David Garnet - Bikini Planet

“Even Day Zero isn’t history,” said Diana. “Memories are short, and most of the population doesn’t know it happened.”

“Vegas must have been quite a place,” said Travis.

Norton shrugged. Had he worked on an assembly line in Chicago or as a pen-pusher in Washington, he’d probably have thought Las Vegas was wonderful. Everyone believed the grass was greener elsewhere, and he’d always wanted to see the sea—even though there was no grass at all.

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess Vegas had almost everything. Except the sea.”

“It should have been located by the sea, you think?” said Travis.

“Er… yeah,” Norton agreed, although moving the city to the Californian coast wasn’t something he’d previously considered. “Vegas by the sea.” He nodded, liking the idea. “Sea and sand as well the sunshine. Casinos on the beach, with all the croupiers in bikinis.”

“What’s a croupier?” asked Travis.

“The person who runs a gambling table.”

“What’s a bikini?” asked Diana.

Norton looked at her elaborate metallic outfit, and he wondered how to describe a bikini.

“A two-piece swimming costume,” he said, “made of very little’material. Just enough to cover the essentials.”

“What essentials?” Diana asked.

“You know. Across here.” Norton drew his hand in front of his chest. “And…” He gestured down to his crotch.

“The penis?” said Diana.

“No!”

“The testicles?” said Diana.

“No!” Norton shook his head. He could feel himself starting to blush. “Bikinis are only for girls. Women. Females. Not men.”

“So what would the male croupiers wear?” asked Diana.

“When?”

“In the beach casinos.”

“Forget it.” Norton shook his head. “It wouldn’t work. You can’t have casinos out of doors. The sun goes down. The sky gets dark. People think it’s time for bed. In Las Vegas, it’s all inside, where there’s no day, no night. There are no clocks, and no one notices how much time passes by.”

From his vantage point, high in the sky on top of a golden glass pyramid, Norton looked around and thought about how much time had passed by. He wondered, if it wasn’t for the clouds below, whether he’d be able to see the ocean for the first time—and, if he could, which ocean it might be.

Almost everything he’d seen had been strange; but the strangest of all was how quickly he had grown used to his new circumstances. He gazed around the restaurant, at the weird people in their crazy clothes, and it almost seemed normal.

At first, the most noticeable thing about Diana was that she was bald. By now, Norton hardly noticed at all. What he was most aware of was how attractive she was.

“The largest city in the country,” she said, “it must have had something special.”

“This is the largest city?” said Norton. He didn’t doubt it. “What country?”

“Your country. Your century. Lost Vegas was the largest city in Yuessay.”

“The largest city!” Norton laughed. “You’ve got that wrong.” Like most of history, he thought.

“No,” said Travis. “Lost Las Vegas was the largest city in your country, although that must have been after your era.”

“It must have been,” said Norton doubtfully.

“Is it true the city expanded so fast because it was a refuge for criminals?” asked Diana.

“A refuge? You think everyone in Vegas was a gangster, that it was some kind of hideout? That they’d rob a bank in Arizona, then head to Vegas where they’d be safe because the cops couldn’t cross the State line?”

“Did they?” she asked.

“No,” said Norton.

“Prohibition,” said Travis.

“Before my time,” said Norton.

“That was when selling alcohol was illegal in your country, yes?”

“People who wanted to drink alcohol had to buy it from an illegal source, yes?”

“Yeah. But it was only illegal for a short while.”

“Fourteen years,” said Travis. “Gambling was illegal in your country, yes?”

“Yeah. Mostly. Except at racetracks. And in Nevada.”

“Prostitution, yes?”

“Yeah. You’re right. Except in Nevada.”

“The majority of narcotics, yes?”

“Drugs? Yeah, drugs are illegal. Were illegal. Of course they were.”

“Even in Nevada?”

“Yeah. In my time, anyway.”

“You couldn’t buy drugs at a drugstore?”

“You could buy legal drugs, medical drugs.”

“If we’ve got this right,” said Diana, “during Prohibition, alcohol was only sold by criminal organisations. They made a fortune doing this, and the money was invested in businesses such as property development and health care.”

“Health care?”

“Certainly,” she said. “But we have a simple question: If people from your era wanted to drink alcohol, to gamble on games of chance and sporting events, to pay for various sexual activities, to enjoy narcotic relaxation, why were these things illegal?”

Norton tried to think of an answer. He knew there must have been one—mustn’t there?

“How do you know all this?” he asked. “Fourteen years of Prohibition. Organised crime. Gambling. Las Vegas. I thought most history had been lost and forgotten.”

“Not by us,” said Travis, glancing at Diana.

“Police records, you mean?” said Norton.

“Something like that,” said Diana, glancing at Travis.

“How’s your meal?” asked Travis.

“It’s good,” said Norton, which it was.

“Good?” said Travis. “No, it’s very good. But you’re not aware of it because you’ve never eaten food of this type and quality, yes?”

“You’re right, I’ve never eaten food like this before. As for quality, isn’t that a matter of… er… taste?”

“Taste has to be nurtured, developed, matured. Like so many other experiences, appreciation of good food increases with time.”

Norton wondered how much time he had. What did Travis want with him? He guessed he was about to find out.

“How old are you, John Wayne?” asked Travis.

“Three hundred and… er…”

Travis looked at him.

“I’m twenty-one,” said Norton.

“Had you bought a commission?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Were you an officer?”

“Yeah, sure. A police officer.”

“What rank? Lieutenant? Captain?”

“Were you a police chief?” asked Diana, with a laugh.

“This is serious,” said Travis, but he also laughed.

Norton wondered what was so funny.

“Whatever you were,” said Travis, “this is a new beginning for you, Corporal.”

“Corporal?” said Norton.

“Sergeant, then. You want to be a sergeant?”

“Yes, sir!” said Norton.

“Congratulations on your promotion,” said Diana. “Twenty-one. That must have been very young to be a secret agent, Sergeant.”

Norton looked at her—and he knew that she knew that he’d never been an agent.

“It would have been,” he said, “but I wasn’t.”

“You are now,” said Travis.

“Oh,” said Norton.

“You’re a complete unknown. You have no identity. No one knows you exist. Which makes you an ideal secret agent.”

“I am known; Mandy made a programme about me.”

“Yes, but transmission was restricted,” said Travis, “to a single screen and an audience of two. Any questions?”

It seemed he’d gone to a lot of trouble. Norton had plenty of questions, but he didn’t want to ask them.

“How did Las Vegas,” he asked instead, “get lost?”

“It was abandoned, reclaimed by the desert,” said Diana.

“The biggest city in America, you said, and it was abandoned?”

“That’s why it was abandoned. It was too big. It ran out of water.”