Harold would get more chances to hyperloop, but on that particular day, he had been steno-stoned all the way through Kailua and to their destination. Like a nitrous-oxide buzz, the stenotoxication wore off fairly quickly - but the memory of it made him want to jump back on the hyperloop even though everyone assured him that he would never feel effects as strong as that first ride had hit him.

The Ka'a'awa hyperloop station was set in the hillside and they emerged surrounded by emerald rainforest. The clouds were huddled together over the ridge line of the Ko'o'lau mountain range and turquoise blue sky extended out above the verdant jungle until it met with the crystalline waves that rolled in and scattered at the edge of the reef. Inside the reef, the water was a remarkable deep royal blue color that turned into an aqua azure around the dark reef heads that could be seen flowering just beneath the surface. From their vantage point - Harold could see the Crouching Lion to the north and the distinct cliffs of Kualoa to the south.

Hu chuckled to himself as he realized that they must have come out in what, during his time,  had been called Jurassic Park. Kualoa Ranch had been the filming location that many films had used. He wondered if that idea or the films themselves had survived the passage of time.

"Are there still dinosaurs here?" Brian and Klee both looked at him like he was still stoned. He realized that he couldn't very well explain the concept of Jurassic Park without revealing he had traveled through time and so he let the moment pass.

What had been a cattle ranch and private reserve of some 8000 acres was now a patchwork of small scale agricultural ventures. While he couldn't see fences or lines, it was clear that these were not large agri-business types of farms. Cottages and houses that he now recognized as being standard prefabricated model were scattered around the landscape and while there were the same red paths here as there had been in Aiea, Honolulu, and Waikiki - there were far fewer of them.

The bike racks outside the hyperloop terminal also had fewer bikes - but still plenty for the number of passengers who were debarking.

"The coffee farms are back in the valley" Brian said. "The one we go to is a fairly large co-op so they have bunkhouses for transient workers and a fairly well developed tourist program. "

This statement surprised Harold. He needed clarification. "Tourism is still a thing?" Klee and Brian both giggled.

"What do you think we are doing?" Klee asked him. "This is work tourism. We come, we get to experience the work for a day or a week or a month and then we go back to our lives. We bring work tourists to the hospital on Maui all the time - but to be honest, medicine is one of those things that people either love or hate so most of them stay a very short time or they end up coming and exploring healthcare as a full time vocation."

"Are there still 'vacation' tourists? Like do people still pack their bags, come stay in a hotel, take tours, go to luaus and then go home?"

"That's so gross," Brian said. "They still do that in the eff-ess, don't they? Full exploitation and economic adventurism. Using people and cultures like disposable objects. I've read about how it used to be and I am grateful everyday for the general strikes and the suffering that the people of the Mutuals went through to end that. It's hard to believe that our home used to be a sort of cheap prostitute for propertarians to come exploit."

"Me too," Harold said, not sure if he could or should ask the questions that came to his mind. "This sort of tourism is far better." He didn't know what he was talking about of course, since he had not yet experienced it - but he was sure it must be better than the tourism of his time. The type of tourism where exploited people with big gaping empty quicksand pits in their souls tried to fill their cavernous black holes with experiences, food, spa days, and stories to help them survive after they all too quickly had to return to being exploited by capitalist bosses.

A short bike ride and they arrived at the coffee farm. The work tourists were divided into daily, weekly, and monthly guests. Brian, Klee, and Harold were among the dailies. There were about twenty of them total. They were walked to a large bunkhouse - it was a red single wall construction building with white trim. Inside there were - what else - bunks and cabinets for each guest.

The young woman who had been tasked with leading them there told them to choose a bunk, stow their gear, and then meet her outside five minutes later. She pointed out where the commode house was - another red building nearby in case anyone needed to use it before their orientation.

They gathered on the grassy area behind the bunkhouse and waited for the rest of their group to join them. It was more like ten minutes before everyone was there, Harold was pleased to see that Hawaiian time was still a thing. He'd noticed that no one wore a watch - it seemed like time was more of a judge it for yourself kind of thing though he had seen clocks on the walls in some of the buildings he had been in thus far.

"I'm Lindsey," the young woman said to them when they were all finally there. "I'll be your mentor and guide while you are here. First of all, is there anyone who has been on a coffee day before?"

About half of them, including Klee and Brian raised their hands. Lindsey motioned to all of those with their hands up."

"Great. I don't need to give you guys the orientation so if you want to grab your boots and head over to the south plot, there will be someone there to point you in the right direction. We're in the first week of the second harvest so you'll be picking the coffee cherries that are ready - later on we'll move you over to drying, sorting, and roasting - so get ready to have an awesome coffee day. Oh, and if you want to stop and grab a cup at the brewhouse, feel free - but please, don't spend too long - we rely on your work. Also, I'd like to encourage those of you who have come back to book a longer stay with us in the future - you obviously like it here enough to come back - why not get a little deeper into things?"

She waved them off and the group split into two. Those leaving moved to a large rack of open boxes where they selected big rubber boots. Just like in a bowling alley, they left their shoes behind in the rack they had taken boots from.

Once Lindsey had the newcomers by themselves she began her orientation. "Who knows where coffee comes from?"

Harold thought he knew but didn't want to single himself out. He was strangely nervous without the reassuring presence of his friends to support him.

Others in the group shouted out their answers "Texican Nation" "South American Mutuals" "Vienna" "Australia" "Jamaica" "Africa" "Turkey" - they pretty well covered the entire world map.

"Whoever said Africa was right. We don't know who the first was but the story we have been passed down goes a bit like this. Some very observant genius-goat-herder in what used to be Ethiopia saw his goats eating red berries and becoming agitated. When the goats didn't die, he tried himself and felt the light intoxication of caffeine. Well this genius made it into a tea and introduced it to his friends. Everyone loved it. The desert nomads concocted a better way to brew it and they gave it to the Turks and Arabs. The Turks and Arabs refined the process of brewing and roasting. All the math and science exploits of the Islamic Era are to some extent attributed to a bunch of caffeine wired Arabs drinking too much coffee. In any event they gave it to the Italians and it spread like wildfire through Europe creating the enlightened period of the Renaissance. We can thank coffee for DaVinci but it probably also gave us the Medici and banking too and when it spread to the Netherlands and England, it certainly contributed to the birth of capitalism. The Spanish realized they could grow it in South America and when the colonial American's had their famous Boston Tea Party and threw their king's tea in the harbor, they became coffee drinkers too and I've heard that the entire American Revolution and the creation of the rights of man came about because of those guys drinking too much coffee. One thing for sure Marx and Engels wrote the Communist Manifesto while meeting in coffee houses and when the RSA started pulling their totalitarian stunts - it was the Island and Asian Mutuals - Indonesia, the Philippines, Hawaii, Vietnam, Malaysia, Thailand that created a system that was able to reject their dictatorships and give us the world we live in today. When the women of the mutuals organized the first General Strike - the picket lines were fortified with coffee and when the first communities were created - the sleepless nights on caffeine diets were how the best decisions were made. So, does anyone think coffee isn't important?"

She had seemingly just defined the history of the world as the history of coffee and she had done it in what Harold suspected might have been a single breath. Everyone in his group looked as impressed as he was.

"So, here is what we will do this morning. First, you'll change into some good work boots. Then, I'll take you on a quick tour so you can see the whole process of coffee farming. Along the way you will get to try the best coffee of your life. Then, we'll rejoin our friends among the coffee trees and you will be able to take part in this awesome and incredible work. You will be making a difference today. You will be making the world a better place."

This was exactly how the day was spent. Harold had been a fairly knowledgable coffee drinker in his day. He'd actually known it originated in the region of Ethiopia, but he'd never really put all the other ideas together before. He wondered how accurate it was. Was human civilization really just the result of an advanced fire-making monkey eating a specific berry? It made as much sense as anything else. He remembered reading how Terrance McKenna had claimed that the human mind had evolved because it was expanded when early human's ingested psilocybin. Why not? Why not human culture being a side effect of pleasurable substance abuse.

This reminded him of his intoxication that morning. He hoped that he hadn't embarrassed himself too much. In any event, it made him glad to have a little bit of time away from Brian and Klee. Also, he still needed to sort of figure out what was going on with he and Klee. Was this just a birthday fling for her? What was it for him?

Lindsey hadn't lied. The coffee they were given was extraordinary. Through the orientation he learned that he hadn't really known much about coffee at all before. He hadn't known that coffee is in the cherry family or that coffee cherries were sweet or that the beans were actually the pits of the fruit or that the tiny white coffee flowers were so fragrant. He hadn't realized that a darker roast meant less caffeine and he definitely hadn't ever been exposed to the amazing permaculture philosophy that they used to grow coffee in Ka'a'awa. Nothing there went to waste. Humans were an equal part of the coffee ecosystem.

When he finally rejoined with Klee and Brian, it was time for lunch. They all sat together at a table under the shade of a giant monkeypod tree. The food had been distributed in what Lindsey had called 'co-op style'. Harold would have thought of it more as buffet. The folks doing the cooking and washing up were excited to have their guests eat.

"Are these people work-tourists too?" Harold asked

"Some of them probably are," Klee said, "but mostly when people come out to the farms on work tourism, they want to do the farm work. My guess is that most of these folks live around here. It always amazes me how something so similar can be so different."

"What do you mean?" he asked her

"Well, take this rice for instance. This rice tastes totally different from the rice we ate in Waikiki yesterday and the rice on Maui, forget about it, a totally different creature. Same thing with the way they cook the fish here or the corn. And...it's not just the food. The way people talk, even the gestures they make. If you pay close attention, the little regional differences are so amazing."

Harold had nothing to say to this. The changes he had witnessed were mind-blowing. And yet...

"But the beautiful thing," he said "is how they can be so different but at the same time you can recognize them as being the same. We used to say 'same same but different'."

Klee laughed "I've heard old women say that before. You must actually be as old as you look. Oh, I'm still going to find out."

This coming from the woman who just turned seventy-five.

After the mid-day meal, they were allowed to go work in the section of their choice. Brian wanted to work in roasting but Harold and Klee decided to keep hand picking in the coffee orchard. Every coffee cherry had to be hand picked, selected for perfect ripeness, and gently plucked from the tree. It was a joy to be working in the orchard with Klee and while they may not have gotten as much work done as a couple of seasoned farmers would have, the relative privacy of the orchard allowed them to enjoy plenty of distractions as they got to know each other better.

By the time night had come, they were exhausted but they joined the others in singing, dancing, playing games, and telling stories around bonfires. Harold could see why this was such a sought after and highly respected experience. It was far better than any tourist vacation he had ever been on.

They were all exhausted when it was time to hit the rack. Klee snuggled up next to him on his bunk and they both fell asleep without even taking their clothes off - though, in true timeless Hawaiian fashion, all the boots and shoes were piled up outside the door.