Meeting Celeste

Meeting Celeste

An Appaloosa Radio Original Story

When things were going well, when the computer code poured itself freely into its allocated slots, when the iterations, runs and routines worked to perfection, when all the bugs and jinks had been banished. That’s when he took off his shoes, his socks and his shirt and wrote code au natural. He told his colleague and life-long friend, Mike, that when his feet felt the “reality” of the surfaces of the floor, it stimulated the neurons in his brain, made things clearer, opened options that he had not seen before.

In the early 1980s, computer programming was still an activity of white shirts, Snap-On ties, and pocket protectors full of a miscellany of pens.

That was not Rick. It may have been him once, back when he worked in the Department of Defence, running massive IBM behemoths, but it certainly was not him now. Now, he was running his own operation, creating computer schools for kids.  

The best idea that he ever had. Creating computer schools for kids! The market was unlimited. The work was straight-forward. Taking computer lessons from a book (that he had written) to a computer-assisted teaching design. Simple code. Nothing that complex. 

Yet, there were only the two of them, and the project did have its own obstacles.

Last night at three a.m., Rick had a mental breakthrough. He knew how to solve a problem that had been plaguing them for weeks. He woke Mike at an ungodly hour and they drove to the office, grabbing breakfast sandwiches and coffee on the way. For Rick, it was a monumental day of coding. 

For Mike, the work was arduous and, since they did not stop for lunch, very fatiguing. 

At a quarter to nine in the evening, Rick decided to turn off the systems. He pulled on his socks and his custom cowboy boots which had been made for him during a trip to Spain. He buttoned his blue-gray silk shirt that he had found in Milan. And, in spite of the muggy, South Carolina heat, he put on his black leather jacket, the one he had discovered in Montreal.

He walked down the open stairwell, then across the parking lot, and over a couple of short blocks to the Ramada Inn hotel where a live band was playing in the Lounge. The Friday night customers were filling all the small round tables around the parquet dance floor. A lot more action than three nights earlier, and this time he had drug along his working partner, Mike.

He brought Mike into the Lounge, sat him at a round table, and ordered him a drink. In the 1980s, South Carolina still required cocktails to be served without alcohol. Customers were handed a small bottle from which they added their own. Mike dumped the whole bottle into his seltzer drink. Scotch and soda is not worth much without the scotch.

With Mike appeased with a drink, Rick appraised the crowd that had gathered at the Ramada lounge.

~~~

While the various personal dramas were continuing on the dance floor, the computer guy left his friend Mike and walked over to where the young woman in the white dress was sitting. 

It was a frilly white dress that revealed nothing. Just the kind of dress that southern women would wear to their favorite niece’s high school graduation. Indeed, that is exactly why it had been purchased two years earlier. The family had gone to Atlanta for a graduation.

Not what typically what the swingers wore on Friday nights to area’s the most popular pick-up bar!

Still, he was attracted to her. She was extremely pretty. Dark eyes and dark hair. Tall and probably athletic. He guessed that she wore glasses but had taken them off when she came into the lounge.

“Hello, pretty lady. Would you object if I joined you for a while. I was noticing that your friend left you alone. Thought you might enjoy some company.”