Page 22 of Help

  * * *

  A week later, Amo Obib and Ningning had come to realize humans might not attain the technology level they needed before their fuel runs out. They had over two years left. Though humans could build the Atomic Converter for them if they provided the technology but the temptation was not there. The cold war between Superpowers, USSR, and US, had escalated that the governments focused their resources on creating weapons of mass destruction and delivery systems that can bring a war to an abbreviated conclusion, not in years or months but days! The Superpowers and their Allies seemed unperturbed at the prospect that World War III may destroy their only world. And, if it did and everyone died, no one would be surprised. How pathetic. For this, Amo Obib and Ningning concluded that handing over their atomic technology for the good it would do for humankind was no longer an option, for in that same technology, humans would have in their hands the capacity to destroy themselves and their planet. They wanted no part of that.

  Wary of their fate, Amo Obib said, “Ningning, I would like to go on retreat. Will you be fine?”

  “You need not worry. Naska is Imar.”

  The Retreat

  Amo Obib went up to the Command Center the second time since they landed on Earth eons ago. When Goopersh turned on the light, he saw Karmar's Proposal One on the floor. It had lain there for over two million years. He recalled the torment he went through deciding on the issue then. It was not a pleasant experience. He felt weak; frightened to undergo the same mental struggle again, but had to. He sat on the floor; reread Proposal One; and after, placed the folder alongside; then had Goopersh turn off the light.

  Over two days have passed. Ningning was worried. The thought of him being weak and unable to come down got her to bring food and water up. She stayed and slept by the doorway as she dared not open the door.

  Half a day later, with Proposal One in hand, Amo Obib found Ningning asleep on the floor blocking the doorway. Except for her face, she was well under a white thick blanket. Alongside were jugs of preserved food, water, and eating utensils. He sat on the floor by her side and gently stroked her exposed cheek. It was as cold as the air around them. He felt some relief just to see and feel her. She was his only consolation now.

  On the third stroke, Ningning's eyes opened. “My husband, Naska is Imar,” Ningning said as she hastily sat by his side and held him tight with both arms, trembling. “I have never been so worried and frightened. Please try not to leave me alone again, if you can help it. Please,” she said then started to cry.

  “How thoughtless of me.” He cradled her with one hand and the other gently stroked her head on his shoulder. “Never again,” he said. “Are you all right?” he weakly asked through his parched throat.

  “Are you?” she asked back as she wiped her tears.

  “Yes, but I am thirsty.”

  Amo Obib was so weak Ningning had to nurse him back to health. On the second day, Ningning knew he had recuperated yet feigned weakness and stayed in bed hardly saying a word. She sensed he was still in retreat and struggling with himself. She went along finding excuses to leave him to his thoughts. A day after, Ningning found Amo Obib seated on her cot. She hastily sat beside him and asked pleasantly, “You need anything, Amo?”

  “Ningning,” Amo Obib said in a low voice staring blankly at the floor.

  Ningning knelt on the floor to see his face. It was sad. She held his clasped hands between her hands and waited for him to speak.

  “Ningning,” Amo Obib repeated his eyes now on hers, “we have so much good to offer humans in our science and technology. All of it gone if we are to die. I have not found the answer but have made up my mind. You will have no part in this decision and I absolve you of any responsibility. But you will have to help me.”

  “What do you mean my husband?” she worriedly asked her eyes on his.

  Amo Obib continued in melancholy, “I cannot, in conscience, leave the humans to solve human problems when we have the solution. I cannot, in conscience, die peacefully knowing the good our technology can do is buried with us. It is sad for humans are not ready to get all at once . . . maybe fifty or a hundred years from now if they learn from their follies and live through it.

  “There are many good humans that are carried by the tide of the misguided powerful few. I pray the good ones will band together and stop their leaders usurp their power for personal fulfillments or whims at their expense. We have to part with our technology as need arises. Since we are not in a position to determine what it is and when, I have decided to undertake the last project. I want you to help me do something out of pure obedience, without question. Do you understand?”

  “I do. What do you want me do?” Ningning asked in reply.

  “I love you, Ningning. Those are the words humans use,” he said sitting beside her on the floor then gently coddled her. “I am not sure if what I will do goes against God's wish. I pray it will not. I speak to you now as head not of our church but of our community and command you to help me study ways to bring to life a human body with a Rian mind. Human bodied Rians that will live human lives and be part of their society---work hard for the good of humanity. They can marry humans and rear families but all their children will have Rian minds. They have but one goal: part off our science and technology when they see it fit to improve the world as they live and work as humans. I need your help. Will you help?”

  Ningning consented.

  The new Rians

  For need of a laboratory, Amo Obib and Ningning moved to the room Karmar’s team occupied when they worked on the ape’s genome project. The laboratory was adjacent to the room. They modified Proposal One to meet a new goal: five human females with Rian minds to go thru gestation and leave the womb as young teenage girls in a month and a year after to become young adults. Since Amo Obib would not undertake anything on a chance result, they reviewed everything and spent two months studying how to accomplish their goal. As they did, they abducted humans while asleep and studied their bodies; got tissue samples; and took sperms and female egg cells for genetic analysis. The abducted humans were fortunate. They were people afflicted by some incurable disease and too poor to get medical attention. In exchange, they cured them of their ailment never to know the blessing they had from the Rian's hands. To the ranchers, who found dead cattle on their ranch whose uterus were surgically removed and blood drained, they spread powder on their haystacks and fields. It inoculated their livestock from diseases that ravaged the area and made them healthier and heavier.

  They used the cow's reproductive organ to create a biological womb to carry the human fertilized egg through its gestation period. They made support machines out of parts taken from hospital and industrial trash bins and, on few occasions, from family owned stores leaving money they got from ocean shipwrecks on top of their cash register. After another month, five functional cow wombs submerged in biological fluids were ready.

  Their Children

  On the day they were to splice the five human eggs and sperm cells with Rian genes taken from Amo Obib and Ningning, Amo Obib found the Rian Sacred Book on his bed where Ningning had left it. A dried stemmed rose stuck out from its pages. Amo Obib took the book and opened it. An underlined passage read: God spoke to Amo Lam-a (the first Amo), ‘Believe in Me and I take you to paradise. And, from your seed a new world will come.’ Amo Obib wondered, ‘Does the passage refer to the Rian civilization that started from Amo Lam-a or does it refer to him and Ningning's seed as God's instruments to fulfill the prophecy of a new world---a new civilization being a hybrid human and Rian?’ He was not sure and did not dare speculate. He knelt and prayed, “My dearest God, I hope I am fulfilling your wish. If not, I, alone, must bear the consequence.”

  An hour later, they implanted the altered fertilized egg cells in their respective womb machines.

  Their Children

  Ningning and Amo Obib worked on shifts maintaining a 24-hour vigil on their biomechanical machines. After a month, they became proud parents to five he
althy girls in their early teens. Coming from different human donors, in looks, they reared an Asian Islander, a slit-eyed girl, an African Negro, and two Caucasians. Since Amo Obib incorporated Norm’s accelerated growth to the gene, the girls will rapidly grow to young women in their early twenties in a year.

  In the months that followed, the girls grew within the confines of the ship. Energetic, they wore down their proud and loving parents who attended to their needs and education. Of the girls, Lulu, a Caucasian, was special. She stood apart from her four other sisters that neither Amo Obib nor Ningning could describe but merely noticed. She had the adventurous nature of her father, the determination of her strong-willed mother, and a natural born leader.

  To augment the girls' training and familiarize them to human ways, they watched on TV good, wholesome family movies with strong moral messages and selectively showed the dirtier part of human existence. Months later, Amo Obib and Ningning decided it was time to augment their education, mingle with humans.

  The Excursions

  It was Halloween day when they scheduled the teenage looking girls to experience the world they eventually would live in---the right time to divert people’s attention as Amo Obib and Ningning must chaperone the girls in their radiation protective suits. The two were in the girl’s room with Lulu and her four sisters anxiously waited at the corridor outside, knowing nothing of Lulu’s surprise. “Close your eyes and promise not to peek,” Lulu said to the two as she dressed them up over their protective suit.

  With her parent’s eyes closed, Lulu assisted each to their buggy jumpsuit with high collar that got just above their chin. “Don't peek,” she reminded as she put on their hairpiece and facial makeup. She took a final look then held back her laughter’s sound by covering her mouth. Even then, the muffled laughter was heard by the two dressed-up couple.

  Ningning with her eyes still closed, asked, “What are you laughing at?” Amo Obib played along.

  “No peeking,” Lulu reminded again. “Open your eyes and walk out of the room on the music’s third bar, okay?” and watched them nod then joined her sisters at the corridor.

  On Lulu’s queue, the girls started sounding the tune to the King's March. Immediately after the first note, hilarious laughter came from within the room. They passed the sixth bar of the music and still the two were in the room laughing.

  “Come out,” cried one eager girl.

  The two came out stoic. The girls burst into laughter as soon as they saw them. Amo Obib and Ningning were colorful together in their high-collared cape and crazy-colored buggy suits. Their make-up and the colored wig differentiated the two. Amo Obib’s colorful wig had weird things sticking out while Ningning’s had wavy-oversized purple hair that stuck out. Their faces mottled with colored circular patches. Puckered bright red lip was pasted over their lips as though wanting a kiss.

  When Amo Obib gave Ningning a surprise kiss on her lips, everyone almost died laughing more so when Ningning chased him for more.

  When things settled, Amo Obib said, “Lulu, this is the best costume I have ever worn. But it's too good. It will call too much attention to your Mom and me and that we do not want.”

  “I know,” Lulu sighed. “But you two look hilariously wonderful.”

  The girls help take out the crazy stuff and left the red colored cape over their radiation protective suit making them look as kids in caped Martian costume with large almond shaped dark glasses over their eyes. Amo Obib made a final check at the girls. They appeared like any other teenager at their age. “Whose younger brother am I?” he asked.

  “Mine,” Lulu said.

  “And, Mama Ningning?” Amo Obib continued to review their alibis and excuses, their address, why they were together, and other similar questions that may arise.

  Los Angeles

  It was 7:00 a.m. A beetle-size electronic rover sent hovered above an alley sending video images of the area below.

  Amo Obib, holding a pyramid crystal with both hands, instructed, “Hold on to me or you’ll be left behind.” Ningning wrapped her arms around Amo Obib's waist. The rest huddled together and held on to anyone who held on to Amo Obib. He looked at the monitor and had it zoom on an alley below. Certain no one would see them materialize on the ground, he commanded, “Goopersh, transport.” They disappeared in a flash then reappeared on the ground at the alley that led to the famous street of Los Angeles---Hollywood Boulevard.

  Everyone was apprehensive as they emerged out of the alley as a group---five teenage girls, averaged five-feet-two-inches in height in a typical teenage outfit, that accompanied two kids clad in caped Martian outfit. But as they walked the street, nobody seemed to neither mind nor pay particular attention to the kids in their costume. It was Halloween Day, who would suspect? Soon they felt at ease walking alongside humans, some wearing creepy Halloween costume.

  With money taken from sunken ships, the group did what any tourist normally do---went sightseeing on tour buses and took a lot of pictures. Often, they asked strangers to take pictures of them. When the tour bus dropped them off at Chinese Grumman Theater, they looked at the foot and palm prints on the sidewalk pavement of popular movie stars the theater was famous for. Amo Obib asked common questions, as, what movie they starred in as part of their human orientation.

  As they toured, a man lightly tapped Ningning's head. Alarmed, she went to Amo Obib’s side and looked at the man thru her dark glasses with trepidation.

  “Your mask seems lifelike,” the amazed man said as he followed her. “Where did you buy them?” he asked.

  “My sister made them for us,” Amo Obib answered for Ningning sounding like a youngster.

  The stranger talked to one of Lulu’s sisters, “I supply props for the cinema studios. I'd like very much to know how you made the outfit,” he asked eagerly.

  “I love to but I just don’t have time . . . we’re on a tour,” she answered.

  The man persisted.

  Lulu observed her sisters plead to the man to leave them alone. Since the man was insistent and on seeing two patrolling police officers at the sidewalk, said to the man, “It's a long process, and we have to go. Come,” she said and the group followed her.

  Walking alongside Lulu, the man excitedly said, “You got something there that will interest a lot of people I know. Are you interested in making money?”

  “Please, we really have to go,” Lulu replied and led the group to two police officers at the corner holding on to their patrol bike, “Officer, can you help us,” she addressed one.

  “What seems to be the problem?” the first Police Officer asked pleasantly.

  “This gentleman means us no harm, but can you detain him until we get lost in the crowd?”

  The second police officer turned to the man and sized him up.

  “Look, Officer,” the man said before the officer could say something. “I'm offering a legitimate business proposition. They got something the cinema can use and maybe make stars of the two alien clad kids. I want to make a proposition . . .”

  Lulu interrupted, “Can you detain him just for a few minutes?”

  “Like to press charges?” the officer asked.

  “Oh, no. He really means us no harm.”

  “Okay,” the officer responded.

  They hurriedly left but the man tried to follow. “Hold on, Buddy,” the second Police Officer said as he restrained the man by the arm. “Can I see an ID?” he asked somewhat irritated.

  “Look, Officer, I'm in the cinema industry and . . .”

  “I don't care if you're a Superstar. Can I see an ID please?” the second Police Officer commanded.

  The man pulled his wallet as he watched the group disappear in the crowd.

  In a tour bus, a woman turned her head as she followed a passing site and accidentally saw Ningning, seated on an adjacent seat, insert a potato chip through her masked and ate it. “How did you do that?” she asked in amazement looking at her.

  Ningning, taken aback, looked at
the woman without answering. Amo Obib, whose attention was somewhere else, missed the question. Lulu, directly behind the seated woman and clueless, asked the woman inquiringly, “She’s my little sister. What did she do?”

  The woman turned and said to Lulu, “I saw her insert a potato chip through her mask.”

  Lulu reacted casually, “She likes to play tricks on other people. She just made it look as though she got it through her mask when the potato chip is actually still in her hand. “Show her again,” she said to Ningning.

  Ningning got the clue and demonstrated: She took a potato chip out of the bag and pushed the chip seemingly in her mouth over the masked. She then showed the woman the chip on her hand and said in a rhyme, “I trick her, I trick her.”

  “Silly girl,” the woman said to Ningning as she laughed then waved her off with a grin.

  They took time to go in appliance and hardware stores to familiarize themselves to common household gadgets and work tools. They rode buses and taxis; went to malls; and did other things to orient the girls to the world they would live in. Although people, at times, stared at their costumed companions, they paid no attention to them. If asked, they would answer: ‘They are midget actors dressed for an alien movie shooting or a play.’

  As time passed, they did more excursions and visited many countries. First, as teenage girls that escorted costumed kids and, in the later months, as women that accompanied two midgets to a studio or shooting location.

  Months later, the five were physically grown women. Their training shifted to basic household activities: cooking, carpentry, appliance and electrical repairs, and gardening. Later, they got abandoned cars and disassembled them, then reassembled them again. The fun part was driving what they repaired within the confines of the spacious vacant floor space within the ship. The driving area had lined roads with intersections and pedestrian lanes. As one drove, the four other sisters acted as signal lights holding on to red, green, and yellow colored placards. They even practiced parallel parking.

  On the last few weeks, they learned secretarial skills, office administration, and all were adept in the use of common office computers. On their last week, each went alone to the city assigned to them. Lulu was to start her Earth life at Los Angeles, California. Her four sisters to Moscow, Russia; Shanghai, China; Davao City, Philippines; and Cape Town, South Africa.

  Caught in the Act

  On the night before their children’s departure, Ningning could not sleep and left Amo Obib asleep in their room. She walked towards their daughter’s barrack type bedroom and entered stealthily. They were fast asleep. With motherly adoration, she looked at the face of each of her children asleep as tears trickled down her cheeks. When she got to Lulu's bed, she saw an outline of a body on its side covered by a blanket all the way to the top of the head. As she got closer, she found the head was but a dark folded cloth. She lifted the blanket and found two pillows underneath. She tiptoed hurriedly out of the room.

  She located Lulu over the ship's tracking system and proceeded to the shop. As she neared the room, the floor crackled as she walked. She noticed salt sparsely spread on the floor. She knew the crackling sounds made were loud enough to alert someone inside. In the room, she saw Lulu seated looking attentively at the computer’s screen. “Isn't it late for you to be studying?” Ningning asked as she approached her. She noticed an accounting balance sheet was on the computer’s screen.

  Lulu turned and, sounding surprised, said, “Oh. Hi Mama . . . I am studying financial statements.”

  “Are you really studying accounting?” Ningning asked nicely in an investigative tone.

  Lulu hesitated then confessed, “No. I'm not.” Her head lowered in guilt.

  “What are you studying then?”

  “The design of the atomic converter to update . . .”

  Ningning hugged Lulu from behind and cuddled her. “Please leave everything the way it should,” she said in despair.

  “It is not too late,” Lulu responded with enthusiasm as she grabbed a stool and got Ningning to sit. “National Atomic Research Laboratory produces . . .”

  Ningning interrupted, “NARLAB, as it is commonly known, is a US government owned high-energy physics research center in the Mojave Desert, California. It produced 1.8 trillion electro-volts of particle energy in 1987. They started construction on the Superconducting Super Collider, spring of 1992. Projected completion, late 1999 with a collision output of twenty-five trillion electro-volts. That’s four-thousand trillion electro-volts short of what we need.”

  Ningning's knowledge surprised Lulu. “I know but I came up with a design to increase its capacity. I plan to leak it to their scientist then . . .”

  “Lulu,” Ningning interrupted again and sternly said, “how long have you been doing this?”

  In guilt, she said, “Almost every night for nearly half a year.”

  “My dearest Lulu, your Papa's heart will be broken if he knew what you have been doing and what you intend to do.”

  “Please do not tell Papa,” Lulu pleaded, her eyes in tears.

  “Promise me you will not go against your Papa and my wish.”

  “Can I give my answer tomorrow, before we leave?” Lulu asked, her head slightly bowed, her voice hardly audible as wiped off the tears from her eyes.

  “Please do not disappoint me and your father,” Ningning answered then stood holding out her hands for Lulu to take. “Come, I'll take you to bed.”

  “I love you and Papa,” Lulu said, hugging Ningning as she cried again.

  “Your father and I know that. We love you dearly, too,” Ningning answered as she rubbed Lulu’s back then led her out of the room.

  Last farewell

  Seated on a wooden bench by the airship’s ramp, Amo Obib and Ningning waited for their children. Earlier, the amo denied their children’s request to stay with them till the ship runs out of fuel and, consequently, die with them. Ningning, on seeing them come with a small suitcase on hand this time, said, “They are coming.”

  Amo Obib, whose mind was recollecting the past, was jerked back to the present. Startled, he reacted, “What?”

  “They are coming,” Ningning repeated and they stood.

  With everything said of their departure earlier, Amo Obib and Ningning hugged and bade one-by-one their children, ‘Naska is Imar’ before each climbed the ramp and entered the airship. Lulu was the last. Amo Obib said, “Lulu, your mother confided what she found out last night. I want you to promise you won't do anything foolish that may jeopardize your life and even your sisters,” he stressed forcefully.

  “But, Papa, I . . .”

  “Lulu,” Amo Obib said forcedly, “Promise!”

  “I love you very much,” she answered and, in a rush, hugged him and did the same to Ningning.

  Ningning reminded sternly Lulu as they parted embrace, “Lulu, you did not answer your father.”

  “I cannot promise something I may not be able to keep though I give you my word I will try very, very hard and . . .” she broke in tears, took a step towards the airship, stopped. and turned. “I love you, Papa. I love you, Mama,” looking at each of them. “Naska is Imar,” she said.

  Ningning moved quickly and caught her before she could turn. She got her to kneel then embraced and cuddled her. As she did, she whispered, “Try very, very hard, but if you must, though I pray hard that you won’t, be very, very careful.” She then moved back and in a normal voice said, “It will make your Papa and me very happy . . . Please promise,” she pleaded.

  “I promise,” Lulu replied loud enough for her father to hear that made him grin at her. “Naska is Imar,” she repeated, with eyes wet; hands waving goodbye; moving backwards up the ramp.

  “Naska is Imar,” Amo Obib and Ningning said together as they waved back at their children tightly packed with waving hands behind the airship's closing door.

  Amo Obib and Ningning watched the airship lift and pierce through the ship’s west-wall as it flew out of the ship.


  Ningning said, “Can we sit and stay here for a moment?” sounding exhausted.

  “Are you alright, Ningning?” Amo Obib asked looking at her with concern.

  “I’m fine. I just feel so drained.”

  “I understand. Take as much time,” he replied and they sat, each to their own thoughts.

  Ningning wrapped her arms around Amo Obib’s left arm; leaned her head on his shoulder; and whimpered again.

  They stayed at the bench for a few minutes and later headed for the hibernating room. Ningning held on to amo’s arm as they walked slowly without a word uttered. On seeing the doorway to the transporter room, Ningning suddenly let go her hold and hurriedly went inside the room leaving Amo Obib standing at the hallway. She checked a drawer's contents then returned to Amo Obib and held his arm. “I hope Lulu will not do anything foolish,” saying it with her composure gained and held his arm again.

  Amo Obib replied as they walked, “Even if she did, she could not prove herself to be an Alien as much as I can convince you that I am human.”

  “She took one pyramid crystal,” Ningning said passingly.

  Amo Obib stopped walking and got Ningning to face him. He firmly looked at her. “When did you know?” he asked somewhat irritated.

  Ningning knew him well. She took his arm and led him again and said nicely, “That does not really matter. We cannot change anything now . . . As a father, the first thing you should learn is to trust your children. It is your fault anyway,” she concluded.

  “And, how could that be?” Amo Obib said, baffled and protesting.

  “You gave her one of your best quality---being stubborn.”

  “Stubborn?” he protested aloud.

  “Would I have convinced you to stop handing those crazy leaflets and speeches on liberalizing educational policies and left it to the Council of Elders to decide?” she asked.

  “I doubt it.”

  “She's like you. It's your fault . . . so don't blame her.”

  ‘It’s useless to argue,’ he thought then asked, “What should we do?”

  “Pray,” she snapped.

  Amo Obib strangely looked at her and said, “You know, Ningning, you are beginning to worry me. You have a weird way of getting people to see and do things differently. Remember the night . . .

  EPISODE FOUR

  Los Angeles California, 1997.

  It was not a 'Sunny Los Angeles' that early autumn day. The sky remained overcast for days as the storm's eye lingered two hundred miles west that brought intermittent rain to the otherwise dry metropolis. With the 4 P.M. rush hour, two and a half hours away and a Friday, traffic would get worse.

  Twenty miles northwest of downtown Los Angeles, Camfer Incorporated was one of the small companies among a number of industrial giants within Chatsworth's industrial zone. The company ventured on high-speed printers and robotics. The brainchild of Greg Camber who, with a classmate, John Paul (JP) Fernandez, formed the company soon after they graduated from the University of Southern California's MBA program.

  Camfer Incorporated did well on their first five years but, like many upstart companies in the 80's, struggled to survive the global economic downtrend. Metropolitan Los Angeles economy had taken the brunt of the US recession and seemed to linger down the economic scale. The company’s survival hinged on infiltrating the lucrative robotics market that both JP and Greg worked on since the company's inception.

  JP’s office was a mess. The only space in his office showing deliberate organization was the top of his steel filing cabinet. It had the coffee maker, creamer, sugar jar, and a number of coffee mugs. He thought it a fire hazard and made certain its top was clear of anything combustible. Elsewhere, stocks of reference material, technical magazines, and computer printouts were on the floor, desks, and every conceivable nook. The bookshelves on one side of the wall were overfilled that one would wonder why the wall had not given way. Yet he knew where things were in what he described as ‘organized chaos.’

  JP worked on a computer program that served as Gilda’s brain, an odd-looking robot on wheels. He labored two months, going home late and coming in early including weekends, to meet a demonstration deadline due four hours away. He deplored the idea of his partner, Greg, a mechanical engineer and the company’s marketing manager, making client commitments without consulting him first but understood why---there were many companies ganging up on the little business left and Greg was under pressure to deliver or step aside against stiff competition in the market. Gilda, which Greg mechanically designed, was in a prototype stage and had been ready for two weeks. The pressure was on JP to get Gilda’s program up and running.

  Midafternoon, Greg, furious, barged in JP's office and slammed five opened letters over JP’s hands working on the computer keyboard. Three letters fell on the floor and two tethered over JP’s hands.

  JP did not react. He knew its contents and merely flicked his right hand and got the letters to fall on the floor. “Say what you have to say, Greg,” he said coldly, his eyes stayed glued to the computer's screen.

  Controlling his temper, Greg said, “Someone told me Rosenthal Global Industries was giving our company special preference. Bad info, I thought and laughed it off. For your information, Rosenthal Global Industries is the largest conglomerate in the world! They’re in on almost every high-tech industry . . . warplanes, tanks, missiles, and even ship building, and constructions. Just doing business with them will boost a company’s image. For some crazy reason, they mailed the letters to you and you never gave them to me. You didn’t even open some!”

  “Who in Rosenthal?” JP asked irritatingly as he pretended to work.

  “Some top procurement guy in corporate headquarters,” Greg said still holding down his temper and voice. “That's beside the point. Do you know what's in those letters?”

  “You opened them. So, what's in it?” JP asked coldly without looking at Greg.

  “Request for product information, price quote, and an invitation to bid. Hear that! Request for quotes and bids. Rosenthal doesn't just send invitation or inquiries, unless they are interested in the product,” Greg said keeping his voice subdued.

  JP turned his swivel chair and faced Greg, cold, determined. “I don't want any part of Rosenthal Global Industries nor any of its subsidiaries. Companies in the armament business are the scums of the earth. They earn money through people's blood. I want no part of that,” he angrily said.

  “You don't want them!” Greg replied sarcastically. “We need them. I'm your partner. If you forgot, I own half of the company and that entitles me to half the say.”

  “Did you give me half of my say when you committed the project deadline to James Horsch?”

  Letting off steam, Greg paced the floor then said. “What's wrong with you, JP? You in a crusade to save humankind? Are you one of those peace freaks advocating throwing flowers when they’re being shot at? Wake up man. You're in a dream world.”

  “As long as I'm around, we don't do any business with those S.O.B.'s. If you want to do business with them, you're free to buy me out at a bargain.”

  “I'm in-charge of marketing. That's for me to decide,” retorted Greg. “I never argued on how you run production. That’s your responsibility and I respect you for that. But you must respect my responsibility too. I worry day and night figuring how to bring orders in and you sit on it. We need Rosenthal's or any business badly. God damn, JP . . .”

  “I quit,” JP burst. He stood and started jamming papers into his attaché. “You can have the company.”

  “We'll dissolve the partnership!” Greg reacted and left the room slamming the door behind.

  Greg and JP's relation was not bad and burst of temper had never happened before. They were always calm and deliberate in deciding company matters. They were friends but not buddy. Greg was an extrovert and JP an introvert. As such, their relation stayed mainly in the company and rare social occasions.

  A minute later, Greg came back. He sto
od in front of JP's desk and calmly said to JP as he looked at him, “When I got you into this business, I promised you we’d rise or sink together. I'm not apt to break that promise. We'll find other ways to float,” he said, extending his hand across JP’s desk. “We don't do business with Rosenthal's or any of its S. O. B.'s and that’s a company policy. We don't need their business to survive.”

  JP shook Greg's hand knowing well Greg was playing on his conscience but Greg was right. They needed any business they could get and getting business from Rosenthal Global Industries would put them in good market standing and, maybe, keep them above their debt.

  Shifting the subject, Greg said, “I’m all set for the test.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to test the prototype with James Horsch present?” JP asked.

  “So many things can go wrong. Worse comes to worst we'll find an excuse to move the demo to a later date,” Greg said in a motion of leaving.

  “Greg . . . you're right and I apologize. You'll get all the letters,” and with hesitation added, “Can we forget the incident?”

  “What incident?” Greg quipped. “I’ll see you at the cage, partner.”

  JP beamed. “Give me a couple of minutes.”

  Gilda

  JP went in the R&D test cage with a computer desk on hand. He popped it in the computer’s disk drive and worked the computer’s keyboard. Greg, in his white shirt with long-sleeves twice folded, made final checks on their robot named Gilda. Sonny Dominguez, their Mexican machinist, helped Greg. The three formed the company's entire Research and Development (R&D) ---Greg designed the robot's mechanics; Sonny did the fabrication; and JP handled the electronics and computer program. Together, they built Gilda.

  Gilda had two camera-lensed eyes on its head; a stubby neck on top of a barrel shaped body; and moved on tracked wheels. Its mechanical links and motors were visible within its body and the metal rods and pulleys from shoulder to tip of fingers were exposed. Altogether, it was a mechanical skeleton with its circuit board visible as its backpack. Greg and JP were not concerned with its awkward look---it was a prototype and did not bother to make it presentable, at least not at that point in time.

  “I'm ready,” JP said aloud to Greg at the far end of a narrow test area within the R&D. A heavy gauge chicken wire fence separated it from the rest of the floor. Outside the fenced area were the company’s eager employees crowded tightly at its perimeter, curious and excited to see what Greg and JP had worked on since the company’s inception.

  Greg gave a ‘thumbs up’ to JP then stepped a few feet away from Gilda.

  “Me, ready too,” Sonny, who stood next to Greg, said in a heavy Mexican accent. With his moustache, he looked much like Pancho Villa if he wore a Mexican sombrero. He was a cheerful guy and everyone loved having him around with his extra-ordinary sense of humor.

  JP returned Greg’s thumbs-up gesture then swung his arm to the production employees packed tightly outside the R&D area.

  “Gilda! Gilda! Gilda! . . .” the employees chanted.

  JP pressed the ‘Enter’ button on the keyboard.

  Gilda did the first programmed routine placing half-a-dozen odd shaped blocks back into its corresponding slot and accomplished the task perfectly. It went to another table and viewed a picture of an assembled jigsaw puzzle with twelve separate distinct pieces then moved sideways to reconstruct the puzzle. It solved the puzzle at a speed that amazed everyone and the crowd started cheering louder. Gilda then went to the adjacent table and examined a cube made of irregular blocks, then moved to the side where ten dismantled pieces of the cube laid. It picked each piece, examined it, and then assembled the cube noticeably slower this time. With a dustpan, Gilda swept the excess blocks and dropped them in a trashcan.

  Everyone laughed and cheered again.

  The last test was crucial. Gilda was to fabricate and assemble components using a blueprint as a guide. Everything went well though the response time was slow and Gilda’s movement was jerky and, at times, hesitant. A few minutes in the test, the bolt held by the left mechanical hand slipped as it handed it over to right hand. Instead of the bolt, the right hand got hold of the left hand's palm and yanked out the arm from its shoulder. Electronic wires shorted and mechanical links trailed the disabled arm. The main circuit board on Gilda's backpack began to smoke.

  JP instinctively pressed the abort key as Greg rushed and pulled Gilda's electrical cord from the socket. He got a nearby fire extinguisher and frantically sprayed at the flame coming out of Gilda's left shoulder and back. Sonny, with his left hand shielding his eyes from the fire extinguisher's spray, retrieved the circuit board at Gilda's back.

  “Damn!” JP said aloud to the surprise of everyone. He was always cool and levelheaded, and these failures were common in R&D work. He walked towards Greg who stood by the crippled robot, and asked, “How bad?”

  Greg leaned forward and checked Gilda's mangled shoulder then the arm. “Two - three days,” he said disappointedly as he rubbed the back of his neck.

  Overhearing, Sonny interjected, “I come tomorrow. No overtime pay. Get Gilda running Monday morning, if Greg need me.”

  Greg grinned at Sonny. “Thanks Sonny. Let me check it first.”

  JP asked Greg, “Think you can stall the demo for Monday?”

  “That may not be a problem but I have to work on it now. That means you have to see James Horsch for me. I think we got something even with that lousy slip. Is it a minor program change?” Greg glanced at JP questioningly.

  “It seems minor but it's not,” JP responded, looking at Greg.

  “How long?”

  “A week at best. Two, most likely.”

  “We'll run it on the same program. You move Horsch's demonstration for late Monday afternoon,” Greg decided. “We'll just cross our fingers and hope Gilda won't drop anything this time.”

  Sonny interjected, “I put extra rubber pads on fingertips. No slippage.”

  “Bueno idea, Sonny,” Greg said in his few Spanish words then turned to JP. “I have to find which motor needs changing then buy them before the electronic store closes for the weekend. You just have to take care of Horsch. Besides, you and him have a lot of talking on the program side. Meeting is two hours away, at four-thirty. Can you manage?”

  “Have to,” he said uncomfortably. “I need a head start on the traffic. It’s bad going downtown on rush hours, and don't like being late and give another excuse.”

  “See you tomorrow?”

  “You bet,” JP said and walked hurriedly to his office.

  Beth Greer, the company's administrative officer, accountant, and secretary among other things, was at her desk putting her personal belongings in a box when JP walked by. She was fat and constantly perspired. If she had her way, she would turn the air-conditioner close to freezing. Sounding exasperated, Beth said, “Miss Katherine Davis of Rosenthal Global Industries called again.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “As always . . . you're out and leave a message. She left the same message to return her call. Why don't you just tell her to drop dead?” she said, sounding pissed.

  JP ignored her remark. “Did you give Greg the unopened letters in my to-do box?”

  “I accidentally opened one today and, seeing it pertained to sales, gave it to Greg. I also gave him the others you had from them. Did I do anything wrong?” she asked.

  “No. Just curious,” JP answered passingly, and proceeded to his office.

  JP stuck some documents in his old leather briefcase. He then changed his collared T-shirt to a white long-sleeved shirt he kept in his office for this kind of emergency and tacked it in his navy-blue slacks. As usual, he had a hard time getting his green-stripe-over-gray tie straight then donned his rusty brown sport suit. He was somewhat unsure of what was wrong with his attire aside from his brown canvas suede shoes. He thought people did not look that far. He left his office with his briefcase.

  Beth checked JP out as he stood in front of her d
esk. “Boy, are you dressed to kill.”

  JP grinned; got a plastic ball pen on top of her desk; and placed it in his pocket.

  “You’re meeting James Horsch?” she asked.

  JP answered shabbily “Yeah.”

  “I guess I won’t see you, so I might as well say my goodbye.” Beth sensed the company was getting into trouble and thought it better to apply elsewhere before she got laid-off.

  “Goodbye?” JP sounded surprised.

  “I gave you two-week’s notice. I hope you got someone to replace me. Boy, you do need one.”

  “She's coming on Monday,” JP lied and hoped she reminded him. ‘That is Beth, no initiative’ he thought. “Wish you the best.” He gave her a hug and a pat on the back then went for the door.

  “Don't forget to call me when everything's normal,” Beth cried out.

  JP turned and smiled. He knew they needed a secretary and office administrator but, somehow, was glad Beth resigned. Her lack of initiative, or maybe, her incapability to solve simple administrative problems were getting to both Greg’s and JP’s nerves as it continued to pile up. It was just a matter of time that she would get fired.

  The Downtown Drive

  JP's halfway drive from San Fernando Valley to downtown Los Angeles was not bad if you consider it drizzled. It changed when he got to the top of the Santa Monica hills that overlooked the downhill freeway that led to downtown Los Angeles. It was jammed. Lined cars outlined a long freight train. With an hour and a half to spare, JP was unconcerned and spent the time listening to Beethoven’s 9th symphony over the car’s CD player. At the symphony’s fourth movement, he sang along with the choral singers giving his best as his car inched forward in the traffic­.

  At the symphony's end, JP glanced at the car's digital clock. It was 3:45 p.m. The hotel was a little over a mile to the south as the crow flies. Directly ahead was the newly constructed Rosenthal Global Industries high-rise building. It dwarfed other buildings in height and width at the heart of downtown area. It housed the headquarters of all the companies and subsidiaries under Rosenthal Global Industries. He tried to avoid seeing it until the building dominated his view from the freeway. Agitated, he voiced out, “Of all places, why build it here!” as he slammed the steering wheel with his hand. He took the freeway’s off-ramp knowing the side streets would be worse but took it nevertheless. Soon he followed detour signs that got him farther to where he was going. Pressed for time, he avoided the jammed main thoroughfare and took the side streets.

  He got to within a block of the hotel on a one-way street that went on the opposite direction. The traffic had not moved for almost two minutes and his appointment was fifteen minutes away. He swung the car around jumping the curve and used the sidewalk; drove in a parking garage he just passed; and parked his car.

  It drizzled when JP walked out of the basement garage and cursed himself for forgetting his raincoat or at least it was the raincoat this time. ‘He must not be late’, he thought. Greg said James Horsch, the President of A & C Marketing International located in East Berlin, was a hard man to impress and was particular about punctuality. This made him nervous and got him to jog his way to the hotel.

  At the hotel’s front desk, JP dusted off the water droplets from his suit. “James Horsch, please. He is expecting me,” he said to the receptionist.

  The receptionist took a manila envelope from under the counter. “John Paul Fernandez?” she read the name on the envelope ending JP's name with a pleasant tone coupled by a professional smile.

  “Yes. That’s me.”

  “Mr. Horsch personally gave me instruction to hand this to you,” she said as she handed the manila envelope across the counter.

  Meanwhile, a man auspiciously dressed as a tourist with a camera, was across the lobby. With its zoom lens, he focused on a lobby object of the same distance to the reception counter. When focused, he swung it and took successive pictures of JP receiving the envelope and another three as he left the counter getting a good profile of JP's face and the envelope he held. The man then fiddled with his camera like a tourist.

  JP pulled a letter written on hotel stationary within the manila envelope. It read:

  Dear John Paul,

  I must cancel our appointment on a minute's notice. I tried reaching you and Greg but both of you were out of the building. Your secretary said you were on your way here. I will advise you of a new meeting schedule sometime next month. Please accept my deepest apology for the inconvenience.

  James Horsch

  JP was relieved. He called their office at the hotel lobby and spoke to Greg who just came in from the hardware store, “Greg, Horsch canceled the appointment . . . I will make a special program to handle greased marbles so we can test and solve both problems . . . See you tomorrow? . . . Good, Monday . . . I surely need the rest.”

  Meeting Lulu

  ‘It’s a bad time to drive home with the afternoon rush hour traffic at its peak,’ JP said to himself. Since the rain had stopped, he decided to kill time and headed leisurely to a familiar area a few blocks further on where he used to hunt for old coins. Coin collection was a hobby he started as early as he could remember until college when he forgot about it.

  Four blocks away, Lulu stood outside the Los Angeles Bus Terminal at the street's curb. A panhandler approached her and asked, “Can you spare food money?”

  Without hesitation, Lulu took her wallet out of her shoulder bag. Naively, she gave the panhandler a clear view of her wallet’s content as she searched for a dollar bill.

  The panhandler eyed Lulu's money greedily as she leafed through a stock of hundred and fifty-dollar bills then scanned the one-way street. Suddenly, he grabbed the wallet and ran crossing the street narrowly missing passing cars.

  Lulu was petrified. Without screaming for help, she watched the snatcher disappear among the pedestrians across the street. All of her money was in the wallet. Desperate, she checked for a rare coin stashed away in her bag to ascertain it was there. All her other sisters had one tacked secretly in their bag in case of emergency. Now she had to use it. She asked someone for directions to the nearest coin store or pawnshop. Two were not familiar with the area but the third accommodated her. “The coin store district is three blocks down on this street and some pawnshops are along the way,” the man said pointing the direction. “Most closes at five,” he added.

  Lulu thanked the man and on seeing the corner clock read 4:50 p.m., hurriedly headed for the shops. Penniless in a city full of stranger’s faces, a look of concern was on her face. She walked briskly to a couple of pawnshops but, by then, found their doors closed. To her relief, across the street was a coin store still open and headed straight for it.

  JP was at the coin district when it started to rain. He took shelter under the nearest storefront canopy and thought himself lucky---the canopy was a coin store. He entered the store. It was narrow but deep. An aisle separated one long glass display counter on one side and, parallel to it, a long glass wall with coins displayed in it. A woman customer stood with her suitcase between her and the counter halfway in the store. She was looking towards the further end to notice JP enter.

  JP noticed her back heaving as she caught her breath. Small beads of raindrops were on her white long sleeves dress and partly ruffled black hair. Blocking his way, JP said politely, “Excuse me.”

  Startled, Lulu turned and on realizing she partly blocked the aisle said, “I'm so sorry,” as she moved to the side of her suitcase and smiled at him.

  JP saw the worried look as she glanced at him and the smile after. The transformation got his attention. She had beautiful blue eyes. Her sweet smile went well with her face flanked by dark straight hair that touched both her shoulders. JP stayed still. He was hypnotized.

  Lulu, puzzled at the motionless man fronting her, looked to ascertain there was room for him to pass.

  Lulu's motion brought JP back to his senses. “I'm sorry,” he said and quickly passed and headed for the further
end of the store.

  At the deeper end, JP caught a glimpse of a burly man wearing a Hawaiian shirt in a cramped office behind a beaded curtain. The man was thumbing hurriedly through pages of a coin catalogues. Paying no mind to what he saw, he viewed the displayed coins under the glass counter but soon got distracted on hearing successions of thuds. He instinctively turned to the sound’s direction and saw the man sliding an oversize book on a narrow desk causing catalogues to fall on the floor. Curious, he observed the man hastily flipped through book pages; stopped; looked at the coin he held then used a loupe on it. The man was very excited judging from his hasty motions. Shortly after, the man straightened himself; left the room; and walked towards the woman, in a casual manner.

  JP thought nothing of it and continued to view the displayed coins but could not help distinctly overhearing the conversation between the burly man and the woman as the room was much like an enclosed sound chamber.

  “$500,” the man said, in a matter a fact tone, to Lulu.

  “It's a rare coin. Surely, you must have made a mistake. Please give it a second look.”

  The man obliged and, with Lulu on her side of the counter, moved to a levered circular-fluorescent lamp with a magnifying glass at its center. He turned on the lamp and examined the coin.

  Barely two feet from the lamp and overwhelmed with curiosity, JP’s eyes looked sideways to see the gold coin held under the light. It was roughly the size of a dime and part of it encrusted by a cut coral whose size was large enough to hold with two fingers.

  The man said coldly to Lulu, “Okay, a thousand,” and leaned against the wall nonchalantly, his arms crossed each other over his protruding belly; his posture unsympathetic to her worried and concerned look.

  Lulu extended her hand with a cutout page, “Here's a page from a coin catalogue issued nine years ago, showing the same coin in silver priced at $1,700. The one in your hand is gold.”

  The man insensibly left Lulu's hand holding the catalogue page in the air. “Look lady, I'm not in charity but in trading business and have expenses to think of. Ok, $1,700. If you don't like my offer, you can take it elsewhere.”

  “You're the only store open . . . Sir, my purse got snatched with all my money in it . . . I'm looking for a job . . . no place to stay . . . the coin is worth far more than that,” she pleaded.

  The man looked at Lulu coldly. One could easily sense how desperate she was and the man took advantage of the situation. “$1,700 is final,” he said, and extended his hand to return the coin.

  JP heard clearly the conversation, felt the woman’s desperation, and pitied her. Without giving it a thought, reacted, “If he’s not interested, I might. Can I see the coin?” he referred the question to her.

  Lulu looked at JP then took the coin from the man’s hand and handed it to him together with the catalogue page.

  JP sensed her worry, her helplessness. It radiated out of her face. He got the coin and the torn catalogue page. He held the coin where the coral had encrusted and examined it under the circular lamp's light. The coral’s color was immaculate white and could smell the coral’s faint acrid scent. He concluded it was curved out of a large coral recently, A woman's head was embossed on one side of a gold coin in mint condition. Its chin and part of the nose were encrusted in coral. Turning the coin over, he saw the coral had covered half of the ruler's seal. He knew of the coins minted in Alexandria, Egypt, during the Pleny family’s two-hundred-year reign. Each ruler had their face embossed on a coin during their rule. Of the five rulers, four were kings and the last, a queen, Cleopatra. Being gold, the coin may well be a proof mint given only to the reigning ruler. If the coin was authentic, it would be worth more. How much more, that he did not know. He compared the coin against the picture on the catalogue and offered, “$3,000 for it?”

  Lulu was speechless.

  “Who the hell are you,” the man blared in a threatening tone then said, “I'll give $3,500.”

  The man's sudden reaction was a dead giveaway. Certain the coin was worth more, he said, “$4,500.”

  “$5,000,” the man countered.

  “$6,000.”

  “Why you. . .” he glared at JP.

  The man was about to move. “Make an offer,” Lulu said catching the man's attention.

  The man froze on his track. “Six-five,” he countered.

  “$8,000.” JP countered. He was good in poker, his only vise, and was the man to beat during his college days.

  The man’s face turned red. He turned to JP. “Why you . . .”

  Lulu saw the anger on the man's face. She turned to JP and said, “It’s yours for $8,000.”

  “I'll give you $9,000,” the man reacted.

  “The bidding is over,” she concluded.

  “His offer is $9,000,” JP said.

  “I heard him. It is yours for $8,000,” saying it with a smile.

  “I wasn't prepared for this and the banks are close. I can take out $2,000 from a teller machine a few blocks from here and write a check for the balance. Would that be fine?”

  “I'm giving you $9,000 . . . cash,” the man blared and smirked at JP. “This guy is a scam artist. He'd runoff with your coin the moment you leave the store.”

  Lulu understood the man’s insinuation and looked at JP in the eyes for a moment then turned to the man and said, “I am selling the coin to this gentleman.”

  “Get the fuck out of my store!” the man roared as he pointed towards the door.

  JP got Lulu’s suitcase and together left the store.

  “Lady, 10,000, cash,” the man shouted from across the street.

  Lulu ignored him and continued walking with JP.

  JP said, “The man’s offer is $10,000 and I can’t go farther than eight . . . two thousand more and cash.”

  “There comes a point when money losses its worth. I can get by with $8,000. Do you normally buy coins at those prices?”

  “The most I've spent on an old coin was twenty dollars and a long time ago.”

  “Why did you bid then?”

  “Honestly, my intention was merely to raise the buying price.”

  “You are very lucky. The coin is worth much more. Sell it.”

  “I’d be happier if we sold it and get my eight thousand back.”

  “The first arrangement is . . .”

  “Please,” JP pleaded.

  Lulu gave it a quick thought then said, “Only if you accept ten percent of the gross over the eight grand,” she said.

  Smiling, JP pocketed the coin then extended his hand. “I'm John Paul Fernandez. My friends call me JP.”

  “Luningning Spence,” she replied smiling and shaking his hand. “I thank God we met.”

  “I surely am glad we did,” he smiled back feeling what he said.

  JP withdrew the money from a teller machine and handed it to Lulu together with the check he made. In turn, Lulu wrote JP’s name and telephone number on a small notebook she got from her bag.

  “Mind having dinner with me?” JP asked.

  “I really should go,” Lulu answered.

  “I know you're in a rush but you won’t go far in this traffic. Please. Besides, we still have to talk on selling the coin.”

  “You sell it.”

  “Trust me with it?”

  Baffled, Lulu replied, “I trusted you at the store, why shouldn’t I trust you now?”

  “You got me there . . . Still we have to talk like . . . where to sell.”

  “Auction would be best.”

  “I think I know someone who could help but that would take time.”

  “I’m in no hurry. I really have to go,” she sounded nicely.

  “Noticed the traffic hasn’t moved since we got here? Please. The restaurant is not far then I’ll drive you to wherever you want to go.”

  Lulu looked at the bumper-to-bumper traffic. Though reluctant, she saw JP's pleading through his grin. She coyly smiled and said, “Ok.”

  JP was so relieved and st
rangely happy. He never thought he could be that audacious and convincing to women as he had never done it before. He got her luggage and led the way. When they got to the entrance of a fancy restaurant, Lulu requested they go to one they passed earlier. JP obliged and found himself in a small self-serve Chinese restaurant. They served themselves then sat on a circular table big enough for their two partitioned Styrofoam plates and cups.

  Before she ate, Lulu said, “I must apologize for being selfish.”

  “Selfish?” JP questioned.

  “You may have preferred the other place. With so many people starving, I don’t feel comfortable eating at expensive restaurants. I’d rather give the difference to the needy. I’m terribly sorry.”

  “Don't be. If it be of any conciliation, I hardly eat in that type of restaurant but for a different reason. You are right though on the ‘many hungry’ but it wouldn’t make that much of a difference . . . just too many of them out there.”

  “It does seem that way if you think of the many but not to the lucky one that gets it. Little things do make a big difference,” Lulu said in a passing way then started to eat.

  ‘She's beautiful,’ JP thought as he watched her fork the broccoli on her plate then thought not of what she said but more on how she said it---spontaneous and casual. He became fascinated.

  Lulu daintily wiped her lips, “It's hard to think of others and think of yourself as well. It pains me not to give a dollar to a needy when I need the dollar too.”

  “I know what you mean . . . I can’t help but think of your name, Luningning, right?”

  “Right. But call me Lulu. It’s shorter.”

  “Ok. Does the name Luningning mean anything?”

  “Comes from an archaic language to mean twinkling star.”

  “You most definitely are,” JP reacted. Taken aback by his reaction, he continued, “Where are you from?”

  “Alaska.”

  “Your parents live there?” JP asked casually before he took a bite off his egg roll.

  “They're both gone,” Lulu answered in melancholy as the last scenes with them flashed thru her mind. Her eyes began to moist.

  “I'm sorry to hear that. My parents are too.”

  Lulu felt her guilt and held back her tears from falling.

  JP noticed her teary eyes and handed over a napkin. He regretted opening the subject and shifted the topic, “I overheard you were looking for a job and a place to stay. What exactly are you looking for?” he asked.

  Lulu took the napkin and dubbed her eyes as she said, “Secretarial, administrative work. I’m computer literate and good at spreadsheets and word processor,” forcing some enthusiasm into it.

  “Can you speak German?” Beth got her job mainly for her ability to speak the language in addition to the low starting salary she asked. It would be ideal if he hired someone who knew the language. Camfer's major clients were in Germany.

  Lulu spoke a sentence that JP did not understand but sounded German to him. She ended by translating that she can speak and write well in German.

  “German by heritage?”

  “No. My father was a career military man and was stationed in Germany, among other countries, until he retired and we moved to Alaska,” she explained with no hint of the sadness she felt a moment earlier.

  “Would $4,000 a month to start interest you?”

  “Naska is Imar. I hope you’re not going out of your way just to help me.”

  “Naska is Imar?” JP echoed with a questioning look.

  Lulu realized her mistake and said, “I’m sorry. I meant, thank you.”

  JP thought not much of it, and continued, “The company does need someone with your qualification. Being computer literate and the ability to speak German are definite pluses. Speaking of a place to live, my Aunt is looking for someone to share her house with. It’s three miles from the company. Stay here while I make a call.” JP stood and went to the nearby pay phone.

  Lulu watched JP talk over the phone. She smiled at him when he looked at her and wondered how he knew she was looking for a job and a place to live.

  They left the restaurant soon after JP used the phone. The rain had stopped and they walked headed for the parking garage. She was a good conversationalist that JP did not notice how long it took them to walk to the garage and how pleasant their conversation was.

  As JP drove, he asked, “You said your wallet got snatched?”

  She looked puzzled and asked, “Did I tell you that?”

  “I must confess I eavesdropped at the store. That’s the reason why I knew you were looking for a place to live and a job in addition to your wallet being snatched.”

  “Glad you did. My wallet had all my money in it.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Don't let the city's name Los Angeles, the City of Angels, mislead you. Be on the lookout for those people. It is sad for it seems to get worse as the years passed, and I am partly at fault.”

  Lulu looked puzzled and asked, “How so?”

  “Being complacent on my social obligations.''

  Lulu grinned on his answer. “Thinking of it is a step forward.”

  Her reply intrigued JP. “Are you related to Mother Theresa?”

  “Mother Theresa?” then remembered the Indian missionary who helped the poor. She daintily laughed. “What made you say that?”

  The two continued their pleasant conversation and found they shared the same views on the indifference of people towards each other and the sad state of the world socially. They, however, departed on how each treated the problem . . . JP ignored it while Lulu was doing her small share to help.

  Place to Stay

  Some distance from his aunt’s house, JP gave Lulu advices on how to best get along with ‘Auntie Juaning’ as JP called her. “She can be a very good friend, extremely loyal but a bad enemy,” he stressed. “I must warn you, she has a crude way of speaking her mind but she's nice and fun to be with once you get to know her strange sense of humor and crude manner of speaking.”

  “You need not worry,” Lulu assured. “I get along well with people.”

  JP parked his car in front of his Aunt's two-story, three-bedroom house at Chatsworth’s residential area. Juanita Jones or Juaning, a Filipina, had the looks of a Pacific Islander. Her hair and eyes were black, her skin tan, and was a bit on the chubby side. Her hair had curlers; wore a colorful printed duster; and stood at the lighted foyer with her arms crossed over her chest. Her poise revealed her displeased disposition---he did not give her a chance to say 'No' over the telephone but confident he could talk her out of it or at least let Lulu stay long enough for her to find a place to stay.

  Juaning was a childless widow of an American soldier who died during the Vietnam War. She used to be a nurse working in a hospital in New Jersey. She left the job to become her frail sister’s live-in private nurse and companion. The sister, a retired surgical nurse, was then two months pregnant with JP at that time. After her sister’s death eight years later, she became JP’s guardian and, together, moved to Los Angeles where she worked as a private nurse. When JP started to work, he got his own apartment. Since then, she lived alone.

  Months earlier, she mentioned to JP, in passing, of wanting a room rented to have company in her house. Extremely old fashion, she specified a Filipina with strong traditional values. Knowing JP was bringing a Caucasian, she was in a bad mood and determined to politely get rid of her.

  As Lulu and JP approached Juaning, and before JP could speak, Lulu said in fluent and unaccented Tagalog (the National Language of the Philippines), “Magandang gabi po. Sana hindi ko kayo naabala.” (She greeted and apologized for whatever inconvenience she may have cost her. An approach most Filipinas, reared in the old Philippine tradition, would customarily take).

  Juaning was surprised to hear her dialect spoken so well and politely by someone with blue eyes. Stunned, she forgot her plan. She stuttered, “Aaaaaba, hindi naman.” (Ahhhhh, not at all.)

  After the introduction, Ju
aning led both in the house. “Nakakain ka na ba, Lulu?” (Have you eaten, Lulu?) she asked---a common Filipino practice to ask a stranger when invited to enter their home to offer food.

  “Opo,” Lulu replied 'Yes'.

  “Kung gayon kailangan natin nang pangpatamis,” Juaning concluded pastries were appropriate.

  Juaning glared at JP who remained standing. He did not understand a single word said. In Filipino tradition, her conversation to a guest was a cue for JP to serve them as a family member and the extension of the host. Remembering JP did not understand the dialect, she said, “JP! Don't just stand there. Serve us something. There are pastries in the fridge, go, go,” she commanded forcefully, her looks, irritated.

  JP, worried over his Aunt’s tone of voice and look, rushed to the kitchen and soon came back with drinks in both hands and pastries using his arm as a tray. ‘I must be around to control the situation in Lulu's favor,’ he thought.

  “Napkins,” snapped Juaning on seeing what he brought.

  JP laid the stuff on the center table with Juaning's help and again rushed then came back in seconds with the napkins; grabbed a chair; and seated himself.

  Juaning said, “Look at him. He's lost.”

  Lulu femininely smiled. Juaning told her JP does not understand her native language, Tagalog. She said in English, “As I was saying, my father was assigned in a US Naval Base in the Philippines. We stayed there for three years. We . . .”

  Juaning interrupted and spoke to her in Tagalog, “Speak Tagalog and leave him looking stupid. I've told him so many times to learn the language.”

  “I feel sorry for him,” Lulu answered in Tagalog as she beamed at Juaning without glancing at JP.

  “Leave that fool alone,” and they both laughed.

  JP did not understand a word of what they said but since they were laughing, he went to the kitchen and got pastry and soft drink for himself.

  JP just listened to the two engaged in woman-talk in a language he did not understand and cursed himself for not learning. He watched Lulu most of the time and was captivated by her charm, her lady-like mannerisms, her humor.

  When Lulu mentioned to Juaning that she had spent fourteen hours traveling on a bus from Canada, Juaning said to JP, “You! Go home. It is late. This girl needs rest.”

  “It's barely nine and a Friday,” protested JP. “I still need to explain her job . . . give her directions.”

  “You paying overtime?” she asked sarcastically, true to her crude way of communicating.

  “No, but . . .”

  “No overtime! Go home!” she commanded JP and to Lulu said, “During my time, no one visits a woman and stays after six in the evening. Look at what is happening to the world today,” she complained. “Come around and visit us. You're not doing that as much as you should,” she admonished JP then turned to Lulu, “Do you have plans for tomorrow?”

  “Shop for clothes. Is it far from here?”

  “You don't need to worry,” JP said. “I'll bring the money tomorrow and drive you around.”

  “Are you forgetting me?” Juaning retorted.

  “I'll drive you both tomorrow,” JP corrected as he grinned at his Aunt.

  “I really don't want to inconvenience any of you,” Lulu insisted.

  Juaning answered, “No inconvenience at all,” then addressed JP commandingly, “Be at the bank before nine then come here right after.”

  JP agreed and left, happy it turned out well and easy after all.

  Both Single

  The following day, JP drove down the narrow driveway at the rear of Juaning’s house. It paralleled a rectangular greenhouse that occupied a fourth of a spacious backyard. A wide canopied-swing hung from a large oak tree's branch that shaded most of the remaining open space.

  Peering through a back window, Juaning said to Lulu, “JP is here.” They were at the family room that had a TV fronting a living room set; a dining table for six; and a service counter that separated the kitchen. It was spacious in spite of the clatter of furnishings that did not match one another altogether. It was Juaning's vain attempt to have a beautifully designed interior.

  Juaning opened the kitchen door and stood by it. “You're in time,” she said as JP approached the two-step stairs to the back porch.

  “Good morning, Auntie,” JP said and kissed Juaning on her right cheek as he normally does after greeting.

  “What's that?” Juaning said, as she sniffed him like a bloodhound.

  “Hi, Lulu,” JP greeted then turned to his Aunt. “What's what?” He feared something like this would happen.

  “That smell.”

  “Men's lotion.”

  Juaning said in surprise, “I didn't know you use them?”

  “You just didn't notice it before,” JP replied then immediately turned to Lulu, “I got your money,” handing over a bulging envelope.

  With the envelope, Lulu momentarily thought of what to do with it.

  JP noticed Lulu’s immediate reaction and said, “We can go to the bank as well.”

  Lulu smiled and placed the envelope in her canvas shoulder bag.

  “Now we can go shopping,” said Juaning, delightedly.

  Lulu reminded them again, “You really do not have to go out of your way.”

  “None of that,” Juaning snapped then addressed JP, “I'm glad you brought her. It's like a dream come true, except she's white. But it really does not matter now that I got to know her,” she beamed at Lulu adoringly. “She accompanied me to church, helped clean the yard, and even gave me sensible tips in raising my orchids.”

  Juaning turned to Lulu as they walked to JP's car and said, “Which reminds me, are you married?”

  “Never been,” Lulu daintily replied.

  “Good!” Juaning exclaimed. “JP is a virgin. He'll make you a good husband.”

  “Auntie!” JP protested in exasperation as he looked up to the sky, seeking God's redemption.

  “You're single, aren't you?” Juaning snapped.

  “Yes, but . . .”

  “So, what's wrong with being a virgin? Being a virgin makes it dignified. Open the door,” she commanded as she stood beside the car’s front-passenger door.

  JP did and Juaning turned to Lulu and said commercially said, “He's a gentleman, too.”

  JP closed the car door for Juaning then said to Lulu, “My Aunt has this . . .”

  “You explained it last night,” Lulu butted.

  “She's a character. But her manner of communication is, at times . . .”

  Juaning rolled down the car window and irritatingly asked, “Are we going?”

  “We are,” JP answered and hastily opened the rear door for Lulu.

  The Thrift Shop

  “Where to ladies?” JP asked as he started the car’s engine.

  “Northridge Mall,” answered Juaning.

  “I do my shopping at thrift shops,” Lulu said.

  “Thrift shops?” Juaning questioned. She had never heard of it.

  JP explained, “That's where you get the most value for your money.”

  “You know where it’s at, JP?” Juaning asked.

  “There's a thrift shop at the corner of Roscoe and Winnetka Boulevard. The bank is along the way,” JP replied.

  They went to the bank then to the thrift store.

  JP parked his car at the thrift shop’s rear parking lot and entered the store through the back entrance. They passed through a narrow aisle flanked by display tables. Lulu went straight to the women's dress racks further on as Juaning and JP scouted leisurely the place. Juaning looked surprised to see a lot of used assorted things organized in category---used house furniture, old paintings, used household gadgets, used toys, used tools, and, most of all, used clothing hanged on rows of racks. Juaning wondered aloud as she looked about, amazed. “Where did all these used clothes and things come from?” she asked, looking around, wide-eyed.

  “Donations,” JP replied.

  Noting the women’s dress racks in
the store were all used items, Juaning curiously asked, “From people still alive?” being very superstitious.

  “Mostly dead,” JP now made fun of his gullible Aunt. “We have to pass by the church before we bring the goods home. That breaks the path from the spirit world to your house.”

  Juaning heard JP but her eyes caught a familiar looking blouse among others on the rack fronting her. She inspected it thoroughly. “$2.25 for this?” she exclaimed in disbelief. “I paid over twenty dollars for exactly the same thing.” Her eyes widened as she saw rows of fully stocked racks. Immersed in a woman's world, she systematically went over each item on the rack fronting her.

  “I hope we won't wait for you,” JP said to his Aunt who in a snap was in a shopping frenzy.

  “You won't. I'll be ready when she is,” she replied, not missing a second to what she was doing.

  Juaning was in a world only women understand and JP found himself alone.

  For the first few minutes, JP watched Lulu from a distance, wishing he’d be by her side. He watched her go over dresses on the rack and measured it to her body. She was so unaffected as she searched for things she needed. There was something very special about her. She seemed to have the knack to bring the good in people. Juaning was wary of strangers and very meticulous when it came to choosing friends. To win her overnight was a miracle, JP thought. He was charmed.

  Half an hour later, JP, holding on to some items, got startled when he felt someone touch both ends of his shoulders from behind.

  “Don't move,” Lulu said.

  JP complied but looked over his shoulder and saw Lulu measure a sweater then a shirt on his back.

  “It fits and looks perfect on you. I'll give it once it's washed and ironed, my token of appreciation,” Lulu said smiling at him.

  Touched by her gesture, JP said, “It’s not necessary but thank you.”

  “You have done a lot for me. This is my way of thanking you in return. I’m ready if you are.”

  “I am,” JP replied with a few house items and office accessories in his arms. “I'm not sure if Aunt Juaning is,” he said, looking toward Juaning's direction deep in the store.

  “I don't mind waiting. I'll pay for what I got and stay near the cashier's counter.”

  JP approached Juaning. “Lulu is done.”

  “Give me a few seconds.”

  Ten minutes later, Juaning came with a cart full of assorted items and methodically placed a glass flower vase, a brass deco-art bookstand, a garden trowel, a number of skirts and blouses to mention some, at the cashier's counter. When the sales clerk rang it up, it came to $32.75.

  “$32.75! This is heaven! Just imagine all the gifts I gave that I could have saved on. Look at this $0.25 glass center piece,” Juaning said holding it up proudly. “After cleaning, no one will suspect it's used. And, look at this. It's . . .” she stopped then turned to Lulu and in a confidential manner advised, “Lulu, we should come here often but don't tell people about this place, the fewer who knows, the better for us.”

  Lulu looked puzzled, ‘Not tell people of this bargain store?’ she questioned herself not knowing the logic to it. ‘She should tell people of this store and wondered, naively, why not!’

  From the thrift store, the trio had lunch. Again, JP watched them talk in the dialect, Tagalog. He did not mind. It gave him an excuse to watch Lulu across the table---watch her interact with Juaning; watch her smile; laugh; and even how she held her fork and ate. After a few minutes, the women giggled together and looked at him then, to his dismay; their conversation reverted to English and had to partake.

  When the bill came, the three fought over it. They were no match against Juaning---she took her plate and threatened to drop it on the floor if the waitress got someone else's money!

  As they waited for the change, JP addressed Juaning, “I’ll help Lulu find a used car. Care to come?”

  “She definitely needs one if she wishes to live in LA,” Juaning commented. “You two can do that after we pass by the church. We need to have our goods exorcized,” she added in a serious tone.

  Lulu was puzzled again by what Juaning meant and looked at JP.

  “She's superstitious. Don't mind her,” JP said.

  Juaning looked at JP and smirked, “You won’t say that once a ghost visits you.”

  At the church, Lulu went straight to the altar's kneeling rail and prayed. JP was with Juaning by the Holy Water dispenser. He failed to convince her that he merely joked about the spirits following the goods. Uncomfortably, he looked around holding up each bag waist high as Juaning dabbed Holy Water to each item within mumbling some religious phrase. “JP, you will be twenty-nine,” Juaning said as they waited for Lulu. “You should start thinking of settling down. It's no fun playing with your growing children when you're arthritic and senile. What do you think of her?”

  “I think she's wonderful. Maybe a bit frugal,” JP commented.

  “Prudent is the word,” she stressed.

  The Car

  A Mexican woman walked alongside JP and Lulu to a parked car with a ‘FOR SALE’ sign taped on the inside of the windshield. The old two-door sedan looked as though it had been there for ages. Its pearl-blue color was shaded by a thin layer of street dust. Its looks, however, did not thwart Lulu. It seemed it was the kind of car she was looking for and began to check it like a pro.

  Wiping the windshield with her bare hand, the Mexican woman said “I keep car oiled. Engine good; little scratches; vintage car; only 385,000 miles. Body good too, no accident.” She then opened the driver’s door; took out the ‘FOR SALE’ sign on top of the dashboard then gave Lulu the car key.

  Lulu got in the car and turned the ignition. It started on first try, to JP's surprise, though it belched smoke and spattered until the engine warmed. She drove it on the long driveway behind the apartment complex and purposely had the car lurch forward and stopped several times then drove the length of the long driveway. On reaching the far end, the car went in reverse at an uncomfortable speed that got JP and the Mexican woman to step aside as it skidded to a stop near them. Lulu left the car engine running as she exited the care then lifted the hood. She listened intensely to the engine's sound as she pulled repeatedly the throttle. She took the dipstick and checked the oil’s viscosity with her fingers. The woman did change the fluids, she thought. “The shock absorbers are still good,” Lulu commented to the Mexican woman.

  “Replaced last year,” the woman said.

  JP saw no beauty in the car. It was dirty and the seats soiled as though children had used it as a playhouse. Its tires were unevenly worn. He thought it was a road hazard but the stereo system really sounded good, more so, the bass. He advised privately, “Lulu, you're better off buying a more expensive one. In the end, it will be cheaper and less inconvenient. I will cosign.”

  “I agree. You shouldn't do it if you know nothing about engines,” she answered then negotiated for the price.

  The amount agreed on was worth the car, JP thought, a hundred dollars. He shook his head as the deal got consummated but later beamed---he had an excuse to drive her to and from work whenever it conked out on her.

  JP and Lulu drove separate ways. JP had car tools at his condominium and went home to get them while Lulu drove to a car-parts store. They were to meet at Juaning's house an hour later.

  A Consummate Mechanic

  It was a pleasant day to work outside. The sun was behind the white clouds and the leaves of the oak tree rustled lightly from the breezed. JP car just parked at the driveway; Juaning was seated at the swing under the oak tree stitching the clothes she bought from the thrift shop yesterday; and Lulu was under the jacked-up car parked beneath the shade of the same oak tree. A heap of car parts: carburetor, belts, distributors, alternator carbon brush, hub bearings, brake pads, rotor, spark plugs, and a car repair manual were on the ground. More things were inside the car when he peered.

  JP saw Lulu, in shorts and underneath the car from head to waist. He
looked at her legs. They were perfectly shaped, somewhat pale as though hardly exposed to the sun. “I'll do that for you,” he offered as he placed his toolbox, alligator jack, and car stands on the ground. He was in shorts as well with large pockets on its sides. His dark-blue T-shirt was a shade lighter than the dark-blue color of his shorts that had a matching quilted belt. He wore a checkered dark-blue canvas sneaker and his hair was perfectly parted. Overall, with his T-shirt tacked in his shorts, he looked like a model on his way to shooting location.

  “I'm glad you're here,” Lulu said, as she squirmed out from under the car. Her pony tail tied like a ball; her face and hair had under-the-car dirt; her right cheek, an oil smudge; her arms and shirt had flakes of car rust. She took particular attention to JP’s attire and said, “You’re not dressed for the job ahead.”

  “I brought work clothes.”

  “Come closer,” she said as she got the wire cutter from the tool box and cut the price tag from his shorts. “Nordstrom,” she read what was on the tag. “You really look great in the outfit.”

  “What do you want me do?” he asked eager to help and escape the attire subject too.

  “Raise the entire car and remove all four wheels. We will replace the brake pads, repack the hub bearings, and replace all the worn-out belts. Have you done this before?” she asked, dusting off as much of the dirt on her.

  “No, the most I did was add water and oil,” JP said, somewhat embarrassed.

  She looked at JP's tools. Most were in its plastic wrapper. “I see . . . Don't worry. I will walk you through. It is really simple.”

  Lulu took the repair manual and leafed through its pages. She did it in a way that JP thought she merely skimmed but she read all the pages she leafed through!

  JP, dressed up in his work clothes, worked on his assignment. He called Lulu, every now and then, for her help though the manual was with him. He glanced at her every so often and awed at what she did by herself. An expert as she dismantled; cleaned the many small parts within a carburetor; and reassembled them. She worked on the alternator, the starter, and other things he did not know what or where it came from. Later, she instructed him to pump the brake pedal as she bled the brake system. Finally, she had him start the car. It spattered at first then changed to a purring sound as she adjusted the air and gas mixture.

  All the work on the car engine and electricals took less than three hours.

  JP suggested, “Go in and clean up while I vacuum the car.”

  “OK. Back in fifteen minutes,” Lulu replied.

  “Want me to put the seat covers?”

  “If you don't mind.”

  “Consider that done.”

  “Done?” Juaning, overhearing, questioned in a surprised tone as she walked towards the car.

  “Yes,” Lulu answered delightedly as she walked pass Juaning. “JP was a great help,” she said as she continued to walk towards the house.

  Juaning looked at the car, displeased. Thought it was ugly being so dirty. “I thought it would take weeks,” she said to JP.

  “One thing sure, she knows what she's doing.”

  “Where did she learn all that . . . being a woman?”

  “She said you got to learn a lot of basic repairs if you live in a remote farm. I don't call what she did near basic at all.”

  “JP, you are going twenty-nine and . . .”

  “I know,” he interrupted. “Time to get married. You said that before.”

  “I think I will like her but don't fall in love yet. I’ll tell you when. I want to make certain she's the right girl for you, understand?”

  JP grinned as he looked at her. He knew he must take the essence and not the word used to understand her. “I have to cleanup. Which room should I use?”

  “The guess room,” she replied.

  With JP giving directions, Lulu brought the car to a tire shop and had all four tires replaced and the wheels aligned. She then had the car washed, waxed, and polished. When it was done, she sat on the driver’s seat and that was when the excitement began. “Put on your seat belt,” she advised JP as she strapped herself to her seat and started the car. She revs the engine a few times as she waited for JP to buckle up.

  The car sped off in a drag race fashion leaving rubber marks on the cemented pavement and rubber smoke behind. JP pulled his seatbelt tighter as she drove professionally through the main streets, weaving through the traffic over the speed limit. She made a sharp right turn to a quiet neighborhood and left skid marks on the road coupled with the sounds of screeching tires. Everything passed by so fast when all of a sudden, the car came to a screeching halt at the front of Juaning’s house. JP was pushed hard forward and was glad the seatbelt held him back.

  “We're here,” Lulu said happily, satisfied with how the car handled.

  JP, who stepped on an imaginary brake the whole time she drove, said, “Boy, am I glad it was a short drive home!” he said in relief.

  Lulu realized what had happened and said, “I'm so sorry, JP. I did not mean to scare you but I never knew the fun of driving on real streets being used to dirt roads,” she reasoned. “Why didn't you say something?”

  “I did not want to distract your attention. That surely was a ride. You should be careful. You could have gotten a ticket or, worse, ran over someone.”

  Lulu realized her mistakes. “You are right. How thoughtless of me. That will not happen again,” she said with resolute in her voice. “How do you like the car?” she asked with a pleasant voice this time.

  “Cleaned, waxed, and polished; with seat covers; after the road test; and for a hundred-dollars, I think you got a great deal.”

  “I'll work on the valves and rocker arms next time. They need slight tweaking.”

  JP had dinner with them and stayed until 8:30 p.m. He left stunned by an extraordinary woman.