Chapter Two:
Hearst Street and the Aldiss Arms
It was already past five o'clock, and half of his day was wasted away. Spent by training, as all of his days went. "I need to get a life," he said to himself. Jerome threw his towel to the wooden bench below his open locker. He crumpled up the paper and threw it in, but took a bottle of shampoo from it. Shutting the aluminum door with a clattering slam, he then made his way to the shower. He used the locker room shower more than the one at his own flat. But to him, they were much better. The pool was like his home.
He looked around to make sure that nobody else was around before he took off his swimsuit, because he was very bashful and shy. But nobody was, so he stepped into the shower and took off his freezing cold, chlorine- seeped swimming shorts and pulled the curtain around. There was no way in hell that he would shower in the open, he needed something surrounding him. He turned the knob to full blast and the warmest temperature it would go. The steaming hot water fell on him like a torrential downpour of rain. The chilly pool water was washed away, like a shiver from his scalp to his stomach and then down to his toes until all the cold water was replaced with warmth.
Five minutes later, (mostly all spent up by thinking to himself,) he turned off the shower and was surprised to find that the entire locker room was filled with steam that reminded him of thick, pea-souper smog. He wrapped a towel around himself and opened his locker. A new pair of boxers, brown trousers, a white shirt and a dark blue silk tie were all packed tightly in it. He dressed quickly as if he had somewhere to go. (In actuality, the only place he had to go was home to do nothing but lie around and watch the television and eat.) He put on his shiny black shoes, slammed the locker door, and rushed outside. While walking onto the sidewalk outside, he ran a comb through his messy hair and combed the bit above his forehead skyward. Coach McHallan caught up with him.
"Oh Jerome, you have a party to go to tonight," he said while lighting a cigarette. (Jerome didn't think it was fair at all how his coach got to smoke but he didn't. Not that he really wanted to smoke, it was just the restriction that perturbed him.)
He rolled his bright blue eyes and sighed deeply, "What's it for THIS time?"
"Don't give me that, Morrow! It's a special party for all the English Channel Racers. All your competitors are going to be there. So show up and look sharp! The cab will be there around six to pick you up," and grumbling, he left.
Great, he thought. Another party. A drab, boring party. Oh well, it could be worse. He started walking down Hearst Street. He would go to the party. Not willingly, not that he wanted to go. But he had to make an appearance.
Jerome savored the weather outside, inhaling the damp air. It had stopped raining, and now it was misting. The tiny droplets of water fell on his face with a pleasant, ticklish sensation. On the road, the many electric cars zoomed by, leaving the scent of ozone in the air and a high- pitched whizzing noise in his ears. It was very annoying to him.
Hearst Street was always busy, mostly visited by tourists for the little shops. There was a small bakery, an Indian restaurant, a traditional English pub called The Twin Hippogriff Cellar, and a television repair shop. When he reached the window of the TV shop, he peeked in to see what was going on in the world; nothing too exciting except the invention of a new robot that helped old people. No big deal, so he walked on. He wandered down the street until he was stopped by the scent of only one thing. . .Maple Oat Nut Scones.
Maple Oat Nut Scone or not. . . He tried to reason with himself. He already had two this morning, and had a craving for two more. They were sold at the huge American coffee shop, and they were Jerome's favorite food.
I can do without them, I will get one tomorrow. Or two or three, he told himself and walked on.
After Hearst Street was Aldiss Avenue, and it took him another ten or so minutes to reach his flat. Jerome lived in The Aldiss Arms, a very swank and ritzy apartment building. There were two doormen that always opened the door for everyone. When he came to the door, the men opened it as if he was entering Buckingham Palace and said "Good evening Mr. Morrow" in unison. He nodded and went inside. The lobby was full of old women in expensive fur coats and hats, along with men in tuxedos.
How do they get away with wearing full tuxedos every day? he asked himself. He didn't ever really fit in with the other residents of the Aldiss Arms, but he could care less. He walked in the elevator and pushed the Third Floor button. The Aldiss Arms, a large and pale brick building, had six floors in all. After the elevator stopped and opened, he turned the corner until he reached Room 218. Instead of a key, all the doors were unlocked by each owner's genetic identity. On the wall by the door handle there was a little screen and a metal touchpad. Jerome put his middle finger on it, and it took a sample of his blood. On the screen, it showed his genetic ID; his face, the large white VALID, and the door opened.
"Home white home," he said to himself jokingly.
The apartment was very plain and white. White walls and ceilings. White kitchen counters, white window panes, white carpet and tile floors, white table and chairs, white cupboards. At first he found it all very bleak, but then found that the white comforted him. The only things that weren't white were the black leather sofa arranged by a bookcase and a television. He walked to the couch and flopped back on it, looking at the ceiling and not thinking about anything in particular. Suddenly he heard his telephone ringing. Leaping up, he ran and answered it. "Hello?"
A woman's voice was heard. "Jerome Eugene Morrow, finally I got you on the telephone!"
Oh shit, he thought. It was his mother. Mrs. Martha Eliza Morrow lived in Staffordshire with his father in a huge boring mansion. He sighed and responded, "Oh hello mother."
"Do you know what today is?" she excitedly asked.
"Why yes I do, mother. It is April fourth, 2070," he sarcastically said. "And it is six o' clock. Not to mention that the English Channel Cup is exactly two months away." Uh-oh, six o' clock, that cab is here any minute!
"Jerome, do not be so sarcastic. . ." It sounded more like "sah-kaa- stick" coming from her. "It is the day that I went to the geneticists to first make you! I spent a FORTUNE on you, you do realize that I hope?"
"Every single damn day, Mum."
"Evelyn says hello, she just left for France." (Evelyn was his younger sister, by three years to be exact.)
"Oh good. Now mother, I've got to go. I need to get to a party. It's very important."
She tittered, "Ha! The last time you said that you went to a party and a bunch of trollops were there!"
He rolled his eyes and winced at the horror of that unfortunate party years back. "Mother, that was in college. It was a prank. No! This is a party for all of the English Channel Cup competitors."
"What? There's more than four now?" she asked in a very Monty Python- ish way.
He was growing more and more impatient. "NO!"
"Well then where is it?"
"I actually do not know."
"Now why in heaven's name do you not know where a party that you are invited to is?!" she squeakily replied.
"It was very last minute, Mum. Coach informed me right after practice, and I just stepped in the door. NOW CALL ME BACK LATER!!" He hung up without saying goodbye. It was 6:10. He darted to his room and put on a blue jacket. He scrunched his tie up, and ran out the door, not bothering to comb his hair. Almost forgetting to close the door, he rushed back and shut it, automatically locking. He flew down the stairs instead of the elevator which was crammed full of old women with fur coats.
In the lobby the receptionist said, "Mr. Morrow, a cab is waiting for you." Jerome nodded and ran out the big glass doors. The yellow cab was at the curb, door open for him to hop into. He closed the door and the cab was on its way. Jerome had no idea where it was headed, but he went along for the ride.
Hearst Street and the Aldiss Arms
It was already past five o'clock, and half of his day was wasted away. Spent by training, as all of his days went. "I need to get a life," he said to himself. Jerome threw his towel to the wooden bench below his open locker. He crumpled up the paper and threw it in, but took a bottle of shampoo from it. Shutting the aluminum door with a clattering slam, he then made his way to the shower. He used the locker room shower more than the one at his own flat. But to him, they were much better. The pool was like his home.
He looked around to make sure that nobody else was around before he took off his swimsuit, because he was very bashful and shy. But nobody was, so he stepped into the shower and took off his freezing cold, chlorine- seeped swimming shorts and pulled the curtain around. There was no way in hell that he would shower in the open, he needed something surrounding him. He turned the knob to full blast and the warmest temperature it would go. The steaming hot water fell on him like a torrential downpour of rain. The chilly pool water was washed away, like a shiver from his scalp to his stomach and then down to his toes until all the cold water was replaced with warmth.
Five minutes later, (mostly all spent up by thinking to himself,) he turned off the shower and was surprised to find that the entire locker room was filled with steam that reminded him of thick, pea-souper smog. He wrapped a towel around himself and opened his locker. A new pair of boxers, brown trousers, a white shirt and a dark blue silk tie were all packed tightly in it. He dressed quickly as if he had somewhere to go. (In actuality, the only place he had to go was home to do nothing but lie around and watch the television and eat.) He put on his shiny black shoes, slammed the locker door, and rushed outside. While walking onto the sidewalk outside, he ran a comb through his messy hair and combed the bit above his forehead skyward. Coach McHallan caught up with him.
"Oh Jerome, you have a party to go to tonight," he said while lighting a cigarette. (Jerome didn't think it was fair at all how his coach got to smoke but he didn't. Not that he really wanted to smoke, it was just the restriction that perturbed him.)
He rolled his bright blue eyes and sighed deeply, "What's it for THIS time?"
"Don't give me that, Morrow! It's a special party for all the English Channel Racers. All your competitors are going to be there. So show up and look sharp! The cab will be there around six to pick you up," and grumbling, he left.
Great, he thought. Another party. A drab, boring party. Oh well, it could be worse. He started walking down Hearst Street. He would go to the party. Not willingly, not that he wanted to go. But he had to make an appearance.
Jerome savored the weather outside, inhaling the damp air. It had stopped raining, and now it was misting. The tiny droplets of water fell on his face with a pleasant, ticklish sensation. On the road, the many electric cars zoomed by, leaving the scent of ozone in the air and a high- pitched whizzing noise in his ears. It was very annoying to him.
Hearst Street was always busy, mostly visited by tourists for the little shops. There was a small bakery, an Indian restaurant, a traditional English pub called The Twin Hippogriff Cellar, and a television repair shop. When he reached the window of the TV shop, he peeked in to see what was going on in the world; nothing too exciting except the invention of a new robot that helped old people. No big deal, so he walked on. He wandered down the street until he was stopped by the scent of only one thing. . .Maple Oat Nut Scones.
Maple Oat Nut Scone or not. . . He tried to reason with himself. He already had two this morning, and had a craving for two more. They were sold at the huge American coffee shop, and they were Jerome's favorite food.
I can do without them, I will get one tomorrow. Or two or three, he told himself and walked on.
After Hearst Street was Aldiss Avenue, and it took him another ten or so minutes to reach his flat. Jerome lived in The Aldiss Arms, a very swank and ritzy apartment building. There were two doormen that always opened the door for everyone. When he came to the door, the men opened it as if he was entering Buckingham Palace and said "Good evening Mr. Morrow" in unison. He nodded and went inside. The lobby was full of old women in expensive fur coats and hats, along with men in tuxedos.
How do they get away with wearing full tuxedos every day? he asked himself. He didn't ever really fit in with the other residents of the Aldiss Arms, but he could care less. He walked in the elevator and pushed the Third Floor button. The Aldiss Arms, a large and pale brick building, had six floors in all. After the elevator stopped and opened, he turned the corner until he reached Room 218. Instead of a key, all the doors were unlocked by each owner's genetic identity. On the wall by the door handle there was a little screen and a metal touchpad. Jerome put his middle finger on it, and it took a sample of his blood. On the screen, it showed his genetic ID; his face, the large white VALID, and the door opened.
"Home white home," he said to himself jokingly.
The apartment was very plain and white. White walls and ceilings. White kitchen counters, white window panes, white carpet and tile floors, white table and chairs, white cupboards. At first he found it all very bleak, but then found that the white comforted him. The only things that weren't white were the black leather sofa arranged by a bookcase and a television. He walked to the couch and flopped back on it, looking at the ceiling and not thinking about anything in particular. Suddenly he heard his telephone ringing. Leaping up, he ran and answered it. "Hello?"
A woman's voice was heard. "Jerome Eugene Morrow, finally I got you on the telephone!"
Oh shit, he thought. It was his mother. Mrs. Martha Eliza Morrow lived in Staffordshire with his father in a huge boring mansion. He sighed and responded, "Oh hello mother."
"Do you know what today is?" she excitedly asked.
"Why yes I do, mother. It is April fourth, 2070," he sarcastically said. "And it is six o' clock. Not to mention that the English Channel Cup is exactly two months away." Uh-oh, six o' clock, that cab is here any minute!
"Jerome, do not be so sarcastic. . ." It sounded more like "sah-kaa- stick" coming from her. "It is the day that I went to the geneticists to first make you! I spent a FORTUNE on you, you do realize that I hope?"
"Every single damn day, Mum."
"Evelyn says hello, she just left for France." (Evelyn was his younger sister, by three years to be exact.)
"Oh good. Now mother, I've got to go. I need to get to a party. It's very important."
She tittered, "Ha! The last time you said that you went to a party and a bunch of trollops were there!"
He rolled his eyes and winced at the horror of that unfortunate party years back. "Mother, that was in college. It was a prank. No! This is a party for all of the English Channel Cup competitors."
"What? There's more than four now?" she asked in a very Monty Python- ish way.
He was growing more and more impatient. "NO!"
"Well then where is it?"
"I actually do not know."
"Now why in heaven's name do you not know where a party that you are invited to is?!" she squeakily replied.
"It was very last minute, Mum. Coach informed me right after practice, and I just stepped in the door. NOW CALL ME BACK LATER!!" He hung up without saying goodbye. It was 6:10. He darted to his room and put on a blue jacket. He scrunched his tie up, and ran out the door, not bothering to comb his hair. Almost forgetting to close the door, he rushed back and shut it, automatically locking. He flew down the stairs instead of the elevator which was crammed full of old women with fur coats.
In the lobby the receptionist said, "Mr. Morrow, a cab is waiting for you." Jerome nodded and ran out the big glass doors. The yellow cab was at the curb, door open for him to hop into. He closed the door and the cab was on its way. Jerome had no idea where it was headed, but he went along for the ride.