This will provide you with a more comprehensive learning experience for the combat discipline called ‘kung fu.’ Are you ready?”I took a deep breath. Please work, and please, no side effects. “Go for it.”I gasped as my vision of the ceiling was shoved roughly aside, replaced by myriad cascading images, some still, some moving, a thousand pictures and clips flashing into my brain faster than I could comprehend. My muscles quivered, tensing and relaxing spasmodically, though I was barely aware of my body. A hundred voices echoed, as if a hundred masters were teaching a hundred lessons at once.Names attached themselves to the different styles my brain was absorbing: White Crane, Shaolin Wushu, Gung Fu, Jeet Kun Do, Tong Long, Tiger, Wing Chun ... the list rolled on.An hour passed. A day. A week. A year, and still the impressions kept on. Finally, they relented, and I returned to my senses soaked with sweat and panting as if I’d just run a four-minute mile. “Holy shit,” I breathed, barely. I told him I would clean up and that he should retire to the living room to smoke a cigar. ‘I don’t smoke,’ he said. ‘It’s just a concept. You don’t actually need to smoke.’ I cleaned up and called him in for dessert, a chocolate cream pie. I didn’t make it myself, that would be just a bit too domestic. But I know guys like chocolate, and I read it puts everybody in the mood. He had two slices which made me happy with my choice. I led the way to the living room. I tried to start my dessert with some kissing. He preferred conversation. ‘Did you ever have a really good meal in a fine restaurant?’ ‘Of course.’ I did date the well-heeled and my family was obscenely wealthy. But why is he talking about food when he’s got a sure thing? ‘Even though people are all the same, we all have basically the same parts, we all have taste buds, we taste things differently, we feel things differently, we smell them differently. ‘There are minor and major differences in our reactions to the same things.
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