The Swailing

Prospera: TatTOO

While Laser and Porsche are at school, Sabine insists on taking me to her neighbor's house for something called a garage sale. I've learned that the car storage area attached to these houses is called a garage, but I have no idea how you'd sell it without selling your whole home. I don't ask. It's much easier to display my ignorance to Finn, who is sweet and patient. I'm afraid Sabine will not make any effort to hide her shock at my stupidity. I'd really prefer to stay with Finn and do research on Laser's arsenal of computers, but Sabine seems so desperate for company that Finn waves me on and I have no choice but to indulge our host. Anyway, Finn will probably make faster progress without me asking 10,000 questions.

Sabine drives us to the neighbor's house even though it is only three blocks away. In Optima you're not allowed to use autos for such short trips, but I suppose Sabine looks for any excuse to spend her time in her huge and luxurious car. It has iTel screens and butter-soft leather seats and tinted windows for privacy. She says it has some autopilot features, like the autos back in Optima, but they are optional and she mostly only uses them if she's had a few glasses of wine after a night out with her girlfriends.

On the short drive to the neighbor's Sabine points out something called a golf course that backs up to some of the even larger houses. All I see is beautifully manicured grass and trees.

"What am I looking for?" I ask, not sure what a golf course is.

"It's right there," she points at the open space. "Don't they have golf in Optima?"

After she explains what golf is, I tell her that Optima would never set aside acres of land that need to be watered and maintained just for a sport. If people golf in Optima, I guarantee her that they do it virtually, with a pair of simulation goggles on their heads, swinging a motion sensitive club at an imaginary computer-generated ball.

She shakes her head sadly at me, as if I had just told her that we don't have air or water.

We pull up at the house and I notice that all the cars are parked out in street because the driveway and garage are lined with tables overflowing with items. People mill around, looking at the things on the tables. I have no idea what's going on.

Sabine senses my confusion. "A garage sale is when you sell stuff you don't need anymore."

I glance around and shake my head a little. That can't be possible. There must be thousands of items in their garage and driveway, racks and racks of clothing, way more than you could ever WANT, much less need. There are more clothes on one of these racks than in even the most well stocked store in Optima.

Sabine insists that I browse through the items, though I can't imagine why I'd need any more clothes. When I don't show the expected enthusiasm, she pulls some items from the racks for me and Finn, though with slightly less than her usual pep. I seem to be killing her shopping buzz.

When Sabine's neighbor adds up our purchases I hold my breath for the total. I saw what Sabine spent on three cotton blouses this morning – I can't imagine what this pile will set us back. But the cost of the entire assortment of clothes Sabine has selected comes to less than I'd pay for lunch at school back home.

I stare at the pile, and then at Sabine. "Is that right?" I ask.

The neighbor looks panicked. "Wow, she drives a tough bargain," she says, winking at Sabine, and lowers the price by 20 percent. I'm speechless. Then, despite my protests, Sabine pays her the piddly sum and hands me my items.

As we drive back to Sabine's house I ask her, "How can she sell all those things so cheap? She can't be making any money."

"She's not trying to make money, really. Just trying to get rid of stuff."