16
After the best night in his life Isaac arrived to Wolanski's villa as late as 12. Woke up Bikie and Wolanski, made a big cup of coffee for each of them and a huge helping of fried eggs.
Having woken up at night at Michelle's place, Isaac actually hadn't slept anymore. The liquor was wearing off, but the headache was getting worse. He felt like lying down but it was time to set out for Italy.
Peter suggested putting off their departure for a day. Isaac was for it of course. In the morning he read a text message on his phone sent by Michelle, with no words but three kisses and a little heart. He wanted to see her again. Just the two of them without his friends. The memories of the previous night were warm and inspiring. But iron-willed Bikie showed no sign at all that he’d been boozing heavily yesterday and insisted on going. He said they should not allow themselves to relax, that he was fine and ready to take the wheel. It wasn’t his first binge, wouldn’t be his last. Isaac really wanted to stay, but he had no arguments to object to Bikie, especially since he knew that the only reason he didn’t want to go was Michelle. He made a feeble attempt to argue, explaining what he had with Michelle definitely was a relationship, passion and, probably, love.
“All the more reason for us to go! Michelle won’t run away from you. As an expert on women’s hearts, I can tell you Michelle is spoiled with men’s attention so she’ll find an original little character like you especially interesting. You caught her eye the way you are, stay that way. The ones who jump through hoops for her probably don’t catch her.”
“But all the same…”
“But all the same, we’re going,” Bikie interrupted. “Trust me, you can’t think straight about her in any case. Get in the van and let’s go!”
They set out five minutes later. Isaac only remembered about Vicky as they were driving past the hospital. He felt ashamed for forgetting to visit her and for letting Michelle drive her completely out of his mind. The second reason bothered him less. Maybe Michelle really could help him forget his sudden crush for Vicky?
It was sunny and roasting already. While Bikie drove, Isaac tried to doze away and asked him not to put on the music. Even in silence, trying to fall asleep on the winding streets of Monaco was pointless. Eventually the van climbed to the very top where the local road merged into the highway. Bikie was feeling great, and after Isaac took a pill for his headache he started recovering too. There was no point in driving in silence any longer, and it was strange not to talk at the outset of a new journey with the road stretching out ahead. Both friends were filled with contradictory emotions from the anticipation of adventure and a good hunt to a vague, indefinite fear of failure.
Ventimiglia was the first Italian town on their route. Like all the less prosperous inhabitants of the border regions of France, Isaac often visited its large local market. The low, modern buildings of the resort town were modestly mute about the ancient Roman consuls and emperors who used to frequent the area. The local Roman amphitheater, of which only ruins were left, once had been a place where humble slaves amused the rich.
Things were shaping up much the same way now, Isaac thought. Now the Veggies were the slaves, only by virtue of their intellectual abilities, not their physical ones. Their OE had been sold to those who had plenty of money and didn’t need to donate their creativity. Isaac knew from history that the Roman Empire didn’t fall in a single day, first it split into two parts – Western and Eastern. The Eastern part, which was also called Byzantium, was destined to flourish. Maybe that was because they stopped regarding slaves as things and started seeing them as people?
Isaac was still absorbed in his Ancient-Roman thoughts, pondering the idea of liberating the world from modern-day slavery, as they approached San Remo.
“Have you ever been to San Remo?” Bikie asked.
“Strangely enough, I haven’t, but I’ve heard it’s not as good as our resorts.”
“No resorts are as good as ours, but that’s no excuse for not going.”
“Then I’ll go see it one day.” “I’ve been here, on my bike.”
“And where else have you been?” Isaac asked.
“No many places in a car. But on my bike I’ve been as far as Venice and Geneva, and Paris, naturally. The farthest points I went were Amsterdam and Copenhagen. In Copenhagen I lived for a whole week at the famous Freetown Christiania. And in Amsterdam I had such a wild spree in a coffee shop, I was afraid to go near my bike the day after. My head was spinning. And you probably know yourself; it’s the kind of city where you’re always looking for a reason to stay an extra day.”
“True. After our last trip, we definitely have to go back there. We could go on bike like you wanted and take a look at the windmills and tulips and all the other stuff.”
“I’ve never seen any old windmills, only the modern wind turbines. There are loads of them everywhere now, not just in Holland.”
In confirmation of these words a row of immensely high wind turbines appeared on their left, smoothly taking the air. Isaac counted eight of them, brand new ones with