Following on from Part 6:
The first issue that occurred to Edrig as they planned their trip, was that of suitable clothes, but Adrig assured him that there were some available in storage.
'From a field trip in their year of 1972,' Adrig informed him. They should be fine.'
And so they were soon trying out their outfits and standing before a high mirror to inspect themselves.
Adrig, the older one, was tall and thin with a fine but long mop of silvery hair framing his rather craggy face. The steel grey eyes were bright, but the skin looked sallow and tired. In the 1972 Sample 717 stock box he had found a bright lime green shirt with large pointed collars, a red cravat to wind round his neck, held in place by slipping it through a silver ring. His legs were adorned with a pair of long white and widely flared cotton trousers, and he had selected black leather shoes with bright brass buckles on top.
'Not bad,' he declared as he viewed himself in the mirror, although a little concern was entering his mind.
'How old would you say that I look?' he asked Edrig, 'if I were a man from Sample 717?'
Edrig considered this issue carefully, because he did not want to offend his superior in both rank and years.
'Oh... about mid-fifties,' he offered, lying, because mid-sixties was closer to Edrig's genuine estimation.
'Hmm... The slim 717 ladies do like older men though,' Adrig pondered, hopefully.
'If the old men have money,' Edrig cautioned.
'We will have forged but fully functional credit cards my boy, and some money,' Adrig assured him, 'and we can lie, you know. That's how the men of 717 interact with women, basically. They just lie.'
'I think you quite admire the men of 717.'
'Indeed my boy. Indeed. They do seem to have certain things worked out.'
And by this time Edrig had rummaged around in the 717 1972 box and found something to kit himself out in. The shirt was less ostentatious than Adrig's, but was pink. The trousers were similarly flared cotton but with bold blue and white stripes, while the shoes were blue suede.
'Too fancy, do you think?' Edrig asked. 'These clothes seem more colourful than what we saw in the nightclub on the display.'
'But clubs vary,' Adrig assured him, pretending that he knew what he was talking about. 'And anyway, that's what's in the box so that's what we've got. We can always get something else when we get there, with the credit cards, if we wish. But I am sure that we are well fitted out for a balmy summer evening on the place they call Planet Earth.'
'In 1972 though,' said Edrig, still somewhat concerned while looking at his own image and considering that, in all truthfulness, he looked like a denizen of 717 who was in his fifties, at least. Edrig was shorter and fatter than Adrig, with more hair that still retained some light brown colour, but his crown sported a wide and shiny bald patch which he, thankfully, did not generally have to observe for himself. He could see it only if he bent forward in front of a mirror, which he avoided doing.
Adrig seemed to sense Edrig's concern and announced, 'You look not a day over forty-five! Which is not bad considering that you are really two hundred and twenty seven!'
'And you don't look too bad yourself Adrig, considering you are three hundred and eight!'
But while saying that, Edrig was really thinking that they looked like a couple of old men, much older than any that he had seen in the nightclub on the virtual 3-D display.
But those women... those beautiful, young, slim, oiled and gyrating women with just the flimsiest of clothing covering their parts... Ah, Edrig thought, surely it will be worth the trip whatever happens.