KATACLYSM: A Space-Time Comedy by Roy S. Rikman Page A

They’re mind-bogglingly obvious.  The press is always on about some political sex scandal and National Geographic practically has a weekly column on extinct African birds.  All of these things have perfectly reasonable explanations.”
    Flower wasn’t quite buying it.
    “Well they may not be the most inspired predictions.  I’ll give you that.  But I’m certain of one thing.  They all came true.  So it’s still a bit disconcerting when she seems to think that I’m just going to stop existing…like I’ll never have been born.”
    Flower began vigorously slicing a piece of fish with her knife.  Jude tried to change the subject.
    “Flower, I wanted to ask you about something you said earlier.”
    She sighed.
    “Go ahead.”
    “You mentioned that you didn’t mind telling me about your psychic because I’m not the Political Editor for the Boston Globe.  Now, I don’t mean to be rude, but it struck me as a fairly obscure reference and I was wondering if I could ask you a question.”
    Flower nodded.
    “Is there any particular reason you settled on those exact words?”
    “Oh that’s easy,” Flower said with a smile.  “Last week, I was tired of talking to Madame S about clothes, so I asked her to tell me something a bit more juicy.  Normally she doesn’t do this sort of thing, but that day I guess something came over her.”
    Flower leaned towards Jude and lowered her voice.
    “She said that if I was to hang around this tavern at lunchtime today, I would meet a Rhodes Scholar.  Can you believe that?  In this dump?”
    Flower let out a little squeal.  The bartender looked over and scowled.  Jude nodded slowly.
    “So anyway, I was going to really like this guy and he was going to turn out to be the Political Editor for the Boston Globe.”
    She glanced at her watch.
    “Hmmm, quarter to three…well, how about that.  I guess she isn’t right about everything after all.”
    Flower brightened considerably.
    “You know what Jude?  You are so right.  I’ve been awfully silly.  Thanks for showing me the error of my ways.  What a relief.  I’m in your debt.”
    Jude sat frozen.  Flower smiled at him.
    “You know, I really like you.  Yesterday I would never have thought that I would actually be happier having lunch with a cat massage therapist than some high powered intellectual editor.”
    Still, Jude didn’t move.
    “Flower?”
    “Yes Jude.”
    “What if I told you that I’m a cat massage therapist who moonlights as the Political Editor for the Boston Globe.  And that as it happens, I’m also an Oxford alumn.”
    She thought for a moment.
    “I think I’d ask you to use a little less Tabasco on your chips next time.”

Chapter 9
    Kiran and Jaya looked up from their computer screens as the Hindu mystic stepped into the private office on the second floor of his Beacon Hill home.
    “Hey Amish,” said Jaya snapping her bubble gum, at the same time using an elastic to put her long dark hair into a ponytail.  “How many more are we going to do today?”
    “I believe this is the last one.”
    The name Amish meant ‘honest’ in Hindi, an irony that was not lost on the mystic.  Though he was brought up in the state of Kerala in the south west of India, Amish, unlike his brothers, had never learned the ancient healing art of Ayurveda.  He simply never felt like putting in the time.  Not, at any rate, when there were so many computers around to pique his interest.  After earning a degree in computer science from the University of Delhi, Amish made several million dollars as one of Microsoft’s top programmers and, after five years of insane hours and little sleep, he promptly retired at the ripe age of twenty-eight.  He had quickly grown bored of the relaxed life though and now, two years later, he had also tired of his other home in Boca Raton.  If he was to buy the vacation home of his dreams, on the water in Palm Beach, he would have to make more money.
    One of the great