Fish Swim in the Lake

Part 3.4 | Not a dropping shoe for miles and miles

Tony drove because he had a private car, not a rail car, but an actual electrochemical-combustion car of his own. It was a bottle green four-seater convertible. He rated a license as the son of the Greek ambassador and had diplomatic immunity to any offense committed with or in it short of homicide, speeding, or parking by a fire hydrant. Even Lola, for all her connections and machinations, did not have a driver's license.

Vlad's party was at a cottage on Meech Lake on the Quebec side of the Ottawa River, in the Gatineau Hills, where the light rail did not go. Where nobody went without a permit, clearance, and an appointment. Too many people crept in to steal near-extinct wild leeks and too many people went off the path at Pink Lake. And the Quebec government learned it could make money from eco-tourism if it wrestled the park away from the newly forming Canerican federal government when National Capital Commission dissolved.

Tony's diplomatic plates shot them through. They never saw a security guard.

"...and Diatom, remember her? She's going to be there tonight, with..."

At the beginning of the trip, alphaDana kicked in her vlogger. She shot full-res scenery all the way, carelessly eating up storage with near-perfect record. It would be a little blurry at this speed but demand for undeveloped nature shots was always high. Maybe even high enough to cover next quarter's rent well in advance. Some of alphaDana's best clients created outdoor window soft for subterreanean corescrapers -- especially condominiums. People could and would and did live underground, provided they thought they weren't. There had to be variety to stave off depression, or the depression often resulted in mass murder and suicide. It was generally cheaper to use real world footage than to fake it, which is where vloggers like alphaDana came into play.

"...and Wah Wah and Fisix and Eight10 will be there, and..."

She watched the lividly, achingly green trees and ancient crumbling hills. She tuned out Lola's seemingly endless babble. It was beautiful, it was all beautiful. The air was pure and clean and fine, the best anywhere in the Canericas after the Rocky Mountains. The city was only a few miles away but it could be anywhere.

Between the prospect of some unexpected money and Lola's carefully applied sculpt having finally set, alphaDana began to feel better. A really good dumper would extract her whole store in a couple of hours or less and anyone with a dumper that grade would hardly lack realtime editing. And here she was with a day to spare -- she could fix things ten times over between now and Thursday. Everything was going to be fine.

"...fair, right?"

"What? Sure."

"Oh good," Lola said. "I thought you were going to be difficult about it."

Posted by gtaylor at April 25, 2002 09:23 AM