proof reached my ears. A pair of Chinese couples nearly bumped into me, speaking rapidly among themselves, switching back and forth from Mandarin to Cantonese. A Caucasian male spoke with a tiny Japanese woman, his command of her language astounding; he certainly made himself well enough understood to several times cause her to giggle with her hand covering her mouth.A street labeled as "Gilman" spoked off at an angle. Through the window of a crowded bar near the intersection, I saw quite the eclectic collection of brown and black faces, perhaps from as many as two dozen countries in Asia, Africa, the Middle East, Latin America and the Caribbean.
Eclectic indeed. Much to my surprise, this six block street offered quite the haute cuisine, Greek and Italian perhaps the least exotic as compared with Afghani, Moroccan, Thai, Bolivian and even Nepali, which I do not recall ever seeing outsideKathmandu .
Still, this international variety stood out mostly as a stark contrast to the vast crowds of Europeans, including so many, many Nordic blondes who seemed to be the lightest clothed; a crowd of young women stood outside an establishment called "Stillwaters," and none wore a coat or even the thinnest of jackets.
Ahead, a strapping young university student approached, then exited into an alley (his cardinal red sweatshirt identified his institutional affiliation). I peered into the alley and watched him. The alley was actually a driveway running between a pair of parking garages.
My spine tingled. I had not fed in about five days, and if it was not yet actually time, it would soon be.
With barely a conscious thought, I willed my body to transform from solid matter to mist, chuckling in silent recall at the memory of the first time attempting this feat, fearfully exhilarated, wondering if my body would be able to regain its cohesion, wondering if my arms would not end up where my legs were supposed to be; having been under Francois's tutelage for nearly two centuries, he had finally seen fit to explain that we can do this and taught me how. When I had rematerialized intact and fully clothed, it still seemed unbelievable.
I willed myself to rematerialize just ahead of the fellow's path, around a corner, out of sight. At the proper moment, I emerged ten feet in front of him, my eyes instantly meeting his. My consciousness thrust gently into his, and for a short moment before lowering mental filters, naked coeds danced before my eyes as my will was imposed firmly upon him, but without pain or terror - long ago, before ever having encountered Francois, I fed on terror as much as blood, but I have long since ended that distasteful practice. Bloodis not always enough, but there are emotions far tastier than terror from which a vampire may feed. Besides, it is quite rude to unnecessarily terrify someone who has been kind enough to yield some of their essence.
Instead, I merely took my requisite pint which tasted of barley, hops and yeast, then let the lad off on his merry way, where he surely would replace the fluids he had just lost. He resumed his ambling gate, then stumbled and fell. I hid around a corner and watched him lay on the pavement for a few minutes, his breathing labored. He attempted to push himself up, but failed, his face slapping against the asphalt.
He sat up and pressed his face between his knees. From around the corner, three men spotted him and ran to his aid - friends apparently. They helped him to his feet and lent support as they marched off into the night.
"Pretty hammered!" I heard one yell.
I licked blood off my lips, puzzled at this fellow's reaction. He had definitely been drinking, but not that much. Surely, I had only taken a pint, no more, and almost certainly a little less. He looked large and healthy. Perhaps, he had recently donated blood.
With or without his knowledge or consent.
Monday, on a nicely overcast afternoon, I returned to the cab office and did indeed pass the test. Kevin seemed happy with the result and announced that interviews were to be held Wednesday. I felt quite encouraged, assuming that Kevin would conduct the interview. However, my assumption proved incorrect when the operations manager made a reference to "the Hiring Committee."
"I thought you might be conducting the interview," I replied sheepishly.
"Hey," Kevin said, "this is a co-op. We have committees for everything. But don't worry, they don't bite."