Drinks on the House

           JackstoodinthediningroomjustoutsidethebatwingdoorsleadingintotheColoradoLounge,hisheadcocked,listening.Hewassmilingfaintly.

           Aroundhim,hecouldheartheOverlookHotelcomingtolife.

           Itwashardtosayjusthowheknew,butheguesseditwasn’tgreatlydifferentfromtheperceptionsDannyhadfromtimetotime…likefather,likeson.Wasn’tthathowitwaspopularlyexpressed?

           Itwasn’taperceptionofsightorsound,althoughitwasveryneartothosethings,separatedfromthosesensesbythefilmiestofperceptualcurtains.ItwasasifanotherOverlooknowlayscantinchesbeyondthisone,separatedfromtherealworld(ifthereissuchathingasa"realworld,"Jackthought)butgraduallycomingintobalancewithit.Hewasremindedofthe3-Dmovieshe’dseenasakid.Ifyoulookedat-thescreenwithoutthespecialglasses,yousawadoubleimage-thesortofthinghewasfeelingnow.Butwhenyouputtheglasseson,itmadesense.

           Allthehotel’serasweretogethernow,allbutthiscurrentone,theTorranceEra.Andthiswouldbetogetherwiththerestverysoonnow.Thatwasgood.Thatwasverygood.

           Hecouldalmostheartheself-importantding!ding!ofthesilver-platedbellontheregistrationdesk,summoningbellboystothefrontasmeninthefashionableflannelsofthe1920scheckedinandmeninfashionable1940sdouble-breastedpinstripescheckedout.