For Lilian and the Indigos - Above Top Secret

Chapter 3
The following morning I made breakfast, and, with the help of a ’bottie, I served it to Lee
in bed, climbing in next to him and tucking the silk of the sheets around me. I loved to
see his pleasure taken from my efforts, and if he had had none, I would not have
bothered. But he savored each bite, and thanked me more than once. When the ’bottie
had cleared things away, we made love again, with passion as great as when he first
returned.
As we lay there in the gentle warmth of the afterglow, kissing each other’s noses, eyelids,
and shoulders, I asked, “Is it time to read the diary?”
Lee smiled lazily, looking into my eyes. Finally he released me from his arms and
stretched, then said, “Yeah. I think so.”
I called a ’bottie to bring the book and moments later it arrived. We propped our backs
up with pillows and I carefully removed the diary from its plastic covers, setting it
between us. With respect and a gentle hand, I opened the diary to the first page, and we
began to read:
October 7, 2008
I begin this diary today because it occurred to me that someday my efforts
in this world might be of interest. Why? Because I find myself with Big
Ideas (ok, that’s how I think of them, at any rate; I see where they could
lead us on this planet, and it sure looks awesome to me) and a notion of
how to set them into play. And if I succeed, some might want to see what
happened from my own perspective.
I found this book, blank pages and all, in the hall at Loaves and Fishes –
Ithaca’s version of “soup kitchen.” There it was sitting on the back table
for any who wanted it to take. And I wanted it, so I took it. Sometimes
something of surprising quality shows up on that table, and I thank in my
heart those who provide these things to those like me who are struggling.
Let me explain my life situation as it is now. I am broke and homeless.
The Red Cross is making sure I have a place to sleep, and I go to Loaves
and Fishes five days a week for the meal they serve, as well as the donated
items they lay out on the back table. The community there is awesome,
and though I do not share the dogma of many, I share the spirit fully.
This is a far cry from where I once was. Once I was making $60,000 a
year working for a military contractor as a civilian. But when 9/11
happened, the contracts for what I was doing – graphics for interactive
software to teach recruits how to operate military devices and machinery –
those contracts dried up. And when they dried up, and I found myself out