"Lookit," I replied, "I don't know you. I just got to town. It's only for a night or two, and then I'm heading up north."
He stared intently at me when I spoke.
Of course, the old man from the shadows stared intently at me when I was silent as well.
And that silence was awkward, so I broke it.
"I appreciate the offer to follow you to the original New Orleans, or whatever, but I have family waiting for me here."
Family. I chose that word, although I wasn't sure that Mattie 3.0 met that definition. He was a character from a story I had written in the first part of the century, now come to life through a process called defictionalization near the end of that same century. He was my only contact in Old Orleans, though, as I was sure that Captain Sandy had taken her boat and left town to do more of the IntransiGents' business.
His stare was unnerving. Was he from the Population Control Board? Was this some kind of test that I didn't quite understand that I might have failed in some way? He reached into his pocket and I tensed, unsure of what he'd pull from it.
"There is nothing for you in this town," he said determinedly as he handed me a small business card. "You think it over and you meet me here tomorrow night at this same time. You won't be disappointed."
He shifted backwards into the shadows, and was gone just as suddenly as he had appeared.
I looked down at what he had given me. He had told me that he was a recruiter, but it was only then that I noticed the spelling: 're-krewe-ter'. The "New Orelans" sure was strong with this one.
Unfortunately, that's all the time I have for this month. Until the last day of the month next, I remain Ilion in 2084, using Troy-in-2018's social media to stay in touch with you and to tell you of my future journeys -- wherever they may take me. Be well -- be careful -- and be prepared, for the path to where I am from where you are is a tortured one, full of disappointment.
