bag on the bed. The room had a basin, so he stripped to the waist and sluiced himself with cold water from the faucet.
Outside, the sky was darkening. Soon it would be MidNight.
Years before, Sukui had discovered Orlyons's idiosyncratic view of the calendar. From his reading he had learnt that the human brain was adapted to a 24-hour cycle: awake for sixteen, asleep for the remaining eight. The histories said there had been trouble adapting to Expatria's 14-hour day: some of the first colonists had even tried to impose a 28-hour system, working through two days and a night and sleeping for the remaining night. But the pressures of light and dark had proven greater than the so-called internal clock and the norm of waking an hour before dawn and then retiring an hour or so after dusk had taken over. Orlyons, however, had kept to its own version of the 28-hour system. In Orlyons alternate nights were different: Night was for sleeping, usually dusk to dawn; MidNight was for partying. Most of the port's population followed this system and consequently the town contained a network of drinking dens, gambling parlours, discotheques and many more houses of high ill-repute.
Now Kasimir Sukui prided himself on being a man of rationality, a man of science. As such, he had to recognise that his intellect was carried in a vehicle that was entirely animal in origins. Seeing the logic of this observation, long ago he had accepted that, like all human beings, he had his vices. He had urges that, if unsatisfied, would impair his functioning. Being a rational man, he looked after himself, and there was no better place on all of Expatria to look after the occasional animal urge than the port of Orlyons. Glancing through his window at the darkening streets, he tried to decide where he would go first on this, his first MidNight for five months.
One of his vices was gambling—it was so easy for logic to triumph over the probabilities of most games of chance—but that could wait. He decided, first, to call on Mono. She was a hard worker, something Sukui respected in anyone, regardless of profession. Mono was perhaps his favourite of all Orlyons vices.
~
She was the first woman he had been with in near to three months.
Kasimir Sukui's breathing rapidly returned to normal; he always kept himself in good physical condition, it was the rational thing to do.
He had found her easily. The bartender at Salomo's, her usual rendezvous, had told him she was in her room in the Gentian Quarter. Sukui knew her room well. 'She is an acquaintance,' he had told the bartender. 'I will visit.'
She hadn't changed since his last stay in Orlyons. Her olive-brown complexion was pure as ever, her hair long and straight and a black that was blue when caught by the sun. Her face had lit up when she saw who was at her door. It had been a long time, but she had remembered how he liked her to treat him.
Sex was a bodily function just like any other. Sukui did not like women who lost control in their passion, the ones who moaned and begged and clawed at a man's back. Mono was always quiet and dignified, only occasionally did she lose her poise and cry out. This time she had cried out, towards the end; Sukui took it as a compliment.
Lying slightly apart from Mono's tiny form, he studied the contours of her face. She looked composed in her sleep, content with the ways of her world. It made him feel good to think that he could make another person look so at peace. It made him feel whole again.
He had often considered the option of taking a permanent companion back to Alabama City with him. Perhaps it was the greying and thinning of his hair that made him think in these terms now. He had never shared a bed for more than simple gratification before and the thought of a face as contented as Mono's now was, beside him each morning, was a source of great temptation.
Mono twitched, her whole body jerking in her sleep. It was an animal movement and it reminded Sukui of the
Outside, the sky was darkening. Soon it would be MidNight.
Years before, Sukui had discovered Orlyons's idiosyncratic view of the calendar. From his reading he had learnt that the human brain was adapted to a 24-hour cycle: awake for sixteen, asleep for the remaining eight. The histories said there had been trouble adapting to Expatria's 14-hour day: some of the first colonists had even tried to impose a 28-hour system, working through two days and a night and sleeping for the remaining night. But the pressures of light and dark had proven greater than the so-called internal clock and the norm of waking an hour before dawn and then retiring an hour or so after dusk had taken over. Orlyons, however, had kept to its own version of the 28-hour system. In Orlyons alternate nights were different: Night was for sleeping, usually dusk to dawn; MidNight was for partying. Most of the port's population followed this system and consequently the town contained a network of drinking dens, gambling parlours, discotheques and many more houses of high ill-repute.
Now Kasimir Sukui prided himself on being a man of rationality, a man of science. As such, he had to recognise that his intellect was carried in a vehicle that was entirely animal in origins. Seeing the logic of this observation, long ago he had accepted that, like all human beings, he had his vices. He had urges that, if unsatisfied, would impair his functioning. Being a rational man, he looked after himself, and there was no better place on all of Expatria to look after the occasional animal urge than the port of Orlyons. Glancing through his window at the darkening streets, he tried to decide where he would go first on this, his first MidNight for five months.
One of his vices was gambling—it was so easy for logic to triumph over the probabilities of most games of chance—but that could wait. He decided, first, to call on Mono. She was a hard worker, something Sukui respected in anyone, regardless of profession. Mono was perhaps his favourite of all Orlyons vices.
~
She was the first woman he had been with in near to three months.
Kasimir Sukui's breathing rapidly returned to normal; he always kept himself in good physical condition, it was the rational thing to do.
He had found her easily. The bartender at Salomo's, her usual rendezvous, had told him she was in her room in the Gentian Quarter. Sukui knew her room well. 'She is an acquaintance,' he had told the bartender. 'I will visit.'
She hadn't changed since his last stay in Orlyons. Her olive-brown complexion was pure as ever, her hair long and straight and a black that was blue when caught by the sun. Her face had lit up when she saw who was at her door. It had been a long time, but she had remembered how he liked her to treat him.
Sex was a bodily function just like any other. Sukui did not like women who lost control in their passion, the ones who moaned and begged and clawed at a man's back. Mono was always quiet and dignified, only occasionally did she lose her poise and cry out. This time she had cried out, towards the end; Sukui took it as a compliment.
Lying slightly apart from Mono's tiny form, he studied the contours of her face. She looked composed in her sleep, content with the ways of her world. It made him feel good to think that he could make another person look so at peace. It made him feel whole again.
He had often considered the option of taking a permanent companion back to Alabama City with him. Perhaps it was the greying and thinning of his hair that made him think in these terms now. He had never shared a bed for more than simple gratification before and the thought of a face as contented as Mono's now was, beside him each morning, was a source of great temptation.
Mono twitched, her whole body jerking in her sleep. It was an animal movement and it reminded Sukui of the
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