You could never say that the crowd at a science fiction convention was dull. The collection of costumes and fans' enthusiastic appreciation of their favorite subgenres gave the proceedings an energy that couldn't be duplicated anywhere else.
Becky Collins tried her best to latch on to some of that energy as she sat quietly alone at her table. Here in the VIP section, she was separated from most of the madness of the main hall, but there were still crowds and lines at the tables that surrounded her. It was just her table that remained a lonely oasis in the heat of the surrounding action.
At one time she had been Zara, Agent of Stellar Command. As a teenaged martial artist astronaut, she had defeated many alien menaces with mighty kicks and powerful hand chops as the title character of her TV series. Posters and life sized displays of her famous character surrounded her. But that was over 20 years ago.
She had to continually remind herself that 39 was not old! She stayed in shape, she worked out every day. But there was no avoiding the fact that she just didn't look like the 17 year old in the pictures that she kept autographing.
As frustrating as it was to sit alone while the more current celebrities around her were being mobbed, it was still better than the times people would ask her 'when Becky was going to be back at her table'.
"Excuse me, Ms. Collins?"
She was pulled out of her reverie to find a fan standing at her table with a photo of Zara for her to sign. He wore a homemade costume of Zorp, her alien sidekick from the show. He was a little tall for Zorp, and his horn rimmed glasses certainly threw off the look. But it still made her smile to remember her times standing next to the little guy (even if Fred Gonzales, the actor who played Zorp was a cantankerous little pervert).
"Please, call me Becky." She smiled as she took his photo.
"Please sign it to 'James'." The fake Zorp said.
"You got it, James."
"So are you ever going to do a new Zara series?" James asked, "Everyone's doing remakes these days."
"Well, James," Becky replied patiently, "I'm not exactly a teenager anymore."
"So? You still look great. I bet you could still kick alien butt with the best of 'em."
"Thank you, James. That's sweet. But you'll just have to settle for the DVDs of the original series." She forced a smile as she handed his signed picture back to him.
"Well it was a real honor to meet you Ms. Collins... I mean Becky."
"It was an honor to meet you too, James. I hope you enjoy the rest of the convention."
She watched him as he scurried back into the crowd. He obviously meant well with his comments, but the reminder that her biggest success was long behind her still stung.
For better or worse, he was the last visitor of the day and she had plenty of time to lament the downward spiral of her career. It was almost a relief when the announcement came that the hall was closing and the attendees were corralled toward the front of the hall. Kim, a convention volunteer, suddenly appeared to help her pack up her table. Kim led Becky into the flow of a much smaller group of vendors and VIPs as they filed out the back loading bay doors.
"Before you go, Ms. Collins," Kim said as she wheeled her display case around some trash bins on the way to the private parking, "one of our sponsors is this new Swedish spa and they've given out some free massage vouchers for our VIPs. They said to tell you that they had openings tonight if you're interested."
"Thanks, Kim." Becky politely took the offered card and stuck it in her jacket pocket. She helped Kim lift the case into the trunk of her rental car, hopped in and pulled out into the stream of traffic. She didn't really plan on going to some strange massage parlor, but after an hour of heavy traffic was as stunned as anyone to find herself standing in front of the establishment. Apparently her subconscious had other ideas. But anything was better than sitting in the hotel room with her depressing memories. Wasn't it?
The sign read "Sweetest Swiss Spa" and a strip of neon announced that it was still open. It was a small cinderblock building on the outskirts of town, but there wasn't anything obviously ominous about it. So with a sigh she opened the door and strolled in. A Norwegian looking receptionist greeted her.
"Welcome," the blonde stood and greeted Becky.
"Hi, I received this pass for a free massage."
"Of course, you must be from the convention. What is your name?" The receptionist said with a definite accent.
"Becky Collins," she glanced around at the Ikea furniture and couldn't help trying to sneak a peek down the hall to the private rooms.
"Oh yes, we have your name on our list." The receptionist handed her a packet with a terrycloth robe and slippers. "There's a dressing room in the back with a locker. Then Sven will meet you in Room 3. Have a pleasant time."
Becky mumbled a "thanks" and made for the dressing area. Within a few minutes, wearing only the complimentary robe and slippers, she entered Room 3. The lights were dimmed and soft music was playing. A couple of peaceful paintings of mountains and fjords decorated the walls.
"Hello, I'm Sven." A tall man turned as she entered and rubbed some antibacterial lotion into his hands.
"Wow," Becky muttered with a slack jawed gasp. Sven was the perfect representation of a fantasy masseuse; all rippling muscles and long blonde hair.
"Please, make yourself comfortable," He gestured toward the massage table.
Becky let out a nervous giggle as she moved to the table and reached for the sash of her robe. With a smile, Sven turned his back to allow her enough privacy to lie down. Quickly, she draped her towel over her lower half and stuck her face through the padded hole at the head of the table. With a slight thrill of anticipation, she watched as his feet approached and circled her.
She closed her eyes as he touched a single finger to a spot between her shoulder blades in preparation of the massage.
Suddenly there was a startling thump outside the door. The sudden noise caused Sven to reflexively press into her spine with surprising strength. The shocking pressure forced Becky to open her eyes and, just for a second, the shoes that she saw below her seemed to bulge out of shape before quickly returning into Sven's feet. But before she could register the optical phenomenon, the masseuse moved out of view; it was probably just a trick of perspective, she reasoned.
"Excuse me, just a moment." Sven said as he moved to the door.
Becky sighed as she returned to a relaxed state. She had probably started to doze off and had a brief dream.
Suddenly a rustle, a thud and a crash behind her caused Becky to bolt up, clutch her towel to her chest and turn around. Standing in the doorway was the nerdy little guy from the convention. Although he had taken off the headpiece and fake ears, he still wore the remains of his Zorp costume.
"What are you doing here?" She screeched, "Get out!" Even at her most popular, she never had a stalker this bold. What was his name? James?
"This isn't what it looks like!" He said.
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Nerd Knight Short Stories
Science FictionThey are here. They walk among us. They have been with us since the beginning of civilization. Most people don't notice. Most people just pass them by. But those that notice, those that look closely can see that they're just a little bit... gee...
