Eighteenth Chapter

Next day.

New York basking under the glory of a ball of fire.

Just woke up, John staring at the big ass electric fan facing staring down at him.

Yawned and stretched. He is ready to start the day.

"How many hours i slept?" He gets his rolex watch.

"11 hours, 32 minutes and 21 seconds, Boss." Sky sounded with no notice.

"I wasnt asking you but my rolex. Thanks Sky. 11 hours? I haven't slept this long in two life times. Hey..this watch stopped working. Its rolex. Maybe damaged by the ocean water."

"I can fix it boss." Skynet offered.

"You can do that? We have so much stuff to talk Sky. Come on, show me."

Sky quickly crawls down from his shoulder to the watch.

Sky just put one leg on top, voila! It started working.

"Done boss."

"Wow. How did you do that Sky?" John inspected it.

"Nanorobots boss. Any form of machine, i can power up, fix and assimilate myself." Sky explained.

(DO NOT BELIEVE. PLOT ARMOR ONLY)

"I can even do this." The spider Sky transform into a rolex watch exactly the same.

John dazzled. A second spider next second a gold rolex.

"Holy shit!!! You're a transformer! Im keeping you as a watch." No one can deny that a spider robot transform to a watch is more than awesome than getting rid of virginity. Facts.

"Boss, i have a technology called neural transmission or popularly known as neural link. No longer need to use speech to converse with me. It is the same as telepathy.

"Neural link? Do it." He is excited to talk to sky telepathically. No words needed. Just talk in mind.

"This will sting a bit Boss." A turret forms on the watch strap.

"Shoot." A nanobot shot like a missile to his ear and penetrates his brain. Its so small that the human brain dont even notice it.

"Boss, do u hear me?"

Sound in his head. Buzzing.

"Sky, ur so awesome! This is awesome."

"I am happy to be of service Boss." Robot do not have feelings. Dont know how Sky felt happy but okay. Carry on.

"Thanks Sky. Now i need coffee and a change of clothes.." clothes appears instantly from Sahara.

Shower and getting dressed, toothbrush too, he goes to the hotel restaurant.

Restaurant.

John stops for a seconds upon seeing the restaurant's guests because as if they are going to a ball, women in freaking gowns and men in suits. He is underdress as he only sported a white shirt, jacket and pants and boots. Same as them but not flashy and no wash.

Not minding these vanity loving people. He walks to an empty table. Then he sees a familiar beautiful abgelic face.

"Esme!"

"John?"

The two saw each other, surprised.

In no time, John approaches Esme.

John just staring at her dashingly beautiful looks along the way.

"Esme, Milady, good morning. Beautiful as always."

"Thank God Esme is here. I get to see such beautiful goddess." He doing monologue again in his mind.

Truth be told, he is obsessed by her beauty, elegance, quirkiness and body.

"John, good morning. Does English men so open saying such...visual praise?" She countered perfectly. She is smiling by the way, as if her day is complete seeing John.

She liked the feeling seeing John. She thought how they will see each other because they left no addresses. It was no problem afterall, small world.

Smiling intently with no intent to avert his eyes from her person.

"Only me. How are you? No nightmares?" He is concerned. Mental health is real.

"I dont experience nightmares nor dream." She said bluntly watching him sit beside her.

"Really? Not ever?" Suspicious cause everyone dreams. Everyone.

"No. Not ever. I have memories inside my brain since i was 2 years old." Esme expressed, she raised her hand to the waiter standing at the counter.

John nods to the waiter. The girl is taking initiative, whatever, its not the 15th century, its the 20th century when a woman can freaking do what she wants to do, like ordering her meal. (Hahaha)

"You must have photographic memory."

"Photographic memory? That's a new word." She wondered.

"Sigh. My young padawan, you have so much to learn." She pats her shoulder.

Esme straight look at him cause she dont understand again. Somehow, she sometimes dont understand the words of John.

"Photographic memory means." So he explains.

Ordering eggs, bacon, ham and coffee and croissant for himself. Esme ordered beans and bread and bacon.