LITMIR.BIZ

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rolls me onto my back and straddles me the same way I had him. The contact point is electric. He says, “What are your questions? You’re the one who took off your top. Not me.”

      “Crew, which abilities do you have?”

      “Pretty much all of them.”

      “That’s impossible. Precisely which ones do you have?”

      “I can manifest, astral project, switch, and teleport in the here and now, but not into the future – without a lucid dreaming partner.

      “Impossible.”

      “It is possible. I’ve done it many times.”

      “Let’s say, for the moment, I believe you. Can anyone else in the world do what you are suggesting?”

      “Yes, there are two others, but they aren’t as good as me.”

      “How do you know this?”

      “Because we know and have hunted each other. One is a Russian named Larin, and the other is Chinese, named Li.”

      “This is too much to fathom. Should I assume the women you loved are involved with this story?”

      “Yes. I believe the Russians may have killed one, and Li killed the other.”

      “Were they collateral damage?”

      “No, they were the targets. Final question, please. You said three.”

      “You mentioned that you would tell me later the second reason you came here. That time has arrived.”

* * *

      I’m not sure how to tell Natalia about the storm brewing, that my trip to Romania is recruitment…of her. That the Pentagon reluctantly authorized me to share as much information as necessary to bring her home.

      “Natalia, my abilities are here-and-now by nature. If I could see the future, I could project into it and change it – but projecting into the future works only if I have a partner who can see it and connect me. That is why I came here looking for you. The world is in trouble.” Done.

* * *

      What? I’m flabbergasted. His two dead girlfriends were lucid dreamers? He came here looking for me?

      “Crew, if I got that right, your two lovers were killed by super-spies. So why would I join you if they are still out there?

      Won’t that make me a target?” The words fly out of my mouth.

      “Worse yet, you came here to recruit me to the CIA? Are you asking me to defect? If you are, I’m putting my top back on.” I might as well maintain my sense of humor.

* * *

      “Natalia, I’m here to recruit you to me, not to the CIA. If need be, I’ll ask your President for permission.”

      “Our President?” Her voice elevates. “What’s he got to do with this?” I find it notable that she could debate this while lying unabashedly half-naked. She seems not to notice. Tih s girl has focus and a killer instinct, precisely what I need.

      I calmly ask, “I assume you have heard of Operation Bright Light?”

      “Yes, of course, everyone in my country has. But we don’t know the details.”

      “I’ll tell you. Operation Bright Light brought our countries together. We built a CIA prison in Bucharest that allowed us to skirt our laws limiting the interrogation of terrorists. We interrogated Sheikh Mohammed in that facility, and Mohammed spilled the beans on the location of Bin Laden. We paid your government greatly to conclude that deal, efef ctively funding your ground-to-air missile program, which will be important to you when the Russians come calling.”

      “What is the point?” She is getting impatient.

      “I’ve known your President a very long time. He owes me one.” I’m not about to tell her or anyone else that the President is one of my closest friends. But, by the look on her face, she does not like this.

      “In any event, your three questions are up. We kept our deal?”

* * *

      “Yes, Crew,” I say softly, “you lived up to the deal, but we will make another one. I have no answer for your suggestion that I leave my country and sleep with you each night for your gain.” He looks taken aback by my honesty. My biting honesty. Oh, if my father could see me now. So far, Crew isn’t dull and doesn’t lack moral fiber. My gaze flits over him. He’s clean. An egomaniac? We shall see. But he is not a pig.

      Enough of that. I pull Crew to my lips. To me, there are fake and real kisses. The former are markers leading to the fulfillment of human needs. They mean nothing. The real ones are delicious and passionate and expose the giver and taker’s desires, triggering profound feelings. Desire creates action. Without passion, there is no action. His kiss is electric.

      I have loved no one. Maybe it’s time to change that.

* * *

      I brush her cheek lightly with my fingers and kiss her neck. Then her shoulder, on my way to her breasts. She has goosebumps. My pledge is history. Her legs are parted, and I keep them that way with my relaxed hand, then with my tongue, making any attempt on her part to resist useless. She jolts and pulls my face to hers, desperate to swallow me whole. I can feel her breath as her lips search for places that will make me lose control. We make love like there is no tomorrow. She falls asleep in my arms, safe, cared for, and respected. I wrap her as no other man could.

      The Dream

      In my dream, I see a female falcon soaring above the clouds early in the morning. The falcon lands in its nest atop a mountain. Her chick is waiting in the nest for food. The falcon feeds the chick and stretches one and then its other wing over the chick to protect it while it eats.

* * *

      I watch Natalia in her dream. Her REM elevates quickly. Deep REM typically happens ninety minutes into sleep, if at all. She is in deep REM after just a few minutes. I can’t help but whisper to her, “What do you see?”

      She is motionless. Her eyelids flutter; her face is calm, tranquil. “I see a mother falcon and her chick.”

      “Where?”

      “In their nest close to the top of a mountain.”

      I’ve indeed found a lucid dreamer. “What happened next?”

      “The falcon rose majestically from its nest. It was angry.”

      She is struggling. Her words turn to, “No. No.” Her body contorts. She’s in a nightmare. Crew, help. Help! She sends me thoughts to wake her up. I can hear them. But they are only thoughts. I shake her shoulders. “Natalia, wake up. Wake up!” Her eyes open. She breathes deeply and reaches for me.

      “What did you see?”

      “A falcon trying to kill me.”

      I know that the most frequent bad dreams involve something or someone trying to kill the dreamer.

      We sleep peacefully, but we sleep too late.

* * *

      My God, they will be waking up soon. “Crew, it’s almost dawn. I must get back.”

      At that very moment, a falcon takes flight. The drone is a perfect combination of animal and artificial intelligence. Its job is to locate me. I know this drone flies at speeds approaching 100 miles per hour, so it will not take long to find me.

      I’d learned from the IT guys about the drone called “Einstein.” According to the geeks, it was designed and named for research on birds and bees, first conducted by Albert Einstein in 1949. Einstein believed that animals could be the key to discovering human capabilities, and he was right. The SRI spent more than a decade turning Einstein’s idea into the perfect intersection between biology and physics. The Einstein drone can survey an area of roughly ten square kilometers and launch micro-drones the size of bees, blanketing an additional ten square kilometers. But Einstein does more than search. It can fire a deadly laser beam, making it a state-of-the-art

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