The next day, Martin passed a note to Uncle. It was on a sheet of yellow legal pad paper. It listed several hobbyist electronics outlets and cities that would have instances of the stores.

After a workout that left both kids sweaty and panting, Uncle tapped Marting on the shoulder, “Time to go to New York kiddo,” he said.

Martin went and changed into casual jeans and a nondescript, blue t-shirt. Some generic blue, canvas sneakers and a plain blue painter’s cap finished the look. Uncle was wearing a similarly bland outfit in a grey t-shirt and faded jeans. His shoes were a simple canvas high-top style.

Turning to Martin, Uncle said, “I will put my hand on your head. You need to close your eyes and keep them closed until I tell you to open them. Walk three paces forward when I say ’now’.”

Martin closed his eyes when he felt the hand on his head. When he closed his eyes, he soon started to feel like a cool liquid pouring down from his head and covering his entire body. Uncle said, “Now!” Martin moved forward. As he took the second pace, his foot came down on ground that was an inch higher than his previous footfall.

At the third pace, the boy could feel the strange fluid on him just evaporate from his entire body. “You can open your eyes now, Martin,” came Uncle’s voice from behind him.

Martin looked around and saw that they were in an area behind a building. Loading docks were placed at intervals on the back of the building. The ground beneath their shoes was grimed with dirt and motor oil. The diesel-scented breeze swirled the random food wrappers and discarded chip bags lazily through the space.

Ignoring the uncaring glance of a stray cat, Uncle started toward the end of the alley that opened onto a side street. “Let’s get moving, Martin. One of the stores you named is just around the block.” They walked around the corner together. The boy could not help staring at the flood of traffic streaming by. Even the sidewalk had a busy stream of people of all ages and clothing. There were several small shops to his right as they walked toward the corner. One place was a pizza joint that blew an incredible aroma of their wares out and onto the street like a siren song of cheesy and breaded delights. A flamboyant figure in a loincloth and swaying on three inch stripper heels and nothing else whirled in a graceful, swooping dance. The man was dark skinned and muscular in a graceful way.

“New York is quite an exciting city, isn’t it?” Uncle asked the boy.

“Wow! I have no idea we could get here so fast! What store did you choose?”

“I picked Circuitcenter. I knew this location already. The pizza place we passed is really good, even for New York City. We should get a pie when we’re done in the store,” Uncle said with a smile.

They walked through the massive, glass entryway. The sliding glass doors enclosed them in a chilled retail space. The floors of polished concrete and the exposed beams, cables, and pipes on the ceiling gave a semi-industrial feel to the space. Salespeople cruised around the display cases and piles of merchandise like sharks trying to find the next bloody meal. Each salesperson was wearing khakis and inexpensive button-up dress shirts with a clip-on tie. The plastic name tags each wore on the left side of their chest were generic and had a printed sticker with their first name on it.

A short guy with heavy glasses and a dark shadow of poorly shaven facial hair. He seemed to be in his late teens or early twenties. His name tag was faded and worn, sporting the name ‘Trent’. “How can I help you guys?” he inquired in a bored voice, obviously looking at Uncle.

At this point, Martin stepped forward. “We need to see your single board computers, monitors, and keyboard/mouse combinations.”

The salesman sighed almost imperceptibly. “Over in the back, right side of the store, we have all of the hobby electronics. The keyboard section is to your right, and the inexpensive monitors are over here in the middle with the laptops.” He handed three stickers with bar codes to Martin. “Put those stickers on your selections if you would please.”

Taking the lead, Martin led Uncle over to the keyboard selection and picked up a wireless, Bluetooth keyboard and mouse bundle that was only thirty dollars. Next, he went to the back aisle and located the SBC cabinets. A salesperson came up to him eagerly. “Can I help you find what you need?” she said. She had lovely, green eyes that her glasses could not truly hide. Her smile was heartfelt and warm.

“I’m looking for the latest SBC with wifi, wired networking, and Bluetooth built in. It needs a good amount of memory and at least eight cores on the CPU,” he replied obliviously.

Uncle looked on with amusement as the girl deflated a bit from the businesslike response. The corners of his mouth lifted gently. She quickly turned to walk back down the aisle to a safety glass case. “Here are the version 8 SBCs that just came out. They come in four, eight, and sixteen gig versions. All of them have eight cores, and the video chipset can do one hundred and twenty frames per second at 4K and 120 Hz. I would advise the sixteen gig model.”

“Let’s get the sixteen. Then, I need a one-twenty-eight gig Micro SD to boot from. Then, we need the peripherals.”

The girl perked up at the idea of padding the sale. She quickly pulled out the memory card from another case. Locking both cases, she then put her barcode sticker on the packages for the memory and the SBC. “If you will follow, we can get the rest of your order together.” With her help, they picked out a smaller monitor and a basic wireless mouse/keyboard set.

Martin surprised the girl by asking for her barcode stickers for both peripherals. “Thank you so much!” she enthused.

As they walked to the checkout, Martin explained, “She was happy because she gets commission on anything we buy that has her sticker on it.”

“Why did you not want the young man to get the credit even though he helped us first?” asked Uncle.

“He pawned us off on another department, and she actually put in the effort to help us find and purchase the correct items.”

“And why did you not ask her for her number?” replied the older man.

“Huh?” Martin’s confused response came. “She would never be into me.”

Uncle just shook his head gently at the oblivious young man. They quickly checked out their purchases and left the store. The pizza joint was still busy, so they were in the midst of a large crowd, waiting for their order, when the police came running by. None of them looked into the restaurant. Uncle saw them go by and checked his watch. He finally picked up the box from the counter and moved quickly to the alley where they had arrived. Martin caught up and closed his eyes. He could feel the odd cool liquid pouring over him as Uncle said, “Now!”

There was noise from the entry to the alley, and a voice yelled, “Police! Freeze!” Marting stepped forward, and the last thing he heard from the alley was the same yelling voice saying, “Stop! Or I will shoo…” the last was cut off as the portal, presumably, closed.

Unfazed by their narrow escape, Uncle smiled as he called out, “Sylvie! We brought pizza! Please get the table ready!”