Space-Time of Death: an Al Squires of the Protectorate Novel

Ch. 5.3: A Little Patch of Babylon

When we entered these hallowed halls of debauchery, I was almost entranced by the sensory bombardment brought on by the bright multicolored lights, loud music and the swaying of many bodies. I snapped out of it after a couple of beats, where upon noticing that the entrance opened close to the almost packed dance floor. People in various forms of fashionable attire at the time danced and swayed and flailed to the song the DJ was playing- which at that moment, was 'A Fifth of Beethoven'- underneath a large light-up installation of a fake moon with a cartoon face and a spoon near its nose. With some help of my cyber lenses, I looked around in order to get a quick feel for the club's layout: the baroque structural design of the place when it was once a theater still showed but was refitted with various lighting fixtures and modern furnishings- such as claret walls, silver floating platforms, large bars of light and lots of mirrors. It made me think of an aging starlet getting cosmetic surgery in order to stay beautiful.

Around the dancefloor and the balconies above were various low sofas and booths filled with weary clubgoers either resting their feet or partaking of alcohol and various drugs. There was one feature that we could use in our favor: along the bolstered balconies were binoculars stands pointed at the dance floor; enabling the weary ones to voyeuristically watch the others who were still going strong.

I, myself, felt like I was a kid, and it was somehow Christmas and Halloween all at once. I looked at the others of my group to get a feel of their reactions: Mik and Tom looked like they were more-or-less feeling the same way I was; Rozz was looking around as if he'd find someone (Probably Mick); Clint and Mattie frowned at the din of Disco music to their Country-loving ears; Jorge and Sgt. McTeer just made faces of disgust at the numerous displays of debauchery; Lady Lane simply smiled as she bobbed her head to the music; and finally, Norah just stood there, mouth wide open and eyes like saucers. It seemed that it'd finally sunk in with her that she was indeed in her Earth's past.

Worried her eyes would suddenly start smoking, I then tapped Norah on the shoulder. When she looked over to me, I wordlessly reminded her to do her breathing exercises by doing the same thing the Prof did to remind her- only with my hand. She followed my lead after a beat, doing the exercises a couple of times before she looked like she could handle it.

Realizing Felix was absent, I looked around to find him over by the coat-check counter, checking in his briefcase. My guess was he wanted to have the briefcase close by so he could put the guns back in it when the job was done. He shortly returned to the group as soon as he had the claims ticket.

"Even the works of the Maestros are not sacred in these so-called 'civilized' times," Jorge lamented on the music a few beats later, his voice carried over the noise and music thanks to our coms. He looked around the group. "We should split up in order to have a better chance at finding Segal," he said to us. "Remember to keep your comms on. And remember I will be able to reach you even during standby mode." He pulled out the picture of Segal from his pocket and showed him to us. "Memorize his features and keep an eye out for him; as well as anyone close to him that appears suspicious. If you must ask any locals, fine, but only tell them what he looks like and that you are looking for him." He glared at the members of TP before adding, "I trust that you will remember we are here on a mission, not for frivolities."

"I can assure you that there won't be frivolities on my part, Senor," Norah said.

"Suck-up!" I muttered to her.

Jorge nodded at Norah, then looked like he just realized something. He then pointed at each of us, as if counting. "I'd pair each of us in twos," he added when he was done, "but it seems one group will have to have three people."