Nighthawks Hopper

Nighthawks Hopper
Mother and Child
My Sweet Rose painting
Naiade oil painting
Despite a superficial sharpness, the image flickered and jiggled unsteadily, as ifthe recording had been made and installed with haste. Luke stared at the foreigncolors being projected into the prosaic atmosphere of the garage and started to form aquestion. But it was never finished. The lips on the figure moved, and the girlspoke—or rather, seemed to speak. Luke knew the aural accompaniment wasgenerated somewhere within Artoo Detoo's squat torso. "Obi-wan Kenobi," the voice implored huskily, "help me! You're my onlyremaining hope." A burst of static dissolved the face momentarily. Then itcoalesced again, and once more the voice repeated, "Obi-wan Kenobi, you're my onlyremaining hope." With a raspy hum the hologram continued. Luke sat perfectly still for a longmoment, considering what he was seeing, then he blinked and directed his words tothe Artoo unit. "What's this all about, Artoo Detoo?" the stubby 'droid shifted slightly, the cubish portrait shifting with him, andbeeped what sounded vaguely like a sheepish reply. Threepio appeared as mystified as Luke. "What is that?" he inquired sharply,gesturing at the speaking portrait and then at Luke. "You were asked a question.What and who is that, and how are you originating it—and why?" The Artoo unit generated a beep of surprise, for all the world as if just noticingthe hologram. This was followed by a whistling stream of information. Threepio digested the data, tried to frown, couldn't, and strove to convey his ownconfusion via the tone of his voice. "He insist it's nothing, sir. Merely amalfunction—old data. A tape that should have been erased but was missed. Heinsists we pay it no mind."