Terry Neale - Jo-el

“What about my voice and accent?” I asked. I’d lost my Irish accent many years ago, but most Americans recognized I was from somewhere. When I went home to Ireland, they thought I was American.

“The computer will change it to match your look.”

I played around for half an hour or so, alternating from Caucasian to Hispanic to Middle Eastern, then to American Indian, with the full pony-tail, to Asian, that didn’t feel right for me at all and back to Caucasian. Absolutely incredible! Sally watched me indicating whether she approved or disapproved. She would frown or smile or give me a thumbs up or thumbs down. We were having fun.

“Can the Cirion people do this?” I asked.

“Of course,” Sally replied. “They also like bright skin colors.” Oh, right, I remember when Ka-el was showing me that video of the people of Cirion, many were green, must have been the color-du-jour.

“I guess they don’t have much racial tension?”

“Absolutely none,” she said. “Amazing that technology solved the race issue, isn’t it? But that was a long time ago on Cirion.”

“What about crime?” I asked. “If a criminal can change his appearance how would he or she be found?”

“Just about eradicated. The computer monitors everyone from birth. There are still acts of violence but one hundred percent are caught and punished.”

“So, do they have police?”

“No, or planetary military. No crime, no wars for millions of years. With the ability to adopt any racial look, the whole reason to conquer was eliminated.”

“But war is invariably a battle of power between megalomaniacs, it’s an ego thing. The proletariat just get to do the fighting and dying.”

“There aren’t any weapons to fight with and if some crazy person started to manufacture weapons it would be discovered in no time. You can’t hide that stuff. Anyway, nobody is going to fight for you. There’s no poverty, no underclass, no need to get all upset about your neighbor’s wealth. In a society where you only work if you want to and food is abundant, robots take care of your needs. Health is just about guaranteed. Sex is available whenever you want it, war is just not a consideration. It’s banished to the history books.”

“What about differences of opinion?” I asked. “People must disagree.”

“Sure they do. But nothing major. Maybe, which sports team is best, which food tastes better, what entertainment should win the awards. Nothing to fight about.”

“Sounds like paradise. Nirvana. Too good to be true. I would love to see it. I only wish Earth could be like that.”

Sally smiled.

“It’s been like that for tens of millions of years on Cirion, it’s accepted. But we must finish this part of your instruction. You need to pick a look that you will use consistently outside of here. One that will become recognized by the rest of the world.”

“I do?” I enquired. I was thinking this through. Why couldn’t I just change constantly.

“Keep the changes to blend in when necessary, to hide when you need to. Ka-el believes this will be best.”

“Oh well than, Ka-el has spoken, what more do I need to know? Okay,” I said.

I went with the Clooney-Craig guise. Looks wise it was lightyears ahead of my bald scalp and podgy face. Plus, it made me look twenty years younger. Who wouldn’t want to be back to their thirties?

“So what are you going to call yourself.”

“What’s wrong with Dave?”

“Nothing is wrong with Dave, but you need your alter-ego to be completely separate from who you are now. I think you’ve already figured out that you will be a target for many unsavory characters.”

That was true. Just being able to call up data on everybody on earth and delve into all history was power beyond belief.

“Okay,” I admitted. “What name does Ka-el think I should go with? I mean he’s the boss, right?” I was being flippant.

“Well, as you asked,” Sally grinned wide, her tone soft and pleading. They had already decided on a name; it was so damn obvious. “How about Jo-el?”

She pronounced it with the Jo separate from -el. Didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out where that’d come from.

“That’s it!” I said. “One word.”

“With the hyphen.”

“Just like Ka-el, with the hyphen,” I replied. “What does that make me his son?”

“Only by name. But it’s up to you, Dave.” She threw me her most persuasive smile.

I considered it for a while, but in my heart, I knew I was going with Jo-el. I mean these guys had put a hundred million years into this venture, I was the newbie. Plus, what did it matter to me, I was Dave Murphy and nothing was going to change that. Any different name was going to seem weird, whatever it was. Jo-el was right up there with bizarre, but with all this craziness and farfetched technology Jo-el appeared to fit right in.

“Okay,” I smiled and did a twirl, “let me introduce you to Jo-el, super-sleuth from the planet Cirion.” Jeez, it sounded totally ridiculous and cheesy. Who was I kidding.

Sally was beaming. “Take a break, go out and try some new characters. But leave Jo-el hear for a while.

“Why?” I enquired.

“More instruction.”

“More!”

She smiled warmly, “the best is yet to come.” Sally disappeared.

I took the train west on N Judah to Ocean Beach, still as Dave Murphy. I crossed the inner Great Hwy to the bathrooms by the beach and when I was out of sight I changed my appearance to a fortyish black man with a disheveled beard and an old grey coat. My shoes were tatty and the sleeves of the coat torn. I didn’t want to appear like a beggar, more just a poor black, working guy. I was fascinated and to be honest excited to experience how differently I’d be treated. The wind was sharp and very cold, blowing off the ocean. The waves whipped up white horses and the palm trees bent deeply over. I was comfortable, as if I was cocooned in an electric jacket and pants. My face felt the bitter wind but I was used to that. I crossed back over the road to find a café for lunch. This was going to be interesting.

The café was warm and inviting, freshly mopped floors and spotless checkered, blue table clothes welcomed the patrons. There was a sign at the door to seat yourself. The café was three quarters full, a table for two was available near the back on the right side. I took the seat against the wall so I could watch the people watching me. All the other guests were white, except a young, very pretty, black girl with an equally young white guy by the window. Neither of them paid me any attention. I realized quickly that my garb was by far the least desirable in the establishment. But my clothes were clean and I know my aroma wouldn’t offend the queen.

In fact, most of the patrons ignored me, except for two tables. On the other side of the café also at a table against the wall were two middle aged white women. The one with her back against the wall had looked up and then bent forward and whispered something to her companion. I hadn’t noticed the other lady look around. The second group who looked up when I was making my way to the table were two women and a man, elderly, maybe in their late sixties. I sensed a huddle and whispers as I passed their table. They were sitting not too far from me at a table for four in the open area. Both women had identical, ugly red hats, that flopped low over their ears. They looked like a couple of reindeers gearing up to pull Santa across the frozen wastes. They weren’t eating so I presumed they were waiting for their food.

The waitress, a young white girl, with long, light brown hair and pale, almost albino skin, plonked the menu down on my table, she didn’t say anything. As Dave Murphy, middle aged white Caucasian, I would have been surprised by the curtness. I had no idea what to thing as a fortyish black guy. I said nothing, she was gone before I could open my mouth. I browsed the menu.