Episode 8 – Art takes a break

I’d spent 2 days trying to come up with a campaign for TimeTravelTech. Not only did I have no faith in the product – other than its ability to spread secretaries a little thinly (see episode 7, below) – but it also seemed to have little commercial application.
 
Lee Fyu Choor had reacted badly to my suggestions about branding and marketing his invention as a paté maker.
 
I knew that the techno market wouldn’t thank TTT for mending broken components as it took away their aftersales. (TTT’s solution could send broken items back to a past, i.e. unbroken, state). Anyway, the power usage was so phenomenal you would only use it for repairing expensive Skoda HovaCar parts – and they never broke.
 
I’d had enough, my brain was full, I needed a holiday. And not a VirtuBreak^™ either. An hour spent on a sun-kissed, scented couch surrounded by whale noises, holos of impossible women, pterodactyls and unicorns always left me feeling slightly deranged.
 
So I accepted KB’s invitation to join him for a few days golf on Luna.
 
It’s different to golf on Earth. The clubs are six times as heavy to compensate for the reduced G but the ball is not, so it travels further and stays in the air forever – pampering already over-inflated golf egos. Which is why it attracts the rich and greedy, who all dress like Gautamalan pimps and develop a weird orange colour from the dome-filtered sun.
 
I hadn’t played golf on Luna, but I’d been there before for a seminar and knew the shuffling, loose kneed walk that helped you stay in proper contact with the ground. And I remembered the dry eyes you got from the processed air.
 
I have to admit though, as I stood lightly on the Tee in one sixthG, looking down the first fairway at the exclusive Copernicus Crater Club, a fertile green oasis under the glittering crystal dome, I actually started to relax.  My MediWrist^™ showed my stress factor was almost down to 5.
 
I turned to KB, “Would you believe, my doctor actually told me I shouldn’t do golf..”
 
“Played with you too, has he?”
 
“Seriously though, I’d move heaven and Earth to play better,”
 
“Well try not to move Luna, its orbit is already wobbly thanks to that shuttle crash last year.”
 
We were teeing off in front of the bar, the orange Lunex-pats and golf groupies were all out on the terrace, sunglasses, shorts and expensive drinks. The odd white face showed recent arrivals and a smattering of VirtuSelfs that were still on Earth, but had Holo’d in for a lunch meeting. I thought I saw Dorid in there too, no doubt bored and seeing what I was up to.
 
We were a bit late to the tee and the hovering starter bot was winking ‘play’. With a gracious smile, KB let me Tee off first.
 
I set my HovaTee^™ to 32mm, turned it on, and once it was set I put my ball on it.  The bar all seemed to be watching me, so I knew I needed to perform. I took a backswing with my driver… and found myself flat onto my back.
 
The bar all howled. “Spinner! Spinner!”
 
KB smiled as he helped me up. “Tsk tsk. Art, you gotta watch your balance, the club weighs more here in relation to you, so it’s easy to pull yourself over on the backswing. Have another go, swing slow, keep your head still and put proportionately more effort into your downswing…”
 
Red-faced, I lined up and took a stance. My next shot, I actually connected, but the ball went straight up, to shouts of “Domer! Domer!” from the bar, and my through-swing tipped me over again.
 
I sat on the ground, and looked up at KB. After a second or so the ball landed (relatively softly) on my head. The bar howled as one. Then we got drenched by a shower of condensation that my ball had dislodged from the dome.
 
I looked down at the pretty little lake, shimmering by the Tee.
 
“I think I’ll drown myself KB,”
 
He grimaced sympathetically, “I don’t think you could hold your head down long enough”

(To be continued)

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