CRASH THE PLANE

In the presidential section Hana Isomura, a slim, darkhaired girl in her late preteens, served a breakfast of miso soup and rice. As she wheeled the breakfast cart down the aisle she observed that some of the passengers were dozing in their shindai style skybeds while others were checking their itineraries or the latest bulletins from the Tokyo Stock Exchange, or simply taking forlorn last looks at the fading stars.

When she came to the somewhat handsome man in the goldstreaked Vuitton suit she put on her best smile and took special care in arranging his tray. Hana-chan had been told that he was Dr Ichiro Sato, but she didn't need any advice -- Sato was a legend in Japan, and every teenager knew of his relentless zeal for space. One day there would be Nipponese colonies on the moon, and tunnels deep into the fifth dimension (the so called Parallel Branes Project) -- Ichiro was the guiding light behind all of them (the wind in the sail.) Everybody knew about Dr Ichiro Sato, he was more famous than baseball players. So Hana-chan put on her best smile when she came to the somewhat handsome and slightly greying man in the goldstreaked Vuitton suit and Gucci shoes, as if she was serving the Emperor. This is simply, undeniably how it happened.

<<Sir, could I take your order please>> the bluehaired Hana said (she couldn't have been more than 12.)

"> <<Yes, could I have the basashi (raw horse meat) please, and a glass of cold tea>> said Sato-sama, who was known to be eccentric.

<<Is that using genetically engineered horse or narural?>> she asked (US Navy planes offered this kind of ultimate service these days. I'm serious!)

<<Ultra fresh >> Sato replied (of course!)

<<Farmed basashi, or wild?>>

<<Whatever you like. But make sure they're Mongolian.>>

<<What: grown in Mongolia, or a Mongolian breed?>> Hana continued.

<<Grown on the Mongolian steppes. And fully natural tea, thanks, no cancer credits. I'm healthy enough.>>

Hana entered the order into her notepad. Her name meant "Flower".