A Higher Process

         A peaceful Buddha stared across the peaceful reception hall, waiting with all the patience the other occupant currently lacked. A few paces, and the flowers were fidgeted into roughly the same position they had held the morning threw, and if flowers could voice their exasperation would likely demand that if they were to be remaining in said position, no more infinitesimal adjustments should be made. The clock on the wall ticked steadily onwards as fresh light and a sea breeze poured in through the french doors in the adjoining dining room.

         “A guest is requesting entry to the estate,” suffused the room as the estate's system let the occupant know that has his guest had arrived. With a final adjustment of the vase, to which the flowers were likely shrieking in annoyance as well as joy that the torture was to be over, the room's sole sentient occupant made his way to the front door. Another story could be attributed to the man's clothes, whose frustration would likely eclipse that of the flowers and had become the only object at hand with which hands could be kept occupied, but neither clothes nor flowers can talk.

         Pasting a brave smile on his face, the door was opened. In the distance, waves could be seen crashing on the beach. The fronds of coconut palms could be seen swaying in the breeze. Sunlight could be seen glaring off the white sandy beach. Many things could be seen, if one had the inclination, but attention from these items was diverted and hoarded by the man standing shyly on the porch.

         “It's really been too long you know.”

         “It's tough getting up here. You don't exactly make it easy.”

         “I like the privacy I'm afforded here, and the surroundings are comfortable.”

         “I can see that.”

         A moment of silence descends, the uncertainty pumped in and fed on raw adrenaline that follows such a meeting, when the initial pleasantries that were worked on and guaranteed in the mind run out. Uncertainty is a principal force when attributed to multiple individuals conversing after all, and few are truly at ease when under its sway.

         “Might I come in?”

         “Of course, where are my manners? I suppose it's just been so long since I've had guests.”

         A wry smile crosses lips and motion begins, propelling the shy man into the entry hall. Nervous tension on all sides, for every person who has been out of sight and mind long enough regains that sense of awkward mystery. Were people automobiles, it might almost be close enough to say we get our new car smell back.

         “You were never much into the social scene.”

         “That was always your place. We can sit in the dining room. I have some cookies I made last night and I took the liberty of mixing up a batch of sangria.”

         Fabric fluttered gently, white catching the sun's rays and casting moving shadows on the hardwood floors below. The table, surrounded by four comfortable chairs, was home to a small tray of cookies and a stainless pitcher, upon which a few beads of perspiration were descending. Two stemless wine glasses stood beside the pitcher, looking mournfully empty.

         “Cookies and sangria? Not exactly a common combination.”

         “If you don't like it, there's always milk in the refrigerator.”

         “Sangria will be fine.”

         Jubilation for the glasses, as they are set to the task and a few moments more of the encounter are burned.

         “So how have you been? Aside from putting yourself at arm's distance from the rest of the world that is.”

         “Things have been going well. I've written another book. I'm not really sure if I'll get around to publishing it. I've started a small garden and that's been nice. There really is something comforting about the feel of dirt between your fingers. Why people were so quick to get away from all of that, I'll never understand. But what about you? You must have a lot more to talk an old shut in.”

         “Things have been... alright. You know how it can be, friends always too busy to hang out. More and more people with families. The older we get, the more it seems that people turn into antisocial old...”

         “I'm not offended you know. I choose to live out here.”

         “I know. You always were better at making friends. If you put your mind to it I'm sure they'd be coming out of the woodwork. Do you still see your old friends?”

         “I've seen you today. Otherwise, I see a few of them every now and then. I have to put in an appearance every now and then or they'd likely force their way in and drag me out.”

         A colorful bird hopped lightly across the patio outside the door, bright green, yellow and a small shock of red dotting its neck as if were home to a bright red cravat. With a small fidget, a piece of cookie found itself sailing through the air to skitter across the ground. After a small startled hop back, the bird moved happily in to devour the snack.

         “Even making friends with the wildlife I see.”

         “I always did have an appreciation for nature.”

         “I did too you know, it's one of the things I miss.”

         “We all had to give up some things along the way in our lives.”

         A twittered praise and thanks as bright colors took to sky did little to lighten the tension that heavily settled into place. It's quite entertaining, if you look at it from the right angle, how people will settle on the things they know are disquieting, as if by bringing them out into the light something may be done to alleviate their own issues at hand. More often than not, though, the issues just become an uncomfortable lump on the carpet. A pink elephant thereafter exists in the room, only it's dead and has rather begun to smell a bit.

         “That's true. We all did have to give up rather a lot. Some of us just try to move past it and forget as best we can, since there's no point dwelling on things that can't be changed.”

         “You're right, I'm sure. Much as it pains me to say it.”

         “I can't really stay here for too long you know. I might get around in more social circles these days, but the friends I've attracted haven't really been of the cut to make living such as this available. Some of us have to get back to the regular world.”

         “I'll make no apologies for the benefits I've received. It's not like I went off pandering to the well to do.”

         “I know, I know. But it can be frustrating sometimes watching someone just walk around picking up four leaf clovers and finding pots of gold when you're busy dodging cow patties.”

         “I can understand that. Is there anything I can do for you while you're here?”

         “It would be nice to go for a walk on the beach. Maybe just hold your hand. I'm not looking to revisit the way things used to be, but... I've missed real human contact the most. It just hasn't been the same.”

         “That would be nice.”

         With some awkward motions the two made their way out of the dining room, the glasses remained behind, half full, sitting on the wood table, which would have driven either to madness in a previous life.

         Two hands slipped nervously together, as shy and awkward as much of the meeting had been, but also familiar and comforting in a manner that is only reached after years of a deep connection. Two clasped hands hovered above stone, then grass, then sand. Pink began its first smearing of the sky beside the sun.

         “It seems a bit early for sundown isn't it?”

         “I know how much you enjoy it, I see no reason you should be complaining.”

         “I'm not. It just seems that time goes so fast these days.”

         “It does, you know. Ten million miles a minute. You should stop by again sometime. Not too soon. It's too soon for that... but I would like to see you again. Things get easier with time.”

         “They do, and I will. Though I can't really afford to make it here more than once a month.”

         “That might be good for now. A few visits and I might be inclined to help you get here. Sometimes it's nice to have company.”

         “It's been nice talking to you.”

         “It has been.”

         The waves on the beach chased up a little higher and found themselves cascading over a single pair of feet. A few feet away, a man returned home. The screen in his apartment was busy displaying the weather for the common area in his zone. A cat meowed and brushed up against his legs, demanding to be fed. He reached down and gave a few quick pats. It wasn't a terrible approximation, but it would never match the real thing. Nothing down there ever did.

         Fifteen light years from earth a small ship cut across the great void of space, its hold filled with various mining and production systems from which a new world could be carved and built. On the ship, not a single life sign stirred. Wires, beams of light and quantum processors raced along much as they had for years before. Another second passed by, much as the last one had, but decidedly different.