Two's Complement: Day 33

[S] Back on planet Earth (33,933 / 1,000,000)

“Stop!”

Al froze mid-step, halting just before he stepped off the curb and into the street. He heard the rumble of a car engine whizz by in front of him, and it was close enough for the displaced air to tug gently at his clothes.

“Sorry, Al, the guy ran a red. You’re good to go now,” the same voice which had just warned him sounded again in Al’s ear.

Al chuckled, and replied under his breath, “No worries, I know you’re doing your best.” Al adjusted the visor which covered his eyes, and stepped into the street. He could hear the bustle of the city around him - people talking, dogs barking, and cars rumbling and honking. Al couldn’t see any of this, being totally blind, but he still enjoyed the vibrant buzz of life around him.

“Here’s the curb,” the same voice remarked in Al’s ear. Al stepped up onto the sidewalk on the other side of the street.

For someone like Al, the Voice Assistant & Navigator was a godsend. Al just called him Van. Despite the difficulties that his blindness presented him, Al couldn’t stand to be stuck in one place for too long. He was an adventurer, he wanted to be out in the world experiencing it; and Van granted him the freedom to do so.

“There’s a crowd of people taking up the sidewalk, you might want to step to your right,” Van said.

Al put his hand out to the right, and felt his fingers brush against coarse brick – the side of a building. It was warm to the touch, slowly releasing the built-up heat of the sun that it spent all day absorbing. Al stepped close to it, and allowed the chatting group to pass. He continued forward.

“In thirteen paces, you’re going to take a right,” Van continued. The intelligence behind Van never ceased to amaze Al. The visor that wrapped around Al’s head allowed Van to see around in all directions through an array of tiny, discrete cameras. The visor also carried Van’s voice into Al’s head via bone conduction. Al loved how Sci-Fi the whole concept was. Some of his friends had even commented on how futuristic his visor looked.

Al was far enough along in his years to remember the old days of navigation via seeing-eye dog. That practice wasn’t perfect to say the least, but the thing that really tore at Al was how attached he got to the animals. He’d adopted, lived with, loved, and mourned the loss of three seeing-eye dogs, before he got Van. He was older now, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to go through the grief of losing another one of those damned lovable creatures. So, he stuck with Van. Van didn’t age or die; nor did he need to be fed, taken out, or given attention. Truly a godsend for an old grump like Al.

At the moment, they were headed to Al’s favorite hangout, Fool’s Hope - a quiet bar nestled in the heart of the city. Al could always tell when he was getting close to the bar by the greasy (yet enticing) smell of the dollar-a-slice pizza joint which was right next door.

“We’re here, but hold on, someone’s coming out,” Van said.

In front and to the right of him, Al heard the creak of an old wooden door, and the soft jingle of a bell that dangled from the doorknob. A quiet murmur wafted out from the open doorway, and the gentle sounds of the bar mingled with the chaotic sounds of the city, like the confluence of a lazy river running into rapids. Al heard and felt someone brush past him. The smells of the city – cheap pizza, trash, and car exhaust – were briefly overwhelmed by the sweet scent of lavender, subtle and pleasant. Al paused, and turned in the direction that the person went, a smile on his face.

“Keep walking, old man,” a voice called from the direction. It was a woman’s voice, as he’d expected, and her voice was smooth and mellow. Despite her dismissal of Al, he couldn’t help but imagine that she was smiling when she said it. He let the moment pass, not wanting to spoil it by chewing on it too much, and stepped into the bar before the door swing shut.

“Al, we got your spot right here!” the familiar voice of the barkeep called to him. The owner and proprietor of Fool’s Hope, Tony, always kept a spot open for Al on Thursdays, bless the man. Al made his way towards the source of the voice, with some help from Van, and took his seat at the bar. He rested his arms on the smooth countertop, and smiled toward where he thought Tony stood.

“Hey Tony, lookin’ good,” Al said.

The barkeep rewarded his joke with a deep belly laugh, before replying, “You’re lookin’ good too, for an old vagabond.” Al felt a dull thud vibrate through the countertop next to his hand. “The usual,” Tony said simply, and Al heard him step away to help another patron.

Al slowly moved his hand until it brushed against ice-cold, sweating glass. He found the tankard’s handle, and lifted it gingerly to his face. He gave it a sniff – yep, it was the usual. The grassy scent of hops mixed with a faint aroma of berries and citrus. Al lifted the beer to his lips, and took many long, slow gulps. After he drank nearly half the glass, he let out a loud, exaggerated sigh, and set the beer down.

“It can’t be that good,” Van said in his ear.

“Oh, it’s better than that good,” Al replied under his breath. “It’s the best damn thing that people ever invented. And you know what, we invented that shit a long time ago. Long before we had people like you talking into our heads.”

Van was silent after that, which was fine with Al, he was here for the beer and the quietude. Eventually, the voice in his head spoke up once more. “I guess I do wish I could try a beer,” Van said, sounding uncharacteristically meek. “If it’s as good as you say it is.”