Chapter One
Fall, 1998
For some reason which I will never bother to ascertain, European phones make
different noises than American phones. I sat in my office and listened as bleeps
and honks came over the Atlantic in pairs, waiting for my German friend Volker
to pick up his end. It was seven o'clock in the evening at my home in Wyoming,
but some un-Godly hour in Germany, so Volk was taking a while to answer. I had
important news that couldn't wait, and since he is a doctor, he would have to
answer the phone. For all he knew, I might be a sick person needing a bleeding
or something. Suddenly the honks stopped.
"What?" He said in a startled tone.
"You can't answer the phone that way," I replied. "How do you
know I don't have a bratwurst stuck in my larynx or something?"
"I know because if this were a medical emergency, my handy would be
ringing," He paused long enough for me to remember that a 'handy' is what
people in civilized countries call a cellular phone. "Only you call me at
3:00 am on this number."
"Well, you should be more polite," I responded. "Project Mis ... read full excerpt from: All Elevations Unknown ebook
