one above Mickey.

'Mickey,' he whispered down. 'Do you think we ever go home again?'

'I'm sure they'll find some way.'

Though Mickey was far from sure himself, that seemed comfort Philip.

Much later, Mickey was awakened by the shaking of the bunk, as Philip tossed about, talking in his sleep. Later again, he heard Riu calling in Thai to his grandmother.

Chapter 8

Life in the Outer Zone

Breakfast was cornmeal porridge. Again, they were on their own, as the others in the house had eaten early.

So had Francis, but he joined them for his second cup of coffee. 'I have the computer in my study set up with the router,' he told Philip. 'See what you can do. Internet in the Free Zone is intermittent. Websites and connections only work when their host server happens to be on. Electrical supply is never enough to keep servers on permanently. Also, all connection to anywhere outside the Free Zone is routed through Silicone Valley, in the heart of the Western MCZ. Any communication beyond that hub, whether to the MCZ or the world beyond, must be hacked.'

'I know how,' said Philip.

'You can begin as soon as you're ready. And Mickey,' he went on.

'Yes?'

'I have an e-tablet for you, also in the study. I've copied the memory chip to it. But I would like to know, how did your contact in MCZ obtain such a complete Bible?'

'He said they backwards hacked into the server that they use to scan for illegal copies.'

'They are very resourceful. The memory chip includes almost every translation I know of, and also contains the Apocrypha, some Pseudopigrapha, the Dead Sea Scrolls and even some Jewish Midrash, and portions of the Talmud. I feel as though I have been given a vast treasure trove -- worth far more than the e-tablet your aunt asked me to give you.'

'Are you a Christian?' asked U Ta.

'You might say that, but here, we do not call ourselves "Christian".'

'Why?'

'To many of our people, "Christian" is the white man's religion, and has become the symbol of hundreds of years of cultural imperialism. We have found that if you ignore all of white man's cultural ways, what's left is not very different from Native American tradition, which is rooted in the belief in a supreme Great Spirit, who is the origin of all things. Here, we believe that Yeshua came to be our Messiah as well as the Messiah to the Jews. His Spirit breaths new life into many of our tribal customs, so that our people can approach the Great Spirit in a community setting through Yeshua, and feel right at home. However, some of the old ways, we have stopped because they are forbidden in the Bible and were not essential to Dineh culture anyway.'

'Does Chief Red Eagle believe that way?'

'No. Most of the people of Dinetah do it with peyote. Chief Red Eagle at least tolerates us, because we follow indigenous tribal ways, and also, we live on the very edge of Dinetah lands. But he does not approve of belief in Yeshua as the physical manifestation of the Great Spirit. Also, they are very militaristic. While we don't approve of their warlike spirit, at least they protect us from any attack by the Nazis and other red neck cowboys to the North.'

'What about the South?' asked Albert.

'Only a vast mountainous desert -- a no-man's-land. Not worthwhile crossing if the object is to attack someone.'

* * *

Francis had shown them to his study, and now, Philip was trying the same hack he had used to communicate with Monterey Jack from Siam Province. Yorba Linda and Riu looked over his shoulder, and Mickey sat exploring the features of his new e-tablet and its contents. Riu was anxious for any news on the state of his grandmother's health.

'After this, I try Mr. Singh. I think, maybe in Hong Kong already,' said Philip.

* * *

Albert, Seymour and U Ta were following Francis out to the stable. He had found them each a wide brim hat to protect them from the sun, and gave them each a bottle of water with a strap to hang from their shoulder.

U Ta, walking next to Francis, said, 'I also belong to a tribe.'

'Which one?'

'The Karen. We occupy area between Siam and Burma. Our people also have legends about the Great Spirit who created the world and made a man and woman. Just like the Bible. Also we have story of the flood, and a man who took two of every animal in a boat.'

'Hmm. Many tribes have that story.'

'We also have a legend: three brothers each received a book. Eldest brother, the father of the Karen, had a book of leather, containing the wisdom. But he didn't take care of it, and lost it, so the Karen have been a backward people, living in the hills. Their brother, the Burmese, wouldn't share their book with the Karen, but took advantage of them and forced them to live in the mountains. But there is a prophecy, the white brother will bring his copy, the golden book, and share it with the Karen people. When the first missionary, Adoniram Judson first went to the Karen people, translating the Bible into our language, my fathers regarded that as the answer to the prophecy, and many many villages of Karen people converted to Christianity.'

'You, in turn, have brought me the golden book.'

'You didn't have a Bible?'

'Only a very old copy of the Gospel of Mark. About ten years ago, the Dinetah people, very militant then, destroyed all other copies of the Bible they could find. Any Internet server that has a Bible is viciously hacked. No one dares to post a Bible on-line any more, so I could not get another copy until now.'

They had reached the stable and the first horse riding lesson began.

* * *

The face of Monterey Jack, that Philip had become familiar with, shone on the e-tablet.

'Jack,' Yorba Linda called, 'you might as well show him your true face. He's only the same age as you.'

'Oh!' he said. The cartoon styled face on the screen morphed into that of a pudgy, brown-haired boy with glasses. 'Guess you all must be in Dallas by now, huh?' he said in his own pre-adolescent voice.

'No,' said Philip. 'A bunch of Nazis throw us out and go off with hover car and ID bracelets.'

'What!!' the face showed extreme shock. 'Can't be! How the hell...! What car were you in, number one or number two?'

'What do you mean, "what car"?' demanded Yorba Linda.

'I mean -- oh my god! -- Were you in the car with -- er Mr. Mir Singh and ... oh my god! This can't have happened!'

'What you talking about?' said Philip.

'Car number one, with Mr. Singh, had left already when I got to the station. Philip had been moved to car number two,' said Yorba Linda.

'Godammit! You were clearly told not to change the seating arrangement. I put that note on the reservation! Now -- oh my god! What am I gonna do?' Monterey Jack looked close to tears.

'So!' said Yorba Linda, 'it appears that their "man inside" was none other than my ...'

'God damn you Monterey Jack,' screamed Philip. 'You get us stuck here in nowhere! I hate you! I hate you!'

Yorba Linda took the e-tablet from Philip's hands, while Mickey tried to calm him down.

'The question now, Jack, is how are we going to get home?'

'That's just it!' wailed Jack. 'There aint no get'n home!'

Philip was shouting, 'Traitor! I think you're my friend and you use me for this! Screw you!'

Mickey had managed to sit him down at the far end of the room.

'Can't you hack something?' pleaded Yorba Linda.

'No, can't be done!' said Jack between sobs. 'You don't believe me, ask Uncle Rodrigo.'

'Uncle Rodrigo? Where is he?'

'He's got a permanent post with external maintenance, at communications tower number 326.'

'Where is that?'

'Here it is ...'

He read off some numbers of degrees longitude and latitude. Yorba Linda asked him to repeat it as she wrote it down.

'Hey, Linda,' sobbed Jack. 'I'm really sorry, I swear ...'

The line went dead.

Philip's wailing finally subsided, and he wiped his eyes on the front of Mickey's shirt.

He tried hacking his way through the Silicone Valley hub once more, in the direction of China, but he was unsuccessful.

'Dang! Can never hack two times in a row. Always get caught,' commented Philip.

* * *

The three had begun to get the hang of balancing on top of a horse, and were now riding along behind Francis down a dirt path.

Francis had left off giving them pointers on horsemanship, and they were just enjoying the experience.

'U Ta,' began Francis, 'how often do you commune with the Great Spirit?'

'Huh?'

'Do you pray to him? When?'

'Oh -- er -- whenever we go to church, I guess. Just sing and the minister prays.'

'Ah.'

They went some more in silence, around a few rock formations.

'Have you always been -- um -- a Christian?' Francis began again.

'I was baptised when I was twelve.'

'Did you feel Him in your soul then?'

'Er -- no. My parents just had me baptised -- the Karen Baptist way.'

'Ah, I see.'

They came to a fenced in area where the ground wasn't too rocky. There were cows grazing near the far end. He lifted the bar across the entrance and instructed the three to prod their horses into a gallop across the field and back again. Then, they started back to the homestead.

Francis asked similar questions of Seymour and Albert.

'I was baptised as a baby in the Anglican Church, and had my first communion at seven and then confirmation at ten,' said Seymour.

'My family Buddhist la,' said Albert.

About half way home, they were ambling down a straight path with a corn field on one side, and cotton growing on the other. Some of the workers were hoeing weeds in the cotton field.

Francis told the three, 'I invite all of you to join in a traditional ceremony we have. We do it to purify our soul and draw closer to the Great Spirit. We call it a sweat lodge.'

'Sweat? Like a sauna?' asked Seymour.

'Maybe like a sauna, but it is a temporary structure, made from local natural material. The purpose is not recreation like sauna, but spiritual.'

'Take all our clothes off?' said Albert.

'No, but we wear loose cotton. No synthetic, no plastic or metal jewellery. It is like a prayer meeting, with cleansing, followed by ritual bath in the stream, like Jewish immersion. It begins with one day of fasting.'

'Fasting! Ayo!' Albert exclaimed. 'Not ready for that la!'

'The way back to China will be difficult and tiring. Perhaps many days with no food. Are you ready for that?'

'Er -- well...'

* * *

Lunch time was the first chance they had to dine with the whole work crew. Besides themselves, there were about twenty five, including some small children. The older children, they were told, were away at school.

The others seemed quite friendly, though not many of them spoke English. They never-the-less greeted them, and made them feel welcome.

The seven sat at their usual place at the end of the long table. Francis stood at the end and said some things in Dineh. Some of it was apparently good news to the group, as they responded with cheers, while smiling at the newcomers. Then he said what appeared to be a prayer, while everyone looked respectful and solemn. At the end, they gave a response, and the meal began.

On the table were stacks of fry bread, dishes of a pasty bean concoction, and some roast lamb. The latter two were spooned onto the former and rolled up, just like the night before.

Francis took his seat at the head of the table.

'What did you tell then?' asked Yorba Linda.

'I told them that you brought them the golden book. And tonight, we will gather around the fire pit to roast meat for the evening meal, and the telling of ancient stories -- beginning with U Ta's story of the Golden Book.'

About half way through the meal, Francis asked, 'Did you get through to your people on the router?'

Yorba Linda spared Philip the pain: 'We got through only to my step brother. It looks like he is partly to blame for our mess. However, he did give me the location of my Uncle Rodrigo, apparently also working on the outside doing a job similar to Mr. Hamm.'

'Where is he?'

'All I got were map coordinates.'

'We can look it up on the map. I can not promise that it is possible to go there.'

'Why?' asked Mickey.

'In the Free Zone, are hundreds of sovereign nations, more often hostile to one another than not. Some are Native American tribes, some are white people, often with very strong opinions about race or religion, such as the Nazis. Some seek to build a Christian empire, some hold New Age beliefs, some are Mafia kingdoms, though a few places conduct their affairs for the benefit of all their citizens with no question of belief or race. Travel to far off places is often impossible. But, by a miracle, you came here, bringing the golden book. Perhaps, by a miracle, you can find your way back to China.'

He paused as he fixed himself another piece of fry bread, and let the information sink in.

Finally, he told the group, 'You are welcome to stay with us and share the life we have made here. However, I also think you yearn to be back in your homeland. Your minds and hearts must be clear on this before you can make a choice. I think that a sweat lodge would be a good thing...' He went on to repeat the invitation, and to share with the rest of the group what he had already explained to the three.

'The day after tomorrow will be your chance to prepare yourselves by fasting. The following day, we will hold the sweat lodge.'

* * *

Francis pulled out a faded map of the 50 states and spread it on the desk in the study, as Yorba Linda, Mickey, Riu and Philip looked on. The faded colours only depicted boundaries that were no longer relevant, namely state lines. The darker black ink showed the cities that were still in their locations, some metropolitan towers and such, that were a part of the Multinational Corporate Zone, and other cities in the Free Zone. Some of the latter had changed their names, some of which were inked over the old names on the map. The boundaries of the MCZ had been coloured in with a paint brush dipped into water colour mixed from local ingredients. Felt tip markers, Mickey realised, were hard to come by in most parts of the Free Zone.

Mickey noticed that this was a pre-earthquake map, showing California still joined to the mainland. The San Andreas Straight was painted in using blue water colour. Parts of the map, especially around Arizona, Utah, Nevada, New Mexico and the nearby parts of California, were pencilled over to indicate local sovereign nations. Republic of Dinetah was shown with the most detail, with Cactus Head marked prominently, but no Southern border. North of that was Central West Aryan State. To the East was the word, "USA" in large quotation marks.

There were a number of other Native American nations in the four state area. Other places were marked, some without clear boundary lines drawn, some with a question mark. Some borders, Francis told them, were in dispute, others didn't matter, such as the area near the ranch, which degenerated into unwanted mountainous desert. Yet others, they just didn't know enough detail, so they wrote down only the names.

'Show me the coordinates for the tower where your uncle lives,' said Francis.

Yorba Linda showed him, and he consulted the lines on the map, using a pair of callipers to measure odd number of degrees from the printed line.

'This map would show it as being here, but because of earthquakes, the true location would be here. I see there is a town called "Milfred". I don't know what sort of nation is there. It is in what used to be South Texas, far away from here, but close to the Gulf of Mexico. If there is a MCZ communications tower there, that means it is a nation that is not too hostile to the MCZ. At least, not Nazi or Christian Militia or any other redneck cowboy republic or Mafia turf. If you can get there, you might make it to the sea, and travel by boat to the South American Free States and find a Chinese Embassy.'

'But far from here, ah?' said Riu.

'Yes. Very far.'

'Just one question,' said Yorba Linda. 'Why is this one called "USA"?'

'They are a militant Christian group that claims to carry the original vision of the United States of America. Their aim is to retake all of America by force from the other nations and the MCZ.'

'Militant?' queried Mickey. 'How does that fit in with Christian?'

'They believe that the Mayflower Compact, the Declaration of Independence and the Bill of Rights are sacred, like the Bible. To them, the right to bear arms is as important as Yeshua's command to love your enemies. They also say the Mayflower Compact, signed by the original settlers of the Massachusetts colony, gives all the lands of America to the white man to rule.'

'They have Bible, ah? Why you not get Bible from them?' asked Philip.

'They refuse to allow it because we do not follow Yeshua according to the culture of the white man. Even though we do nothing that the Bible prohibits, they still say we corrupt the Gospel with pagan ways. The other reason is, Chief Red Eagle and the elders of Dinetah do their best to prevent anyone from receiving Bibles from the outside, especially from them.'

'And they can corrupt the Gospel with their guns?' said Yorba Linda.

'I find it hard enough to keep my mind clear without passing judgement,' said Francis.

* * *

The whole community, consisting of the workers on the ranch, in addition to a number of others from neighbouring farms, were gathered around the fire pit at the end of the canyon near a waterfall. The fire was roaring, but a few hot rocks and coals had been pulled out to the edges, where an abundance of fresh lamb was roasting.

Several people, including Francis, had drums. There were also a couple of flutes, some rattles, a guitar, a mandolin and a mouth harp. Francis was leading, while everyone took their cue from his drumming. A couple of times, he broke into a song in the Dineh language, and the rest joined in.

Then, the singing subsided as people brought around some roast lamb and fry bread along with some salad to go on it.

Francis began speaking while most of the people were yet eating. The Asians had no idea what he was saying, though it appeared he was telling them a story. Even the children were listening attentively, and every so often, there was a response, such as laughter, or a cheer, or a sigh of relief. At one point, Francis was half singing and half chanting, while beating on his drum.

Eventually, he wrapped it up. Then, he called to U Ta. 'Tell us your tribe's legend of the Golden Book.'

Fortunately, they had all had exercises in public speaking -- however, doing it from behind their on-line identity. U Ta seemed a bit nervous at first, but he began to pick up as he noticed the interest of his audience. He had to get used to speaking one sentence at a time, so as to give Francis a chance to translate. He sat where he was as he spoke.

When he was finished, Frances asked Mickey to relate how he happened to come by the memory chip of the 'Golden Book' he had brought them.

Mickey began with the chance meeting of his aunt at the terminal, then told their meeting with Samuel McFadden, his delivering the chip, and finally the hijack. When talking about his aunt, Francis took an extra long time to translate, Mickey suspected, adding his own experience of her.

After that, there was more singing, and then, when everyone was finished eating, some dancing to a lot of drum music. The seven guests were, of course, invited to join.

'This the "rain dance" ah?' commented Albert.

'No la, you singing make it rain!' said Seymour.

* * *

Again, the group was down for breakfast after the rest of the household had finished. They were well into their meal when Francis joined them.

'Fasting tomorrow, ah?' asked Albert.

'I let you choose. You need the miracle from the Great Spirit.'

He poured a cup of coffee and sat down.

'Now that you have brought me the Bible, I will put our server on line for part of each day, so others can download it.'

'Won't they just hack it again?' asked Mickey.

'I will not call it the Bible. I'll say it is the Golden Book of the Great Spirit. I will pick the best version, and substitute some words in the text for different ones that mean the same, but are understood by the Indian people. It will get hacked, but by then, everyone will have downloaded a copy.'

After breakfast, Riu decided to join the others horseback riding. Philip tried again, in vane, to hack through to China.

* * *

The four followed Francis on their horses, this time, on an excursion into town. Paco took the rear, leading about five pack mules, laden with vegetables to deliver to the market. On their return, they would bring the weekly shopping for the ranch.

This was a much more pleasant journey than their first time to Cactus Head, both because they were riding, and they had their wide brim hats to keep the sun off.

As they passed the community at the head of the canyon, both Francis and Paco loudly exchanged greetings with several people. At least twice they would paused in front of a hovel to call to the residents, and converse in Dineh. Paco presented one of them, an old woman, with a bunch of turnips. She said something which was obviously a thank you, and also greeted the four Asians in Dineh.

Albert responded, 'Ha ha, same to you, la.'

Seymour answered with some words of Dineh that he had picked up.

The way into town took them past Ham-bone's communications tower. The place looked quiet.

Finally, they turned onto the main street, the opposite direction from which they had come the first day. Not far down the road, they noticed an outdoor market. Some of the stalls that lined the main road were open, but other parts of it were being set up.

Paco began leading the mules into that area, while Francis dismounted and directed the four to tie up their horses.

'The big market is tomorrow,' said Francis. 'It is for selling produce. Other sellers are open today. You may want to look around. Here, I will give you something to spend.'

He proceeded to hand them each a few coins.

He shouted something to the sellers nearby.

'I tell them you are my friends, and not to cheat you. I have business to attend to. Meet me here at noon.' He pointed to a clock embedded in the wall above a door across the street. Then, he went walking off, and the four began to look around.

The coins he had given them were old American quarters, with some Mexican and Canadian coins, that had holes punched in the middle, and a tiny bit of gold pressed in. There was some sort of seal stamped into the gold on both sides, which made the whole coin look like a coin within a coin.

The four browsed the stalls, tried a few treats, bought one or two handicrafts -- Albert got a bead band to put around his hat. Riu and Seymour both attempted what Dineh vocabulary they had picked up, and learned a few more words in doing so.

At noon, they met Francis and Paco back where the horses were tied up, and they rode in the direction from which they came, but went on past the lane that led towards the ranch. Then, they stopped and tied up the horses in front of the tavern where they had first met Ham-bone.

'Lunch,' said Paco cheerily.

They went in. The first thing they saw was the familiar white buttocks above the wide belt line -- Ham-bone.

'Mr. Hamm,' Francis addressed him.

'Yo!'

'Do you have the three solar panals I ordered?'

'Yeah man! It came this morning by robo-post. Wanna stop by this PM I can fetch it for ya.' He sounded as though he had been consuming a generous amount of what was in the bottle in front of him.

'How about if we eat, then we go while you are still able to stand up,' suggested Francis.

'Well -- alright.'

They took their seats at the bar and Francis put in an order for six bowls of chilli and corn bread.

U Ta ended up next to Ham-bone.

'You'll like the chilli here,' drawled Ham-bone, 'Not like that stuff from the cans I'm trying to get rid of -- haw haw haw,'

'How much are you trying to get rid of?' enquired Francis.

'Almost two whole crates full! Go'n cheap!'

'Cheap? How much?'

They bargained back and forth and Francis decided to buy the lot.

'I will collect it when we come for the solar panals.'

Their chilli and corn bread arrived. It was much better than the canned variety.

U Ta ventured a question. 'Why did you come to live here?'

'I'm serving a life sentence!'

'For what?'

'Fer know'n too much! Just like you!'

'How did you learn it?'

'By ask'n too many questions, and ask'n the wrong people. But one question, in particular, got it started.'

'What question?'

'Why is it that when I connect to the satellite links, when I look at certain parts of the country, I always see the same old thing -- like the same people go'n shop'n in the same places at the same time of day, every day? I asked the wrong person. The right one would have told me, "Mind yer own business and don't go spy'n on the same places at the same time every day." Instead, he gave me a code key to get my computer to look at different satellite links. Then, I started see'n what was really there. Then, I started ask'n too many more questions, and again, I asked the wrong people. If I'd asked the first one, he'd have said, 'Shut up if you know what's good fer ya,' but I didn't. Instead, they told me, 'You're so resourceful and have such an enquiring mind, we need you.' They needed me, all right. They needed me as far away as they could throw me, right here. As for the dude who gave me the code, they shut him up real good!'

'Is he at a comms tower too?'

'No way! With his knowledge, he'd hack himself back in. I don't know what they done to him, but I just know he ain't talk'n.'

They had finished, and Francis decided it was time to start back home.

Ham-bone grunted and heaved, as though removing himself from a barstool were a day's work. They walked the horses and mules as far as the communications tower. Ham-bone brought out the crates and the equipment Francis had ordered. There was enough spare room in the mules' packs for the tins, so they set off.

At the mouth of the canyon, Francis and Paco called to several people along the way, all of them looking quite poor, and distributed the cans of chilli. To the old woman, Francis gave two cans, plus a bag of something he had bought for her in town.

Then they were off for home.

* * *

Even though the younger children bathed around the pump, Albert Fong soon realised that that wasn't the place for him. Though Philip Kumar could get away with it -- he usually chose not to -- the advanced adolescent state of Albert's body marked him as someone who needed a more private area.

One of the men who had just finished his shower gestured to Albert that the room he had used was now vacant. A couple of the mothers chuckled as Albert took the hint.

To be sure, it wasn't difficult to spot a naked adult body, even in the bathing stalls. It was either trying too hard, or making it too easy, that was taboo. Albert was clearly guilty of the latter.

Perhaps it was the slingshot effect of being suddenly released from the restrictions of Singaporean society -- whatever. He was sure they were still talking about him outside.

So much for the adventures of open bathing!

He was nearly finished -- but -- his towel!

Suddenly, he felt too embarrassed to walk out to get it.

He peeked around the corner. Most of the people didn't speak English.

There was Philip. He was looking for an empty stall. They were all taken.

'Hoi! Philip! Get me my towel la!'

Philip hesitated. Then he grabbed it and walked over, letting his own drop off as he entered. There was still enough water in the bucket for his bath.

'Hey -- no hard feelings ha?'

'Okay la.'

'You're cool kid even if you're pipsqueak. We in this mess together, find a way out, ah?'

'Yeah.'

'You fast tomorrow?' Albert said.

'Maybe.'

'Don't really want to fast, but must pray to get home!'

'Pray to who?' Philip asked, after a pause.

'All, la! To Buddha, to Great Spirit, to Vishnu, to Muhammad. Fast, maybe someone answer, ah?'

'Ah. Me too.'

'What Mickey say about envelope and memory chip. You believe?'

'I go with him in Bangkok, meet auntie, give him the envelope. And the memory chip -- that man who bring the memory chip, you know? We see him at McDonalds day before, promise to get us the chip, not say where he live or where we go, but he come right to the terminal with the chip, ah? And Mickey's auntie give him letter for Francis promise him memory chip! Either it's Great Spirit, or the man and Mickey's auntie work with the Nazis!'

'No way la! I think pray only to Great Spirit better.'

'Me too. To the god Jesus, I think, but Francis call him Yeshua.'

Philip had finished scrubbing, and poured the rest of the water over himself.

'Miss your family?' asked Albert.

'Yeah.'

'Me too, la.'

They walked back together, draped in their towels.

The Eurasian -- third installment

Chapter 5

It was their free time. Mickey and Philip were walking down a boulevard somewhere at the centre of the San Francisco Metro-Tower. It was a different world from the sprawling suburb, depending on the setting of one's My Own World.

By far, most people had their headsets over their eyes. Mickey and Philip could only notice them when they didn't have their own on. Otherwise, they only saw the projected images.

It was actually more fun not to wear the headsets. Right now, they were following a rather fat young teenager wearing only a scant pair of underpants that covered half his bum. With their head sets on, he was tall and slender and wore an ankle length black coat.

"It looks like the emperor's wearing his new clothes today," Mickey mumbled to Philip.

Philip broke out giggling -- but stopped short.

Just ahead, was Albert Fong and Derek Hong walking towards them. Philip pulled Mickey's arm and turned into McDonald's. They each had been given some vouchers to spend, so they decided to try something.

'Hiya!' A female voice resounded from one of the stalls. It was Yorba Linda, seated with their own professor.

'Get something and join us!' said Mr. Singh.

They did. Mickey ordered a Hash McBean platter, and Philip, McPig Nuggats. They took their trays and went to sit with Mr. Singh and Yorba Linda.

'How are you two enjoying the trip?' asked the latter.

'Okay, I guess,' said Philip.

'Different,' said Mickey.

'How different?' asked Yorba Linda. 'I was gaining the impression your part of the world already had the same technology.'

'Yeah, but, still different,' said Philip.

'Here, it's like, all the things you showed us, like, we have them but --'

'Like here -- must have, must have. If not have, you not cool!'

'Like, old fashion, quaint.'

'Yes,' responded Yorba Linda. 'The media does push things. My Uncle Rodrigo complained about that as well,' -- she looked at Mr. Singh as though that were the topic of their conversation -- 'which is probably why I've always noticed it myself.'

'You don't have books printed on paper here, do you,' commented Mickey.

'Actually, my Uncle Rodrigo kept a few. I'm not sure what happened to them. About twenty or so years ago they had the "anti old" campaign. At least, that's what my uncle called it. They encouraged people to discard all objects older than ten years. Antiques were said to be unhygienic, paper causes dust allergies and all that. We got rid of all wooden furniture, fixtures, ornaments -- all paper books were to be replaced by e-books, which are better on the eyes and don't create harmful dust.

'2055?' asked Mickey.

'Yes. That was the year paper books were to be replaced by e-books. You knew about that?'

'We got them,' said Philip.

'Lots of used books,' added Mickey. 'All of them with an electronic tag, "to be destroyed, 2055".'

'Well! I'm glad someone benefited from them. I heard they busted a large smuggling ring that was exporting old books.'

'But the e-books I've downloaded aren't the same as the old paper books,' said Mickey.

'My Uncle Rodrigo noticed that. He spoke out about it, wrote some articles, had a big following...'

'What happened to him?' asked Mr. Singh.

'He was offered a job with a research company. He had to move to a different city. We haven't seen him since.'

'Didn't keep in touch?'

'He said he would, but -- well -- my half brother, Monterey Jack, claims to have been in contact with him. You can't believe much of what he says, though.'

'What about his following?'

'Sort of lost interest.'

'No one talks about the differences between -- you know --' asked Mickey.

'No one seems to care. Look at them.'

Another couple walking by, just on the other side of the plate glass, wearing VR headsets. One was in his pyjamas, the other in his underwear. The emperor...

Just then, a group of about fifteen people came in and took seats in the stalls behind them. The area had been roped off, but they simply unhooked the rope and walked in.

'Oh no -- them again,' sighed Yorba Linda.

'Who?' asked Philip.

'A religious group.'

'Christian?'

'They say they are, but the respectable churches don't accept them.'

Some of the group were arriving with trays piled over with food.

'Are you a Christian, Yorba Linda?' asked Philip.

'Yes. I belong to my local Assemblies of God.'

Just now, one of the group behind them spoke above the background noise. 'Brother Ralph, will you bless the food and drink?'

'Sure. Blessed are you, our Lord and our God, King of the universe, who as provided these soyaburgers and fries, which we now partake of in remembrance of your Body, which was broken for us, and we receive this cola, as your blood, shed for the sins of many.'

There was a resounding 'Amen' from the whole group. They tucked in.

'They do Eucharist with a burger and cola?' asked Mr. Singh.

'Yes,' sighed Yorba Linda.

'I downloaded a Bible,' said Mickey. 'But it only had the New Testament. I couldn't find any Old Testament on line.'

'My Uncle had one.'

'A paper one, no doubt,' said Mr. Singh.

'Yes. The church emphasises that in all matters of faith, we rely on the New Testament. There's not been any demand for the old -- I guess.'

'And the Bible I downloaded, it doesn't even say Jesus was Jewish!'

'That he's -- what?'

'Jewish -- you know, Judaism. Like they have in Israel.'

'What does that have to do with Jesus?'

'He was from Israel, wasn't he!'

'I didn't know that!'

Mr. Singh exclaimed, 'I though everyone knew that! I know that! I'm a Sikh!'

'Yeah,' said Mickey. 'Where do they teach you Jesus was from?'

'They don't. He belongs to the whole world. But, why Israel, of all places? That's a rogue state! Not a part of the Islamic block or the Euro-American block!'

'They do associate with the African Free States,' said Mr. Singh.

Just then, the leader of the religious group was making an announcement. 'Brothers and sisters, today, we wish to welcome John Ferguson into our fellowship. He has stated that he wishes to become a disciple, so, John?'

A middle aged man approached the leader.

'John,' said the leader. 'Do you understand the commitment you are making?'

'Yes,' responded John.

'Do you, willingly renounce the worldly ways of Consumerism, the ways of the flesh, the status symbols of this world, to take on yourself the yoke of the Kingdom of God?'

'Yes, I do.'

'Our Master once said, "Whoever will be my disciple, let him take up his cross and follow me," and "Whoever will not hate his father and mother, even his own life, is not worthy to be my disciple." Do you now forsake all to follow the ways of our Master?'

'Yes...'

'That's not in the Bible, surely!' whispered Yorba Linda.

'Actually, it is,' said Mickey.

There were a couple more questions, which made Mickey wonder if the leader weren't trying to talk John out of joining their group, but John seemed determined.

Finally, the leader said, 'Andy, the water.'

Someone brought him a plastic cup.

'John, I hereby baptise you in the name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit.' Then, he poured the contents of the cup on John's head. The group applauded.

'A baptism service? In McDonald's?' said Mickey.

'They're known to be radical,' said Yorba Linda.

A police man walked into the restaurant and looked about. Then, he walked over to the group.

'What are you doing here?' he asked in an intimidating tone of voice.

'Just a group of us dining out together,' said the leader. 'Are we being too noisy?'

'Samuel McFadden,' said the officer. 'This wouldn't be the first time. We've had reports of unauthorised religious activity outside of a church premises.'

'Well, like I said...'

The policeman turned to Mickey and his table. 'You're not with them, are you?'

'No,' said Mr. Singh.

'Have you observed any odd behaviour?'

'No Sir,' said Mr. Singh.

'Nothing,' said Mickey.

'Just enjoy enjoy,' said Philip.

'Well, okay. I'm warning you, Samuel, I'm watching you closely.' He began to walk slowly out.

The group slowly went back to their table conversation.

'You folks live around here?' It was Samuel, the leader of the group.

'No la,' said Philip.

'From China,' said Mr. Singh.

'Wow! What brings you here?'

'On a graduating class tour.'

'Why don't you sit down?' said Yorba Linda.

'Thank you.'

The four of them introduced themselves.

'We enjoyed your service,' said Mickey.

'Believers?' asked Samuel.

'I am,' said Mickey.

'Me too, I guess,' said Yorba Linda.

'You -- guess?'

'Well -- different church.'

'Okay. You as well?'

'Sikh,' said Mr. Singh.

'Hindu,' said Philip.

'Welcome to America,' said Samuel. Turning to Yorba Linda, 'You sound like a local.'

'I'm their tour guide.'

Mickey had an idea. 'Where can I get a full electronic Bible? You know -- Old Testament and all?'

Samuel sighed. 'Hard to get.'

'Do you have one?'

'I could get a copy of it to you, I suppose.'

'Where do you get it?'

'We have to hack.'

'Why is it so hard to get it?' asked Mr. Singh.

'The only electronic copy that officially exists is embedded in the code they use to scan for illegal copies on the Internet. We obtained our copy by backwards hacking so as to get to it, and then did a little decoding.'

'You're very trusting of us,' said Yorba Linda.

'I have a good feeling about you.'

'You know Jesus was Jewish?' piped up Philip.

'Shhh -- yes, and I know just a few Jewish people who know that too. As for your copy, I'll copy it to a memory chip and bring it to you.' He went back to his table.

They were finished, so they went back to their lodging.

Mickey suddenly remembered, he hadn't given Samuel McFadden his address to bring the memory chip to him!

* * *

They were together at the Transport Centre, ready with their back packs, all but Yorba Linda. The latter was supposed to meet them there to accompany them on their trip to Dallas.

'I have the seating list for the two hover vehicles,' said Mr. Singh. 'Why don't we go ahead and board? The one that Yorba Linda is supposed to get on can leave a bit later.'

He read off the lists for the two vehicles, and the students arranged themselves accordingly. Mickey found himself boarding car number two, along with U Ta Gladstone, Lucy Kanda, Marisa, Riu, Tammy and Seymour Williams.

There were no windows in the vehicle, so they sat with the side door open.

Philip's head appeared in the opening.

'What are you doing here?' said U Ta. 'Aren't you supposed to be in the other one?'

'Change places la. Albert Font such a scumbag!'

'Full already!'

'Someone change with me -- pleeeeease!'

Mr. Singh joined Philip at the door. 'There are two empty places in ours, why don't two of you girls join us, Philip can come here, as well as Yorba Linda, when she arrives. It's better if there's a supervisor in each car.'

The girls went off to the other car. Mr. Singh, apparently, didn't notice it was all three.

'We'll go ahead and go. You folks follow as soon as Yorba Linda joins you. The journey's been programmed already, so she'll start it with the push of the green button. See you there.'

'Bye!' they all chimed in.

Philip, with a sigh of relief, sat down next to Mickey.

Mickey heaved a quieter sigh -- the kid's hard to get rid of!

They heard the whirr of the other car departing.

Just then, Albert Fong stepped in and sat down. 'The girls -- they force me out. So I'm back with pipsqueak, ha? Think you can get away from me la!'

Philip groaned.

Another head appeared at the door -- Samuel McFadden!

'Wah! How you find us?' exclaimed Philip.

'Find you?' said Albert. 'He use microscope!'

'Hoi!'

'I've got the e-book you asked for,' said Samuel, handing it to Mickey.

'But -- '

'You'll be needing it soon, but don't load it just yet. Just put it somewhere safe -- like that envelope in your coat pocket. You'll need them both at the same time.'

'What envelope? -- Oh!' Mickey had a feeling similar to when he ran into his aunt at the transport centre in Bangkok.

'We'll meet again!' he disappeared.

The envelope in his pocket was the one his aunt gave him. There was just enough room at the end of the sealed opening to slip the chip in. What did he mean by, need them both at the same time? How did he know about the envelope anyway? It was inside his coat!

'How did he find us, anyway?'

'Dunno!' said Philip.

Yorba Linda interrupted any further pondering. 'Don't tell me the other car left already -- and ...' she consulted her electronic diary, 'I'm supposed to be in the car with Mr. Singh!'

'Gone already la!' said Albert.

'I was specifically told not to altar the seating arrangement! Oh well.'

She got in, shut the door, pressed the green button, and they were off.

'Why no windows in this one?' asked Seymour.

'I don't know why cross country flights don't have windows,' signed Yorba Linda. 'However, you can look out via your headsets.'

They pulled their headsets over their eyes and viewed the landscape in silence, the sprawling residential estates, an occasional metro tower, amusement parks ...

The vehicle slowed down and came to a stop over a picturesque picnic area. Suddenly, the scene from their headsets blurred to nothing.

'Only forty minutes!' said Yorba Linda, who hadn't been wearing her headset. 'It's suppose to be a two hour trip!'

There was a clunk, as though they had landed on something other than a hover dock.

The door opened, showing anything but what their headsets had shone -- yellow and brown rocks and sand, and the most motley group of men he'd seen since Clint Eastwood.

'Everyone out! Move it!' said a man with close cropped hair, and the scar on his face.

'Oh great! A load of freak'n chinks!' said another one.

'Don't worry, it won't show on their ID,' said a more elderly man, who looked like their leader.

'What the hell is going on?' exclaimed Yorba Linda.

They were holding weapons. One of them had a swastika tattooed to his shoulder.

They got out into the hot sun, carrying their backpacks.

'Hold it. Let's see what's in those,' said one of them.

'No way, you scumbag!' said Yorba Linda.

Someone held a gun to her. They began searching all the bags. Another one began collecting their headsets.

A man with a swastika tattooed to his cheek went through Mickey's. 'What's a nice white boy like you doing with a load of goons?' He came across Micky's e-tablet. 'This'll do.' He helped himself to it. The others' e-tablets, mobile phones and gadgets met the same fate.

No one dared resist.

'Now,' said the oldest one, 'your ID bracelets.' He had a swastika on his eyelid.

He held up a gadget, went to the one closest to him, Albert Fong, grabbed his wrist, clicked the gadget on his bracelet, which unwrapped itself. One by one, he got everyone's bracelet.

'What do you think you're going to do with those?' said Yorba Linda.

'Make our entry into Multinational Consumer Land, of course, thanks to you and our man inside!'

'To put a lug wrench or two between the wheels of your Zionist controlled machinery!' said another.

'Us, and who?' exclaimed Yorba Linda.

'Wait a minute!' said the leader. 'There's supposed to be three females. I see only one here. Melinda and Julie, you'll have to go as men -- hold on, this one's aged 13. Julie, you can pass as a 13-year old -- wait, a name like Kumar -- Margaret, you've got the deeper tan, you're Philip Kumar. We'll get you a haircut. And, "U-Ta" -- what kind of name is that? Julie, you're U-Ta. Dammit, our man inside said three girls!'

'Hey, cheif! They're closing in,' said one of them holding a scanning device.

'What man inside?' demanded Yorba Linda.

'Wouldn't you like to know! So long.'

The gang boarded, and the students and their guide stood, watching their conveyance take off and disappear into the distance.

'Oh my god -- we kena sai man!' Albert began. 'And its all you fault, Kumar. You change cars you get us into this mess! You son of a ...'

'Screw you, you freak'n bastard,' Philip screamed back at him, and then followed that by more choice words mixed with unintelligible wailing that finally subsided with, '...I just want to go home!'

So sudden was the barrage that it left Albert speechless.

Mickey put his arm around Philip's shoulder as he continued to sob at lower decibels. Seymour and U-Ta also looked close to tears.

The sun was scorching, and there was no shade.

'Where the hell are we, anyway?' said Yorba Linda.

'You don't know?' said Albert.

'It's not in any of my geography databases. The only place I've ever seen people like that is in old movies about Neo Nazis!'

'Yeah, Nazis,' said Seymour. 'I see swastikas on them.'

'But they don't even exist!' said Yorba Linda. 'Then again, neither does this place!'

'Cactus Head?' said Riu.

'What?'

'Cactus Head. That sign say "Cactus Head" on it. "Three miles".'

Mickey looked at the faded, hand painted sign standing next to the dirt road.

Cactus Head! Where had he heard that name?

Chapter 6

The landscape looked like it belonged in a cowboy film -- the rock formations, the red and yellow sand, Micky expected Indians to appear over the next hill.

And they did...

'All right, drop your weapons, we got you surrounded!'

'Wait -- those ain't no white boys!'

They were surrounded. The second voice came from behind.

'Who are you, and where did you come from?' asked the first one, a stout middle aged man who looked like he'd seen a lot of sun. The whole group comprised brown skin and black.

'And where the white boys go?' asked the second, leading the group on the other side of them.

'The Nazis?' asked Yorba Linda.

'Yeah, the Nazis. We've been tracking them since they infiltrated the Dinetah Nation territory.'

'They just took off in our hover car,' said Seymour, 'that way.'

There was a pause as the group looked in the direction Seymour pointed. There were sighs and expressions of surprise.

'So that's what ...' the leader of the group to the rear exclaimed.

Yorba Linda said, 'Where can we find the nearest police station?'

'We are the police -- or the closest thing you'll find,' said the middle aged man. 'I am Chief Red Eagle, de facto head of state for the Republic of Dinetah. You'd better come with us.'

He motioned for them to follow. They followed.

'You mean to say ...' Yorba Linda started, but didn't have the imagination to finish.

The Chief finished for her. 'You are now on the outside. You obviously came from Disneyland over yonder, and were on your way to Cowboy Land when you got dumped here in the real world.'

'Your words for Baja California and Texas, I'm sure. And which State of the Union do you mean by "Real World"?'

'This would be Arizona, if your Union of 50 States were still intact. As it is now, we are a sovereign Dineh nation.'

'Dineh, that Indian tribe, ah?' Albert broke in.

'Native American,' corrected Yorba Linda.

'All of you Native American? Some of you look like ...'

'Most of us are Dineh people. All of us follow the spirits of the land after the way of our Tribal Fathers,' responded the Chief. 'People who were disenchanted with White Man's culture, White Man's religion, White Man's slave state, they have come to us and we teach them a new way, the way of the spirits of the land.'

'We are finally emancipated!' spoke up a black skinned man.

'And the people who took down our hover car?' asked Mickey.

'Our nation shares a disputed border with one of the Nazi Nations. Your hover car rout goes over our Dinetah Nation lands, but not theirs. I don't know what they're up to, but obviously they wanted to ride into Cowboy Land on your hover car. To get to it, they had to encroach on our sovereignty. See, over there, to the South of Cactus Head, you see a communications tower, the one concession we grant to what's left of your 50 States. We allow them to man that tower, which relays the signal to guide your cars and buses across our lands, giving your passengers the illusion of a seamless coast to coast nation. If you want to know more, Ham-bone...'

'But -- Arizona...'

'Your State of Arizona consists of a few pieces of prime property dotted across this land, such as the Tuscan and Phoenix Metro Towers, Flagstaff, the Grand Canyon and parts of the Snake River, just enough to give the impression of Arizona.'

'But millions of people live on farms and reservations all over Arizona as US citizens!'

'How many of those people do you actually know? I assure you, you'll find them only in movies, sitcoms and info-mercials. What you see here is the real world. We'll take you to your man, Ham-bone, who runs the communications tower. Maybe he can help you get back to Never Land. If he can't, then you have two choices: either you can settle with us and learn the ways of the spirits of the land, or, if you insist on the White Man's religion, we can escort you to the border of our neighbouring nation to the East, a Christian nation that also thinks of itself as the true united state of America. Though we do not enjoy good relations with them, they're more amiable than the Nazis.'

They walked on, while Yorba Linda continued to protest the existence of their location, until the cheif flatly told her that Ham-bone, the tower operator would enlighten them, thereupon he refused to hear any more from her.

It was hot! But they weren't sweating. It was just scorching.

Mickey noticed quite a few cactuses and at least one yak's skull bone, and wondered if that's what gave the place the name of Cactus Head. Where had he heard the name before anyway?

After another mile of walking, he remembered. His Aunt Rosemary had said something about Cactus Head the last time he saw her. He was supposed to open the envelope.

It was still in his inside pocket of the coat he was wearing. The memory chip that Sam McFadden had given him was in it -- which he would need at the same time.

It was a good thing he hadn't put it in his e-tablet wasn't it! But how would he read it? Could he find another e-tablet?

He tried fanning himself with the envelope, but it didn't cool him down at all. It just blew hot air.

They were approaching some houses. Most of them were surrounded by vegetable gardens and corrals for farm animals. People were out tending to the weeding and other chores. One man was feeding his chickens -- free range, by the looks of it -- another was overhauling a car motor.

The farther they went, the closer the houses were to one another, and the more like a town it looked. Then there were shops, a tavern, a pharmacy, a blacksmith, a grocer's, another tavern, a foundry, a video arcade, a small factory of some sort. People were walking down the street, moving out of the way only when a vehicle, a four-wheel-drive, a hover car, a horse, needed room for more speed. Except for a few smatterings of technology unique to this century, it could have passed for cowboy town of ages gone by.

'I think we'll find Ham-bone in here,' said the chief, turning into another tavern.

The interior was also a specimen of wild west times. It was cool inside. A refreshing breeze blew from one end of the room, where there was the whirr of a fan which Mickey couldn't see. It carried the scent of fresh rain.

The only white man they'd seen so far sat on the barstool with his back to the door, his buttocks peeping at them over his belt line, where his shirt-tail failed to compensate. Ham-shanks would have seemed like a more fitting designation, or at least he looked as if he'd eaten an abundance of ham in his time.

'Ham-bone!' yelled the chief.

The man turned slowly around, with a scowl.

'Still on your extended coffee break, I see! Your amusement park ride broke down. What shall I do with your customers?'

'Huh?'

'These are yours, I think,' he said, indicating the Asians who were now standing inside. 'Fare paying passengers. Take them!'

'What are you talking about?'

The chief looked at Yorba Linda and said, 'He's been living here too long.' At that, he walked out, leaving Ham-bone staring open mouthed at the seven.

The vapours flowing from him indicated that it wasn't a coffee break he was on.

'So, what's the problem?' he asked finally.

'Our hover bus landed on the ground not far from here,' said Yorba Linda. 'We were ejected from it by a group of Nazis who said their "man inside" had hacked the system. They've gone off with our ID bracelets, and here we are.'

'Yeah, right. So what do you expect me to do?'

'Get in touch with the authorities and tell them!'

'Oh God, why me?'

'You operate the system here, don't you?'

'I don't operate the system. I just maintain the communications tower and call them if it blows over.'

'Well, call them and tell them we got grounded!'

'Well -- I suppose...' He got off the bar stool as though it were a major undertaking. 'Come this way then.'

They followed him out the door -- back into the hot sun. 'The name's George Hamm, by the way.'

Yorba Linda introduced herself and one or two of the others who weren't sulking towards the rear.

They walked further down the main road, and then turned right, down a smaller road. They could see the communications tower straight ahead.

'Looks to me like everything's working fine,' said Ham-bone, gazing at the sky.

There was a hover bus coming towards the tower from the West. It began to make a gentle curve and passed on towards the South-east.

'Our hover car did that too, after we were pushed off,' said Yorba Linda.

'You mean it landed, and then took off again?'

'Yes.'

'That's never happened before!'

'They said they had inside help,' said Seymour.

'Who? The people that pushed you off?'

'Yes. The Nazi group. They also took our computers and ID bracelets,' said Yorba Linda.

'So you've got no ID bracelets, huh?'

'We have Chinese passport, that help?' said Riu.

The dirt road was lined with small vegetable and chicken farms. Children were running in and out of some of the houses, and a few ran to their garden fences to look at the strangers.

The communications tower was surrounded by a tall wire fence with bare electric wire strung along the top. George Hamm opened the gate with a key, and led them to a concrete building that formed the base of the tower.

'Welcome to my humble abode,' he said.

The interior looked like it was built as a work area around the base of the tower with what looked like a bathroom in the far corner. Floor, walls and ceiling were bare concrete. A console with monitors and dials lined the base at the centre. At one side, near a window, was a bed and a few pieces of furniture, with clothes and belongings strewn all over. Against another window was a table with some chairs, an old fashion cooking area with a vintage refrigerator. Everything in between was dusty and littered with empty boxes, bottles and cans, except for an old motorcycle. It was rather hot and stuffy, and smelled of all the old things lying about.

'Don't often have visitors, do you?' said Mickey.

'You're the first,' said Ham-bone. 'Sit down wherever you can find a seat. There's two chairs over there, there's my bed, there's an extra chair by the console. I'll see if I can contact base.'

He flicked a switch, and immediately, an air-conditioning system began to modify the environment. It was straight forward weather control, like the inside every metro tower Mickey had ever been in -- not the nice refreshing breeze produced by whatever that was inside the tavern earlier.

Yorba Linda, Mickey and Philip went to the console where Ham-bone was seated, while the others sat where they could.

Ham-bone was talking to someone on a two dimensional monitor. 'We have a situation here. One of the hover buses came down, apparently through someone hacking the system, the passengers were pushed out, and a group of locals got in and went off again.'

'I don't understand,' said the lady on the screen. 'Your location isn't a passenger stop.'

'I know. They say it landed on the ground, in middle of nowhere.'

'I don't think that's possible.'

'It happened,' yelled Yorba Linda over Ham-bone's shoulder.

'And who are you?'

'Yorba Linda Sanchez, the tour guide for the group of Chinese visitors en rout to Dallas.'

'Can you please scan your ID?'

'They took our IDs. I can quote the number for you though.'

'No ID? How can I verify your identity?'

'Biometrics? I can scan my hand print.'

'This system isn't equipped with biometrics. Go ahead and key in your number.'

Yorba Linda used the key pad. There was a pause.

'The record shows someone with this number having arrived in Dallas ten minutes ago,' said the lady, finally.

'That's not us,' said Yorba Linda. 'The Nazi group that got in our hoverbus also took our identification bracelets.'

'The -- what?'

'Nazis!'

'I don't understand. You mean Nazis, as in Hitler's Nazis?'

'Neo Nazis, as in radical white supremacists.'

'I didn't know there was such a thing.'

'Well, there is. They've arrived in Dallas masquerading as us. If you don't believe me, contact the Dallas terminal and ask for Mr. Mir Singh, the leader of the group. He was occupying the other hover bus. They should be noticing our absence by now.'

'Okay, I'll get back to you.'

The screen went blank.

'Mr. Hamm, where do you actually live?' asked Yorba Linda.

'Right here. I'm originally from Flagstaff, but now I'm here.'

'Do you ever visit your family in Flagstaff?'

'Nope. I'm here till I die.'

'Till you die?' queried Mickey.

'I know too much to go back to living in the Multinational Corporate Zone. I'd contaminate society with knowledge of the "real world".'

'What about us?' said Philip. 'Now we know too!'

'Well, that could... --' Ham-bone seemed reluctant to complete the thought.

'But you work for the system,' said Yorba Linda. 'How do you get -- you know, paid -- supplies, essentials?'

'I have an account. They pay me, I order stuff, which they drop off by means of a robotic drone. I sell it to the locals for local currency, so I eat local. I do very well for myself, actually. Anyway, you must be hungry. How 'bout something to eat?'

They were, so they did. They had chili con carne out of cans. It was okay, Mickey thought, though he suspected that Ham-bone had an excess of it that he needed to get rid of.

* * *

It finally occurred to Mickey that he was at the place where he was supposed to open the envelope. The only thing that had kept him from it was the wonder that there was such a place as 'Cactus Head', and then doubting that his aunt could have possibly known about it -- let alone that Mickey and his group would actually end up there.

But here they were, in Cactus Head, administrative centre of the Republic of Dinetah.

Mickey slowly tore the envelope open. What new surprises could there possibly be?

There was a note, another envelope, and the memory chip. He read the note:

Mickey, please deliver the envelope to Francis Baguette, along with the memory chip. He should return it to you after he's copied it, and give you a reader so that you can use it yourself. You'll find him quite hospitable, and he'll send you on your way once you know your next destination.

Memory chip? Mickey felt the envelop, and there didn't seem to be any memory chip, apart from the one he had slipped in, from Sam McFadden. Certainly, she didn't mean that one?

What did she mean by, 'know your next destination?' Shouldn't that be Dallas?

* * *

Ham-bone was back to the communications console, with Yorba Linda and the others close by.

The lady was back on the screen. 'I'm sorry, but since you don't have any ID, and the people that you claim to be, have already entered the Texas zone, there's nothing I can do for you.'

'What about Mr. Singh and the rest of the group? They can verify that the other people with our IDs aren't us.'

'The group that you claim to be went straight to their onward destinations. Mr. Singh and company have been returned to San Francisco, and are awaiting their transport back to China.'

'But there are still three more weeks left on the itinerary!' muttered Yorba Linda. Out loud, she said, 'Please! We're stranded here! What are we to do?'

'I'm sorry, I can't help you. With no ID...'

'I have China passport!' yelled Albert.

'Me too!' rejoined U Ta.

'Yes,' said Yorba Linda. 'They have passports.'

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Chinese ID!' yelled Philip.

'I'm sorry, our system only takes the standard ID that's issued to citizens and official visitors. I can't help you.'

The monitor went off line. There were gasps of dismay.

Philip began sobbing again. Some of the others looked close to tears -- especially Riu, Mickey noted. Thinking about his grandmother.

Ham-bone said, 'I didn't think you'd get much help from them. You know too much now.'

'Can we call my office on this?' asked Yorba Linda.

'I can only get through to the base. There are no lines to anywhere else. Remember, I also know too much.'

'So, what do we do now?'

'That was going to be my next question. You certainly can't live here.'

Mickey said, 'What about Francis Baguette?'

Ham-bone looked at him. 'How do you know Francis Baguette? I'm sure the chief didn't recommend him.'

'Er -- someone told me about him.' Mickey wondered how he could make the story believable. 'They said -- er -- they knew someone name Francis Baguette, and he lived in a place called Cactus Head.'

'That's weird. No one knows about this place!'

The others were looking at him strangely.

'And he doesn't exactly live in Cactus Head,' Ham-bone continued. 'He's got a ranch in the outer area -- a lot of space. We can get there if we start now. How about I'll take you?'

The Eurasian -- second installment

Here is the second installment of The Eurasian, my novel in progress:

Chapter 3

Hong Kong was the ideal place from which to start such a long trip. It was the one port still open to non Chinese nationals of the buffer states, Japan, Korea, Taiwan, Philippines, India and Singapore. Occasionally, visitors from the Islamic republics, and even from the Western Block, were allowed into Hong Kong. Any excursions into other parts of China required special visas. Singapore was really a part of China, but being that it was an island wedged between the great Indochina Islamic Republic and the rebellious states (claimed by China) and rogue sultanates; Singaporeans entered the rest of China through that port for security reasons. Likewise, all outgoing travel Eastward originated from Hong Kong.

While the entire journey could have easily have been completed in one day, the plan was to spend the night in Hong Kong to make sure everyone made it. Seymour Williams, Lucy Kanda and Albert Fong arrived from Singapore the morning after the group from Bangkok, as did Saw U Ta Gladstone from Chiengmai. The five from Bangkok, and their counterparts from Northern China had spent the night in bed sized cubicles close to the terminal.

Fourteen were present in the VIP lounge. Lo Peng, Martin Woo and Miss Nerender Singh were absent. No reason was given, but Mickey suspected it was for the same that the rest of the group were acting as though they were presenting themselves for the first time in the nude.

At least it seemed as though Lucy Tan would have preferred to appear as Marilyn Monroe in the nude than to show her physical body fully clothed. Besides a little bit of acne, she really didn't look too bad. Jonny 'Astro Boy' Lim was tall and lanky to the point of being somewhat awkward, and Albert Fong, far from sporting a Jacky Chan physique, was short and fat.

The last to arrive looked like a recent university graduate, thin, with only the beginnings of a beard, and his uncut hair was tied in a ponytail. His Indian features threw everyone off.

'Who are you?'

'I know -- Philip Kumar!' said Albert Fong.

'Here already la!' shouted Philip.

'Then one of you is...'

'Class, class! Don't you know your dear professor when you see him?' said the newcomer.

'You kidding!'

'No!'

'It's me, your own Mr. Singh, in person! Alright, everyone here?'

'All but Lo Peng, Martin and Nerender,' said Marisa.

'And Philip Kumar,' added Albert Fong.

'Hoi!' started Philip.

'I've been informed those three won't be joining us. Now, did everyone do as instructed, and pack only essential clothing and toiletries? No one has any reading material apart from the travel manual on your e-tablet?'

'No books, la!'

'No books.'

'All my naked girlie magazine, delete just now la,' said Albert Fong.

Laughter.

Mr Singh continued, 'As soon as we are ready, we can board our vessel.'

'Already?'

'What departure time?'

'There are no scheduled flights to North America,' replied Mr. Singh. 'Departures are on a need-to-go basis. We need to go -- so they've provided a flight. So, does anyone have any last minute business? There will be no going to the toilet on the flight.'

After some sorting out of bags and belongings, and trips to the toilet, they were off down the corridor towards the flight terminal.

'Have any of you ever been on one of these flights before?' asked Mr. Singh, as they stood on the conveyor belt.

'Flew aeroplane from Chiengmai,' said U Ta.

'I wouldn't call this an aeroplane. You'll feel the weight below you as you ascend to above the atmosphere, then you'll feel pressure from behind as the craft accelerates to a tremendous speed, followed by weightlessness as we descend. The entire flight will take two hours, during which time, no one is to leave their seat. In fact, your seatbelts will be locked, and the backs of your seats will adjust automatically so as to give maximum support for your body. Any questions?'

'Nice view, I bet,' said Lucy.

'I don't know,' replied Mr. Singh. 'Haven't actually been on one myself. They were developed a bit late to be used as commercial aircraft -- the way the world has been divided up.'

'Not true, la,' said Philip to Mickey. 'But because China consolidated all into one part of globe, for us only, not practical. But Western Block use them -- trips from Australia to North America to Germany. Islamic Block use them, from Europe to East Indies. Also Southern Free States, flights from South America to Africa.'

'How do you know so much?'

'Monterey Jack.'

'How will you try to meet him?'

'He hack, know we coming, know details.'

At the end of the conveyor belt, the group walked to the big door. For the first time since arriving in Hong Kong, the group stepped outdoors. Ahead of them was a massive platform, or was it a deck, mounted on the side of the metro-tower. In the middle was what was apparently the craft Mr. Singh had been describing. It looked like a sawed off version of the old space shuttles NASA used to send up.

Mickey and Philip were next to the guard rail, from which they caught a glimpse of the ground. From here, they could tell that the platform, on which they stood, was, in fact mounted on one of the three legs of the metro-tower. This leg was planted in the middle of Wan Chai on Victoria Island, and rose at an angle towards the main body of the tower. Perched on the leg in step formation were towers that blended in with the ancient skyscrapers that still stood on the ground. The tops of the highest of them were at eye-level. The other two legs were planted in Tsim Sha Sui and North Point. Below the belly of the metro-tower was the Hong Kong harbour. Mickey could see ships coming and going, and even a few old fashion junks.

Quite a lot of Hong Kong was high enough in elevation to not be so badly affected by the rising sea water. However, there were many house boat communities lining the edges of the land masses.

Mickey wanted to look some more, but Mr. Singh was calling them to the craft.

They ascended steps near the front of the craft. Once inside, they were directed into two separate compartments running along either side, separated by what Mickey guessed was the rocket motor.

Despite the size of the craft, there wasn't much space inside. The compartment Mickey and Philip entered had only twelve rows of two seats with the aisle on one side and the window on the other. Across the aisle was the inner wall. Even though Mickey couldn't remember seeing the windows from the outside, they were quite large, enough for both passengers seated together to see out. There was lots of room between each pair of seats, each had its own arm rests and lower leg support.

Again, Philip made sure he sat next to Mickey, and asked for the window seat. Mickey suspected it was just as much to stay away from Albert Fong as to chat with Mickey. Albert had been tormenting him all morning.

Everyone settled in, and fastened their seatbelts as requested. These consisted of two shoulder straps as well as one that went around the waist and between the legs. Once everyone had fastened themselves in, they heard an audible 'click' as they locked. Then, a safety bar came down in front of each passenger, and the back and lower leg support automatically adjusted.

The craft lifted off vertically. They saw portions of the metro-tower, and parts of Hong Kong and the rest of China to the window on their left. They kept going until they had cleared the tower. Then, the craft tilted upward, while the seats adjusted by tipping forward slightly, so that the passengers were no longer seated behind one another next to an aisle, but above and below each other, in semi-reclining position like a very tall bunk bed.

Then, the deafening roar, the G force, the speed. The cabin pressure automatically compensated for altitude, so there was no discomfort to the ears. That couldn't be said for the rest of the body, which felt like it had become a seat for an elephant.

As the world below began to look like a TV weather map, the craft slowly began to tilt forward again, and the seats, back. The pressure on their bodies lessened, but only for so long. Now; forward thrust, but that was more bearable, more like that of an ordinary take-off down a runway, though sustained for a much longer period of time.

Finally, they were at cruising speed.

'Cool!' said Philip.

'We're in outer space!'

'Yeah.'

'Wonder what America will be like?'

'Just like Hong Kong, I bet.'

'What does your friend say?' said Mickey.

'Who? Monterey Jack?'

'Yes la.'

'Not much. Just talk about what's behind it all. He say, "Everything fake", like everything The Matrix.'

'You mean everyone is, like, attached to wires and tubes, and they only think they're walking about?'

'No la. Not that bad,' replied Philip. 'Just everything not what it looks like. And that book you send me, about no more print books, and change history, he say, "Happened already".'

'No kidding!'

'That's what he say.'

'Whole Western Block?'

'Whole North America. Maybe not Australia, Ireland, Germany -- I think they buffer zone, just like China have Japan, Korea...'

'In all North America, no print books, only e-books?' asked Mickey.

'Yeah, I guess.'

'How do they change history?'

'Dunno.'

They sat in silence, gazing at the view below. The girls in the seat ahead of them had closed their window. They could hear Albert Fong a few seats beyond, chatting with Derek Hong.

'Albert Fong, he such a scumbag,' whispered Philip.

Then, they began their descent.

Chapter 4

They had a day in which to recover from jet lag before their adventures were to begin. As usual, Philip clung to Mickey's side to ensure they shared their suite.

Mickey knew such things existed, but had never expected to experience it: the bed automatically adjusted to the size and shape of the body lying in it, and something intuitively began massaging the body right where it need it. When Philip stepped out of the bathroom dripping wet from the jacuzzi, searching for a towel, something in the floor immediately began sucking the carpet dry. He had to wipe himself with his own shirt. When Philip tried the jacuzzi, he realised that the reason no towels were provided was because, at the press of a button, the the water quickly emptied out and a burst of warm air shot out form every direction, drying him almost immediately.

They spent the rest of the day watching TV on the wall sized 3D screen. Situation comedies followed info-mercials, followed again by action adventures, and weather, news and sports. The characters of the sitcoms all lived in sprawling suburban dwellings with interiors not unlike the suite Mickey and Philip were in. The difference was the view through the French doors: a patio leading off to a swimming pool, surrounded by luxuriant gardens. The sprawling estates seemed to be the norm.

There were very few advertisements. Instead, the characters were all either pictured dining at McDonalds or KFC, trying out the latest feature of their Microsoft Personal World, eating breakfast cereal with the brand name shown full face, using the latest gadget from whatever corporation, in every case making a comment on the said product, and how wonderful life was for all.

Only occasionally did they depict a character, usually a lazy, jobless addict or a misfit, living in a two room flat high up in a metro-tower. Even they seemed to have everything they needed to survive. Their poverty was defined by their lack of this or that from Microsoft, or having to eat generic food out of a can, or worse yet, growing their own food.

* * *

Mickey browsed the list of e-books under the heading of 'Public Domain'. He already had the ones by Charles Dickens at home, but he tapped on Oliver Twist anyway -- and Little Dorrit, and Tale of Two Cities. They downloaded immediately.

Other random selections: the Bible, a few plays by Shakespeare, a history of China.

Mickey's dad had read their copy of Little Dorrit. Mickey had tried, but found it heavy with old English terms and long descriptions. He had watched the old mini-series on their home theatre. Looking at this e-book version, he could see that it had been greatly simplified. He could probably read the whole thing in two days.

He started immediately.

* * *

Meals were in the hotel café, after which they'd wander about enjoying the gaming arcade, looking at items for sale in the boutiques, or sitting about the pool on a deck high above the San Francisco Straight. No one had told them they might need any swimming gear, so they just sat looking at the water, or enjoying the view below. Albert Fong suggested jumping in with nothing on, but the girls and Mr. Singh vetoed that notion. Nor did they have any local currency to buy anything apart from what was provided. That being the state of affairs, most of them, including Mickey and Philip, opted to return to their suits to see if anything else interesting was on TV, or whatever.

Mickey tried reading Little Dorrit, but that tended to put him to sleep. He wanted to force back his jet lag.

After managing to stay awake through the daylight hours, the two went off to sleep with dreams of what a perfect world they had found themselves in. The special features of their beds kept them asleep throughout the night, so by morning, they were over the worst of their jet lag.

* * *

The twelve sat at their usual three tables. Each table had room for six. The girls sat at one table, Mickey and Philip sat with U Ta, Riu and Seymour also suite mates, while the other two sets of suite mates sat together at theirs. Breakfast was scrambled egg and sausage, which they helped themselves to from the buffet.

Seymour's ancestors were South Indian, who had migrated to Malaysia in the old days of British colonialism. U Ta was Karen, a tribal group native to the borderland between Thailand and Myanmar. Back in the days when the two were independent states, one of U Ta's forbearer was an officer in the Karen National Union, trying to create a third.

Mr. Singh arrived after the students had started in. With him was a tall dark thin woman, long wavy black hair, tight clothes, athletic build, Hispanic features. She was wearing a silver band covering her eyes and ears -- obviously see-through. The moment she arrived, she slid it upward, revealing her eyes.

'Yorba Linda, allow me to introduce you to my class.' Then he raised his voice. 'Class, this is your hostess for the next two weeks. Say hello to Yorba Linda.'

'Hello, Yorba Linda.'

'Hi Yorba Linda.'

'Good morning Ms Linda.'

etc. etc.

'Join us for Breakfast, Yorba Linda?' invited Mr. Singh.

'No thank you. I just had mine at home.'

'A cup of tea then?'

'Okay.'

The instructor and the tour guide sat at the girls' table. Everyone went on with their breakfast.

Mickey stole a glance at Yorba Linda at the next table and got a side view of her. Not bad looking.

* * *

The group entered the boardroom where the smiling gentleman in a business suit welcomed them.

Yorba Linda did the introduction. 'Mr. Jensen, the visitors from the Far East. Mr. Jensen is the CEO of San Francisco Metro-Tower.'

'Good morning,' Mr. Jensen returned. 'It's our privilege to welcome you to our city. Please take your seats around this table.' He was also wearing the silver band over his eyes and ears.

They took their seats.

'The first order of business is to distribute your ID bracelets. They serve, as electronic identification tags, and you can use them in electronic transactions. Each one as been credited with a small amount that you can use to purchase a few souvenirs during your trip to our sector. They scan in at any check out counter in retail stores as well as vending machines, and all entrances to important places and check points will automatically detect and scan your access code. You all have level-3 access, which will allow you to take the tour of our entire sector, including all public places. Ms Kirkson?'

A woman in a business suit came in with a box, which she placed on the table in front of her. She took a bracelet from the box, held it to a small electronic gadget, and said, 'Seymour Williams.'

Seymour raised his hand. She handed it to him.

'Marisa Srisomboon...' She continued until everyone had their bracelet. They consisted of a curved metallic strip, round, but leaving an opening just big enough to admit the wrist. The moment they put their hand in, the gap closed up and adjusted to the size of the wrist.

Mr. Jensen added, 'For your safety, the bracelets are designed to not come off unless removed with a special tool. Don't worry, they're water proof, so you can swim, take a bath, get dirty. Now, your VR sets.'

Ms Kirkson had just fetched a stack of boxes which she proceeded to hand out. The ornate packaging featured the headline My Own World, with a picture of a silver band, like Yorba Lind and Mr. Jensen wore. Inside each box was the band itself.

Mickey realised that this was a slightly different version of a VR headset that came with some gaming machines. His own family had one, which Robbie and Rosie always fought over.

'These are a small gift to you, from the City of San Francisco,' Mr. Jensen said. 'On your own time, you may run the demo program to explore all the features. For right now, if you put them on, we can get on with your geography lesson. We request that you keep these on during the duration of your visit. They will sync automatically with your ID bracelets.'

They put on their My Own World's, and soon found that the whole room had taken on an additional layer, a hologram map of the world shone behind him. Australia, New Zealand, Japan, Taiwan, Philippines, North America, Mexico and a few parts of Europe were highlighted.

'This, of course, is the Western Economic System, known to you as the "Western Block".

Mickey was puzzled by the inclusion of Japan, Taiwan and Philippines on their map.

The map enlarged so as to include only North America. The Southern half lit up.

'You are here,' a bright red spot appeared just off the West Coast, on the Northern tip of Baja California, 'on the Western coast of United States of America. In spite of the uniform regulations, enabling freedom to move, live and do business throughout the entire Western Economic System, each nation within the system, remains culturally distinct.'

Now, the map enlarged again so as to show only the United States.

'The United States, which you see on the map, has a history that is unlike that of Canada, to our North, or Mexico, to the South. As you travel, you'll find many interesting things to see and do. For instance, here...'

A large area, stretching from the coast of the mainland all the way to Texas, changed colour.

'You'll find typical American farming communities, cattle ranches complete with cowboys, and Native American tribal peoples living and working like their ancestors have for the last three hundred years.'

As he mentioned each aspect of American life, 3D animated holograms appeared in various parts of the room. This went on for about half an hour.

Later, when Mr. Jensen paused for questions and answers, Jimmy Khoo asked, 'When do we see cowboys and Indians?'

'That will be after your next stage of your journey, next week, when you arrive in Dallas.'

'Why you want to see Indians?' said Albert Fong in a low voice. 'Have enough right here, la, with Pipsqueak!'

'Ayo! Shut your mouth!' said Philip.

'Make me!'

'Tch tch!' chided Mr. Singh.

* * *

No tour of a metro-tower is complete without a trip to the very top to enjoy a view of the surrounding country. So began their tour of San Francisco. The group was just small enough to fill one lift, filling all the seats in the two concentric circles, with Philip reluctantly sitting on Marisa's lap. The G force reminded them of their ride in the semi-space ship.

'Which of you is Philip Kumar?' inquired Yorba Linda.

There was silence.

'How do you know about Philip?' asked Mickey.

'From someone who goes by the name, "Monterey Jack".'

Philip said, weakly, 'Er -- I'm Philip.'

Yorba Linda looked at him, and broke out in laughter.

Philip looked like he would start crying. Mickey put his hand on his shoulder.

'I'm sorry,' laughed Yorba Linda. 'Do you know the name, Monterey Jack?'

'Yes, la!'

'You know, he made me promise not to tell, but I'm going to tell you anyway. Do you know how old is?'

'No?'

'Fourteen years old, and he's no bigger than you.'

'How do you know him?'

'He's my step brother!' Oh, he's a choice one! You never know what he's going to do next, who he going to hack...'

'When will we meet him?'

'His father won't let him out of his sight. Also -- believe it or not -- he was afraid of you seeing how old he really is!'

'Really?'

'But he did hack the system, and,' she sighed, 'he's the one responsible for me being your hostess.'

'"Monterey Jack" that's a kind of cheese, isnt it?' asked Marisa.

'A type of cheddar, popular with Mexican food,' said Yorba Linda, 'and it's white, like his skin. Because he tried so hard to act like a Hispanic, we gave him that nick-name. That was before his father married my mother.'

'He still do?'

'Hah! There's no telling what he'll be into next!'

The lift slowed as they reached the top -- time to admire the view.

* * *

In the café during their free time, some of the students ran the demos for their My Own World.

The first thing that happened: a brilliant blue circle appeared in the upper right corner of the parifery vision. A voice said, 'Touch that ring with your finger.' On doing so, a menu screen came up. That was the starting point for configuring their Own World.

As various features introduced themselves, Mickey realised it was much more than a gaming device. Like it did in the boardroom, it gave the environment a new dimension. If they were lost, all they had to do was ask, through the menu, how to get to a certain location, and an arrow would appear in the air, just like in a taxi driving game Mickey had played at home.

Another feature did for them what their virtual classroom did back at home. They could project their on-line image so that anyone else wearing a My Own World headset would see them that way. Had they been given these much earlier, they could have carried on their their on-line images while physically meeting one another instead of reverting to their real world looks.

Mickey tried another feature. Suddenly, the room about them appeared like a haunted house, and all his friends looked like zombies. All his friends were recognisable as themselves, but a zombies -- except for Seymour Williams, who looked like an Elvis Presley zombie. Seymour had already chosen an image to project.

Another setting and everyone looked like aliens, and the décor of the café changed accordingly. Seymour looked like an alien version of Elvis Presley, and now, Albert Fong looked like an alien Jackie Chan. Another setting, again, turned everyone into cowboys.

* * *

Mickey, Philip and Riu walked down the street to test their various settings in the public areas of the metro tower. The default setting, generated by the metro tower itself, made them think they were outside. The sky above was blue, with a few clouds, the houses were two and three stories high, made of various materials that Mickey didn't remember seeing without his head set.

He took it off momentarily to check, and sure enough, cold steel and plastic, like before. With the head set, the place looked like a variety of brick, stone, wood, marble, just like an old fashion city would have looked, or down town Chantaburi, or Hong Kong at ground level.

The cowboy setting turned all the buildings into old time San Francisco. The signs over each shop were hand painted on wood, the style of the windows, everything was Old West.

Another thing Mickey noticed when he took off his head set momentarily was how some people were dressed -- or not dressed. Some were wearing very stylish virtual clothing but very little otherwise. At least one person had only his underwear.

He hadn't noticed this before, probably because there weren't so many people out when they left their hotel that morning, and then they had sped through the city in the hover bus, and didn't see the people very closely.

Back inside, Mickey mentioned it to Yorba Linda.

'Ha ha!' she responded. 'I know some who like to go out stark naked.'

'Naked? Cool!' said Albert Fong.

'Like in The Emperor's New Clothes?' suggested Philip.

'Exactly,' said Yorba Linda. 'But, a word of warning: some people have their head sets tuned to ignore virtual personal imaging. A group of close friends I belong to consider it uncool to depend solely on projected clothing. In fact, I often just use mine as a head band and pull it down when I need information from the city network.'

'The street doesn't look as nice that way,' said Mickey. 'No blue sky above.'

'But at least it's real.'

* * *

Late evening, back in the suite, Mickey was puzzling over one of his downloads. His dad had said that the mini-series they watched was actually quite close to the book version, but Mickey was noticing some striking differences between that and the electronic version of Little Dorrit he was reading now. In fact, it was hard to believe that the book was set in the early 1700s.

Author Clennem had arrived from China, and was describing it to Mr. Meagles as a place most un-conducive to any sort of happiness. If Mickey wasn't mistaken, he seemed to be describing classical Marxist Communism.

Did that exist in Dicken's time?

Author had begun to have some serious misgivings while talking to his ailing father on his deathbed.

Okay, that was in the video.

This copy did read a lot more easily than the original. Mickey quickly learned that the Office of Circumlocution represented the fallacy of overall government bureaucracy, which invariably held up innovation, such as Daniel Doyce had to offer, with his grand contraption. Mickey couldn't help but feel that the text drove the point home a bit more forcefully than the video mini-series. Not only that, but it was quite clear that it was bureaucracy that kept the common people from the consumer goods that would enrich their lives.

In the midst of this, was the life of William Dorrit and his misplaced hope in his aristocratic roots, which aristocracy was responsible for reserving luxuries and life enhancing pleasures to themselves instead of releasing it to the consumers, the rightful recipients. Reinforcing the state of things, until his bubble broke, was Mr. Merdle's financial empire, and assisting him, the House of Clennem, and their unholy alliance with the Chinese -- until that house fell.

In the end, Arthur Clennem's marriage with Little Dorrit, both having been liberated from their respective family's bondages, and Arthur's partnership with Daniel Doyce and his multinational company, represented the rise of global consumerism.

Funny! All that didn't seem to come across in the mini-series.

* * *

The neighbourhood reminded Mickey of an old film he had seen, Back to the Future II. Several of the houses looked exactly like the settings of one or two of the sitcoms they had watched in their hotel room. They were single storey, but took up a lot of space, and had broad lawns lined with verdant shrubbery. Robotic gardeners roamed about silently cutting grass or trimming hedges. One was on its extended telescoping legs shaping a tall evergreen. Each house had its own swimming pool.

A boy sped by on a hoverboard, followed by a robotic dog. An elderly couple was lounging on the front yard nearby, drinking something with ice.

A couple of the houses were open for tours, and Yorba Linda led them into one. After watching so much TV in the hotel room, there was really nothing new to see.

Yorba Linda pointed out some of the fixtures and explained their use. She seemed to notice the lack of interest.

'In China, well, do they have these kinds of things?'

'Yeah, la,' said Geoffrey Wong.

'Our house have that,' said Lucy Kanda, pointing to the Mr. Butler robot.

'I know someone have chair like that,' said Derek.

'Local sports club, have carpet, self cleaning one, just like here,' said Albert Fong.

'Maybe not everyone has all these things in one house,' said Mickey, 'but we're happy.'

'Hmmm!' said Yorba Linda. 'That wasn't the impression I had.'

They stepped outside again.

Mickey was sure he recognised the house down the street, but not what was behind it. Instead of a snow capped mountain range, there was a giant blue fence running along the back of several properties, hiding everything behind it.

'Did they show that house on TV yesterday?' he asked Yorba Linda.

'Yes. That's our next stop, the set of a popular TV program, Janny and Joey.'

'Ah! I see that la!' said Jimmy Khoo. 'But that one have mountains!'

'That what blue tarp for, stupid!' said Albert. 'Make it anywhere you want!'

'I must say, I've heard some of the most colourful speech from your group,' commented Yorba Linda.

'Asia English,' said Albert. 'Only way to talk! Americans have lot to learn!'

'I keep hearing the word, "la".'

'From Chinese,' said Lucy.

Mickey added, 'English words, but spoken with Asian grammar structure and syntax.'

'Wow! What big words, you sat sat bo chia one man!' said Albert.

'Ha ha! Been around my grandpa too much!'

* * *

There were two people at work on the set when the group entered, one with a small camera, another apparently doing the acting. A small monitor show what the camera was catching.

The actor was drably dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, and was talking to an empty space. 'Look, Hon, we've been over this before! Do I have to tell you again?'

The disembodied voice of a woman answered, 'But that was before you brought that ludicrous -- what do you call it?'

The monitor showed something entirely different -- the same room, a leisurely dressed gentleman that looked nothing like the drably dressed actor, but going through exactly the same motions, talking to a scantily clad woman. Mickey recognised them from the TV show.

The man with the camera said, 'Great! Let's go with that. Next scene.'

The actor walked over to the window and looked out. Suddenly, the monitor showed, not the well dressed gentleman, but an old wrinkled man.

'If I had my way,' said the actor, 'I'd have done it long ago!'

The camera man answered, 'Well, if you had your way, we'd all be stuck in that rat-hole they call a rhinoceros hive!'

'Huh! A man can get no respect around here!'

'You'll get your respect when you deserve it!' said the camera man. 'Okay, good. Take the other part.'

The drably dressed actor walked over and occupied the air that he had been talking to as an old man. The old man reappeared on the monitor, this time, addressing the scantily dressed woman.

Then the disembodied voice of an old man sounded out, 'If I had my way, I'd have done it long ago!'

This time, the drably dressed actor answered, 'Well, if you had your way...'

* * *

The e-Bible only contained the New Testament. Mickey couldn't find any that included the Old Testament, apart from the Psalms, so Mickey read what he had.

The translation was refreshingly modern. It was in the same style as Little Dorrit.

Mickey's favourite part was the Christmas story, which was, conveniently, at the beginning.

It was certainly different, especially the passage, ...the mystics from the East arrived, saying, 'Where is the one born to be king of this land?'...

King of this land? That was different, to be sure. Mickey read on, intrigued by more choices of words.

After a while, he began to notice the absence of any reference to Jews. The entire narrative sounded like it could have been set in Chicago, or Norway, or Bangkok.

Well, I suppose that makes it up close and personal.

Then again, he remembered Oliver Twist. The version he skimmed neglected to mention that Fagin was a Jew. What about Shylock in Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice?

So I'm a banker. But I have feelings, don't I? If you pinch me, I say, 'Ouch!'

At first, Mickey thought they were just being politically correct. Now that he couldn't find references to Jews in the New Testament, he was wondering.

He looked up 'Jews' in the on-line encyclopaedia. An adherent of Judaism, a family centred religion, dating thousands of years. Adherents attend worship services on Friday evening and Saturday morning, in a Synagogue, where they participate in prayers and chants in an ancient language called Hebrew, and readings from their holy books in the same language. Teachings include belief that a deity with a name too holy to pronounce made the universe, and issued commands (called 'Mitzvot') for adherents of Judaism to follow.

The entry on 'Christianity' read: A religion based on the belief in an afterlife, and that becoming a devotee of Jesus, the founder of Christianity, will ensure one will live in heaven after death. The teachings are found in their holy book, called the 'Bible'. Adherents attend worship services on Sunday morning.

For all his searching, Mickey could find no reference to any connection between the two religions.

* * *

Mickey wondered why the classroom was so bare, then he looked at it through his My Own World, and found it really wasn't. In fact, the room no longer had walls. Where one wall used to be, was the view of the Milky Way galaxy, with the various sectors labelled with floating signs. Another opened into a meadow where a group of 18th century farmers were fighting a regiment of red-coat Englishmen. Another showed various geometric shapes and angles. The fourth was a view of the earth similar to what they saw from the semi space ship, but with labels. The group of them, students who belonged to this classroom and those visiting, occupied the square space that appeared to be a portal between four worlds.

Mr. Singh introduced his students, and then the classroom instructor for the host class introduced his. Then, they divided them all into four groups, each with four or five of the visiting group with about six of the host students. Each group went to one of the four walls.

Mickey found himself with Jimmy Khoo, Albert Fong and U Ta Gladstone, with a number of the host students, standing by the wall that had the globe. At least he knew it was a wall, but its close proximity gave him vertigo. He kept a few feet away lest he trip and go hurtling into the earth's atmosphere -- which they were already doing.

Someone had adjusted the picture so that it was zooming in on a particular part of the earth's surface.

'What would you like to see?' asked a boy.

'Hong Kong!' suggested Jimmy Khoo.

They began to descend on the coast of China. As they got closer, Mickey could make out Victoria Island and Tsim Sha Tsui, and the other islands. But there was no metro tower.

'Very old picture,' said U Ta Gladstone.

'Old? How?' said one of the local girls. 'This is very recent!'

'Where's the metro tower?' said Jimmy Khoo. 'And the shore line -- it's from long time ago, before...'

'Metro tower? You have metro towers?'

'No way! Metro towers are an American technology!'

Now, they were coming down to street level. Motorcars on rubber tires were noisily plying Nathan Road, construction workers were fixing the façade of a 20 story building whilst perched on bamboo scaffolding, all the while a dragon dance was being performed across the street in front of an office complex.

'This is out of Jackie Chan!' said Jimmy Khoo.

'Yeah, all those cars, very old!' said Albert Fong.

'This is a satellite picture!' said another local.

'Satellite? But this is street level!' said Mickey. 'That's Hong Kong 100 years ago!'

'Our satellites can do that!'

'And the water level's way down, like before global warming,' added Jimmy.

'You're having us on!' said another local boy.

'They sent you here to spread Chinese propaganda, didn't they!'

'No way!' shouted Albert Fong. 'You brainwashed with propaganda!'

Things started to get out of hand until Mr. Singh and the local teacher came to restore order.

'They say that's modern Hongkong!' said Jimmy Khoo. 'They say it's from satellite!'

'It is,' said the local teacher.

'I think not,' said Mr. Singh. 'Right there is where one of the legs of our metro tower is planted. They had to removed that whole neighbourhood.'

'Metro tower? I didn't know you have ...'

Mickey walked over to another group. They were viewing the interior of America as they would probably be seeing it during the next leg of their journey -- to Dallas. It was a view as would be seen from a hover car, flying over lush farm land, Indian reservations, colourful wilderness, slowing down over towns so as to see the shopping centres and places of entertainment. Thus the scene swept across Arizona, New Mexico and into Texas.

Since they'd be viewing this from the hover bus anyway, Mickey wandered to another wall. Now, it looked like the two teachers were having an argument over the accuracy of their satellite image. Some of the students in the third group were drawn in -- all except for Philip, Seymour and a couple of the local students in their group. Mickey joined them.

They had gathered in a corner. One of the locals said, 'I don't care what it is. I just make my own world anyway. Here, I'll show you China in my world.'

A window opened up on the section of the wall just before them. A group of ancient warriors were engaged in fancy swordsmanship. Some had staves, which they were twirling about, others were floating through the air, performing advanced Kung Fu, and some had weapons that Mickey doubted had ever existed in China. The battle even joined by a dragon which proceeded to torch several enemy flanks.

'That's part of my report on the rise of the Mongol Dynasty,' said the student who had turned on the view.

'That's -- history?' queried Seymour.

'Yeah. That's Kublai Khan, riding on the back of the dragon.'

'Creative Writing, I think,' said Philip.

'Alternative history, maybe,' said Mickey.

'When I finish school, I'm gonna write a new history of China, and this will be in it.'

'How can it be history if it has dragons in it?' said Mickey.

'Same way everything else is. No one living today was there, right? So who's gonna say I'm wrong?'

'The other history books. The history experts,' said Seymour.

'Hah! They just spout out what they want you to hear anyway. Everyone knows that!'

'But, history is what really happened!' said Philip. 'How can that there really happen?'

'We just change it to what we want,' said one of them, 'just like we change "right now" to what we want by redoing the settings on our headsets.

Just then, Yorba Linda was getting everyone's attention. 'Everyone! It's time we went on to our next stop.'

The room quieted down. The visiting group said a rather subdued good bye, and left.

Mr. Singh didn't look happy at all.

'What do you think of all that?' he asked Yorba Linda.

She heaved a big sigh. Finally, she said, 'I can give you the official version right now. If you want my personal opinion, we might need to find some place quiet where people wouldn't hear us.'

* * *

The interior looked much the same as any church hall Mickey had seen back home. Free standing buildings on the ground would have an exterior as well as an interior, but they were mostly alike inside. This one was in the metro-tower, occupying a hexagon shaped maxi-compartment not far from their lodging.

It was evening, after a day of touring about. Mickey walked about the place, looking for any hint of an answer to his new found queries. Was the Jesus they worshipped here Jewish? Did they have the Old Testament? Where did they keep their books, anyway?

The place was empty, except for an old man who looked like he was asleep, seated in one of the pews.

He couldn't find a single book. No hymnal, no Bibles.

The meeting room had the same type of seats as those back home, all facing the front, where the pulpit and holograph screens were located.

'Is this your first time here?'

Mickey turned around and saw the pleasant faced gentleman.

'Yes. I'm with a tour group from China.'

The old man in the pew perked up.

'China! How interesting! We don't usually see many people from there. I'm Pastor Ned. And you?'

'Mickey O'Brien.'

'That doesn't sound Chinese. Nor do you look it for that matter,.'

'Both parents were half and half. On my father's side, they came from Ireland.'

'Welcome to North America, at any rate. Let me show you around.'

'I don't see any Bibles,' commented Mickey.

'They'd all be in electronic format. Do you have an e-book reader? I can let you download a copy.'

'I got an e-copy, but only the New Testament. Do you have Old?'

The old man had walked up. 'You know a lot for a Chinaman. They teach Comparitive Religions there or something?'

'Er -- we do have several copies of the whole Bible at my house.'

'Wow! I thought they didn't allow that in China!' said the Pastor.

'I'll say!' Said the old man. 'They're commies! Don't allow religion!'

Mickey responded, 'Some parts have strict rules about it, but they hardly enforce them. But your country ...'

'This is a free country, it is!' said the old man.

'...they wouldn't let us bring any books.'

''Cause we won't allow Communist propaganda. That's why!'

'I mean, my Bibles. Where can I find the Old Testiment?'****

'We only have the New Testament,' said the pastor. 'The Old Testament will soon be made available here. It's had to be thoroughly gone over and edited for the general reading public.'

'Why?'

'It's been a long time since I had the opportunity to study it myself. The original version had parts that were hard to understand like wrath and judgement. In fact, reading some sections, there are parts that would appear to condone genocide! Have you actually read it?'

'Yes la! All the time! That's why I'm looking for it. They wouldn't let us bring our own books here.'

'What do you make of it?'

'It shows God is holy! Lots of things we must take all together, and see the whole picture!'

'The New Testament does that for us. In it, are the basic truths of our salvation, how to be born again, and be assured of going to heaven...'

'What about the prophecies -- and God's demands for righteousness?'

'All that comes by faith in the New Testament. We'll have the Old Testament available to us in the near future. A team of scholars as been revising it to make it user friendly.'

'Like they did with the New Testament?'

'Yes.'

'But the electronic copy doesn't even say Jesus was Jewish!'

'Don't you know how much evil was done in the name of the church over that very issue? The Inquisition! The Holocaust! By making the Bible and other books politically correct, it reduces public consciousness of ethnic groups such as the Jews, so we can guarantee there won't be any such incidents in the future.'

'I suppose copies of the Koran don't have anything about jihad?'

'Jihad? What's that?'