Yes, the action goes much more science fiction in nature soon after, but my theory is that human beings will stay pretty much the same at a fundamental level and aspects of our current civilization may well continue in a future-forward style.
There was no horde of press to navigate at the venue because the groundcar deposited them at a side entrance. Twilka swept inside and was immediately plunged into the chaos of preparing for a major show. Two of the models were having a catfight over who should wear the show opener, which wasn’t their decision in any event. She settled the squabble in a heartbeat, by switching the dress in question to a third girl, and stepped aside to confer with the event’s Master of Ceremonies. The entire contingent of models was staring at Khevan and trying to get his attention, some more subtly than others, but he was focused on Twilka. She could tell, although he was acting like a bodyguard, assessing the environment and all the people in it with a cold eye, watching for threats. His presence would be comforting, if it didn’t arouse all kinds of other emotions and memories she could definitely do without.
The trideo star swept in with her entourage and her bodyguards, who seemed like untested boys next to Khevan. Twilka escorted the group to a private space at the edge of the fashion maelstrom, and dresses were brought to be tried on. In under half an hour the celebrity was satisfied, walking out in a gown Twilka decreed suited her perfectly and would land Fiona in all the “best of” trideo streams, garnering priceless publicity for the actress and for Twilka. She lingered behind for a moment, sinking into a handy chair.
“Is it always this manic?” Khevan asked, moving behind her to rub her shoulders.
Rolling her head from side to side in sheer relief as the muscle tension eased, she said, “Your hands work magic. Is massage normally part of the D’nvannae bodyguard service?”
“No. But I can see you getting tense and from what you’ve said, there are hours of this event left to get through.” He lifted his hands away from her body as Lissa burst through the door with a quick knock.
Open mouthed, she stared from one to the other. “Oh, sorry.” Obviously recalling her errand, she said hesitantly, “I hate to interrupt, but the model tore the green sheath, put her foot right through the hem, and the girl for the purple-and-gold ball gown hasn’t arrived yet…”
“You may have to wear the dress and walk yourself,” Twilka said, rising. “It wouldn’t be the first time. Have we briefed the models on how I want them to strut this year?” Lissa nodded. “Good. Let’s go see how bad the damage is. Maybe we can stitch on trim to hide the tear in the green.”
“The seamstresses are all busy adjusting hems and taking in seams. There’s not going to be enough time…”
“I haven’t forgotten how to use a needle.” Twilka made a little sewing motion as she walked.
“And the girl who’s supposed to wear the finale piece hasn’t arrived yet.” Lissa had the tone of a person with a long list of problems to report. “I heard she got hired to walk in another show and might not be here for us at all.”
“Let me see who’s in the first third of the program that can do a quick change and we’ll pick a new girl for the finale.” Twilka brushed past a pair of stylists with arms full of accessories. “What else? I know you’re not done dumping catastrophes on me.”
Her assistant stopped dead. “How do you do that? Are you sure you don’t have psychic powers?”
Laughing in spite of her tension, Twilka grabbed Lissa by the elbow and dragged her out of the way of a stage tech burdened down with complicated equipment. “Just a lot of experience with these productions. I’ve seen it all at least ten times over the years. Nothing surprises me.”