The Before Short Story Series. Part 1 - Иван Перепелятник Страница 30

‘Yeah. Something like that. But that was a long time ago.’

‘Talent, dear, is only gaining strength over time.’

‘Almost like a good whiskey. The main thing is not to forget about the correct storage temperature.’

‘So what’s your idea, Lewis?’

‘I think we should celebrate such a date in a special way.’

‘And which one, for example?’

‘We haven’t travelled together for a long time. What would you say if you and me would have a chance to admire, for example, the lunar landscape.’

‘Lewis, why waste our time. I suggest we get ready for the Martian mission right away,’ Meryl answered ironically.

‘I admit to having also considered this option. But this seems overly complicated though.’

Meryl stopped and looked at her husband:

‘Are you serious after all? At our 170 something we still can make astronauts?’

‘Nice joke. I like it. But yes, I’m serious.’

‘OK. If you are serious, then we need to think about it seriously. Well, really, technically, would they let old people like you and me apply for space flights?’ Meryl asked.

‘You’re in great physical shape. It will only benefit me to shape up a bit. I wouldn’t have thought there will be any questions about this, Meryl.’

‘Very well. There may be something to it. Let’s look at the details of this story. Would you please send me the program and a description of this lunar journey. I will also have a look at it, and we will discuss your idea in detail and thoroughly.’

‘Agreed!’

‘And how much we are talking?’ Meryl decided to clarify.

‘To be honest, I was surprised. The prices turned out to be quite affordable. I thought the idea would require serious investments. But the price starts from only one hundred thousand dollars. Of course, depending on the level of comfort, the various elements of the program available for selection, the total price will change significantly, but in general, everything is reasonable and justified. If desired, almost anyone can fly to the Moon today. With Mars, for example, the story is somewhat different. A one-way ticket is already 10 times more expensive. And the flight itself lasts about two weeks, not to mention all the risks accompanying the space travel. I think with the lunar program they make it by quantities, given its relatively low cost for tourists.

‘Clear, Lewis. Let’s see. It might be interesting.’

Having passed by The Metropolitan Museum, Meryl and Lewis came to the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir. The ducks bustled in anticipation of a hearty breakfast noticing an approaching group of tourists, who were immediately happy to fulfill the wishes of the experienced local feathered manipulators.

The park employee quickly approached the generous company distributing bread to the birds:

‘You can’t feed the ducks! It is strictly forbidden to throw anything into the water! You can see the notice here—It is forbidden to feed birds!’.

‘It’s just bread!’ the father of the family stood up for the children having fun.

‘I’ve clearly told you, sir! Ducks will be obese! We give them everything they need on a schedule. Put away your food and please step away from the fence!’

‘Good, good! Don’t you worry so much.’

‘Back home by car?’ Meryl suggested.

Lewis checked the activity rings on his watch:

‘Today we have completed our minimum exercising norm—over 40 minutes walking. So we may also go by car.’

They left the park, crossed the roadway and, approaching the Guggenheim Museum, booked a taxi:

‘Get the capsule home, Don,’ Lewis instructed the digital assistant, bringing his wristwatch closer to his face.

Meryl looked at the museum building, where tourists were already beginning to gather, lining up in a snaky way to the ticket office: ‘Back to work tomorrow. Good!’

The capsule drove up silently and the doors opened, inviting them to enter the cabin.

Museum

‘Good morning, Mrs Stern,’ with a welcoming smile, Tora, the museum administrator, handed Meryl a weighty folder with some papers straight away as they were passing through a spacious main hall.

‘Good morning, Tora. What’s it?’

‘And this is a project for the opening of a new exhibition in Milan. They offered us sending our Kandinsky paintings. They have a young European modernists biennial planned there at the end of May. They believe that Kandinsky can perfectly demonstrate the potential of new works.’

‘I have no doubt that it can. Kandinsky, however, has nothing to do with the Modernists. But it doesn’t matter anyway. Not really sophisticated guys they are. Have they really put it like we need the right background for new works?’

‘Well, no, of course not, Meryl. This is just my brief for you. So that you don’t waste your time getting into all the details.’

‘I see. And what do you think?’

‘Well, I think we may consider their request.’

‘Good. Thank you, Tora. Yet I will look at all the information sent to us on the project and will let you know my opinion. How much time do we have?’

‘Meryl, I don’t know… really. I think we should decide within a week.’

‘Agreed.’

Tora walked with Meryl to the second floor of the Guggenheim Museum, where staff offices were located:

‘Well, I gonna go. I’ve got things to do. Ok? If anything, you call me please!’

‘All right, dear. Thanks.’

Meryl walked over to her desk, which was littered with papers, folders, sketches, thick albums. ‘I’d need to find some time and sort out all this mess. The table will someday collapse under the weight of great names and their equally significant works. The choice on the picture—to show or not to show, is not an easy one, of course, but I just feel sorry for the table…’ looking at the mess in her workplace, Meryl was making fun of herself. Carefully, not to ruin the pile, she put the new folder handed over by Tora on a small table