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“I’m not certain, but to judge from your name, you won’t refuse this.” Peter was holding a pack of dark Guinness.

“Thanks,” Bikie mumbled.

“Help yourself. Sandrine is my very close friend, my girlfriend and, I hope, my fiancée.”

Sandrine smiled and laid her head on Peter’s shoulder.

“We’re going away on a trip for a couple of months. First to Stockholm, Copenhagen and

the Baltic, possibly to St. Petersburg and Moscow, and then we’ll decide where else. I haven’t done any traveling for a long time, so I’ll enjoy the ride. They say the summer in those parts is very pleasant, not as hot as here and I think I’ll get by without the sea for a while. I want to take a look at Germany, my grandfather’s home country. As well as Poland. They say Polish girls are quite something.”

The final remark earned him a light cuff to the back of the head from Sandrine.

“Anything’s possible,” he said with a smile, for which Sandrine pinched him too, quite

painfully.

“Sandrine! Stop it!”

“What do you think is possible? I’ll show you Polish girls!” she barked.

Bikie had already recovered from his error and was about to joke on the subject of Polish girls and Russian lovelies, but after glancing at Isaac, he didn’t.

Wolanski took his friends around the grounds and gave them a tour of the house.

“This is a safe place, but I’m going away for a long time, you never know if something

might break down or someone might creep in. In short, would you mind living here and taking care of the house while I’m away? I could even pay you for service,” he added with a smile. “A little bit.”

Well, how about that! The very idea that he could live in a swanky villa like this for a while took Isaac’s breath away.

Bikie instantly forgot about the affront he had suffered and started gazing around intently.

“I’m sorry, but I have no secrets from Sandrine,” Wolanski went on. “The two of us have decided to support you, but we won’t get involved. In a few weeks I will acquire full control over my father’s legacy. Right now I live in a good house, I can afford to pay almost any expenses, but I don’t have control over his fortune. I have free access to a large amount of money, which I can spend as I wish. So I don’t want to put that at risk.”

“And so, I’m sorry guys, the house is at your disposal, I can even write you a check for a couple of thousand a month, you have the internet here, a television, a small chemistry lab in the basement if you need it. As for financing and advice, sorry, you have to handle that yourselves.”

Peter felt awkward for steering clear of the risks, and his voice had a guilty ring to it.

“You’re here as security guards and sort of household help. I don’t need to know what

you are up to while I’m away. So let’s agree that if I don’t ask, you avoid discussing your business in my presence. I ask you not to involve any one else until you have at least a provisional plan. Naturally, I have cameras here so if I see visitors, I’ll ask you to move out,”

Peter added. “And you must not use the main bedroom. Better not even to go in there. And finally, good luck! And let’s drink to that!”

For the rest of the evening the group ate meat, drank wine and beer, discussed music and never mentioned business again.

Isaac and Bikie were totally excited, and each of them chose a nice room on the guest

floor. If you didn’t count the small salary that Peter had set for them, he hadn’t done anything to solve their cash problems. But on the other hand, no one knew if they would need more money or this would be enough. At least now they had food and a roof over their heads. And quite a roof it was!

Isaac and Bikie decided not to waste time, and move to Peter’s place as soon as possible, even before he left. In comparison with Wolanski’s villa, Isaac’s old apartment looked like a dismal slum.

Isaac gathered up his things, looked round his old room and thought that he would never come back here. He did not feel any regret.

“How weird,” thought Isaac, “I have lived here for five years, but I don’t have any

particularly pleasant memories associated with this dump.” Isaac had even tried not to bring girls back here, he felt ashamed, it was better to go to their hotel. “But even so I feel sad at the thought that I won’t be back here anymore. It’s like I’m cutting off a big slice of my past, finally slicing off my youth and my student years.” Vicky wouldn’t come back here again either.

Isaac walked into his sister’s tiny little room. Her things had been tidied away a long time ago as if she had known. Clothes tidily folded away in boxes, a little bit of makeup, some books and textbooks, even an old doll. All he had to do was collect the bed linen. “It might come in useful. We’ll stay at Wolanski’s place for a while, but afterwards I’ll have to rent somewhere.

Damn, I almost forgot about the kitchen and the bathroom. Glasses, plates, spoons, forks, knives… God, what a drag it is gathering it all up now and making sure nothing breaks.”

Isaac lived an impoverished life, so he collected up absolutely everything he could. He only left the furniture since it wouldn’t have survived another move anyway, and Wolanski would have flipped at the sight of this old lumber.

He hardly had any personal things at all: jeans and t-shirts, one suit from his graduation at the university and his computer which all fit into two boxes. He also has a vintage poster of Einstein with his famous phrase: “Only those who attempt the absurd can achieve the

impossible”.

That aphorism was very apropos and highly relevant. Isaac hated Einsteiner, but that

antipathy had nothing with the famous scientist. Isaac took the poster down carefully, rolled it into a tube and took it with him. Bikie had a similar modest collection, apart from the fact that instead of a scooter, he had a genuine Harley and a guitar.

“That Bikie-guy is a true rock’n’roller,” thought Isaac.

Wolanski met them at the gate, and he had everything ready for dinner by the pool again: drinks, hors d’oeuvres, beer. Sandrine was relaxing on a soft, white sun-lounger. She waved them hello and carried on relishing the beautiful sunset over the sea while sipping on some kind of juice. Bikie and Isaac each took a beer.

“This is some life!” exclaimed Bikie, either making a toast or just thinking out loud.

They drained their bottles in one, picked up their things and headed for the main entrance.

Peter gestured them to stop and asked to go in through the side door.

“Guys, we agreed that you live in the guest section of the house, didn’t we? No hard

feelings?”

“Whatever you say, buddy, no problem,” Bikie said amicably. “Don’t think we’ll have

any use for your oval fireplace and swimming pool anyway. We won’t have time for long soulful evenings and swimming… But the loungers… Can we bring chicks in?”

“Bikie!” exclaimed Sandrine, already there beside him. “Do not bring chicks into the

house!”

“I like you, guys. I really hope I haven’t made a mistake by inviting you to take care of the house. You settle into your rooms and I’ll wait for you here.”

The first thing Bikie did in his room was take his guitar out of its case and check that nothing had happened to it in transit. The guitar was all right.

“What is this?” Isaac asked.

“A relic.”

“Meaning?”

“I bought it on the internet. Keith Richards himself played it. He even signed the body. I forked out a grand for it. A rare item.”

Isaac looked at the half-erased scribble.

“Are you sure this really is his autograph?”

“Positive, I saw a photo of him with this guitar.”

“I see. Ever heard the word ‘Photoshop’?”

“Screw you,” Bikie growled.

“Just kidding. Surely it’s original.”

“Sure as death. In our crowd they don’t pull tricks like that.”

He then hit the strings so hard that almost made Isaac jump.

Isaac went to his room, set his things by the bed, carefully hung up the poster and

switched on his laptop.

“What’s the Wi-Fi password?” he shouted out of the window.

“Alchemist28015,” Peter answered.

“Your rating, right?” Isaac asked loudly.

“U-huh.”

“Mine’s bigger,” Bikie put in.

“And mine’s longer”, retorted Peter.

“You boys are gross,” Sandrine said and everyone laughed.

When Isaac and Bikie sat down by the pool, the sun was already setting and the sky was

scintillating with the most brilliant tones in the orange spectrum.

“Look, orange energy’s draining away…” The setting had put Bikie in a poetical mood.

“The orange energy of the sky,” Isaac commented pensively.

“The creativity of the sky, expiring at dusk, reborn the next day with not a drop lost,”

Bikie commented rather neatly.

“Beautifully said! You’re a genuine poet,” commented Sandrine. She and Peter were

sitting beside the pool with their arms around each other and also looking out to sea.

“I write songs and play sometimes, but mostly rock’n’roll, not lyrical stuff. I even used to play in a rock band at college.”

“Peter, why don’t you write me poems? Long ones…”

Peter started fussing about and ventured over to the table to fill the glasses, ignoring Sandrine’s remark.

“Friends, I declare the official ceremony to celebrate your moving in open!”

Peter knew how to create a distance when he wanted, and also how to break it down

quickly, and then you could feel like a really old friend of his.

“Bikie, by the way, why are you Bikie?” Peter asked.

Bikie didn’t like to answer the question about the origins of his nickname, because mostly it came from drunken customers at the bar. But he was still feeling pleased with Sandrine’s compliment and decided to answer.

“The usual story, that name has been with me ever since school. I’ve liked motorbikes all my life. On my way home from school, I always looked at the mopeds, and the choppers

especially. . I used to ask a lot of questions and even made friends with a few grownup biker dudes. I dreamt of getting my license as soon as possible and dreamed about having my own Harley. But let me tell you: there are different kinds of bikers. Let’s say, there’ve been some gangs whose business was drugs or guns. And then there are folks who are there for the love of art. I’m one of those. There used to be a whole set of us at university. It’s fallen apart now though. One became a Veggie, one grew up and lost interest, one was killed in a crash… yeah…

Well, as for my nickname, I got it when I was still a kid. My parents bought me a scooter, a red one, so I could easily be seen on the road. And I went straight into my dad’s garage, where he kept his paint. That chrome stuff, you know. And black too. I glued on a Harley emblem (I had a real one that someone gave me) and drove off to my friends. Didn’t even wait for the paint to dry, got my trousers all soiled. Everyone said, now you’re a true biker, kiddo, only a little one.

So we’ll call you Bikie and it stuck. Bikie it was. Basically I got to enjoy being Bikie and then I shot up and no one dared hang any other nicknames on me, cuz I could hang a punch on them that they wouldn’t forget in a hurry.”

“When I was a little girl my mum used to call me Sasha,” Sandrine’s added in a gentle

voice. “In the Russian style from some Russian book. And I just couldn’t understand, I kept asking: ‘Mum what is this nickname of mine?’ ”

Everyone laughed except Isaac who looked morose.

“Isaac, what’s up?” Wolanski asked.

“His sister, stepsister, has Russian roots,” Bikie explained. “She’s in the hospital now.”

Sandrine put her hand on Isaac’s shoulder.

“Don’t feel bad, Isaac. Everything will be all right. We have to give all these new

inventions their due, medicine has become excellent, a real breakthrough. I’ve never seen such equipment before. For instance, I recently had an x-ray or a scan, I don’t remember exactly what.

I was roller-skating down a steep slope and I fell, so I went to check that everything was all right.

They put this kind of special elastic suit on me, and a helmet. I stood in the middle of the doctors’ office like an astronaut. And the doctor had a full 3D image of all my internal organs on his monitor. Yuck! And then he pressed a button – click! – and his screen showed my skeleton.”

”My father was amazed that no one was afraid of dentists anymore,” Peter added. “I told him: not only is no one afraid of them, no one ever goes back to them anymore. When they treat something or fix something, it’s done once and for all. But that didn’t stop dad from being opposed to Einsteiner. He lost a lot of money when they started their operations, but he wasn’t against them because of the money. He said we knew too little about all this.”

“Now they’ve completely beat AIDS,” Sandrine went on. She obviously wanted to

improve Isaac’s mood. “Now they can cure cancer, asthma and all forms of allergies. They can cure everything, Isaac!”

“Everything, but not quite,” Bikie growled. “Some illnesses have been left out in the

cold. Alzheimer’s for instance – no one knew what caused the degenerative changes, and no one knows now. And your OE computer hasn’t learned how to cure Parkinson’s either. They can only cure the diseases that scientists have already done lots of research on. That metalware itself can do nothing, they just put together old crossword puzzles. Hell, why am I telling you, as if you didn’t know all that stuff?”

Strangely enough, it was Bikie who lifted Isaac’s mood, not Sandrine or Peter. What

Bikie said inspired Isaac, and he cheered up, recalling that his plan to find Professor Link had already started to become a reality. Everything was going really well. He had a team of fellow thinkers. Maybe it was not very big – only him and Bikie – but Peter had given them a place to

live and a bit of money. It was a good thing that Peter was on the sidelines since he turned out to be a great guy. It wasn’t clear yet if they were going to do anything illegal or it might not work out at all, but so far it was working and he was glad. “And so tonight we relax, drink and socialize!” Isaac thought with a smile, reaching out for a bottle.