HI!! HELLO!! Welcome to Chapter 13. Church needs a haircut. This chapter is about the adventure he goes on to get one. It's a silly little chapter and I hope you enjoy it.
If you're younger than 18 or find these kinds of stories offensive, please close up now and have a great day! If you are of legal age and are interested, by all means keep going. I'll be glad to have you along for the journey. Please donate to Nifty. This is a great resource for great stories and a useful outlet to authors like me and readers like you.
13
Bookend Barbers
The bus stop sign was a very helpful sign. Just like my ID, it had a spot to press that would change the legend on the sign from large-font `BUS STOP' to smaller font instructions for riding and a schedule. It said I wouldn't have to present my ID like a credit card; the system worked like one of those automated toll road passes. The bus would sense the card when I got on and again when I got off. It would charge my account without me doing anything.
I was busily reading the sign when a toneless voice called to me. "Sir...will you be boarding?" I swung around to see a plumb-purple plastic bus that had slid silently up behind me and was waiting for me to step on or wave it away. A pocket door stood open for me to pass through. I stepped on and looked for the owner of the voice.
There was no driver. The inside of the vehicle was cream colored, spotlessly clean, and had no signage or advertisements. I figured it was twenty feet long, half the size of the city busses on Earth, and definitely narrower. A chasing red display above the windshield showed the name of the next stop. Middle-facing bench seats lined both sides of the vehicle from front to back. I sat near the door. As soon as I did, the pocket door shut automatically and the vehicle set silently off. As we drove along, I noticed Shawn's presence fading from my mind as the distance between us grew.
I forced myself to stop thinking about him. I wanted to experience the city and I wouldn't do that if my mind was on Shawn all day. I looked around and thought about the vehicle I was in. I assumed it was electric. Whatever power drove the thing made no noise at all. Riding a bus without the grumbling, vibrating diesel engine, hissing, squealing air brakes, advertising signage, graffiti, and the filth and stink of uncaring people was a new experience. The fact that the vehicle was driverless wasn't too surprising given the other technology the world seemed to enjoy, but I still couldn't figure out who had called to me.
A thin, ramrod straight, horse-faced woman sat opposite me. She was prim, proper, and dressed in a pants suit that was not one, not two, but three shades of pink. On her feet were electric-green high heels. Her posture and build said librarian' but her outfit said...I have no idea what it said. Pole dancer with a day off,' maybe. She was absorbed in something she was reading on a tablet of black glass.
She didn't seem to be the right one to ask. The vehicle was nearly empty with the only other occupants down the far end. I didn't want to shout down. On Earth I wouldn't have hesitated, but Solum culture seemed generally more polite than I was used to. I found it roughly equal to the rural south, the Carolinas maybe.
An idea flitted through my mind. In my head was Shawn's entire life. I crossed my arms over my chest and shut my eyes to see what I could learn. His twenty-one years presented themselves in different ways. I could watch his life chronologically, like a long movie, or I could select scenes, like a DVD menu. There was also information that came with his memories that didn't require reliving his experiences. Ordering breakfast was one example. The mundane was available to me, I just had to shift to his knowledge. It was like opening a reference book to the exact right page. I had to go to the book, but once I was there, the facts came readily.
I opened my eyes and turned them to the city that was passing out the windows. Through the use of Shawn's memories, I knew where I was. I knew there was a shopping district in the next unit that had a barber shop where I could get a haircut and a shave. There was also an outfitter that would do custom tailoring and a cafŽ that made an excellent club sandwich. I knew that getting the bus to stop for me required nothing more than muttering stop' or next stop.'
Shawn's mind also told me that the voice that called to me at the bus stop, was the bus itself. It knew someone was waiting at the sign, and it knew that person hadn't moved to get on or to dismiss the vehicle. It wasn't artificial intelligence exactly, but some artful programming. "This just got a lot easier." I said to myself. "Been in town for three days, I'm already at home."
The bus set me down in the shopping district of Residential Unit FP49. The city was a grid. The units were named and numbered like the column lines of a building. Letters identified the east/west location of a unit and numbers identified the north/south. I was a little north and east of the city center.
The sidewalks were busy with shoppers, but I wouldn't say they bustled. People moved in calm, orderly fashion from one place to the next. If they met a friend or acquaintance, they exchanged greetings at conversational volume. Everyone seemed to use their inside voice.
The vast sprawl of Epistylium didn't qualify for my definition of a city. It was more like a town that got out of hand. As such, it didn't have many city features; no tall buildings, no litter, no swarm of self-absorbed people. I was freshly taken with the lack of noise. There was no city throb of rumbling traffic and shouting people and blaring radios and howling air conditioning units. The atmosphere of the shopping area felt more Main Street and less Market Street. I felt very relaxed.
I also felt like a giraffe who wandered into a zebra herd. Everyone I saw was five-foot-eight or shorter, with most people between five-foot-even and five-six. I was used to being tall, but not used to towering over everyone. I drew stares and double-takes from all sides. I stopped to look around and think for a moment. My right hand, that was lost for purpose without its formerly ever-present cigarette, rubbed my chin absently for lack of anything else to do. The stubble that scratched my hand reminded me of my first destination. I pointed my steps toward the barber shop.
The Vis-Vit Barber Shop was the lowest floor of a three-story blue-stone building. The shop's stone front had been removed and replaced with clear glass. Inside were two barbers in apricot-orange aprons, who were working over two patrons, who rested in gold-framed and black upholstered barber's chairs. One wall was a mirror, the opposite one was plain white. Against the white wall, four upright gold and black chairs were ranged in a row for people that cared to wait. I cared to wait and wedged myself between the arms of the end chair. No one else was waiting.
The barbers appeared to be late-middle-aged twins. Thin, slight men with fine, sharp features on their narrow faces. They wielded gold scissors and clear combs deftly over one blond head and one black one. They chattered absently with the patrons, asked and answered questions without listening to a word that was said to them.
"...and my daughter just turned four." Remarked the blond patron from under a towel.
"Just so, just so." The left-hand barber nodded to the man that couldn't see him.
"Yes, cute as a button. I can't keep up with her, neither can her mother."
"So, I'm told." The barber said with the expression of a man who is trying to affect a thoughtful expression.
"What?"
The barber was caught and brought up short. He replied to a question with a question to cover. "What?" He said like he hadn't heard the patron's last comment correctly.
"I say we can't keep up." The patron explained.
"Just so, just so." The barber said and the cycle continued and no one was the wiser.
I enjoyed the disingenuous nature of the barbers as they combed and clipped their way around the heads they tended. I guessed the men were in their late sixties or early seventies, though they were still spry and glowed with health. I reasoned that if they had always been barbers, fifty years of small talk from innumerable patrons must have worn so thin, they adopted the absent chatter as a defense.
I dawned on me from what I knew of Solum lifespans, that if the barbers looked seventy, they could be two-fifty or even more. Fifty years of small talk would have worn thin. Two-hundred-plus years were four or five times as many reasons to chatter without comprehension.
The barber on the left finished with the blond head first and whipped the apricot-orange cloak from the patron with all the flourish of a show-offy matador. The right-hand barber finished just behind and whipped the cloak from his patron with a mirror image movement. The patrons inspected their respective cuts, thanked the barbers and departed, leaving me alone with the matching men.
The left-hand barber stood to the left of his chair with the freshly shaken cloak hung over his right arm which he held bent in front of him. The right-hand barber stood to the right of his chair with the freshly shaken cloak hung over his left arm which he held bent in front of him. I grinned at them like an idiot. I couldn't help it. The left one spoke first and they alternated.
"I am Vis." The left said.
"And I am Vit." The right said.
"And we are Vis-Vit of the Vis-Vit Barber Shop." They said in unison.
I almost laughed but I held my tongue as I didn't want to give offence. I waited for them to make the next move.
"Who are you waiting for?" Vis asked.
"Yes, who are you waiting for?" Vit asked.
They each leaned slightly forward, over their crooked arms, like an enthusiastic ma"tre d might. "I...uh...AHEM...I need a shave and a haircut." I said to both of them.
"Obviously." Vis said.
"Yes, obviously." Vit said.
"But," continued Vis, "do you wish them from me?"
"Or me?" Vit finished.
I hoped to spot a smirk or a crack in their routine, but it was flawless. I had no inkling if they were serious or just putting on a great show. A quick check of my Shawn reference book told me he didn't know either.
I tried to steer a safe middle path. "It's my first time here." I informed the men unnecessarily. "How about Vit takes care of me this time and Vis the next time I come?"
As soon as I said it, I realized I'd said something wrong. Both men were affronted. Vis vented his indignance. "I am Vis, and I am ALWAYS first."
"And I am Vit and I am ALWAYS second."
Vis drove the point home. "I am Vis and I am ninety-seven seconds older." He pronounced the T' in ninety' with crisp precision.
Vit drove it a little harder. "And I am Vit and I am ninety-seven seconds younger." Vit's `T' was perhaps a little crisper than Vis'.
I stuck my right hand up and waved at them in an awkward and meaningless gesture. "And I am Church, and I need a haircut and shave from Vis."
Vis snapped the cloak from his arm, stepped back from his chair, bowed, and waved me into the chair at his station. I struggled out of the chair I'd been waiting in and struggled into the proffered barber's chair. Vit draped his cloak over his chair and came to stand in front of me while Vis tried to strangle me with his cloak. Vis got it fastened without completely cutting off my air and moved to stand with his brother. Each leaned a little away from the other and held their hands clasped in front of the shoulder that was furthest from the other. They were like living bookends.
"What will you have?" Vis asked.
I had no idea what I wanted or what style was appropriate for me. I didn't often notice hair and I was the only freakishly tall person I knew on Solum, so I had no point of reference. I gave them my few thoughts on the matter. "I was hoping for some advice on style. I would like to try to tone my height down, if that's possible. Can a hair style do that?"
Vis pulled in his chin. "You wish a hair style to tone down your monstrous height? Sir, I am a barber..."
"Not a magician." Vit finished Vis' statement.
"Please, gents." I begged. "I'm going to the tailor next and I plan to ask him for the same help." They turned away and conferred in low tones and whispers. They turned back and shot ideas at each other. Vis started, as he is always first.
"Shaved bald!"
"With bangs!" Vit offered
"Short on top!" Vis insisted.
"And long in the back!"
"Parted on the left!"
"Parted on the right!"
"PARTED DOWN THE MIDDLE!" Vis shouted.
"YES! AND...AND FRAME THE FACE!" Vit added, raising his intensity to match his brother's. "HE NEEDS...!"
"MORE LENGTH!" They shouted together.
They ran behind me. I felt four sets of fingers press into my scalp. The whole top of my head grew warm, like it had when Shawn fixed my hangover. A moment passed before anyone spoke. "Enough." Vis said.
"Yes, enough." Vit concurred.
They removed their fingers and my head cooled. They spun my chair to face the mirror. What I saw shocked me. Shiny, healthy, brown hair with no grey in it, hung well passed my shoulders. "Fuck me." I muttered in my surprise at the sight.
"No." Vis shook his head.
"Definitely no." Vit agreed.
"Too much." Vis added.
"Wouldn't know what to do with it all." Vit agreed.
I was confused but only for a moment. I realized I'd unwittingly propositioned the barbers like I had the breakfast gawker. I hurried to correct their misconception. "No...I meant...it's an expression where I'm from. It means `wow'. I didn't mean I wanted to...you know."
"Oh." They said in unison.
"Confusing." Vis said.
"Most confusing." Vit agreed.
"I'll work on it." I added.
"TO BEGIN!" They shouted in unison and spun me away from the mirror.
Vis trimmed my new hair to length and brushed and carefully arranged it. He shaved me with a clear glass straight razor. Vit watched the entire process and made sounds of approval or suggestions which Vis mostly ignored. Neither spoke to me until Vis was finished.
Vis whipped the cloak off with perhaps more flourish than he'd used on the blond. I struggled out of the low and too-narrow chair and turned to the mirror. My face was framed with long brown hair that ended just above my shoulders. It actually had the effect I wanted. My head seemed more incorporated with the rest of me instead of floating high in the air. I thanked them both.
They bowed stiff shallow bows at my thanks. I figured that was it but the show wasn't quite over.
"Hair is a responsibility." Vis said like the statement was a challenge.
"It requires care." Vit added.
"You need PRODUCT!" They said in unison.
Vis produced a black bag with handles. He handed it to Vit who opened a door that appeared in the mirrored wall and stepped through, out of sight. Sounds of things being moved around on shelves followed while Vis waited placidly. Vit came back through the door and presented the now-bulging black bag to Vis with a flourish. Vis inspected the contents and presented the bag to me with even more flourish. The rapid fire, back-and-forth speech started again.
"Shampoo." Vis said.
"Conditioner." Vit added.
"Brushes."
"Combs."
"Styling cream."
"A razor."
"Shaving soap."
"Shaving brush."
"And..."
"HAIR TIES!" They said in unison.
A small beep sounded in my pocket. The beep came from my ID. The back of it was lit with red text that was the Vis-Vit invoice for one-hundred credits. I approved it and added a twenty-five-credit tip. They'd done a great job and I wanted to show my appreciation. As I touched the final approval, the card beeped several more times.
"Generous." Vis said.
"Ample." Vit agreed.
I presumed the beeps somehow indicated the amount of the tip. I made a mental note to count them next time.
I thanked the men again and left.