The Best of Electric Velocipede

by John Klima

  The following morning she mounted her Schwinn and rode off toward Burger King.

  A Taste for Flowers

  Jay Caselberg

  Pretty, pretty. So young. So sweet. Not at all like the face that waited for him at home. William shifted on the park bench, rocking gently from side to side, trying to restore a hint of circulation to his numbing buttocks. He’d been sitting for too long in the one position on this faux, Victorian wrought-iron bench, one among the many scattered throughout the Greenspace, but special. This one, dark green, fake metal and fake wooden planks lay close to the playground where he could maintain a good view.

  Remembering, he ran a finger up one side of the old paper storybook he held nestled in his lap, and then slowly turned a page. It was a fine, fine day. Why shouldn’t he be out here taking in the sunshine that filtered down from the panels far above his head. Domeshine, sunshine, what was the difference anyway? It was a fine day. Why shouldn’t he be out here reading?

  A quick glance to either side and he was reassured that no one was watching him. He closed his eyes and drew deeply of the mild spring air, tasting the breeze and letting it out slowly again. The air was sweet—an overlay of something floral—jasmine? Yes, jasmine. Around Greenspace, they filtered flower scents, the hint of new, damp grass, sometimes wet earth, depending on the season. Today it was jasmine.

  He opened his eyes and turned his attention back to the object, the focus of his current energies, his precious book temporarily forgotten. He’d been coming to this Greenspace for about two weeks now, waiting, watching. The time would come soon. He could feel it. It didn’t take much for him to fall in love, now did it? But not yet. He couldn’t allow himself to take the pleasure quite yet.

  She was over there by the climbing equipment, playing with her friend. Small, slim, blonde. Her friend, another little girl with long dark hair, didn’t interest him as much. No, the blonde bob, the smooth, pale, fine-featured face, the blue eyes, the slender arms, this was what he wanted. She was dressed in a pale blue top and matching shorts, some sort of floral pattern on them, revealing her slim, white legs. William passed the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, moistening it slightly, then held the lip gently between his teeth as he watched. A gentle sigh, and then he closed the book, stroking the cover with one hand, working up to standing and making a move. If there had been birds, it would have been perfect, but birds were a million miles away. The colony’s meagre resources didn’t allow birds. Meagre resources—that was why he was here, now, here on New France. Not at first, but now. Now, William worked for management.

  Perhaps he’d have children of his own one day, though in the current climate, that was unlikely—not for some time. Perhaps they’d permit him a nice boy child. It was his social duty, after all—that amongst others. So many others. Slowly, he stood, and then, with a slight grimace, turned away from his object of desire. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he could show her how much he loved her, really loved her. And she’d understand, of course, but not yet. He had to leave now, go back to his assigned residence, his assigned building, his assigned wife number one, all of it sitting crouched and compact beneath the vast dome that kept them all safe. He doubted very much that there’d be an assigned wife number two. They just didn’t understand. Assignment—love. How could she understand?

  He walked back toward the park entrance, slowly, savoring the proximity of his real love for as long as he could. The book clutched in one hand, he strolled across the open grass, his long coat buttoned down the front. He was pleased with himself today. The coat was there for protection, to mask any public indiscretion, but he hadn’t needed it today. He’d managed to keep his erection at bay—today. The slight smile faded as he thought about getting home, about the meet and greet, the dutiful kiss on the rapidly aging cheek, closing his eyes so as not to see the lines at the corners of her eyes, running down beside her nose, and at the edges of her mouth. Holding his breath so he couldn’t taste the age and death that flowed within her lungs and through her mouth. Decrepitude. The falling apart. No, he didn’t want to think about that. Far better to think about the current object of his affection.

  As images of the park, of her sweet little body, grew to overtake the picture of assigned wife number one’s face, he felt a stirring at his crotch. But he’d been so good today. Soon, William, soon. He would have to find out her name before long. What would it be? Emily? Sophia? Jasmine, perhaps. Yes, Jasmine, like the scent upon the breeze. Jasmine would be a good name. Pretty, pretty. Clean and sweet. Unblemished as a spring flower blooming in the twilight.

  That night, William went through the rituals with assigned wife number one, the polite yet stilted conversations. Sometimes he wondered whether she too merely went through the rituals with her assigned husband number one, but it didn’t really matter to him. Not really.

  Tomorrow was another day, another rest day, and that was what mattered. Jasmine would be there, playing in Greenspace. William hoped the weather would be good enough. If the storms were down again, it would be stay at home, waiting for the stuff to pass, watching two-year-old movies and passing mindless conversation with assigned wife number one. Then there’d be another few days waiting, going to work every day, hoping for the next rest day and weather that was good enough to go back to Greenspace to read his book. He couldn’t understand why they had to program storms. Perhaps they really wanted to give the feeling of home. It was funny, in so many ways.

  The next morning, he could barely wait to get out of bed. Late in the evening, while he’d been lying awake, he’d turned over the introduction, their first meeting, in his head. Finally, sleep had slipped up to cover him. All through the night, he dreamed. He’d woken with a throbbing erection and assigned wife number one had taken it as a sign. He had pushed away her ministrations, grumbling about a full bladder and how she’d be better off getting some sleep. Stay in bed. This is a rest day and you don’t have to do anything. There was the conversation over breakfast, and assigned wife number one took it as another opportunity. She was becoming tiresome, demanding.

  “What are you doing today, William?”

  “Well, I thought I might go to the park and read.”

  “But you did that yesterday.”

  He shot her a glance. “And I thought I might do it again today.” He held her gaze, waiting.

  “And I thought we might spend some time together, to, well, you know . . .”

  “Why?” he said.

  “Because that’s what married couples do. We’ve been together long enough to know each other, William, to feel comfortable together. I’m beginning to think you don’t care. I really don’t want this assignment to fail. I really don’t, you know.”

  “Why?” he said, looking at her pointedly. “Why do you care?”

  She paused before answering. “Because we’re doing so well. After your promotion and . . . well . . .”

  If only she knew.

  When he didn’t respond, she continued. “I’m beginning to think you’re not interested,” she said and sighed. “Do you want another assignment? Do you want someone else?” There was hurt in her eyes.

  “That’s not going to happen,” he said, calmly.

  “Yes, but it will happen if we’re not careful. We have to make this work.”

  William narrowed his eyes before responding. “Fine, we will. Just give me some time. This is a rest day and I want to spend it as a rest day, unless you have any real objections. We can talk about duty some other time.”

  She sat staring at him. Finally, she looked away, the hint of moisture threatening in her eyes. He watched with distaste as she blinked the tears away, noting the way the skin crinkled around the edges of her eyes and collapsed into slight folds just in front of her ears.

  “I’m going out,” he said.

  He grabbed his book from the shelf, his coat from behind the door and left her there, staring across the kitchen table into nothingness.

  It was duty. Duty with her
at least. The prospect of children was appealing, but that had to be years away yet. The pregnancy, the birth, all of that stuff. Then, the early, early years. He needed something else to keep himself satisfied in the meantime.

  Assigned wife number one. Perhaps there should be an assigned wife number two after all. She was right, though. It would not be good for stability. He had no idea how management would take such a request anyway. It was better to leave things as they were, to make sure they let him continue what he was doing. If they took that away . . . If they really took that away . . . .

  He walked briskly towards the park, nodding to one or two people he recognized from his neighborhood, already out and taking advantage of the day. The weather was perfect. A slight breeze, the sun halfway up and warming the city with its gentle rays. The trees were covered in leaves, flowerbeds along the walkway already full and blooming, adding to the induced fragrance of the air. Apart from the odd drawback, the plethora of assigned duties, this really was a paradise. In the early days, he had often corresponded with the old network back home telling them, encouraging them. Things were so hard, back home—always the risk of discovery. There was so much to be had here on New France. As yet though, none of them had come. Perhaps they hadn’t really understood. After all, he had had to be discreet in his communications. But all that was before the management found out about him here, before they caught him and took him to that hulking office building into that small office with all the lights.

  It had reminded him, at first, closed off in that small office with those hard stares. Stares so reminiscent of those back home. The inquisitions, the scrutiny, the looks of accusation. William had been a man of learning, a scholar, so eager to impart his wisdom to the formative minds. Of course, the sanctity of the Church had given him more freedom back then. When the first accusations had come, there were denials, protection. They’d even moved him to a different location, and then another. Finally, they’d had no choice but to strip him of his station and send him out into the world.

  He found work. Low-level clerical stuff where he was left alone and slowly, slowly, he’d built a life, sculpting a new identity that hid him from accusing eyes. Gradually, he’d made contacts, found the opportunities.

  *

  He found his bench, sat and opened his book, prepared to wait. There were a few couples and families already in the park, but no sign of his object of desire. He would wait. He knew today was the day. Every few minutes, he glanced around, watching, waiting. Finally, he saw her.

  Jasmine was with a friend, a girl about her own age, perhaps the same one from before. They headed for the swings. William was perfectly positioned. He knew without doubt, because of their age, that they’d both been born here on New France. There had been nothing of home to taint them, to corrupt their minds. Such virgin territory. He was truly blessed. So many elements of the wrongness of the culture back home had passed them by. The lies, the misunderstandings, the victimization. None of it made any sense out here, out in the freedom lands of New France, and William knew. He had always known that this would be the place for him. At first, the prospect of real freedom had called him. A new colony, expansion, eagerness for people. That meant only one thing, when William thought about it—children. The colony wanted people. They needed people. It was so easy for him to come. They never found out that he had once been a priest. He was a clerical administrator, ideal for the burgeoning colony. Even a pioneer world needed its administrators. But that wasn’t the thing. The register, the fear of discovery—all of that had gone, left behind in a world that no longer meant anything to him.

  Then the resource crisis had come, and the restrictions on breeding. Things had gotten tight. He should have thought that in such an enclosed community that they’d eventually track him down, reveal him for what he was. He knew it was wrong, that they said it was wrong, but they simply didn’t understand. None of them did. There was nothing as pure as true love.

  It took a while of watching until he felt comfortable enough. The anticipation was making it awkward, but he had his coat. The girls were swinging back and forth, laughing, chattering with each other. William stood, scanning the park. His moment had come.

  Quickly he strode across the open space, and then stood for a few moments in front of the swings watching them. Yes, she was the one. He could truly see it now. After a few moments, the other girl noticed him and her swinging gently slowed and stopped. She sat there watching him. Jasmine saw her friend stopping and looked around. She too saw William standing there, and for the first time, she looked him in the face. William smiled. It was all he could do to keep the rush of excitement contained, to stop himself blurting out how he felt.

  William stepped forward. “Hello,” he said. “What are your names?”

  “I’m Veronica,” said the other girl. “And this is J—”

  “Jasmine!” said William.

  “No, silly,” said the girl called Veronica. “Her name’s Jennifer.”

  William bit his lip. “Well, Veronica, Jennifer, I’m William.”

  William felt his heart flutter. She was looking at him, looking up at his face. He had been right. She was the one. He could feel the love inside him growing, warming him inside. He could feel the love stirring, pushing at his pants. He crouched down in front of her.

  “Jennifer. That’s a lovely name,” he said. “I want to be your very special friend. I have a surprise for you. I have something special I want to show you.”

  “Me too?” said Veronica.

  “No, I’m sorry,” said William. “Not today. Not for Veronica today. Today is Jennifer’s special day.”

  “But Veronica’s my friend,” said Jennifer.

  So sweet, so sweet, her little voice.

  “And I am your friend too, Jennifer. I’m your special friend. Do you remember my name?”

  She nodded, slowly up and down. “You’re William.”

  “That’s right.”

  “What’s the surprise?” she said.

  “Do you see this?” he said, holding out the book.

  Jennifer reached out a hand to touch it.

  “This is a story book,” said William. “It’s special. Not like the disks and things we have. You can read stories here and look at the pictures.”

  “Let me see,” said Veronica.

  William kept holding it out for Jennifer to look at. To reach out her hand and touch. That tiny hand. He drew in a deep breath, watching her fingers.

  “I want to see!” said Veronica.

  “No,” said William. “This one is for Jennifer.”

  For Jennifer, for Jasmine, for little Jasmine. So pretty. So sweet.

  “Not fair! I don’t like you!” said Veronica, and clambered from the swing. She dashed off across the park and away. Jennifer looked after her friend with wide eyes, then up at William.

  “Bye,” she said. “I have to go with Ronnie.”

  She jumped off the swing and ran after her friend.

  “But Jasmine, the book, the surprise . . .” called William. Then: “My love . . .” in quieter tones.

  He straightened and stared after where the pair of them had run off to, but already they had disappeared. He looked back at the swing where she had sat, rocking gently in front of him. He closed his eyes and stood there for a few moments, calming his breathing, then tucked the book under his arm and walked away.

  He wandered aimlessly for an hour or so, hoping to see her, or her friend, but there was nothing. Finally, he made his way back to the park. It was not right. Today was supposed to have been the day. He knew it was the day. How could he have been so wrong? He found the bench and sat, a wave of depression and longing washing against his thoughts. He had met her. He had spoken to her. She was beautiful, lovely, so sweet, so clean, unspoiled and he had been right. He was truly in love. He knew it now.

  He had to find a way to show her how much he loved her. It was supposed to be today.

  When they had caught him, and taken him away, he
’d expected the worst. He had seen what had happened to people like him back home, what they did to them. They’d sat him down and told him they knew everything about him. He could remember the conversation so well, almost word for word.

  “Things are different out here on New France,” they’d said. “But not that different. We’ve brought many of the values with us that we had at home. Values about individual freedom, about human rights. We can’t make too many laws in paradise, you see William. We can’t restrict people’s actions too much. That’s the dilemma. You see, we have to find some way of restricting the population growth—at least for a few years. Oh, we can make public service announcements and the like, but it never does any good. In the end, people do what they want. We can’t afford open rebellion in this environment. Things are too finely balanced. We know all about you, William, about what you want.”

  It was then that he’d felt the fear. The memory of angry faces, the sea of hostile accusation, the pointing fingers and the slogans daubed across his walls. Inside, he felt the familiar terror grow. But they hadn’t finished.

  “That’s why we’re going to let you go. That’s why we’re going to look after you, William. Let’s just think of it as culling the herd just a little.” They nodded sagely and leaned in conspiratorially. “We’ll just keep this between ourselves.”

  They had let him walk free. He could hardly believe it. He knew they were watching him, but he could do what he wanted. New France had really turned out to be a sort of paradise after all.

  Still feeling the disappointment, he found an empty park bench and sat, wondering what he was going to do next. His Jasmine had run off. She wasn’t supposed to have done that. He sat in the one spot, looking at stories, turning page after page as the day wore on, heaviness in his heart.

  He was in the middle of the book, thinking about which story he might use, when something made him look up. She was standing there, right in front of him.

  “Jasmine!” he said.

  She frowned and shook her head. “No, Jennifer.”