Gordon bought the suitcase, never suspecting it held a life-changing device from a very strange future.
A preview chapter from the novelette "Suit Your Self" by Lainie Lee
Suit Your Self
By Lainie Lee
Chapter I
All the luggage lost by airlines in America and unclaimed within a certain time ends up in a mall in Alabama. Why? Well, why not? This isn't fiction, you could, as Casey Stengel used to say, look it up. The Sargasso of Suitcases, the Limbo of Luggage exists and is just a warehouse-like storefront in a medium-size town.
"Look around," the clerk tells everyone. "The selection changes all the time and if you can't find what you're looking for, we probably don't have it." He smiles because he tells the same lame joke every day, Tuesday through Saturday, noon to 6 p.m.
* * *
Gordon McKewn stroked the seal-brown moustache in the middle of his cocoa-with-heavy-cream face and looked around carefully. He had heard about this place on the internet and thought he might find a bargain in the strange store. Cameras for seven dollars, shoes for two dollars, a set of golf clubs for fifteen. What he really needed though, and why he had left his hotel in Atlanta, rented a car and driven to Alabama, was exactly what the store abounded in, luggage itself.
A nice suitcase, not too big to carry-on, but big enough to hold two changes of clothing and all the necessities for an overnight or weekend stay in a strange city. That would be ideal. His new job would involve a lot of traveling and his old luggage was hardly adequate for a rising young executive with a fast-growing multi-national company. He grinned; he liked that self-description. He'd been grinning a lot since getting the promotion, the first black man younger than 40 to be promoted to such a level in the company.
Eventually, the new job would mean a lot more money but right now he had to watch his pennies. He had a lot of choices in the strayed and forgotten baggage; almost every piece priced less than a quarter of what such items cost new. Even with the cost of the rental car he would make out better than buying stuff new, and he could put the car on his expense account for eventual reimbursement from the company.
Some of the bags he found came already full of stuff, no extra charge.
One of these seemed really choice, a high-tech looking suitcase of nearly perfect capacity. The clothing it contained obviously had belonged to a woman, lots of frilly stuff, mixed with more casual things, all of high quality and probably expensive; maybe Gordon could give the clothes to his girlfriend. Not that he had one right at the moment; his workaholic habits had gotten him the promotion and lost him several female companions. He should be able to make some points with a future girlfriend with these things, though; silky, lacy underwear and a fashionable-looking black dress, but also a corduroy jumper, walking shorts, tees and tanks and a set of sweats. A pair of stretchy silken slippers had been tucked into one of the inner pockets.
"That stuff will never fit you," said the clerk, smirking.
"I know someone it will fit," said Gordon. Not quite a lie but anything to annoy the clerk. "I think I'll take this one."
The clerk didn't really care but he pointed out the matching, if somewhat smaller case beside the first one. "Want that one too? Shame to break up the set, you got the weekender, an overnighter might come in handy and the two together come to only $38."
Gordon nodded. The slightly smaller bag would do for shorter stays, or use both for an extended stay. "Ok, I'll take them both," he decided. He picked it up and set it beside the larger item and paid for both of them, along with one of the cheap cameras and a set of nice golf clubs.
He didn't play golf yet, but expected to learn soon and the clubs were an incredible bargain. He didn't realize until later, much later, that the clubs were a ladies' set, much too small for his lanky 6'3" frame.
So it was that Gordon drove the rental car back to Atlanta before opening the second bag.
* * *
Up in the room his company had rented for him in a fine Atlanta hotel, he first emptied on to the bed the cheap plastic luggage he had brought with him. Then he opened the larger suitcase and took out all the women's clothes he had found in there before and dumped them in his old bag.
He spent some more time looking his new bag over and smiling, pleased at the bargain he had found. Discovering the lost luggage warehouse while surfing the internet had turned out to be a fine piece of luck. He put some of his stuff into the new bag, and some of it in appropriate places in the hotel room; he'd be here another few days.
Then he took the attached key and started to open the smaller bag, noticing as he did that it was not quite a perfect match for the larger one. "They ain't the same," he said aloud, a little disappointed. He wouldn't normally use non-standard English like 'ain't', but he wasn't quite so careful when just talking to himself,
But it was true; the suitcases were not the same. The handles were different, and there didn't seem to be a keyhole in the smaller one, besides other detailed differences in hinges and decorative ridges and grooves. "Wottahell," he muttered, looking the bag over more carefully. The big bag had come with two attached keys of the normal, flat metal kind and Gordon had assumed that both bags took the same key. But there was nowhere to insert the flat key and the only opening he could find in the smaller case that might be a keyhole was on the side, near the hinges. About as big around as a ballpoint pen, it seemed oddly placed and even more oddly shaped for a keyhole.
He shrugged, took a pen from his pocket and stuck it into the hole. Something inside went click, the bag opened easily and music began to play, a lively, if slinky tune with a vaguely Arabic or middle-eastern flavor. "It's not a suitcase, it's a big music box!" Gordon exclaimed, stepping back.
A console not unlike that on some computers--the kind you find in the map kiosks of the larger malls--completely filled the interior of the bag. A panel that looked rather like a computer screen in the lid lit up and images of beautiful but strangely dressed people began to parade across the glass or plastic or whatever the surface was made of. Gordon leaned closer for a better view, maybe he had got a really good deal, a powerful computer for less than twenty bucks? "What kind of computer is this?" he said aloud.
"English!" the speakers suddenly blared, startling Gordon back again. "Yes, here at Suit-Your-Self! we speak your language! This SuitCase contains mechanisms to allow you to order and accept delivery of any and all the merchandise for which we are justly famous!" The voice had the mellifluous sonority and manufactured enthusiasm of a drive-time DJ.
"It's a damn advertisement in a suitcase!" Gordon shook his head in amazement.
"Yes! It's the SuitCase; just choose a Suit from our extensive collection and our devices will produce one for you immediately, on the spot! Your Universal Personal Credit Account will be billed and the number has already been entered for you. Please read legal disclaimer before wearing any suit. Remember here at Suit-Your-Self! our name is our motto!" The music became a fanfare and colored lights flashed across the screen in intricate and beautiful patterns.
A little awed, Gordon tried sneaking up on the suitcase to see what it might be talking about. He'd missed the part about the UPCA or it might have worried him, not that he had one; such things were still at least fifty years ahead in Gordon's future. But Gordon was too distracted to notice something that would have sounded suspiciously like identity theft.
The screen image dissolved into teeny tiny lettering; warnings about wearing sample suits for longer than specified times, and about using the supplied solution for easy removal of the suit and.... But it all scrolled past faster than Gordon could read it. Frustrated, he yelped, "Stop!" but that didn't work. He tried pressing a few keys, or at least areas containing symbols on the surface of the panel that looked like a keyboard. The whirling letters paused to show an impossibly stacked redhead with a face like Marilyn Monroe. Gordon gawped.
A nude Marilyn Monroe in full-color and apparent 3-D--plus sound and motion--he realized as she winked at him, shimmied her bountiful curves and cooed, "I love being me." Gordon goggled at her. Soft porn pictures on a computer were hardly new to him but he hadn't been expecting such a libido-enhancing image. And how the heck were they doing the 3-D on a flat screen? He actually tried to look behind the screen--suitcase lid--then felt embarrassed that he had been fooled by the hologram. Still he'd never seen one this good in full-color and motion, yet.
The advertising voice started up again, drowning out anything else Gordon might have been thinking. "You have chosen, LS-213NJB-042R3, our Lifestyle Mary Lynne Classic in Auburn! A wise choice, sir or madam, and certain to please any discriminating taste. Thank you!" The smarmy voice oozed congratulatory gratitude.
From a slot he hadn't noticed at one edge of the panel, the SuitCase began extruding a thin silky-looking film. From another slot a white plastic card emerged and a third slot produced something that looked a lot like one of those wet napkin packages given out at fried chicken fast food places.
"Please!" the suitcase exclaimed causing Gordon to jump again.
"Damnit!" he complained. "You're gonna scare the life outta me!"
The box ignored him and continued speaking, "Remember, the Deluxe, Lifestyle, Fantasy and Exxxotic models from Suit-Your-Self! all contain Patented Mass-Folding Pockets to give you exactly the look, size and shape you desire! Every suit in the Lifestyle, Fantasy and Exxxotic models also includes programmed aids for your enjoyment; so that you not only look the way you want to look, you can move and act appropriately as well! Sonic Enhancements even in our CustomFit Suit line for the Voice That Suits! And all Suit-Your-Self! models include Sensory Enhancement Technology Interface for that 'It's really me!' feeling! Remember at Suit-Your-Self! our name is not just a motto -- It's a fact!"
The voice changed suddenly, accelerating into a nearly incomprehensible babble of weasel-worded legalisms:
"Satisfaction.guaranteed.all.caveats.apply.void.where.prohibited.apply.in.person.or.by.
virtual.persona.insertion.at.suit.your.self.headquarters.for.settlement.of.all.complaints.
not.responsible.for.psychological.trauma.or.mental.changes.such.as.addiction.personality.
dislocation.gender.racial.or.other.dysphoria.not.for.resale.samples.provided.free.of.charge.
use.at.your.own.risk..."
The rapid-fire monotonic babble stunned and confused Gordon. He stepped back from the SuitCase and shouted at it, "Shut up! Wottahell are you talking about!" The SuitCase responded by abruptly cutting off in mid-sentence and snapping closed with a final sounding ka-chunk!
Lying on the bed were the three items extruded from the strange artifact with the manners of a carnival pitchman and the saccharine suavity of an infomercial: a length of silky cloth, a plastic card about 2x3 inches and a packet that looked as if it contained a large "moist towelette".
Gordon just stared at the objects for a moment. The little card had a picture of the naked redhead on it so he picked that up first. Startled, he discovered that moving the card caused the image of the woman to pirouette and smile. "Wottahell?" he murmured, fascinated in spite of his disorientation.
It was a full-color 3-D image too, of higher quality than any he had ever seen in a hologram; it looked just like the one on the screen of the SuitCase. The redhead's lips moved and Gordon heard her whisper sexily, "I adore getting naked."
If he moved the card, she pirouetted again and said something else. Gordon watched the routine all the way through several times, blinking each time she spoke. And each time, she said something different; sometimes repeating her previous announcements or coming out with new bimboesque utterings such as, "Dance with me, lover." "Tell me I'm beautiful." And, "I love to be loved."
He turned the card over when she had repeated herself twice. The backside of the card had a simple set of instructions. "Remove other clothing. Wrap length of Suit around trunk of person to be Suited; seamed edge uppermost, smooth side out, textured side next to skin. Overlap ends. Suit may be easily removed during initial fitting period by use of Separation Signal Solvents in Special Applicator Package. Do not neglect body cavities and interstices between digits when applying for safe, rapid and complete removal. After fitting period, contact Suit-Your-Self for instructions on how to remove this Suit."
"Huh?" said Gordon.
He picked up the 'Special Applicator Package' and read much the same instructions there along with an assurance that the Separation Signal Solvents were "Safe, Sanitary and Subtly Scented".
"Is it like a blow-up doll?" Gordon asked himself but since he didn't really know, he didn't answer. He thought about opening the suitcase again to see if he could interrogate it but decided not to. The machine had come close to shattering his sanity with its noise and salesmanship.
He picked up the shimmery length of translucent gauze and examined it instead. About ten-inches wide and four-feet long, it did have a seamed edge; a sort of thickening along one edge, anyway. It also had a smooth side and a textured side; the smooth side like satin, the rough side like terry cloth made of hosiery nylon. "Weird. Weird. Weird," Gordon muttered to himself.
Impulsively, for a reason he couldn't quite fathom, he began to remove his shirt and pants. In a moment he stood in briefs and socks looking again at the 'suit'. Feeling slightly idiotic, he wrapped the gossamer thin material around his bare middle as described in the instructions. "Might as well try this?" he said, wondering only a bit at the almost compulsive need to feel the silky Suit next to his skin.
...
...continued in "Suit Your Self" by Lainie Lee, E-Book available from Doppler Press and Lulu.com. Just $1.25.
