I looked across the table at Gilpatrick, wondering why someone with such a passion for life could think that living forever would be a curse.

"Yeah, I've seen that look before. Kinda funny, because sometimes it seems like society and I have gone in opposite directions on this one."

I shook my head, more to clear it than in negation, and asked, "so, why would you have called someone living forever 'cursed'?"

He shrugged, took a drink of his cocoa, and replied, "When I was younger, I travelled a lot. I mean, more than I do now, even. I think I've been in just about every country in the world, except maybe some of the landlocked ones."

"Were you a Marine then?"

He smiled, "I mean, technically based on that 'once a Marine, always a Marine, I still am. Retired, though. Anyway, you know what I saw in all those different ports of call?" When I shook my head, he said, "the same people, doing the same shit, day after day. Sometimes wearing different faces, sometimes not. It's... kind of like how I can guess what people are gonna say sometimes, especially when it's something that's been being done since... shit, probably some of it since we stopped foraging and started growing our own food."

"So, it's a curse because it's boring?"

He nodded. "Yeah, that's part of it. Thing is, while it's boring, it's an ugly kind of boring. People taking the same dumb chances to get rich, or powerful, or famous, and all of them winding up finding out, sometimes before they'd even had the chance to enjoy fucking around."

"You say that's part of it. What's the rest, then?"

He smiled across the table at me, taking another drink of cocoa before replying. "You don't miss a trick, do you?" He chuckled a little. "I think the rest of it was the lack of connection. At first I tried to make friends, get to know people, put down something approaching roots in every port of call. But then I realized that half the time, when I came back, no matter what advice I'd given them? They'd done the same damn dumb things that I'd warned them against, that I'd seen fail over and over and over. So eventually? I just stopped trying. You can't be hurt, can't feel betrayed, if you never really trust anyone, if you never make meaningful connections. So for a long time I was lonely. Long enough that it seemed that nothing would ever change that."

I nodded, at least as much to keep him talking as to agree with him. Of course, I did kind of understand his point. "Okay, yeah, I can totally see where living forever like that would be a kind of torture. But... you don't seem tortured. Not now, at any rate."

"So I seem like I used to be tortured?"

I wasn't sure why I agreed, but I did. "Yeah. I dunno why, you just do."

"You don't know why?"

I shook my head. "I mean, my first impulse is to say you chase enjoyment so hard because you're trying to kill that pain, but..."

When I trailed off, he just waited, sipping his cocoa. When he'd finished, he set the cup down and said, "but what?"

That startled me out of my moment of spiraling non-thoughts. "but you seem to genuinely enjoy life. I've had friends who are always chasing the next high. They always seem desperate. You don't."

"You sure it's not just my non-combat Bushido talking?"

I shrugged. "Maybe? But something about you tells me that's just an excuse, and explanation you tell others for something where they wouldn't understand the truth if you told them."

He shot me a crooked grin. "You're pretty good at this interviewing thing. You sure you want to go for a history degree? The world could use a few more journalists asking your kind of questions."

I laughed. "Oh, no. I can mostly write academic stuff because it doesn't have to be entertaining. But fiction, or even entertainment non-fiction? Can't write that to save my life."

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He shook his head. "That's kind of why I think you'd be good at it, and what people need. We've had too much 'entertainment' and not enough 'facts' in our real world information feed."

My laughter died down a bit. "Maybe when I've got my degree I'll look into that. Who knows? I might even start covering Super news."

That got a low whistle out of Gilpatrick. "You don't do things by halves, do you? That's kind of the deep end of the pool." He looked away, and I followed his gaze to a guy walking toward the doors of the restaurant. "Hold that thought."

In one smooth motion he stood, scooped up a spoon from the cutlery on the table, and headed for the door. Our waitress saw the guy go out the door and called out, "Sir! Sir! You forgot to... fuck." She glanced over at me apologetically. "Sorry, I'll be right back."

"Wait. Hang by the register for a minute." She raised an eyebrow, and I continued. "No, really."

"You think he's just gonna walk back in on his own?"

"Not exactly."

She shook her head, but I could tell she really didn't want to go running outside at the moment. Thirty seconds after she got to the register, Gilpatrick walked in with his arm over the shoulder of the guy who'd dipped out without paying. Now that I got a better look at him, the guy looked a little ragged. But when Denise rang him up, he forked over a couple bills, then turned to Gilpatrick and, stunning both Denise and I, gave him a quick hug, patting on the back and everything. Unlike the first time, when he'd slunk out the doors, he left with a bit of a spring in his step. Gilpatrick took a few moments to talk to Denise, then handed over a couple of bills folded together. She looked kind of surprised, but nodded and slipped them down into the register along with a note she'd jotted down.

Gilpatrick walked back over and sat down. "Another couple bits of Karma handed out."

I chuckled. "So, have you made your quota?"

He laughed as he shook his head. "I don't really work that way. I see something that needs handling, I handle it."

"I still want to know why he seemed so friendly with you when you caught him and dragged him back."

He shot me a lopsided grin as he toyed with some of the food left on his plate. "I didn't drag him back. Just reminded him that he's better than that. Also, somebody might have noticed that he's a homeless vet and loaned him some cash to pay his tab and get back on his feet."

"You really are a soft touch, aren't you?"

"I can't remember where I read it; might have been in a novel, might have been in a comic book, but there's an old saying about, 'never kill when harm is enough, never harm when hurt is enough, never hurt when holding is enough, the greatest warrior is one who never need hold."

"You were kinda holding him when he came back in."

"Yeah. Just another quote. 'Trust, but verify'."

I shook my head. "Well, it's not much, but if you wind up not being able to afford a room tonight, you can crash at my motel room."

Amusement twinkled in his eyes when he said, "kinda forward, aren't you?"

I nearly snorted the cocoa I'd taken a sip of. "No! I mean, that's not what I meant. Not that I'm not flattered, or interested, but I gotta, y'know, remain objective. For the interview."

He picked up one of his drinks, held it aloft to me for a moment, then said, "for the interview!" like it was some kind of toast. After that he finished off whatever had been in that mug, then started in on his food again.

"Seriously, are you gonna be okay tonight? I saw you leave another stack of cash with the waitress."

He shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the offer, but I half expect I might be getting a call before the night is out."

It took me a minute while he ate to figure out what he meant. When I did, I could scarcely believe it. "You think Denise is gonna let you crash at her place tonight?"

"Like I said before, I'm a pretty good judge of character."

I shook my head, still not quite believing how confident in his own game he could be. "What happened to Bushido style flirting?"

He nodded. "Fair point. Which is why I'm gonna ask what motel and room you're staying in, just in case. But like I said, I'm a pretty good judge of character."

I laughed, then tried to get us back on track. "So you said that when you were younger, you'd have considered living forever to be a curse. What would you call it now, and why?"

"See? You're a good interviewer. Shame you're not a reporter. Anyway, living now? In a world where not only can somebody access the sum total of human knowledge and creativity, but where knowledge and entertainment is discovered or created faster than a body can consume it? Blessed. Absolutely blessed."

"You're not afraid that it's all going to, y'know, collapse?"

He shrugged. "It might, yeah. But something I realized at some point in the last couple decades; just because something doesn't last doesn't mean it's not worthwhile, or beautiful. Enjoy the hell out of it while it lasts, because you never know when it won't. Last, that is."

"Y'know, I thought that young people were supposed to be the hedonists, and older ones the nihilists. By age group, at least."

He barked out another laugh. "Oh, but some of us old folks are dyed in the wool iconoclasts. And..." He looked over at the door, muttered something, then stood again, saying, "I'll be right back."

While he walked over to the front door, I picked up my recorder, rewound it just a little, and put it to my ear to hear what he'd muttered. "And... fuck, you'd think he was in town or something."