"FWLS55" - читать интересную книгу автора (A Future We'd Like to See)

I am not sure exactly how many years, but it certainly has been
too many.

*

The dojo was truly a modern one, far beyond the simple
wooden structure that was my old home. My old dojo was entirely
made of wood, a rarity in these modern times, with a sliding
paper door that faced the sunset and a faint smell of cooking oil
wafting in from the kitchen. This was a ground floor studio of
brick, not wood. There was a large streetview window, frosted
with the letters TATEWAKI WAE SPAT DOJO in four different
languages, not unlike my home door of paper. I had quickly
learned that one never saw the sun in C'atel, so no comparisons
could be drawn there.

The door was keypad activated and unlocked, so I tapped the
OPEN pad and walked through the sliding metal frame. Inside was
a waiting room, not unlike a travel agent's office, complete with
pamphlets and magazines.

"Hey there," a boy behind the counter said, waving to me.
The man hardly looked like a practitioner of Wae Spat, unless the
common dress style had changed radically. No apron and way too
much tie-dyed clothing. "Like, welcome. You here for tonight's
lesson?"

"I would like to meet the dojo owner," I said.

"He's a bit busy at the moment. Hey, want a Wheat Treatie?
I've got plenty more," the said, waving the dog-eared box at me.

"No thank you, mister...?"

"Wazoo Singleman."

"Mr. Singleman."

"Wazoo to you, dudette. Now, what's your name?"

"Sarah Ann Tatewaki," I said, bowing.

"Tatewaki?" he asked, pausing in his munching. "Whoa.
Related to Jim Bob?"

"Of course," I said. "May I talk to him?"

"Depends on your religion. Look, I'll go get Joey and he'll
talk with you. Wait right here, 'kay?" he requested, and
vanished into the back room with a blur of tie-dye.