tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17581835815012780152024-02-21T22:01:06.918-08:00Flash Fiction and Other Stories...Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.comBlogger50125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-1547882219876882212021-03-01T05:22:00.002-08:002021-03-01T05:22:38.510-08:00End of the Blog<p> It's been fun but also it's been going on for too long now. So I've shifted over to a new blog.</p><p><br /></p><p>You can check it out <a href="https://newadventuresinscifi.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">here</a>.</p>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-6561151063479097282020-06-06T06:23:00.015-07:002023-11-03T20:11:36.915-07:00Snap Snap (Alternative version of Double Hit)<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.27cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">It’d
been a stressful month and by that I mean no assignments, no extra
income to fund too many bets on laserball that hadn’t gone my way.
Contemplating a fall in my credit ranking, my usually miserable state
of mind was in danger of hitting rock bottom.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><a name="__DdeLink__2133_789345560"></a><a name="__DdeLink__2136_1596197625"></a>
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
had been dozing on my bed in the afternoon heat when a vibration from
my transponder implant alerted me. I was soaked in sweat, and an
empty bottle I was still tightly clutching glinted in the sunshine
that bathed the room.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Ambience
4</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">,
I called out, and a breeze of cool air washed across the room and
enveloped me. I shivered.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
got up and tumbled across the bed to the window.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Light
setting 3</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
photochromic sensors permeated more light into the room and I looked
out onto the city streets below.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
transponder vibrated once more and I looked at the display on my
wrist-comms.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>2
pm assembly. Protocol Alpha.</b></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
yawned … </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Ambience
3</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">,
and the flow of air reduced.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
room was four metres square and that was how I liked it. Easy to
heat, easy to cool.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Task
Red</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">,
I mused. It was a nice way of putting it. The man in the mirror with
his dark parting and pasty face appeared to agree with more
enthusiasm than I could quite muster up. A contradiction between
one’s physical appearance and spirit!</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
showered and dressed, choosing a sickly yellow outfit to match my
mood. A degree in astrophysics but somehow I’d ended up here – a
</span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Mr.
Fixit</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
taking his late breakfast at the diner on the lower floor of the
building; pancakes with a strong coffee; just another statistic on
his way to work.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Stepping
outside, I hailed a magnepod.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
pod’s CPU picked up my ID from the transponder implant secreted
under my arm.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Good
afternoon Mr. Sun, and where would you like to be taken today?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Work.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Employment
location BL32ST4U271?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Correct.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Thank
you, Mr. Sun, we have a stream slot in 35 seconds and our journey
time will be 13 minutes and 29 seconds. The fare will be three
credits.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Mmm,”
was the only response I could muster as I sunk back into the plush
padded bench seat.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">A
beautiful afternoon, Mr. Sun.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">That
it is,” I mumbled, gazing out at the view of hushing carriers. Up
above blimps quietly slid across the skyline while in the distance
the slipstream sparkled.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
magnepod slipped silently into auto-stream. “Going somewhere nice?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">A
party,” I lied, getting my fiction from a flashing advertising
hoarding. “Red Wedding,” I smiled.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><a name="__DdeLink__211_629088234"></a>
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Ever
tried Asua tonic? On special all week.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">You
don’t say.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">A
beverage that soothes a pallet with the freshness of mountain dew.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Adjusting
the tint of my window, I took off my sunglasses and wiped the sleep
from my eyes.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Recommended
by nine out of ten consumers. Top of its kind since 2136. A five-star
rating in ten of the last …”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">And
that’s all that there is on offer?” I interrupted.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Please
specify product category,” replied the sound-card as we took a
sharp turn to the left.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Forget
it,” I sighed. “You’re only programmed to promote the products
advertisers have paid for.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
watched the swarms, the scrapers and towers, seeing it all in the
blink of an eye; the spoilt and the sick; the privileged and those
who wouldn’t last the night. “Just drive, and make it snappy,”
I said. “Time’s kinda depending on me.” A futile request seeing
as everything was programmed to travel at thirty sectors an hour.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">In
the holdall beneath my jacket, the pistol passively awaited a
fast-approaching time of destiny.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">* * *</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
door to my boss’s office slid silently to one side. I stepped
through. Warm carpet, ferns and cacti; her wide data-desk and behind
it the bank of video monitors – images of major cities blinked at
my tired face; London, Amsterdam, New Deli …</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Mr.
Sun, so glad you could join us.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Despite
her petite stature, she was not a boss to be messed with and was cold
by nature. Beside her stood Blondie, another agent like me; except
ten years younger and hair bleached to perfection. His immaculate
appearance was enough to put me to shame.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">You
are late,” my boss continued. “As an agent of time, I’m sure
you appreciate the irony.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Apologies.”
I held my arms wide while she turned back to Blondie: “This
information,” she said to him, “is not to be repeated. You
understand …”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Understood,”
said Blondie, quivering with importance.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
picked at a thread in the left arm of my suit while our boss moved to
the window, to her view of the spiralling slipstream. “That will be
all,” she whispered, meaning Blondie and not me. “You have your
orders.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Blondie
shot me an arrogant smile, leaving the room as quietly as I’d
entered it.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">It
was some time before the silence lost its appeal. A </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Task
Red</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">,
sure, and that carried some weight, but there was more going on here,
I could sense that already.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Going
to explain the theatrics?” I asked. “You know as well as I do
that I’m anything but late.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">She
continued to stare at the slipstream, her small body tense. Then in
the same tone she’d used with Blondie, she whispered: “He must
not know,” obviously referring to Blondie.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Know
what?” I answered, moving over to the lounger. I sat down, still
watching her.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Mr.
Sun,” she huffed, still not looking at me. “What would you say …”
She turned. “… Mr. Sun, have you ever heard of an unconsolidated
double hit?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">A
bad snap, snap?” I said bluntly, picking again at the thread in my
suit. “You know I have … it was part of my training.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Yes,
Mr. Sun, … the bad snap, erh, unconsolidated double hit,” she
said, almost falling into my slang. She walked over to me. “And
don’t for one second think that this is to be taken lightly.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Sure,”
I answered, looking up. </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">A</span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>
snap snap.</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
A mark is taken out by one of our agents – a time bandit from the
future, an illegal to be snuffed out quietly. But something goes
wrong and our terminator gets the wrong guy. Or rather: “Right guy,
wrong version. Are you suggesting Blondie out there’s about to get
things very badly wrong?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">My
boss stood before me, her face a few inches from mine. Mauve
eyeshadow and balmed lips, small black eyes that carried a force to
be reckoned with. “The mission,” she breathed, “is a Mr.
Tsutsui who will be targeted at exactly seventeen minutes past nine
this evening. However, a message sent back to us from just before
midnight … it carries information that both the present and future
versions of Mr. Tsutsui will have disappeared when the minute hand
hits eighteen.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">You
don’t say,” I answered. “Anything else to confirm?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">As
a matter of fact, yes.” Her face was still close. “Another
message from tomorrow has just come back. The body will be confirmed
as the current version of Mr. Tsutsui.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
let out a wheeze, impressed by Blondie’s ineptitude. “Messed up
and then some.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Quite
so, Mr. Sun.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">She
seemed to drift out of her intensity then back to the business at
hand. She strode to the other side of the room.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">And
you’ve sent him out on the assignment anyway?” I sat up straight,
watching her hands glide across the data-desk surface touch screen;
her interface with all corners of </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>The
Agency</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">.
Behind her, the large video monitors continued to blink while the
ferns and cacti remained contrastingly passive. “Why not take him
off the case?” I asked. “Assign me to take future Tsutsui out.
I’ll make no –”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>If</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
in fact, you were more familiar with double hits, then you’d
appreciate that the rule of no interference still stands.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">But
why? If Blondie hasn’t yet –”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Oh,
he will,” she emphasised. “It has already been decided. He will
neutralise the wrong Mr. Tsutsui. Our future agents have informed us
of that.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
future, it is written,” I mumbled. </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Hutori’s
third law</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">.
“Except for that of Mr. Tsutsui.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Erased,”
confirmed my boss. “Which as an astrophysicist, you understand is a
very dangerous business. The sensitivity of time …”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">So
it’s up to me to initiate the </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Protocol
Alpha </i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">before
our friend Blondie –”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Exactly,
Mr. Sun. If the future Mr. Tsutsui dies by your hand first, then the
mathematics of the two deaths will be much less complex.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">You
mean he won’t just blip into non-existence … or will he?” I
mused. “But hang on,” I thought. “So what? His body … it’s
just the same.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Mr.
Sun, there are plenty in the agency who have gone into a panic
regarding this case. We will repair what we can, but your job –”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
double hit. Yeah, I get it.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">There’s
a lot riding on this, Mr. Sun.” Her arched eyebrows gave their best
shot at a frown. “Even the tiniest rip in the fabric of time …”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Sure,
sure.” I tapped at my laser pistol. “As simple a job as any,” I
said, putting on the best smile my miserable face could manage. “Rest
assured. I won’t let you down,” but I was thinking of the
remuneration such an assignment would bring.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">* * *</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">When
I left the office, however, I couldn’t shake the feeling that
something wasn’t right.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">A
new message came through.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> 9</span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>
pm Protocol Alpha to be confirmed. Hydym District. Central.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
pictured my boss sitting at her data-desk. If Blondie turned out to
get the right guy after all, that is to say, the future Mr. Tsutsui,
then none of this would be happening. His existence, as it stood,
would not be altered and we’d be none the wiser – it had been
proven, however, that such changes could have psychological effects
ranging from minor paranoia to full-on psychosis. </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>But
how about those from the future?</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
I thought. </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>If
the original message had been a flag to tell us of Tsutsui’s
imminent arrival, then a future with Tsutsui would have to exist too.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">My
boss was right. There was much about double hits that I had yet to
learn.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">* * *</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">On
the thoroughfare outside my office building, the pods swished past
busily. On the walkway, there was a crowd of protesters – the usual
problem, androids taking our jobs, the effect of drones on the
environment.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
pushed my way through. I had time to kill, I liked irony, and it was
still afternoon. I hailed a pod but rather than heading to the
agency’s gym and spa to tone up for the task in hand, I decided to
visit the data warehouse in the same building to brush up on my
knowledge of double hits.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Using
my level two clearance, I took the elevation pod to the thirteenth
floor. The security droids nodded down with their beaming LED smiles;
they would have been updated with my impending arrival and clearance
status, and I gave them the salute, asked them how they were holding
up. Twenty-four-hour days, but someone had to do it.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
found a monitor and sat down.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Sensing
my presence the monitor turned itself on:</span></span></p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Welcome
Mr.Sun, how can I help you today?</b></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Double
hit,” I muttered, and the screen filled with text and I started to
read.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>First
recorded incident: 2111.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
digested this information and added my own thoughts.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>A
year after the agency was set up. Three years after the origination
of time travel …</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Travelling
forwards had never been accomplished and was regarded as a paradox,
but since it was discovered how to travel back, we began to have a
few unexpected arrivals. Illegals, most of them hoping to increase
their credit status: when one could predict the rise and fall of
commerce, what to gamble on … the time of the </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>sure
thing</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
had arrived!</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">A
titanium strength gambit.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">However,
messages would follow them back from future employees of </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>The
Agency</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
with instructions to intercept these bandits, most often with orders
for a </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Protocol
Alpha </i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">expungement.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
information pertaining to the first recorded double hit in 2111 was
vague, and that was putting it kindly. The mark had been a Mr. Maya.
He’d shifted from two years in the future. Reason: unknown. Future
job status: unknown. In 2111, he’d been unmarried and working in a
factory as a supervisor. The factory designed circuits for
electro-motives. Our agents had carried out the double hit inside at
a swanky hotel on Junjd Street. They’d both been in there – the
future and present Mr. Maya and they’d each expired at the hands of
</span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>The
Agency</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">As
I continued to scroll through the records it was apparent that the
story was always the same. I found six incidences in total where a
double hit had been successfully expedited, but each time it was
simply the name of the target, a status description and the place and
time of demise. Each time the ramifications of the original mistake
were unknown – to erase a future person from existence; my head
hurt just thinking about it. I suppose they just disappeared without
trace … but if the present person was also erased how did they get
to the future … and if he had fathered a child during the
intervening year, what happens to the child and anything else he had
left an indelible mark on … </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>ouch,
paradox headache indeed!</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
stood up and stretched, realising I was getting nothing of any use
from this. </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Just
wipe out the guy and get the credits,</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
I thought. </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>What
the hell am I even worried about?</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
was about to leave when another idea struck me.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
typed in Mr. Tsutsui and got 3 hits. A company lawyer, a kindergarten
manager and another whose job description remained as classified,
however many attempts I made to pull it up. </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Damn
my level two clearance,</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
I thought. I was beginning to get curious.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
company lawyer worked for Asua, the corp’ that makes the tonic
water, and had three residences in the city. They were grade seven
apartments, nice places: his job was to investigate corruption in the
franchise. The kindergarten manager was a mid-status family man. I
considered the reasons why these two Mr. Tsutsuis may find themselves
in future trouble. The family guy loses his job, comes back to put
things right. The lawyer travels back to build a stash of credits he
doesn’t need. I stared at the third name in frustration. It was a
gut feeling and nothing else. When it’s blue sky and fluffy clouds
but you know a storm is coming. If my suspicions were right, this
could be bigger than a simple double hit. Just as with the lawyer,
the third Mr. Tsutsui had a number of city apartments, one of them
caught my notice as being worryingly close to Hydym’s Central.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
stood up and stretched again. The thirteenth floor was almost
deserted apart from an old woman giving off the vibe of an old-school
professor; piles of notebooks and scribbling notes from her monitor.
Four young student types – one engrossed in his work, the other
three gaming in silence. There was a man like me but twice as
dishevelled; four empty caffeine replenishers and the tired eyes of a
journo.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
had to find someone with a higher clearance than level two. But for
that, the only one I knew well enough to ask was my boss herself,
</span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Miss
Ice-maiden</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">.
I hoped I could trust her not to take me off the case. </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Too
many questions, Mr. Sun. That’s not what I employ you for.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
was </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Nemesis</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">,
there to do a job. “Double hit … snap, snap!” I muttered. I’d
laser strike to the head, quick and easy … then move on.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
future Mr. Tsutsui already existed somewhere. He’d travel back, and
here we were in the past, ready and waiting with an unexpected
welcome.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">* * *</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">A
future Mr. Tsutsui.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>What
is his intention?</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
I thought. </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Why
must he be expunged?</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Future
intel’ has informed </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>The
Agency</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
that it will all be a catastrophic mistake. Blondie’s error,
because he was destined to kill the present Mr. Tsutsui, not the
future one.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
deed having been done, would he just fade into a black hole of
nothing before my very eyes?</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>The
future Mr. Tsutsui.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">He’d
be erased and that meant something.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
decided to give the gym and spa a miss and return to the </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Ice-maiden</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">,
to air my concerns. Leaving the building, I saluted the droids once
more.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Have
a nice day,” one of them purred, its burly joints glinting in the
artificial light.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">* * *</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">It
was just gone four twenty. I hailed a pod and slid into the back.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Good
afternoon Mr. Sun, and where would you like to be taken today?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Work.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Employment
location BL32ST4U271?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Correct.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Thank
you, Mr. Sun, we have a stream slot in 22 seconds and our journey
time will be 9 minutes and 12 seconds. The fare will be two credits.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Ever
tried Asua tonic? On special all week.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Rhetoric
status 0,” I replied. “Light Piano Music status 3.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Please
specify.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Something
local. Something modern,” I replied through gritted teeth …
</span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>bloody
computers.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">A
simple concerto started to play and I sat back trying to think.
Wondering where the paranoia was coming from, I cursed my miserable
existence. The astrophysicist who’d become an assassin …a killer
… a murderer.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">What
was I trying to be? A hero? Or was it just a job!</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Just
take the credits and move on to the next whisky.</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
But a classified status meant I was a man with power and influence –
I had to know what I was getting into because paranoia or not, the
risk of making a huge mistake was far too great for all of us,
especially me. Blondie’s current predicament had brought that home.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">* * *</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Mr.
Sun.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">My
boss turned from the window, gesturing for me to sit. “Yes, yes,
tell them I said so.” She was currently wearing a
micro-transponder, deep in conference with faces on the holi-monitor
wall behind her desk, and I rested there silently, the loose thread
in my left sleeve once again taking my notice. “No, no, no. My God,
man. Can’t you do that yourself?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">She
flashed me a smile.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">She
obviously had speaker implants as I could not hear who she was
talking to and a face in the wall occasionally spoke silently.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
waited some more.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Well
get Hailsham to do it!”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">In
obvious frustration, she tapped her micro-transponder on her wrist to
end the conversation before turning to me. She wore that smile again:
this time a little less genuine.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">So,
Mr. Sun,” she snapped. “I’m assuming this is important?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">You
could say so, though that of course depends.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">She
rounded her data-desk and tapped at an icon on the surface.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">This
case,” I said. “I’m getting a bad feeling that there is more to
it than you are sharing with me.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Not
paying you to feel,” she muttered, still staring at the display on
the desk.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
said nothing. I cleared my throat. The fern by the door needed
watering. The air was dry.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">This
Mr. Tsutsui. What exactly does he do?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
have no knowledge of that.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">No,
not in the future. I mean now. His job. His status.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">She
glanced across at me. “Mr. Tsutsui is a state official. I’ll tell
you that and nothing more … you don’t have Level 1 clearance. He
will be at his apartment in Hydym, you will find him there and
expedite matters. Take a magnepod. Be in the sector by
twenty-hundred. The exact location will be sent to the cab and
further instructions will be sent to your SP … this will be based
on information received.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Sure,”
I answered. I crossed my legs, then uncrossed them. “Information
from where?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Mr.
Sun, you know how this works. Future agents –”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Yeah,
I’m familiar with the procedure.” I’d raised my voice slightly.
“All I’m asking is whether you can trust this intel.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">She
seemed rather taken aback. “Trust, Mr. Sun?” She almost laughed.
“How long have you been working for me?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Three
years, two months.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">And
has trust ever been an issue?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">But
what if an … look …” I sat up straighter, not even sure of the
integrity of my own judgement. But I couldn’t shake that hunch.
“Our job,” I said, “is to apprehend those who have illegally
travelled back to our time. Bandits, people; but what if, say, it
wasn’t a person this time. What if it were a rogue message?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Mr.
Sun, the communications for this case have come from within our
department. They have come from the future, from the same channels we
always work through.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">But
what if someone infiltrated those channels?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Impossible,”
she clicked. “And besides, this is not one message we’re talking
about. There have been a number of them, from various personnel.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Easy
enough to hack.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Dammit,
man.” She was angry now. “You think data contamination is
something we don’t check? Just what kind of setup do you think this
is?” She broke protocol and pointed to an image of a man on her
data-desk. A grey-haired man, high cheekbones, thick eyebrows,
wearing a blue tie and mainland suit. “Mr. Tsutsui,” she stated.
“Our second sub-secretary of state finance. He is currently being
investigated for corruption related to credit malpractice. All
predictions show that he will lose his job within the week. It is no
surprise why he wants to come back.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
stared at the picture. He had a long nose, a trusting smile. The sort
of smile that’d get a homeless man to part with his last remaining
credit.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Credit
malpractice?” I questioned.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">An
open and shut case; disregarding the mistake about to be made by our
Mr. White.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Blondie.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">As
you so insistently call him.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">And
you’re sure …”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Sure
of what, Mr. Sun?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
leaned forward.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Sure</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
that Tsutsui will, in fact, lose his job?</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Sure</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
that he isn’t about to be promoted and not fired?</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Sure</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
that he isn’t a man that in a few years will hold enough power for
other parties to see him as a threat?</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Sure</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
that there may well be those who wish to get rid of such a man.
“Parties,” I said, “who may, in fact, have influence within
this very organisation?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Mr.
Sun, you think too much.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Not
what you pay me to do.” I looked down at my hands. I was a cleaner,
not here to ask questions.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Listen,”
she said to me, “I appreciate you coming to me with this. With your
… theory … but I can assure you –”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Yeah,
yeah. I get it.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">She
huffed. “If it makes you happy, I’ll go through the case one more
time. Not as if I have enough to do already.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">She
turned back to her data-desk and began tapping away while I sat there
stupidly.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">She
looked up.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Well?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Well,
what?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">You
have your orders.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">So
I’m still on the case?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">She
stopped.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Mr.
Sun, if I have to replace you, I will. But I’m trusting that will
not be required?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Right.”
I stood up. “Get myself to Hydym Central and wait for further
instructions.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">She
looked up and called out “Amethyst.”.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
door to her office slid to one side and in walked an elegant silver
android. “More caffeine,” she ordered, and the android bowed,
picking up an empty beaker and left the office.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">And
Mr. Sun …”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Yep.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
want you a hundred percent on this.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Ok,
off for a greening now.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">* * *</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">By
greening I meant a spa and workout. A few legal drugs and a fresh
change of clothes. The yellow suit was getting to me. The loose
thread that I couldn’t quite leave alone, an irritation.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
took a pod to the nearest retail and spa facility. Spent an hour in
there and came out a new man. I bought one of their suits, cheap but
thick and tough; dark red and professional. It was how I was feeling.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">A
new message came through on my SP.</span></span></p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">BL35ST2U22
21:16</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
checked the time, just gone nineteen hundred – two hours to wait. I
set my SP notifier to 21:16.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
had the idea of checking out this Mr. Tsutsui, of finding him now and
following him. I could determine the current version so I’d know
which one he was. I could contact Blondie, find out the location of
his </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Task
Red</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">.
We could work together on this, we could stay in conference with the
</span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Ice-maiden.</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
The three of us could disobey orders … correct Blondie’s destiny
… and take full responsibility for controlling the timeline …
</span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>repairing</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
the timeline.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Dammit,”
I cussed. Because none of it would work. Blondie’s mission couldn’t
be interfered with and neither could Mr. Tsutsui’s. My boss had her
orders and I’d promised her no more questions, no more acting on
hunches.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
took a sub-carriage to Hydym Central, then continued on some more,
all the way around the city. I browsed my SP for some Retro-Manga and
I read through that. Xenophobic aliens resolute in destroying our
planet; aliens who’d never succeed because luck would always be on
the side of our heroes; Besides, we were quite capable of destroying
it ourselves … the nuclear event of 2052 bore testament to that …
that must have been a wake-up call!</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
second time at Hydym Central and I got off with the shuffling
minions; up the case and into the retail district – the heat had
gone from the day and it was now a cool autumn evening</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Aware
of the laser pistol at my breast I strode purposefully through a
crowd of browsing consumers.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
bought ten centi-credits worth of meat protein from a street-vendor
as I made my way.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Building
thirty-five was located just on the edge of the sector. Modern and
plush with a hanging roof garden and silver tiles, it stood in a line
of buildings, all of similar architecture. Behind it was a lake and
park. Beyond that, the rising slipstream.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Between
myself and the building was a thin road with buzzing pod-bikes. Here
on this side was a 24-7 and a clutter of cheap restaurants – the
kind where the oil’s recycled and the chefs never washed their
hands but the taste was always addictive, enough to keep you coming
back. It was as good a place to wait as any and I opted for a noodles
eatery, ordered some ramen and sat outside.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
entrance to the buildings across from me was guarded by a security
droid of burly stature, but the code sent through to my SP from </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>The
Agency</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
would be detected and circumvent any problem gaining access.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
slurped at my noodles, going over what I’d do. </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Enter.
Expunge. Disappear. </i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
same as always.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><a name="_GoBack"></a>
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
finished the ramen and waited, studying my bowl of green tea. At the
table next to mine a group of young women were laughing merrily.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
looked at the SP; almost 21:00 now and I was beginning to get edgy.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Then
another message came through.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Protocol
Alpha update: Tap tap. Unavoidable.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Oh,
crap!” </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Tap
tap</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
meant the two hits would be in the same location. Blondie and I, both
in apartment two, and that was risky.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
was just processing the implications of this when a further message
came through.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Enter
BL35 at 21:10.</i></span></span></p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">And
then another.</span></span></p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>You
will have exactly 6 minutes. Don’t let me down.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">A
personal message from my boss. I wondered what was worrying her.
Looking up from where I sat to the windows of apartments 2.2, I
noticed a light had now come one. “Control yourself,” I muttered.
This mission, it was getting to each of us. As I watched, the light
went off again. Then by the gates, I spotted a dark-suited agent. A
DEV, responsible for feeding our company the mark’s movements. DEVs
came from the future too – they’d track the target, then travel
back an extra day to make their reports. </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Standouts</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
… European by the looks of him … to avoid the paradox of meeting
his current self.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Coming
out of the entrance now was Mr. Tsutsui looking exactly like the
picture I had seen. Maybe a little taller. He crossed the road to the
nearby 24-7. I kept my head down.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Window
of opportunity,” I muttered, “I could take him now …but is he
</span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>present</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
or is he </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>future</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">It
was approaching 21:10.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
got up and walked to the hover-crossing.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Come
on,” I breathed angrily as the pod-bikes rushed along below me.
Once across I all but ran across to the entrance. I flashed my badge
at the droid guard then swiped my SP across the terminal. “Good
evening, Mr. Sun,” it responded.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Yeah.
Sure.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
foyer had marble flooring. Three elevation channels ahead and I took
the nearest one.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Level
two and make it snappy.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Good
evening, Mr. Sun,” the elevation pod droid replied.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">You
droids say anything else?” I quipped, beads of sweat now forming on
my back.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">What
would you like me to say?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Skip
it,” I responded.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Skip
it.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Rhetoric
off,” I hissed.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
doors opened onto the level 2 corridor and I walked swiftly scanning
either side until I found unit 22 and swiped my SP across the access
pad.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
door slid silently open, one of the benefits of Level 2 security.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">A
plush apartment, carpeted floor and wooden panelling. Large
video-screen and high windows, but I’m no interior-designer and had
no time to take it in.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">There
was a closed door to my right with a simple toggle button on the
wall. I slammed my hand against the control. The slatted door shunted
upwards to reveal a bedroom, darkly lit with long curtains and more
carpeted floor. It was now 21:15. I took out the laser pistol.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">There
was a noise of someone else entering the unit so I eased into the
plush open space behind me.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Mr.
Tsutsui.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">He
dropped his bag of groceries. His face a picture of fear.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Grabbing
the man, I pulled him to the bedroom. My SP hit nine sixteen and the
notifier went off. I had the weapon to his head.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I’d
kill him, kill him now.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">But
I hesitated, just for a moment.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">And
a moment was long enough.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Tsutsui
smacked my pistol away, then pulled out a small China-dagger and
lunged at me.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
managed to deflect the blow, but the blade caught me across the gut
and slashed my flesh.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Who
the hell are you?” I heard him cry as I fell back onto the soft
floor. The man in front of me was blurred and spinning. Thick
eyebrows and high cheekbones. It was Mr. Tsutsui, here from the
future. He’d come prepared …</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">What
the hell are you doing in my unit?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">His
words were fuzzy and my wound was bleeding profusely.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Tsutsui
kicked me in the side and the pain was excruciating. He was a big
man, bigger than I’d expected. A big man, but I am too and I had
the training.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
managed to turn into a crouching position before he hit me again. I
took that one and the next, then I rose as quickly as I could and
smacked him across the face. His eyes were dark brown and startled. I
hit him again, harder this time. With my left fist, I connected with
his temple.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">He
fell to the floor. Mr. Tsutsui from the future. </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Why
here?</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
I thought. </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Why
return to his unit at all? Why groceries?</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">From
outside the room, I heard someone else approaching. Voices, one of
them Blondie’s. I picked up my pistol, then hesitated again.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Tsutsui
lay unconscious on the floor.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Through
the doorway, I took in each of the figures. Blondie and the other Mr.
Tsutsui. A look of anger washed over Blondie’s face at the sight of
me, a fellow agent.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">This
is my kill, dammit.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">He
was about to get things very badly wrong.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Mr.
Tsutsui just stood there looking calm – with much less protest than
the Tsutsui I’d just encountered. Blondie’s pistol was pushed
into the side of his neck and for a moment it seemed as if Tsutsui
was smiling.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
looked at the figure standing in front of Blondie.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Thought
you could come back here and change things, Mr. Tsutsui?” </span></span>
</p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
Don’t know what you’re talking about …” his expression
changing to one of concern.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Returning
my pistol to its holster, I nodded to Blondie.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Go
ahead.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">What?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Or
would you rather he wait?” I asked, this time directing my eyes at
the target. “But if you’re expecting to blink into non-existence,
I must tell you, your plan hasn’t worked.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Tsutsui
looked across at me in horror.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">You
see I’m afraid to be the bearer of bad news. The present version of
yourself is not, in fact, dead. Simply knocked out …”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Mr.
Tsutsui’s smile turned into a look of panic.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">But
…?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I’ve
got this thing about orders, but I never can ignore a hunch.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">What
the hell is going on here?” screamed Blondie, his finger edging
closer to the trigger.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">But
the other … he must die. The things I have … the things he will
do … you don’t understand. Oh, my God!” screamed Tsutsui.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
turned. Even the best of us can’t knock them out for long. It was
Tsutsui. The other one. The present one. The one I’d been set up to
kill. The one now staggering to his feet.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">What
exactly will I …?” both Tsutsui’s said in unison, then they saw
one another, the ultimate paradox, and they both fell to the floor in
a state of rigour. A rupture in time and space, a rip in the
dimensions.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Quickly
striding to who I now knew to be the current version of Tsutsui, I
dragged his quivering body into the bedroom, threw him inside, closed
the shutter and used my laser pistol to melt the lock and seal the
room.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">We
should bring them both in,” I breathed heavily, swivelling back to
Blondie. The future Mr. Tsutsui was now crouched on the floor,
moaning.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Blondie,
no …”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">It’s
my kill, dammit!”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">No,
Blondie. Don’t …”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">A
flash as the pistol went off and Mr. Tsutsui stopped shaking.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Goddammit,
Blondie. He needed questioning! We needed answers. Boss lady is not
going to be pleased!”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
looked down at the burned-out torso; Mr. Tsutsui was no more – one
of them, at least.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">There
was nothing more to say.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Your
kill,” I relented, still breathing heavily. “Like it was only
ever meant to be …” </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>The
double hit – it had all been a futile gambit. Blondie had fulfilled
his mission, completed the Task Red.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">With
difficulty, I tapped the </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Protocol
Gamma</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
icon on my SP.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Protocol
Gamma! Immediate purge and sanitisation required.</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
</span></span>
</p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I’ll
leave this with you, Blondie”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">But
…” seeing my predicament he curtailed his objection as I
staggered towards the lift, my stomach was bleeding and I was scared.
I craved medical attention and maybe a whisky or six. The love of a
good nurse. The generosity of a trusted barman.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">They
didn’t need me here. Eventually, they’d work it out.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">* * *</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Four
hours of intense healing at </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>The
Agency</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
clinic had me on the road to recovery, but the </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Ice-maiden</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
made no concession and called me in the next morning for a 09:00
meeting. This time I really was late. When I arrived she was in the
process of dismissing Blondie. He sneered at me as he walked out.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Ah,
Mr. Sun,” my boss said. “nice of you to turn up.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Ignoring
her sarcasm, I said, “Have you told Blondie that his file will be
updated as having messed up … even though he didn’t?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
air was as thick as cryogenic formaldehyde. She stood with her back
to me; staring at the far wall, at the diode pulsing mantra; </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>No
interference. To alter the past …</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">So
how did you know?” she asked finally, her voice low and enquiring.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Just
a gut instinct,” I answered.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">An
ironic turn of phrase considering your medical report,” she replied
indicating an open document on her data-desk.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Holy
crap, almost humour</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">,
I thought to myself.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Ok,
a hunch then.” I’d been using that word far too much … but
what else could it be that’d stopped me? </span></span>
</p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">It
was my turn for a question. “Any ideas on how he did it?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">If
you’re talking about Mr. Tsutsui, then you were right of course. It
was him all along.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
had a pretty good idea as to the answer but I thought I would test
her out with her own question; “So how did </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>you</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
know?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">There
was a long pause while she considered the best way to avoid a direct
answer, “The situation was deemed critical … critical enough to
send agents back to monitor the situation.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">DEVs,”
I said.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">She
raised her eyebrows at this suggestion, clearly she did not think I
was so conversant with the concept of agents visiting from the
future.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
spotted one last night … hanging around outside Tsutsui’s
apartment block.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Boss
lady was starting to take a lot more interest in what I had to say,
“How did you know he was a DEV?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Just
a hunch,” I could have kicked myself.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Ah,
that sixth sense of yours … it may well get you into trouble one
day.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
thought it already had! Besides, he was a </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>standout</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">!”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">She
pointed over her shoulder to the pulsing mantra on the wall behind …
</span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>No
interference. To alter the past … </i></span></span>
</p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
was acting upon information from the future.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
coughed just enough to let her know what I thought of that. The wound
in my abdomen gave me a sharp reminder of events not yet twelve hours
old.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Our
channels can now be trusted, I can assure you. We’ve received an
apology …”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
sat down heavily, thought about coughing again, then thought better
of it.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Because
</span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>The
Agency</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
was … infiltrated, yes. In the future, Mr. Tsutsui would have
influence. Connections.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">And
the present one? Will he remember?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">We
have our best people working on that. A selective memory wipe should
do it.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Lucky
for him.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Quite,”
she tutted. “Although Mr. Sun, I must say that your humour is lost
on me sometimes.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Losing
interest in the pulsing diodes, she came over to help me up. She
could see I was in pain.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Mr.
Sun.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Yep?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">No
word of this must get out. I shouldn’t have to tell you …”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Fill
up my credits and I’ll be grateful.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">She
pulled me up with difficulty. She looked tired.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Mr.
Sun, officially this never happened,” she sighed. “But I shall
authorise the standard rate in your favour and raise you to Level 1
clearance … backdated … with the commensurate increase in salary
credits.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">So
that’s it?” resigned to the fact that I thought I deserved more
of an explanation. I considered getting angry, but there it was
again, the sharp pain and I kept quiet.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">There’ll
be another job for you soon, I promise … no </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>double
hits!</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Right,”
I said, resigned to a future on unpleasant assignments.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">But
you need to look after yourself. Stay out of trouble.” Her small
hand squeezed mine and I knew she was grateful. It was best to leave
it at that.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">In
the doorway, I glanced back to catch her once again staring at the
laws of time. </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>No
interference. To alter the past …</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Another
case</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">,
I thought. Just one more and then I’d retire. I’d win big on the
laserball and buy myself an island apartment. Fresh air and </span></span><span style="color: #00000a;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">clean
living.</span></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Just
one thing before I go,” I continued, “it’s been niggling away
at me.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Go
on,” she replied.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="color: #00000a;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Blondie
fouling up … when he didn’t. Somebody got it wrong.”</span></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="color: #00000a;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">You
know that old saying,” she replied, “</span></span></span><span style="color: #00000a;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>To
err is human … but it takes an android to really mess things up!”</i></span></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="color: #00000a;">“</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">And
nobody spotted it?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">No”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">But
you knew!”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Only
from future intel.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">And
there was nothing you could do?</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">She
indicated to the pulsing mantra on the wall behind her once again.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>No
interference. To alter the past …</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
”<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">This
intel … from the future … is it sound?</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Can
it be trusted?”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">It
comes from the most reliable of sources,” she said seriously.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Then
who the hell was it?” I cried in frustration.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Your
hunches deserting you?” she smiled, then there was a pensive
silence before she continued.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Well,
I am surprised you haven’t worked it out, Mr. Sun, it was you of
course.”</span></span></p><p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Snap Snap is an alternative version of the story 'Double Hit' written by Alan Morton, author of <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Night-Shift-Alan-Morton-2014-09-11/dp/B01LPCMFCC/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=the+night+shift+by+Alan+morton&qid=1607855481&sr=8-1" target="_blank">The Night Shift</a> and <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Train-Connections-Alan-Morton/dp/0244117241/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=train+connections+by+Alan+morton&qid=1607855724&sr=8-1" target="_blank">Train Connections</a></span></span></p></div></div>
Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-59053744125974159782020-05-02T23:32:00.021-07:002023-11-03T20:11:56.446-07:00Code Red (Alternative Version)<br />
<div align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">In
his office, McClain took out a can of peach halves from the top
drawer of his desk, then fumbled deeper inside searching for the can
opener, pushing the Mauser to one side. His frustration in locating
it was compounded by trying to effect symbiosis between can and
opener. He wrestled with the can for a few minutes before giving up.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Goddamnit!”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain
pressed a button on his intercom.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Ginnie,
could you get in here, please?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Beads
of perspiration dotted his forehead which was furrowed beneath bushy
black eyebrows. </span></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">To
an outsider ruddy complexioned McClain was a heart-attack waiting to
happen; there was little doubt that he was overweight, something his
doctor had been at pains to warn him of. The stress didn’t help! </span></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Damn
and blast the contraption …” he said, flicking the can opener
away.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain’s
desk sat on a large tartan carpet which covered most of a tiled floor
and faced a closed door that led to the outer office, to the left was
a small cabinet where he kept his booze.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">The
centre of the desk was smooth and shiny, the shadow of the peaches
can, eclipsed by the light of neon signs shining through the window,
flickered and danced across the surface. On the left was a shallow
pile of light brown folders on top of which sat six blue pencils,
neatly sharpened and of equal length, to the right was a typewriter,
a new model with a blank sheet of paper in the feed, and a
grey-filled ashtray serving as testament to the weight of McClain’s
workload.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">In
front of the typewriter sat two phones adjacent to one another; a
bulk-standard black one to the left and a red one to the right. The
former was linked to the switchboard on the desk of his secretary,
Ginnie, in the outer office. The latter was a direct line to a
nondescript little office in Langley, Virginia which was manned
twenty-fours a day. In front of the phones sat the small intercom.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">From
outside, the sounds of homeward commuters, street vendors and busy
car horns filtered through the half-open window; it was past the end
of the working day and the office was quiet, all McLain was
anticipating was the arrival of the evening paper.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">A
tall woman entered the room, his secretary, Ginnie. She was rather
gangly, and though not unattractive, she made little of her
appearance and the plain bottle green dress that she was wearing did
little to enhance her femininity.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">The
can?” she said, as she surveyed his desk.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain
murmured in response and she leaned over and effortlessly opened the
can for him.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">There,”
said Ginnie, stepping back.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Shall I …?”
she said, nodding at the cabinet.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Much
obliged.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Ginnie
brushed past the back of McClain’s chair leaving the faint smell of
perfume behind her.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">You’ll
have one?” McClain enquired.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Not
for me, thank you all the same,” she replied, pouring a good
measure of whiskey from a crystal decanter into a matching tumbler –
above her on the wall hung a portrait of Dwight D. Eisenhower, the
Commander in Chief, wearing an enigmatic smile.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">You
should get home,” she blinked.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">I
will, I will. You know how it is. Long day.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Ginnie
placed the tumbler beside the can of peaches. “Shall I get you a
fork?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Of
course. I mean, yes, of course. Can’t seem to think …”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">And
the evening paper?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Yes
… thanks!”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Ginnie
left the room, returning with a fork and information that the paper
would be delivered shortly downstairs. She hovered for a moment,
watching McClain’s glass.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Shall
I get you another?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Not
yet.” He waved away her offer; loosening his tie, he leaned back in
his chair. “Just the paper, and get yourself off.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Thank
you, Mr. McClain. Shall I organize a cab?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">No
need, no need.” He waved her away again, though not rudely, there
was an understanding between them, almost as if they were going
through a daily routine.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Right
you are,” and she left the office leaving McClain alone.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Long
day indeed,” he mumbled.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">He
pushed back his chair and quickly made his way over to the cabinet;
poured himself another slug, then returned to his seat. He made sure
he drunk just enough to make it look as if he was still on his first,
although his cheeks were more flushed than usual when Ginnie opened
the door again and placed the evening paper in front of him on the
desk.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">I’ll
get off then.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Yes,
yes, good-night.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">He
still hadn’t touched the peaches – something which Ginnie noticed
but failed to mention as she gave him a nod and left the room once
more.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain
opened the paper randomly giving the front page only a cursory
glance.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">He
wasn’t looking for anything in particular but suddenly his
attention was fully focused and his world began to spin.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">My
God!”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">He
reached for the button on the intercom.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Ginnie,
get in here.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">His
secretary entered the room, this time wearing a bland brown coloured
coat.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Yes?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Ginnie,
Get me Barrel on the line.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Barrel…?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Yes,
Barrel. And make it snappy!”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Right
you are.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Ginnie
turned back. “Is this important?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">You’re
Goddamn right this is …” McClain paused. “Just get me through
to Barrel and be off. I’ll handle this. Route my calls straight
through.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Their
eyes met, some question in Ginnie’s.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">I’ve
got this,” McClain repeated and ran four stubby fingers through his
hair.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">It’s
probably nothing,” he murmured, this time more lightly.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Need
to check something …”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain
lifted the fork and made to start on his peaches but once Ginnie had
left the room he focused on the paper and on what he’d seen; his
hands were shaking.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Four
paragraphs, the essence of which said:</span></span></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>American
‘pioneers’ fail again to reach the moon. The third attempt this
year ends with a technical failure of the third stage power boosters.
Simple bad luck or suspicions of corruption justified? Full report to
follow …</i></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>A.
T. McClain (NASA)</i></span></span></p>
<p lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">The
words sat in a nondescript fashion between a financial article on the
rising costs of inner-city real estate and an advert for bleaching
detergent.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">The
intercom crackled and Ginnie announced “Mr. Barrel for you.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Okay,
thanks. You be off now … just put the phone through.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain
picked up the phone whilst at the same time removing his spectacles.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Barrel?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain.”
The acknowledgement being firm and sharp.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">You
seen the evening edition?” said McClain, with equal authority in
his tone.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Not
yet,” came the answer. “Anything I should be concerned about?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">You
could say that.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain
placed the receiver back down, cutting off the call. He stood and
walked over to the cabinet and poured another whiskey; once again
seated, he began on the peaches.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">The
phone rang and he quickly lifted the receiver.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">We
may have a problem,” responded the caller.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">You’re
goddamn right we do,” McClain mumbled, chewing and swallowing.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">There
was a pause.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">You’d
like to like find out who did this?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Damn
right, I do,” replied McClain.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">You
serious?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Of
course I am … why wouldn’t I be?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Another
pause.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">You
mean a </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>Code
Red</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">That’s
your call, Barrel.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">And
you’re … look, McClain, I have to ask. You sure you didn’t …”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">What
do you take me for?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Okay,
okay,” came the reply. “You know a lot of people will be …”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Asking,
yeah, I know.” McClain coughed. “How much time do you think I
have?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">There
was silence as the magnitude of that question began to form.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain,
I’ll vouch for you.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Like
that’ll do any good.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain
…”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Yeah.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">The
</span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>Code
Red</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">,
I’ll put it through. But there’ll also be …”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Sure
… just trace that article!” McClain replaced the receiver, his
eyes looking tired. Pushing the peaches to one side, he reached for
the whiskey, then leaned back in his chair.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">The
fan in the ceiling whirled slowly and McClain paced restlessly around
the office, but it was thirty minutes until the phone rang again and
he slumped back into his chair</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Yes?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">I
understand you’d like some information.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Yes,
yes, I … who is this?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Names
are not important,” responded the rough voice. “My assistance was
requested. You are Allen McClain. I hear you’d like to track down
the source of a newspaper report …”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Yes.”
McClain stood, still holding the receiver. He picked up the phone and
went over to the window and looked down on the busy street below …
and a phone booth opposite the building with a hunched figure inside.
Wide hat and long coat.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">I
just need you to confirm.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">The
figure turned around fully and looked up at the window, though there
was no way he could have seen McClain looking back at him.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">What’s
your brief?” McClain demanded.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">That
an article has appeared in the newspaper on your desk, and you’d
like to take care of the source.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">In
a manner of speaking.” McClain squinted trying to focus on the
features of the man in the phone booth. “It was just …”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">We
can find who wrote it.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">You
can?” McClain stammered. “Whoever it is, they need to be dealt
with; Barrel understands.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">That’s
our business,” came the reply matter-of-factly and the man in the
booth turned away, “You’ll hear from one of us shortly.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Right
… right you are.” There was a flash of lightning that startled
McClain. Three seconds later the distant sound of rumbling, then the
pitter-patter of rain spitting hard at the window.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain
watched the figure stride purposefully along to the next block,
tightening his coat, one hand up to his hat.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">When
he had disappeared, McClain began to laugh – deep and from the
belly; low, rumbling with a hint of mania.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">All
of a sudden, the phone rang again; arresting McClain for the second
time in a minute; he snatched at the receiver, “Yes?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Allen
…?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain
swayed unsteadily and collapsed into his chair.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Allen, are you
there?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Sure.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">You
all right?” It was a woman’s voice.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Fine,
Jenny. How are things?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain,
switching the receiver from right hand to left, reached into his
breast pocket with his free hand. He pulled out a packet of </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>Lucky
Strikes</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">,
expertly managing to extract a cigarette and light it in one swift
motion that also involved taking the zippo from his right waist
pocket.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Allen,
you wouldn’t believe it.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Wouldn’t
I?” McClain let out a puff of smoke.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">The
day I’ve had. I don’t know </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>where</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">
to start.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Sure
…”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">First
the car, then the neighbour’s dog; that godawful Rottweiler, what
do they call that thing? Some ridiculous …”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">No
idea.” McClain coughed.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Pitcher,
that’s it. If you ask me …”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Ask
you what?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“…
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">stupid name, that’s
all.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Right.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Yes,
okay, Allen, I’m sure you don’t want to hear about all </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>my</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">
troubles.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">No,
no, go on,” McClain replied, drawing on his cigarette, eyes
distant. “What did </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>Pitcher</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">
do this time?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">You
think I’m calling you up to chat about the neighbour’s dog?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain
moved in his seat, flicking at the already full ashtray. “No idea,”
he drawled.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Allen?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Yep?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">It’s
Susie. She got into a fight again.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Again?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">With
a boy.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">A
boy, eh?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">And
you can stop smirking,” the voice said, guessing the expression on
McClain’s face. “It’s the third time this year and they want …
they’ve requested that we go there. Tomorrow.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Tomorrow.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">The
both of us.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain
shifted. “Can’t Tom …”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">No,
Allen. It’s her father they want to see. Things are awkward enough
already. For her. I’ve no wish to go parading …”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">No,
quite. I understand.” McClain was looking at the paper, his right
forefinger gently resting against his typed name. “What time?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Eight
o’clock.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">In
the morning?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Yes,
in the morning. You can’t get here for …”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">No,
no, I’ll make it.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">The
voice huffed. “You sure you’re alright?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Never
better.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“…
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Well, I’ll be off
then. You want to speak to Susie?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Is
she there?” McClain asked.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">I
can get her …”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Behind,
from the window, there was another flash of lightning.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Is
it raining there?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">The
yard’s flooded!”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Tom
with you?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Allen,
you know he is.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Of
course.” McClain huffed. “And you’re exaggerating, right?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Exaggerating?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">About
Susie … the fight?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Do
you want to speak to her or not?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">No,
no. I’ll see her tomorrow. Eight o’clock, you say.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Allen,
you sound tired.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">I’m
Fine, I told you.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">You
need to get home, Allen … your health … when was the last time
you had a check-up?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">On
my way. See you in the morning, Jenny.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain
stood from the chair, then hesitated before putting the receiver
down. He lifted it and listened, but the line was dead – he stared
at the now dormant telephone, mouth open as if there had been more to
say; something he’d forgotten; something that had slipped his mind.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Huffing,
he went once more to the whiskey cabinet, fixed himself a new drink;
this time with a hefty measure of soda.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Roll
with the punches,” he murmured. He smirked again, then turned at
the window and looked out at the vacant telephone booth across the
way.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">The
phone rang and he let it. Three, four rings.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Slowly,
calmly, McClain approached the desk.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain!”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">The
information you requested … Allen Thomas McClain. Forty-seven.
Divorced. Bachelor in physics, first class.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">A
different voice; “Who is this?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Works
at the Seers conglomerate. A cog. Though of course, that’s merely a
cover. Information tells us that McClain is working for NASA, though
we’re having some trouble in determining what exactly he does for
them.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">What
do you want?” McClain spat. Sweat had begun to form on his brow.
“Who are you? How did you get this number?” even though he knew
full well.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">An
associate … a colleague,” replied the voice – high pitched with
the twang of an accent that McClain couldn’t quite place.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">What
do you want?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">You
asked for information. These are the results of our investigation.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">I
asked Barrel … who is this?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">That
is not important … we have completed our research and come to the
conclusion that the article was written by A. T. McClain, as stated.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Impossible,”
said McClain, pulling at the telephone chord in agitation, “I am A.
T. McClain!”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">That
surely is ironic … Five foot eight?” the voice continued. “Jet
black hair with specks of grey? Short back and sides? Dark-rimmed,
tinted spectacles with thick lenses? Stocky in build? A preference
for Italian suits? Resides at 421 Park Avenue, though owns a much
larger property in Rhode Island? There’s a daughter, Susan who
lives with her mother and a man, Tom who has yet to become …”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Goddamnit,
yes, that’s me you’re describing. So what of it? This is madness!
Somebody has used my name, but it wasn’t me who wrote the article.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Just
passing on the message,” the voice said. “We take it you will not
be sanctioning the order!”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Order
on what?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Nothing
was said for a moment. McClain breathed heavily, two words spinning
in his head </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>Code
Red.</i></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">The
voice breathed, “It’s your call.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">What
do you mean my call? You think I’m gonna authorise my own …?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain’s
hands were shaking. His face deeply flushed red.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">We
thought as much.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">What
kind of a two-bit outfit are you?!” McClain began to shout.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">I
am merely passing on the information that you requested; </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>don’t
shoot the messenger!”</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">
the caller replied calmly.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Or
the client,” McClain jibed sarcastically.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">There
was a click and the line went dead. McClain punched at the desk,
immediately regretting his action and flexed his right fist,
inspecting his knuckles as the phone pulsed into life once again.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain
grabbed at the receiver aggressively, knocking the base across the
desk.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Goddamnit,
</span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>I’ll</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">
kill </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>you</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">!”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Allen?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">God
…” McClain began to convulse. “Jenny, I didn’t …”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Allen
…” she stammered, “… are you okay?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Yes,
fine, sorry,” McClain replied, trying to relax himself, somehow
pushing his words into a calmer tone.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Who
did you think I was?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Nobody.
Just, nobody; what do you want, Jenny?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Nothing.
Maybe I shouldn’t have …”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Out
with it.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Now
there’s no need …”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Damnit,
Jenny?!”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">The
line went dead.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Stressed
completely, McClain felt too angry to know what to do next. His dark
shoes dug into the tartan carpet. Eisenhower smiled down.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>Got
to be some kind of joke … think God-damnit, think!</i></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain
hit at the button on the intercom, “Ginnie …” then remembered
she was gone.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Damned
…”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Composing
himself he straightened the phone, then stepped back.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>Think
man, think. There has to be something …What was it he said? …
Bachelor of Physics – First Class? No mention of the Doctorate! Why
not? … a hole in the research!</i></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">He
was startled again as the phone suddenly rang out.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain,”
he answered.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Mac,
it’s me.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Barrel!
Damnit, what the hell is going on?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">You
tell me, Mac.” Barrel’s reply was calm, yet firm.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain
stood straighter, sweating and breathing heavily. He hesitated,
stuttereded, and tried to think of a reply that would at least make
some sense.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Now
you listen to me,” McClain answered. “I’ve no idea what’s
going on here, but I’ll get to the bottom of it. You have my word.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">It’s
too late,” came the answer.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">What
do you mean, too late?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Only
a select few know why the Pioneer missions are being corrupted. If it
were to get out …”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">But
it won’t. Why would it? We have kept a lid on things all these
years.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">I’m
sorry, McClain.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">You’re
</span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>sorry</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">?
Whaddya mean </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>I’m
sorry</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">?
Damnit, Barrel!”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">I’ll
see that Ginnie and Susie are taken care of.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Barrel,
I’m pleading with you here. Just give me some time. I can prove it
wasn’t me. I’ve got no reason …” McClain clutched at the
phone, “Barrel, why would I? What would I have to gain?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Gotta
admit,” replied Barrel. “I was surprised. What was it? You get
cold feet?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Barrel,
I’m telling you.” McClain was desperate. “All that I know. All
these years. I was there, at Roswell, oversaw the project … after
all this time why would I sabotage everything? Answer me that! </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>Why?”</i></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain
… I can’t … it’s too late. Wheels are in motion; I just
wanted to let you know,” the voice, ironically, seemed to have
grown warmer, “No hard feelings and all that.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain
stood there staring at the wall, then it dawned on him …</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">He
needed some time! Stall and give himself some time to think.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">It
was an impostor, I tell you. A setup. One of them.” He shouted down
the phone.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">One
of?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Damned
Pinkos. You know how it is.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">I
see. The Russians.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Yeah,
the Russians; who do you think I meant? Damn it, they’re framing
me.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">The
Commies?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Yeah,
they’ve sucked you in with a hint at something that is just not
happening and you’ve bought it … convicted me without a trial”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">A
hint is all it takes. You know that as well as I do.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain’s
breaths began to speed up; adrenalin was flowing. </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>Think
man, think!</i></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Barrel!
by God!” McClain appeared overcome with rage. “What do you
want?!”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Barrel?”
but the line was dead.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">There
was silence.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain
fell back into the chair; the phone, hanging off its hook, dangling
beside him.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Goddamn
… setup. </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>Think
man, think!</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">”</span></span></p>
<p align="center" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">* * *</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain
straightened his desk and put the can-opener back in the top drawer
but left it open.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">He
was thinking more rationally now, things were clicking into place.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">His
time at Area 51, the Roswell incident. The research. The astonishing
advances in electronics and biochemistry. The whole new field of DNA
study and genetic engineering. The cloning initiative!</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Everything
had to be controlled. A gradual release into contemporary culture.
They had kept a lid on it. … but now? Something had happened. The
cat was out of the bag.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Overlooking
his Doctorate was sloppy. Somebody had messed up.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Now
there was the Barrel problem.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">There
were two options; first, it wasn’t Barrel. He had known Jenny for
over fifteen years, and he wouldn’t refer to her as </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>Ginnie</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">,
not even by accident.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">The
second option was that he had sent a warning because he was being
coerced to liaise with McClain under duress.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Either
way, the Area 51 mission had been compromised and it had to be
contained.</span></span></p>
<p align="center" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">* * *</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><a name="_GoBack"></a>
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">The door of McClain’s
office opened and from the dimly lit outer office, the silhouette of
a large man came into view. The man stood facing McClain, trilby
dipping forward, raindrops dropping to the floor. Even in the
semi-darkness, this man, in appearance, was not at all unlike McClain
himself, but that was what he had been expecting.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Allen.
T. McClain, I presume,” McClain muttered, not focusing clearly on
the figure framed by the doorway. He was tired and worn, his collar
and tie loose now, his whole face and neck were blotched in red
marks, but he was more alive than he had been in years. His glasses
were still on the desk beside the filthy ashtray; the phone and
typewriter were neatly squared beside the folders and pencils. The
whiskey bottle stood next to the still unfinished can of peaches;
unashamedly in full view.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">So
here you are, then,” said McClain, swirling the fingers of his left
hand in irony, his right arm resting on the open drawer.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Better
get on with it, then. Do what you came here to do.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Any
last words, Mr. McClain?” said the man, stepping forward. In his
right hand was a small black revolver with a silencer.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Yeah,”
McClain replied, looking up lazily. “Give my love to </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>Ginnie</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">
and Susie.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">I’ll
take good care of them, rest assured.”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Their
eyes met: McClain’s and the eyes of his assassin. Eerily, a pair of
eyes he knew from the reflection in his own mirror.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">My
God,” McClain stammered. “What … what the hell is this?”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">But
it was only for a fleeting moment that he didn’t understand. </span></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Not
only to be terminated with extreme prejudice, but to be replaced.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>Taking
care of </i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">his
ex-wife and daughter now had an alternative meaning, and what of
Ginnie. Was she to be </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>taken
care of as well?</i></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">He
had to get to them first.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>Code
Red </i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">was
a deterrent for those in a position such as his. Those with
authority, knowledge and power … but now it was open to abuse …
and flawed.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Time to say
good-night,” said the figure suddenly in the door-well.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Good-night,”
said McClain squeezing the trigger of the Mauser in his right hand.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">A
flash inside the office and Allen. T. McClain fell to the tartan
carpet.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">McClain
picked up the red phone and waited for a click at the other end. </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>Code
Blue; Station Alpha-Five-Sierra </i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">was
all he said before hanging up.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">He
looked down at his Nemesis on the floor … </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>ugly
looking bastard</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">
he muttered as he stepped over the corpse and hurried through the
door.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Eisenhower
looked on with his </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i>Mona
Lisa</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-US">
smile.</span></span></p>
</div><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: right;">(Alternative version by Alan Morton, writer of <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Night-Shift-Alan-Morton-2014-09-11/dp/B01LPCMFCC/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=the+night+shift+by+Alan+morton&qid=1607855481&sr=8-1" target="_blank">The Night Shift</a> and <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Train-Connections-Alan-Morton/dp/0244117241/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=train+connections+by+Alan+morton&qid=1607855724&sr=8-1" target="_blank">Train Connections</a>) </p><div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><br /></div>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-89199752947768348202020-04-03T00:12:00.001-07:002020-04-03T00:12:29.323-07:00Unfinished Story #5<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">After redundancy
he’d turned to painting local scenes and there had always been a
cow in the picture, always the same breed. Residents who knew their
livestock remarked upon this, that the idyllic image drawn, with its
glossy dark red coat and pure white horns looked more like the
American Milking Devon – though originally derived from the British
North Devon, they were not to be found in the area. However, these
cows were somewhat handsomer, and any question over why the artist
had chosen the breed over any other was put down to aesthetics by all
but the Japanese businessman who one day offered the sum of fifty
thousand pounds for the purchase of one of these paintings. During an
unplanned visit to the south-west coast of England, the businessman
had entered the local art gallery of Roswell (the English coastal
town, with no connection at all to its American counterpart; with no
hint whatsoever of a UFO sighting).</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">In 1997 this was
a fair fortune and enough, almost, to set one up for life.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">Champagne was
popped. Our artist, you see, had had the wonderful idea of hiring out
a room in the local art gallery for a month of the summer season and
filling it with his own work which he’d priced to levels of
extortion. He would only have to sell one painting …</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">Sat on the floor
of the circular room, stared down at by twenty-two versions of the
American Milking Devon – stuck in the corner of a pasture at night;
beside an old barn; holding up a line of early nineteen-fifties
sports cars on a gritty, country lane; the moon, stars, bright
sunshine and cool dusk – he felt them from distance, always in the
background, slowly chewing and always far away. In another picture
the sports cars had been replaced by a group of schoolchildren. In
another the same children were dancing round a maypole. A local fair,
a farmyard scene, harvest and haystacks and always the cow looking on
from far away.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">In one picture
alone the cow had been at the forefront, pushing its wet nose up to
the artist. But this picture was no longer there for the Japanese
businessman had taken it.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">His mother, the
artist’s mother, found him a week later at his flat. She’d heard
of the sale, she knew about his pictures. In truth the artist owed
her for a small loan he’d been promising to pay back but she hadn’t
been there for a handout, no. She’d gone there to advise him.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">Divorced and then
redundant; living alone, the artist had turned to gambling, turned to
drink; he’d been irresponsible, unable to cope with such a large
amount of money.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">She’d walked
over to where he lay, unconscious on the sofa. Called an ambulance.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">My son …”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">But it had been
two days too late, and afterwards, almost as long as a year
afterwards, she’d found herself flying out to Tokyo.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">From the airport
onwards she’d swum through a confusion of trains, taxis and rich
new buildings; strange young fashions; through a plethora of foreign
scents and the buzz of an alien race.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">She had a card:</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">Mr Suzuki,”
repeated the doorman.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">He’s
expecting me. We’ve been in contact. By telephone.”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">The doorman spoke
to her in English, though unaware of this (for his accent was strong)
the artist’s mother nodded and smiled, nodded and waited until
eventually a man came down; not much taller or younger than herself
and they shook hands; the grey-haired old woman and the ageing
businessman, welcoming, smiling and bowing. “Won’t you come up?”
he said to her, and she understood perfectly for Mr. Suzuki’s
English was much better than the doorman’s.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">To the artist’s
mother it was like a high class hotel but it was apartments and his
on the fourteenth floor. As they entered he gave her slippers to wear
and she thanked him, taking off her coat and counting four rooms in
total, three closed doors. In the main living space there was a
shallow dining table, calligraphy on the walls and a small television
next to a strangely archaic stereo for long players – an extensive
collection of the latter took up a whole wall from floor to ceiling
in a fine set of cabinets.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">Tea?” the
businessman asked. A record was playing which she recognised as jazz.
Old jazz from the forties or fifties. Her son’s picture hung
amongst the calligraphy.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">It stands
out,” the artist’s mother told him. They were sat by the table.
He had prepared a selection of snacks.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">It does,” he
agreed.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">And why that
one?”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">Ahhh …”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">The businessman
stood and went over to the picture, pointing to top right corner.
“The cow is quite something, but the, up there …” He pointed to
a splodge of light. “You know,” he said, turning around and back
to her, “when I went to your country, it was quite by accident.”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">The artist’s
mother fiddled with her chopsticks. “Not something you’d
planned.”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">Something …
what is the word … a feeling …” The businessman sat down again
opposite her, took up a piece of dried tofu while she sipped at her
tea. “Once arriving, in London, I had the idea of driving out to
the countryside. The city, it didn’t …” He smiled, thinking
back. “I drive. I drive and I drive.. And then I see the sign for
Roswell and, fate!” he remarked, eyes brightening. “You see, I
was there.”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">At Roswell?”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">Yes, yes. But
not your town. I mean I was there, in New Mexico. In 1947!”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">You mean when
that alien landed?”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">The businessman
laughed. “Yes, yes, the alien.”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">So horrible,”
the artist’s mother shuddered. “Why did you have to go and do
that?”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">No, no. No
alien. Not true.”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">Of course, of
course,” she said. Then absently: “You know I saw it on the
television. </span></span><span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB"><i>Alien
autopsy</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">,
they called it. And it reminded me of that cow cut in two.”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">Your son’s
…?”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">No, no,” she
laughed. “The one by that artist, Damien something or other.”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">Ahh, Damien
Hirst.”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">Was that his
name?”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB"><i>Mother and
Child Divided.</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">
The cow and calf in … formaldehyde. Very famous.”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">Yes …”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">There was silence
for a fair few minutes before he filled her cup, explaining: “I was
part of a team. Long time ago now. Aircraft. Experimental, new
models. That alien business. The UFO sighting. A misunderstanding. A
story.” The businessman opened his arms wide.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">I see.”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">Long time
ago.”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">And that’s
how you made your money? The aircraft?”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">Ha, ha. In a
way, yes.” He sat chewing, saying no more while awkwardly the
artist’s mother picked up a fresh piece of okra.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">Your home here
is very nice.”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">The businessman
smiled again. “In Tokyo, the apartments are small. Not like the
houses in your country.”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">No, no. It’s
lovely. You’ve done well.”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">He thanked her
humbly, made a short bow, then caught the artist’s mother looking
again at her son’s picture.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">He died, you
know.” She was clutching at her tea cup. “He’d been
celebrating.”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">Celebrating …”</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">The artist’s
mother had closed her eyes and in her mind she was moving over to the
picture; smashing at the glass – she was throwing her hot tea
against the bare, naked canvas.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Book Antiqua, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">I’m sorry,”
she said, opening her eyes to the worried expression before her. She
made as if to stand, then sat back down, defeated.</span></span></div>
<br />Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-72153798119535091992019-03-02T03:57:00.002-08:002019-03-02T04:02:08.805-08:00Miners - deleted scenes<br />
<div align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>_ _ _ _</b></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You’re
on Earth, looking at a dark pink poppy, cupping it in your rather
tired, leathery hand; in a park alone, surrounded by scrappers and
the hum of distant automotives. You fly upwards to the busy skies.
Further and further you rise. Beneath you is nothing. White and blue.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Continuing
to soar, out through the atmosphere, your home planet is soon but a
dot in the background.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">A
spaceship lies ahead. A turd shaped heap of junk housing a thousand
TG mining robots. They sleep in their cells – inactive, powerless.
Only two ordinators aboard, yourself and your partner, in a cell
slightly bigger, two beds, two cupboards and a shared toilet cube.</span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">_ _ _ _ </span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mate
…”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Pretty
good, huh?” you say with a puff of white breath.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Incredible,”
he sighs.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And
how many …?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Eight.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Eight
dead.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thirty
injured. But yeah,” he huffs, getting to his feet. Could’ve been
a lot worse.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
first accident had been the worst.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Toughens
you up,” they told you.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
sacrifice those miners had made. It sickens you to think of it.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But
you’d been happy on that day. On that day you’d been a success.</span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">_ _ _ _</span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">A
Melody, a pretty name and just as you’d expect she’d been young
and beautiful (or do you just remember her that way?). Her first day
on the job and she’d died in a cave-in that could have been
prevented with a little more funding.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Chocolate,
a buddy of Manny’s for almost a month. You’d been jealous in a
weird sort of way. But when his suit had malfunctioned, when you’d
witnessed the freezing and crumbling of his face … you’d told
Manny that he’d died quickly and peacefully. The expression of
horror in his eyes staring up at you, it was something you’d always
been able to, had to shake off.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Vandermeer,
Miller, Tessa, Nathan, Eli … somewhere in your subconscious you
carry stories of these people too. And explosion on Demos. A gas leak
on The Good Companion.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Captain
Worrit. Did he die or just leave? He’s there in your memories.
That’s right. He’d been the one before you. Manny’s original
partner. His mentor.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Whatever
happened to Captain Worrit?” you feel like asking Manny. And you
will, you will ask him.</span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">_ _ _ _</span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
bomb that went off killed thirty of your colleagues. That had been
the second time, also on the moon. You’d tried to blame the
authorities, back in the bar at moon base alpha, you’d all had
plenty to say and most of it had been directed at them. Some of it at
the inevitable danger that these jobs took – even Manny hadn’t
blamed you. But you’d been tired, it was a careless mistake. A
minute too soon and it had blown away those just a hair’s breath
from safety.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br /></div>
Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-78619017308288784032019-02-03T23:49:00.001-08:002020-04-03T00:11:14.724-07:00Unfinished Story #4 part 2<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">There’s three of them and the perfect
opportunity already. I take up my seat, order a pitcher of wet.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Captain Flycatcher,” I state. “Here
to welcome you all.”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">To what?” one of them hogs.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">To the legend,” I answer.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">They’re Grinthems. Planet Grintha
natives. Green-skinned with large ears and bulging eyes. Their fists
have claws which can extend to become deadly – though in modern
Grinthem culture it is something of a </span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><i>faux
pas</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"> to use these claws in
battle. It shows weakness, an unfair advantage.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">The fattest of the three gets down from
his stall. He’s short but stocky. They all are and I’m
disappointed.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">To the legend,” I slur, raising my
glass at them. I swivel, challenging them to meet my toast. “You’re
lucky it’s my day off,” I say. “Or it could be an early night
for you all.”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">The fat one who’s standing, he squares
up to me, butting his shoulder against my side. Part of my drink
spills on my lap and I have an idea.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">An early night, you say?” he’s
sneering.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">To your good self,” I reply,
feigning drunkenness. I raise the drink at his ugly face, knocking it
against his flat nose and the contents spill down his front.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">His two friends stand.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Well look what you’ve done now, Mr
…”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Captain,” I correct, swinging about
on my stall. “</span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><i>Captain</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">
Flycatcher.”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">You seem very sure of yourself,
</span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><i>Captain</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">
Flycatcher,” says another of them, emphasising the ‘captain’
part with a sarcastic twang. “Seems to me you’d be better off
offering my friend here an apology.”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Don’t be ridiculous,” I slur. “It
is you three who should be thanking I.”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">I let that one hang until one of them
finally answers. Here in the bar the only sound is now from their
grunts.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Thanking us?” one of them relents.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">For not taking you out where you
stand,” I reply. “I am, after all, trained in sixty-eight forms
of martial art.”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Sixty …”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Unlike the three of you,” I
continue. “I hear on Grintha it’s all hugs and growling. That is,
when you’re not using your claws. Rather dull if you ask me.
Neanderthal,” I laugh.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Neander –</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Backward, my good sir. Simple. You
wouldn’t stand a chance.”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">He’s mocking us,” says one of
them.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">You want to try </span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">me</span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">?”
says the fatter one. He moves forward to grab me by the scruff of my
suit.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Lifting me, he proceeds in hurling my
body across the bar where I land with a crash against a stack of
bottles that clatter with me to the floor.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Well,” I say, now standing from the
mess. “Looks to me like you fellows need to be taught a lesson in
manners.”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">I apologise to the barman who is very
much now next to me.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">We don’t want any trouble here,”
he’s saying. “This establishment is a peaceful one.”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">He’s roughly dressed and of geriatric
age. I pat him on the shoulder, brush myself down and smile.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">No need to worry,” I say. “Got it
all under control.”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">I’d say he has,” says one of the
Grinthems, and they each begin to laugh.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Take the damages out of their
credit,” I grin, patting the barman on the back. Then I launch
myself up and over the bar again, lunging at the nearest Grinthem
with a flat palm swipe.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">He falls to the floor, dumbstruck.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">I’d say you asked for that,” I
scold, then smile towards the remaining two.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">They look down at their companion. He’s
not out, not yet. Instead, slowly, he’s getting to his feet
awkwardly.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Back for more?” I say, putting out
my fists. I move t</span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">wo</span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">
steps forward, then back. Then the three of them are suddenly running
at me.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">I kick at the one on the left; the
fastest and lightest and he’s spun and over a table. In the same
move, with my left fist I’ve done a ‘duck and under’ at the
next. He’s stopped in his tracks and looks perplexed at where I got
the strength from.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">While dodging the third Grinthem’s
run, I spin and hit him again, watch him slowly fall to the floor.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">You Quelga!” the third one says.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Now, now, no need for that kind of
language.”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">This Grinthem whose run I avoided is the
one who I hit first. Standing before me, he’s snorting heavily,
full of spite. “I’ll kill you …”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Now, now …”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">But his claws are now unleashed.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">I’ll murder you …”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Now hold on,” I try. “Wait a
second here …”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">What d’ya say?” he asks the
others who have each now risen to their feet once more. “Last night
on the station? What difference would one more kill make?”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Now wait here a minute. I was only …
only playing here.”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">But all three of them now have their
claws out.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">You’ve no idea who we are, do you?”
says tallest and thinnest of the three. Their eyes are filled with
venom. On their belts I take in the clubs.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><i>Grintha, Grintha</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">,
I think. Those clubs, they mean something.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Afraid I don’t,” I relent, which
by the look of their expressions could well have been the wrong
answer.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">On their right breasts are the crests of
the Grinthem monarchy. A slug-like creature split into two over a red
moon.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">I’m … how about a round of drinks
here?” I say to the barman who’s standing there watching us.
Whatever it is I’ve missed here, it’s hard to guess whether he
knows, but he knows I’ve missed something. Hell, they all do.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">I look around the rest of the bar. Count
twenty pairs of eyes, watching us sullenly. Three humans, two
together and one by herself at the back. The two are young men like
me. Officers. They’ll be of no help.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Would </span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><i>Captain</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">
Flycatcher prefer to be slashed or ripped?”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">There’s four Capulka, and with their
tentacles I’m sure they could hold off these Grinthem for long
enough for me to get away.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Hey, guys,” I try. “A little help
here?”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">The three Grintha begin to snort and
bellow in laughter.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Seems </span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><i>Captain</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">
Flycatcher has a lot of friends today …”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Two Falunas covering in the corner. A
couple of droids and then the woman again. She’s coming this way.
She’s holding …</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Problem?” she asks. In her left
hand is a large motor-shooter.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">The three Grinthems turn.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Well look what we have here?” one
of them sneers.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">I’d say we have three dead spies,”
says the woman. “You want to keep up the act with him, then fine.
But my ex-husband was a Grinthem, and I must say, I’m insulted.”
She points the end of the motor-shooter at their claws. “A royal
guard would never need to be reduced to such barbarianism. You even
know how to use those sticks?”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">So maybe we kill you too,” says </span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">the
fatter</span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"> Grinthem to her. “You
accuse us of not being who we are. If you were married to a Grinthem,
you should know,” </span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">he coughs,</span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">
“that such an insult cannot go dismissed.”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">You calling me a liar?” she spits.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Each of them is now taking out their
club.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><i>Royal guard</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">,
I’m thinking. But I’ve got nothing – this woman’s knowledge
of Grinthemian culture is obviously far greater than mine.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">They’re advancing at her and she’ll
either shoot them dead or suffer that consequence herself.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Now wait a second here,” I try. “No
need for any more trouble.” I offer my apologies, doing a little
bow. “Should have recognised three Grinthems of status when I saw
them …”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">The Grinthems stop: three ugly heads
turn back at me. The word ‘status’ is rather generic; though I
know they must have some kind of position, even if only Hades knows
what it is.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Need your girlfriend here for
rescue?” asks the shorter one.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Yes, yes I do,” I relent. I’m a
good actor, always have been. It’s got me out of a lot of scrapes.
Knowing when to quit, knowing when not to.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">It’s fine,” I say to the girl.
She’s pretty but I’ve hardly had time to acknowledge that yet.
“My friends and I, we were just playing,” I tell her. It’s a
risk but better than getting anyone killed. I stumble over to the
three Grinthems, arms out and full of warmth. “My friends,” I
slur, then pull them into a rather clumsy embrace. For the bystanders
watching, it must be the strangest sight they’ve ever seen.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Think of it in slow-motion. Three ugly
expressions of confusion, then disgust. They rip away, then push at
me and I let them. Then they’ve lifted me up and thrown me at the
bar again.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Once more I fly, at the stack of bottles
the barman has just reassembled. Again I crash to the floor.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Though this time I’m playing a
different character.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">My sincerest apologies to you all,”
I sing with the same piteous performance of a bow. “And a round of
drinks for everyone.”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">I gesture to the crowd, my audience of
yellow studs.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br /></div>
Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-35286201873732182762018-12-07T06:18:00.000-08:002018-12-07T06:18:08.853-08:00Unfinished Story #4 part 1
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">I don the red suit ’cause that’s the
way it is.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">I’m looking for a fight, to freshen
up, to kick ass to the three months of nothing – mining negrolite
for credits on that godforsaken planet and here I am on Station
Electra, no plans for what’s next.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">I stare at the mirror, tighten the suit.
It’s beautiful, pathetic. Wonderfully idiotic.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Captain Flycatcher,” I mumble.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Pulling on the dark red boots, I smile
at my reflection.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">A young face, thirty years of age;
stubble and flushed cheeks.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">I stand and the fake leather squeaks
with my joints. My lanky figure accentuates the haplessness. A blonde
fringe waving to his left and my right; blue eyes, the perfect
victim.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Captain Flycatcher,” I repeat.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">And I stride to the door.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
– <span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><i>Whoosh,</i></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;">
it sounds, shunting upwards.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Stepping
out into the corridor, I make my way to the bar while the
videoscreens scream at me. This room, that room. Injections for
pleasure. Rides to Gzynthem. Casinos that value the customer and
opportunities in a life of trade.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Turning
left along a series of flashing oblongs, I measure my pace, ignoring
it all.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</div>
Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-41558539883218298812017-10-07T23:43:00.000-07:002017-10-07T23:43:25.734-07:00Jimmy's Room - part 3
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Dawned
on me tonight how I’ve never seen Jimmy outside his room. Remember
wondering for a while – and still now – if he’s got some sort
of problem. Like agoraphobia or whatever. After seeing him again just
now, I’m more certain than ever.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Was
a good night at the start, listening to tunes and playing Tomb
Raider. This time it was mostly Jimmy, I and Led Zeppelin, an old
band Dad used to like when he was younger. There was this funny
moment when we imagined if aliens were observing the planet to study
human behaviour and they’d homed in on us. The two of us sat there,
listening to seventies metal and generally chilling out. How the
aliens’d be deciding that of all the people on campus, we were the
ones who knew what the score was. Who were using their time in the
best way possible. (Doesn’t sound as funny as I write it now but at
that moment we were finding this scenario hilarious.)</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Then,
just as the night was ending, the worst thing happened in that Jimmy
said he was leaving university. The situation is, he hasn’t been to
a single lecture since getting here (he’s supposed to be studying
political science).</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">When
I asked “Why not?” he simply replied that he hadn’t felt like
it; like his heart hadn’t been in it. His course I mean. At least I
think so. But anyway he got a letter last week kicking him out.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Jimmy
didn’t seem particularly bothered when telling me. Said it was fate
and probably a sign he was meant to be doing something else. Said
he’d miss halls and the friends he’s made, but that he’ll still
visit from time to time.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Bit
strange to say I’d miss him, but finally said I was sorry to see
him go, which sounded better I guess. Dawned on me again how I’ve
never seen him anywhere but his room – a few times we’ve been out
as a group, Graz, Jung, Adam and even Sean, but though Jimmy always
says he’s gonna join us on such occasions, he never does.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Playing
Tomb Raider with a random selection of people dropping in and out to
say hello. Next term there’s gonna be none of that. A few weeks
from now and it’ll be a blurred, “See ya later,” sort of
farewell that won’t properly sink in until the option of going up
there is no longer around.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Ahh,
Jimmy’s room … I’ll miss it for sure. But at least now I’ll
be forced to kill the addiction.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Reckon
I’ll</span><span style="font-size: small;"> make cornflakes
with hot milk before going to bed. For some reason I’ve got a real
craving for cornflakes.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</div>
Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-2968439506862279162017-07-06T20:05:00.001-07:002017-07-06T20:05:34.290-07:00Jimmy's Room - part 2
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Now
I’m not saying every night is as great as all that. Sometimes it
can even get a bit boring, especially when it’s just me and Jimmy.
</span><span style="font-size: small;">A</span><span style="font-size: small;">nd
then there’s what happened a few nights ago, which was downright
strange.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Started
off all right. </span>There they were, Jimmy and Sean, sitting on the
bed playing Mario Cart as though they hadn’t moved since the last
time I’d been in there – imagine it seemed to them as if I’d
only gone downstairs a few moments before, at least, that was the way
it felt. No need to even say hello. It was simply, “Got some
gingerbread,” and “Cooool,” and, “Have a try on this,
Bradley.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">At
first, as I say, it was just like normal: but over the next few long
minutes of nothing I began to realise that something was kinda wrong.
It’d been a tiring day with three lectures and an extra maths
class, maybe that’s why, but pretty soon my head was in a right
mess.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Paranoia
set in and suddenly Jimmy and Sean were plotting something against
me; literally plotting – they’d been waiting all day and now I
was here they were gonna do something terrible, like, I don’t know
what. Kill me?</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">I
mean it all went from me happily eating Mum’s carefully sliced
gingerbread pieces, pleased to’ve decided to go up to Jimmy’s
room, them playing Mario Cart and us all getting on really well; me
thinking that maybe I had two great friends here and how much better
it was in Jimmy’s room than downstairs by myself … but like I
say, before long the whole feeling on this night was kinda different
from most and I needed to get out.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Thoughts
of escape swirled confusedly round my head before finally I mentioned
the firework display on campus; asked if they were up for it. Then
without even speaking to each other they were silently refusing,
showing a complete lack of interest.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Sean
changed the CD and in my paranoid state I couldn’t understand why
he’d chosen this moment to do so. Then it occurred that it was a
two player game and when was the last time they’d given me a turn?
Could’ve only been a minute before; the state my head was in, I had
no idea and was becoming convinced they never let me have a go so
what the hell was I doing sitting with them? Why the hell should I
put up with that?</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">In
a blur I stood up, saying I had to go see the fireworks, trying my
best to be polite and not cause a scene – which of course I wasn’t
doing, but with the condition of my emotions at the time, simply
leaving the room was a mammoth task.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Next
thing I remember was walking over grassy fields in the pitch black,
finally finding my way to the top of the hill and being rewarded with
the best firework display I’ve ever seen in my whole life.
Fireworks after being in Jimmy’s room is awesome, I’ve gotta say.
Stood there at the edge of the small crowd that there was, gaping up
at the sky, completely taken aback by the whole experience.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Funnily
enough (and quite randomly) Jung was there too. All at once I’d
found myself stood next to him in the dark. Can’t remember exactly
what I said but his reply was something along the lines of, “Man,
you so wasted,” which I thought was quite funny. Although when I
was laughing and saying, “Yeah man,” he didn’t seem to be
finding it as hilarious as I was.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Same
with the fireworks. I think he considered the whole thing pretty
lame.</span></div>
Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-685649986179077862017-06-15T19:01:00.003-07:002017-06-15T19:01:59.135-07:00Jimmy's Room - part 1
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Nicholas
knocked just now to ask if I’ll be joining our floor’s Xmas
dinner. First I’ve heard of it. Apparently he told everyone a few
days ago but I was a, “Hard man to track down.” Dunno why, spend
enough time around here. Guess I’ve either been up at Jimmy’s or
asleep – make a point too of not coming back to halls between
lectures if I can help it.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Man,
we’ve only just had Guy Fawkes and now it’s an early Xmas. First
term’s almost over and it’s gone like a train.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">The</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">
rule of </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">only
</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">g</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">oing
up to Jimmy’s</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">
</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">twi</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">ce
a week </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">has
gone a bit </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">Pete
Tong</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">,
</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">as
everyone seems to be saying these days. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">Gotta
a</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">dmit
</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">though</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">,
it’s well nice to have</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">
somewhere to crash out –</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">
</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">once
the evening sets in</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">,
sitting in your own room with no one to talk to can get a bit
depressing.</span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">Last
night</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">
we had a European Championship soccer tournament on the </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">X-box</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">.
Sean wasn’t there, </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">apparently</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">
he’s got a new bird, but Graz joined us </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">and
we finished off the rest of </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">M</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">um’s
gingerbread</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">.
Bit of a shame it’s gone now but they were so grateful and
appreciative; totally worth it.</span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">Jimmy
</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">put
on</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">
</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">the</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">
Radiohead album and </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">we
sat </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">the</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">re</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">
in the </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">semi-</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">darkness,
music bouncing around the walls. </span></span><span lang="en-GB">Jimmy,
</span><span lang="en-GB">with his</span><span lang="en-GB"> long
hair </span><span lang="en-GB">and</span><span lang="en-GB">
hippie</span><span lang="en-GB">-speak –</span><span lang="en-GB">
all slow, thoughtful and intelligen</span><span lang="en-GB">t – </span><span lang="en-GB">so
easygoing I reckon </span><span lang="en-GB">he</span><span lang="en-GB">’d
welcome anyone who happen</span><span lang="en-GB">ed</span><span lang="en-GB">
to stumble </span><span lang="en-GB">by</span><span lang="en-GB">.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span lang="en-GB">As
always</span><span lang="en-GB"> a few from their floor were </span><span lang="en-GB">in
fact </span><span lang="en-GB">paying a quick visit before going to
bed. One was this really fit girl (called Cherry of all things),
wearing this tiny dress and after she went, we were talking about how
nice her legs were and laughing about this a lot for some reason.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Giggling
fits, cool </span><span style="font-size: small;">tunes</span><span style="font-size: small;">
and the best part is I know I can go up whenever I want. Jimmy </span><span style="font-size: small;">seems
to</span><span style="font-size: small;"> love my enthusiasm
for </span><span style="font-size: small;">his</span><span style="font-size: small;">
music too. Reckon </span><span style="font-size: small;">he</span><span style="font-size: small;">
find</span><span style="font-size: small;">s</span><span style="font-size: small;">
it entertaining how I’m coming across all these bands for the first
time. </span><span style="font-size: small;">Used to feel a
bit naive</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;">but
when I admitted as such, </span><span style="font-size: small;">he</span><span style="font-size: small;">
was like, “Nah man, uni’s the place to discover this,” and said
he was kind of jealous.</span></span></div>
Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-56482302527624264362017-05-19T19:55:00.002-07:002017-05-19T19:55:10.607-07:00Waking Up in the Middle of the Night Story 4
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Thinking
back now, it was a ridiculous thing to do. But I ran.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">In
a blur there were trees, parked cars and scooters, the air rushing
about me. Why was I running? What was I afraid of? Had I seen a ghost
or had the guy simply not been dead? But a dreadful fear overwhelmed
me. I ran from the people who had killed him. Ran from the murderers
who lay in the shadows. I was being watched, I could feel it. Either
I’d been witness to a crime or I’d entered the ghostly other
world where the dead could walk amongst us. Faces in the darkness
observed my every move. I ran like an idiot. Ran until I could run no
more.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Finally
I stopped. A parked car next to me. My hand touched the smooth
surface of its rear door as I attempted to support myself. I breathed
heavily, rapidly. How far had I run and for how long? I turned to see
the 7-11 in the far distance. I’d left all my stuff inside –
there I was, empty-handed, no cigarettes, no dried mango. Even my
half finished beer had been left behind.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">It
was a black SUV and as I stood there, I noticed the quiet shadow of
someone in the driver’s seat. For some reason (or for obvious
reasons) this scared the shit out of me and I jumped back, away from
the car.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Still
feeling that I was being followed, I began walking, slowly, naturally
… feigning nonchalance, I zig-zagged along the road; lit another
cigarette – only two left now; but I’d find another 7-11, start
again. There were plenty of them around and there was no way I was
going back to the first one.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">The
tarmac under me sparkled in the street-light. I looked up at the
pitch-black sky. No stars, there’s pollution in this area. My area.
The place I call home. But where the hell was I? Nothing looked
familiar.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Behind
me a car alarm sounded. Head down, I continued walking. The air was
thick with heat. My t-shirt damp.</span></div>
Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-35261560097992225912017-04-26T09:22:00.003-07:002017-04-26T09:22:41.091-07:00Waking Up in the Middle of the Night Story 3
<br />
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Inside
the 7-11 I was still shaken up. Everything seemed bright and, for
want of a better word, <i>normal.</i> Unnaturally so. The modernity
of the place, the strangely upbeat music coming from the hidden
speakers, the cool, fresh temperature; rows of ready made meals and
snacks. Beef and chicken stews, curries, cardboard burgers and pasta;
sushi wraps, salads and yoghurt. I stood in front of the vast range
of chocolate bars looking for something with a strawberry centre,
trying to get rid of an image of a man with a severed arm lying
beside a river. Focussed on what to buy my girlfriend.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Absent-mindedly
I went over to the fridges, took out a Heineken beer can, opened it
up and took a sip. My gaze flew over the shelves of noodles,
stationery, pet food and bathroom essentials to the middle-aged
female cashier. Busy with a clipboard, she didn’t seem bothered
that I was drinking before paying. I took in her freshly pressed
uniform and wondered if it was her first day on the night shift. The
ice cold beer trickling down my throat felt wonderful as I took in
another sip.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Looking
around for other customers, I realised I was the only one in there.
It was almost three o’clock in the morning; who would be around at
this time of night? It wasn’t as if we were anywhere near the city.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Okay,”
I said to myself. “Calm down.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">It
was none of my business and nobody had seen me. I came here to buy
some drinks and snacks and that’s exactly what I was going to do.
My eyes moved to the cashier, her clipboard, a stack of magazines and
the wall of cigarettes behind her.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Get
some water, another beer, chocolate bar for the girlfriend, a
sandwich or two …” I went over to the snacks section and decided
on some peanuts for myself.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Now,
what else do I need?” I said loudly with a fair amount of false
nonchalance. “Cigarettes of course, got to replenish my stash. And
dried mango, that was it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">I
doubled back to the snacks section and picked up a packet of fruity
goodness.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">With
my arms full of delights, I went over to the counter to pay.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Couldn’t
sleep,” I said.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">The
middle-aged cashier replied with a disinterested, “Mmm.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Must
be the heat,” I continued. “Summer, eh? It’s a killer.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Shit,
bad choice of words. I didn’t want to say anything suspicious.
Didn’t want her to remember me. Why the hell was I speaking to her
at all?</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Three
hundred and twenty-six,” she replied, making eye-contact for a
fraction of a second.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Shit
again. Wasn’t expecting it to be as much as that. But no matter.
Not as if I couldn’t afford it.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">I
pulled out a 500 dollar note; handed it to her as the till burst open
and she scraped out my change.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Receiving
the money into the palm of my hand we briefly made eye contact again:
I felt like I should say something more to this lady; no doubt she’d
know what to do. Call the police over; she probably even had a button
behind the counter for emergencies.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">I
found a body,” is what I almost told her. “By the stream. Over
there, in that direction,” I would have said, gesturing and
pointing wildly at the glass windowed entrance.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">DING
DONG!”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">The
sound made when the sliding doors are disturbed. Scared me so much, I
almost dropped the change all over the counter. But it was nothing
but an old man, stinking of rice wine and stumbling in for more. His
feet were bare and purple. Sandals, loose shorts and a greyish
t-shirt that had seen better days. Let’s face it, everything about
the guy told me he had seen better days. His tufts of oily hair, his
patchy forehead, his blistered skin and bony joints. His severed
right arm dripping with blood. The guy went straight to the booze
section, just like I’d predicted, and took up a bottle of the
cheapest rice wine there. The really bad stuff that’s only really
any use if you use it for cooking. The one that comes in a tall, thin
bottle and if you drink the whole thing it’ll get you pissed soon
enough.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Circles
of blood patted onto the tiled floor, like dripping ice-cream. Pat,
pat, pat.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">About
to approach us, the guy seemed to be struck by a sudden thought.
Something he’d either forgotten or just remembered, and he stopped
right there, about ten feet from my shadow.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Noodles!”
he shouted, then began to laugh. “Forgot the damn noodles, didn’t
I.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">His
voice was loud and rasping and I stood there, rooted to the spot.
Open mouthed and staring, there was nothing I could do to pull my
eyes away.</span></div>
Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-80024793301509245022017-03-29T10:40:00.001-07:002017-03-29T10:43:24.526-07:00guest story - On the Button by Rachel Carter<br />
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
“Zophar, listen.” Luna crouched before him on the pavement. “You
can get out whenever you want, okay?” Zophar nodded, looking past
his mother to the others. His body was poised in politeness towards
his mother but in anticipation of the other children, his eyes looked
ahead to his new schoolmates and he willed her to say goodbye.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
“Did you Anti-Germ your hands?” Another nod.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
“Where are your disposable toilet seat covers?” Zophar patted his
backpack.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
“And mask? Remember which pocket?” More nodding.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
His father opened the driver door of the car and the airlock was
released with a Clop. Shhhhhhhh. He stepped out carefully, holding a
green canister, spraying into the air as he approached.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
“Another squirt of Pollute Repel for luck.” He misted the air
around Zophar’s head and tiptoed back to the car, as if trying to
avoid making contact with the ground.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
“One last button test, perhaps Luna?” he called, slipping back
into the car and sealing himself in.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
“Yes. Quick button run-through,” said Luna. “Tell me again.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
“Emergency Back-Off spray, emergency water purifying tablet.”
Zophar’s fingers ran downwards over the buttons on his blazer at
speed as he rushed through the list.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
“Emergency anti-viral pill, emergency contact button, emergency
detox spray button.” He touched his cuffs next. “Panic buttons.
Now can I go?” The five-year old jiggled impatiently.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
“Anytime at all, if you are worried,” continued Luna, “if
someone touches you, if someone coughs near you, if the toilets are
dirty. Any reason. You hear me? We’ll get you out straight away.
Just press those cuff buttons. And when the car brings you back
remember: shoes in the porch, through the first entrance door, blazer
off, then through the airlock and straight to the arrivals shower.
Don’t come in with your shoes and blazer and don’t touch the
cruise control in the car on the way home. You hear me?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
“I know, I know, you said. Now can I go?” </div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
“Okay.” Luna
kissed the air, not touching Zophar. “Go baby. Take care. Remember:
buttons!” She mimed pushing buttons as he ran off. “And don’t
run or you’ll fall and touch the ground and I’ll have to take you
home!”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
Luna clasped her hands in front of her chin. “Good luck. Come home
safely,” she whispered.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
Zophar scampered up the steps as fast as he thought he would get away
with. He was more happy and excited than he could ever remember
being. This was better than birthdays. There were other children
here. The entrance was massive. It took up one whole side of the
building.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
“Prevention Pharmaceutical’s Academy of Learning and Science
welcomes you all and asks that when you enter the building, you do
not share a door pod with anyone else,” came a voice from within
the walls.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
Robotic eyes shifted around and each pod spoke instructions through
hidden speakers as one hundred children at a time were allowed to
enter the first segment where they were instantly separated by
screens that held the children in stalls as they were scanned for
identification and viruses.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
Immediately three boys were locked in and a voice told them to wait
until cars arrived to remove them.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
Some newcomers were familiar with screening and airlocks. They stood
patiently while the eyes and scanners moved around them. But the
others, from older housing out of the city had not experienced
Entrance Pollution Prevention.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
Zophar could hear cries of “I want to go home,” “I don’t like
this,” while others sobbed and tried to back out.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
Luna had told him about the entrance and how other boys weren’t
used to it. “They’ll soon get domesticated,” she had said.
“Everyone learns eventually.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
Next they were filtered into a huge glass cube. It was one of six on
three levels. A voice told them to wait for the professors to collect
them.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
In this mix of trained and untrained five-year-olds, the difference
was obvious to Zophar: the untrained boys had less shiny clothes and
they didn’t have emergency blazer buttons. Zophar worried for them.
But they didn’t look bothered. A few of them started talking to
each other and they even tried to talk to the trained boys. Luna had
said to keep away from untrained boys because they weren’t treated.
He wondered if it would be safer to hold his nose then he wouldn’t
be sharing their air. He held his breath for twenty seconds and gave
up.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
An untrained boy had been watching him. “I can hold my breath loads
longer than that.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
“Ludo’s the best at holding his breath. He swims underwater,”
said another boy.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
“He goes swimming?! Wow…” Zophar stared.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
“Ye-ah, loads of us go. It’s really good for you.” The boy
threw off his blazer and mimicked breaststroke. “Gives you strong
muscles. My dad said so.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
Zophar, Ludo and some others took off their blazers too, giggling as
they ran in circles pretending to swim.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
“Why are your buttons so big?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
Zophar turned to see Ludo wearing his blazer and fiddling with the
cuff buttons.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
“No! Don’t!”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
The airlock opened and a robotic sensor promptly identified Zophar’s
blazer. Ludo was shunted gently towards the door pods.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
“Please wait until your car arrives,” said a voice.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
From the door pods Ludo was directed into Zophar’s family car and
within minutes he was lowered out at Zophar’s house.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
A woman’s voice from a wall speaker said he could try school again
tomorrow and she was glad he was home. “And remember:” she said,
“shoes in the porch, through the first entrance door, blazer off
then through the airlock and straight to the arrivals shower. Don’t
come in with your shoes and blazer on.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
Luna waited outside the bathroom with clean towels. She stared;
horrified at the sight of the strange, untreated boy and then she
hyperventilated.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm; text-indent: 0.3cm;">
Zophar’s father left Ludo in the entrance while he arranged his
collection. Then the house and car were treated before the car was
sent to collect the right boy this time. It had all been too risky
and too stressful – Luna would home-school Zophar from now on.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.1cm; margin-top: 0.1cm;">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-44432209386332821952017-02-02T19:58:00.001-08:002017-02-02T19:58:12.418-08:00Unfinished Story #3 part 1
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tuesday<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">London to Beijing. January.
2004.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I look down through the window,
beneath the clouds at the rough, mountainous terrain of Mongolia, wondering
what it would be like to crash land in the middle of nowhere; if I’d end up
having to eat any of my fellow passengers; whether we’d get rescued by a bunch
of tribesmen on horseback; or pretty tribeswomen who’d take us back to their
tents, forcing us to be their slaves.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The girl beside me is Asian, fairly
attractive, and I guess she’s just entered my daydreams.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">She’s from Beijing, her name’s
Anna, she’s the same age as me and has been studying in England for over a
year. We talked about how I’m now doing what she did. Except it’s kind of the
opposite. Ha ha. I’m on my way there, she’s on her way back. Ha ha. Except
she’s been learning English and … well, I’m a teacher and she’s a student so
that’s kinda flipped around too.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“A teacher?” she asked,
impressed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“A TEFL teacher,” I replied. A
twenty-two-year-old English teacher, trained for one month on a Mickey Mouse
course with a Mickey Mouse certificate in his backpack, about to start his
first real job in Asia’s famous capital. And ever so slightly shitting himself.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“So, can you speak Chinese?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Yeah,” I say. “A little.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Ni hao ma?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Ni hao.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Ni chu Beijing jiao yinwen
duo jiu?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m having to use my phrase
book to write this down. My Chinese isn’t as good as all that and rather
embarrassingly I had no idea what she was on about. She laughed though, a
little patronisingly, and explained that she’d asked how long I’d be teaching in
Beijing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Six months,” I replied, to
which she feigned mock surprise.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“So short.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Anyway, I’m not going to write
the whole conversation down. We swapped emails and chatted for a while about
the places I should visit, things I should eat and how as an Englishman I’d be
happy to know that the beer is cheap. How I’m starting a Masters next autumn
but six months feels a long time for me because this is my first time to be
going abroad for more than a couple of weeks.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Eventually we ran out of
things to say, which was a bit awkward, so instead of trying to keep our
conversation going for the rest of our fourteen-hour flight, I pretended to
fall asleep until she actually did fall asleep and now I’m writing this - staring
out the window, feeling kinda lonely, deciding, albeit weirdly, that I’d much rather
eat her than some dead old person.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-11873957662306634902017-01-05T20:04:00.001-08:002017-01-05T20:04:32.944-08:00Waking Up in the Middle of the Night Story 2
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Still
feeling the pangs of thirst I was thankful for the slight gust of wind blowing
once I was outside. There was a cool, welcoming hush from the trees that seemed
to offer excitement too; and I remember it was necessary to catch the iron gate
at the last minute to stop it banging shut with a clang. It was as if I was
being reminded to appreciate the wildness of outside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I looked up
and down the lane to see there wasn’t a soul in sight; although a second glance
caught the familiar stray cat watching me from under one of the few parked cars
along the way; two oval eyes reflecting the moon, stars; and a soft glow of
street lighting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p> </o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I often
enjoyed this time of night, the comfort of being alone; unnoticed by the neighbours.
It had become my street; my world: quiet enough to detect the trickling of water
from the stream; I could see bats swooping overhead; insects were crackling,
buzzing and tap-tapping away in their nocturnal chorus.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p> </o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I got down
onto the floor and began meowing at the cat, trying to get it to come out; then
giving up, let out a sharp hissing sound and watched, satisfied, as it
scampered away, fast as a lighting bolt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p> </o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In the
distance a dog was barking; then further still the noise of a car engine; ever
so faint; but audible all the same.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p> </o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I made my
way to the end of the lane, walking freely and zigzagging around, picked up a
stick, and then was searching absent-mindedly for snakes; maybe a rat: something
interesting amongst the tall grass separating the road from the stream. The
moon was clouding over but it was easy to see nevertheless: Despite there being
no lights coming from any of the houses around, the line of lamp posts stood
tall and proud. Like a troop of night-watchmen protecting the sleeping residents
of our neighbourhood; guiding my path to the more inhabited, more civilized part
of town. They nodded down to me with a wise understanding, an appreciation of
my need to be on a mission for some thirst quenching rations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In spite of
myself and this thirst I lit another cigarette, the smoke hitting the dryness
of the back of my throat with a bitter, though not altogether unpleasant
sensation. I added a deep breath of humid air, opening my mouth wide, savouring
the taste of microscopic water droplets on the back of my dry tongue. I allowed
my mind to carry me briefly to the fresh air-conditioned oasis of Seven-Eleven,
where along the wall fridges held all assortments of beers, juice, flavoured
milk, a range of cool teas and iced coffees.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">My thoughts
concentrated towards the familiar <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ding-dong</i>
sound on entering, the trendy late night radio that would be playing. Not long
now, I told myself. Gonna get myself a beer I reckon. Some fruit juice for
after. A couple of bottles of water for the fridge and maybe a treat for the
girlfriend: one of those chocolate bars with a soft pink strawberry centre. As
for me I had a strange craving for some dried mango; something to suck on and
chew whilst sipping the cool beer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Imagining
the condensation from the can (drips of water forming on the surface as soon as
it was in my warm, sweaty palm) I hit at the grass once more, lost in
deliberation, not noticing the man until I was almost upon him; almost tripping
over his crumpled, awkward figure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">There was a
pool of dark black liquid beside him which I immediately took to be blood.
Allowing my eyes to further scan the scene I saw redder colours on the tips of
the grass surrounding his body. His head was twisted sideways in an unnatural
position and his left arm had been half severed from the torso; a wound I
guessed to be the source of all the blood.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Somehow knowing
that he was almost certainly dead I lightly kicked at his legs nonetheless: and
then unashamedly was poking his face with the stick; just to be sure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">All this
didn’t make me feel as disturbed as you might think. Most likely the reason for
this is because he was old. Sixty or seventy at a guess. Also he was wearing a
dark suit like bodies are often dressed in when you go to an open casket funeral
and I was bizarrely drawing similarities to a great uncle who I’d only ever
seen in such a state of death.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">But
unsurprisingly, after a few seconds had passed the reality of the scene finally
hit me. In sudden shock I stepped back and dropped my half finished cigarette
in the grass. Then swing around, searching for a sign of anyone nearby;
curiously hearing a sudden splash of water from the other side of the river;
and the noise of running footsteps which I couldn’t be sure was my imagination
or not…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">There was no
one in sight though. Only the sounds of the insects, distant vehicles, dogs
barking, my own breathing and the scratching of flint from my lighter as I
sparked up a fresh cigarette, wondering what to do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-56095295565505904342016-12-03T21:48:00.003-08:002016-12-03T21:49:18.228-08:00Unfinished Story #3 part 2<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Wednesday<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Should I be describing Beijing
airport in some great detail? What can I say? It’s an airport. (Although
possibly that’s a description in itself – no big difference from Heathrow
except the signs are all in Chinese – that and the fact there were lots of fit
girls wearing long military jackets, standing about not doing much and I think
they were airport staff). <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">To be honest, having not had a
cigarette for over a day and having been bored off my arse on a plane with no
in-flight entertainment, I was too busy searching for a smoking room to take
any of it in. Robotically following the other passengers to baggage claim and
the rest of it, still with no luck on the smoking room front, I found myself at
the place where I was supposed to be being picked up, looking for my name amongst
the cardboard signs held by a scattering of dishevelled looking Chinese men.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Looking for my name. My name.
First name, last name, then the name of my school. Possibly the name of my
country would be enough? But no, nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I wandered amongst the
thinning crowd, feeling ever so slightly at a loss, confused and dazed, but not
quite willing to take in my situation just yet; I decided to instead resume my
search for a decent place to have a cigarette; then noticed that half the men
in the airport were indeed smoking exactly where they stood. In fact, there was
so much smoke in the air that I could hardly believe I hadn’t noticed this
before.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">It was a short time later that
Anna and who I assumed to be her family came into view, marching together in a
bustle of delighted exhilaration. Grandparents, parents and a couple of sisters
I imagined, babbling away in enthusiastic tones. I drew on what must have been
my third cigarette, watching them, wondering if I could, if I should break up
the happy reunion to ask for help – and yes, this is exactly what I should have
done, but instead, as I caught her eye I simply waved, and she waved too, and
that was it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">This was, however, the moment
when I threw my cigarette down and decided that enough was enough and something
had to be done. Searching through my rucksack I found the name and address of
my school written in Chinese. How hard could it be to get there? All I needed
was a taxi.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">And that’s exactly what
happened. Walking towards the exit, I was all at once being hassled by a number
of “drivers.” I use inverted commas here because rather than a taxi, the car I
ended up in was a black unmarked car. But I got a good price I reckon. He had
pulled out a little cardboard sign with prices on and insisted that 800 yuan
was the cheapest he’d go, but I knocked him down to 300, which I was quite
proud of.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The drive there was fairly
non-eventful. No paddy fields or rice farmers outside because we were after all
in the heart of the city. He offered me a cigarette, asked me where I was from:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“English teacher!” he shouted.
“Very good!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Then he went into Chinese and
the rest of our conversation became guess work, with me nodding my head and
saying, “Hao,” at what I hoped were the appropriate moments.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">*<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">This day comes in two parts.
The first, which you’ve just read, was written outside the building of what
should have been my school. Rather than going in straight away I sat on a bench
by some rock gardens to gather myself together and write about the little
disaster that I’d so cleverly overcome. I thought that was it; that I was home
and dry; about to meet new friends and colleagues, start my new life and that
pretty soon I’d be going out to dinner, few beers, telling the story of how
briefly I’d been stuck in Beijing, a stranger in a huge city, not knowing
anyone, unable to speak the language, and with very little survival experience.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Ahhh, shit! You’ve guessed it.
That’s exactly where I’m at now.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Must have gone in every room
of the building. The odd looking foreigner with his piece of paper and broken
Chinese:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Where the hell is this
school? Face to Face English. School. Xiue Xiao. English school. Face to Face.
Wo shi yinguo laoshi. I’m an English teacher. Face to Face. School. Help.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Gave up finally because what
else could I do? Need to find a hostel, find someone who speaks English. Some
other foreigners like myself. That’s my job for tomorrow.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">As for now I’m sat in the most
amazing hotel room you could imagine. View from the double windows is like some
sort of sci-fi movie. Had McDonalds for dinner, which I took up here and ate on
the balcony. Then watched a Chinese dating show on telly, had a bath, and have
been drinking green tea and reading my book, feeling like a king on this huge
double bed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">So I guess it’s not all bad.
Just a little scary.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">*<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Okay, one more entry for
today. The most beautiful, and let’s face it, the sexiest girl I’ve ever been within
spitting distance of has just knocked on my door. When I opened up and saw her
I just sort of stood there gawking, and probably dribbling at the mouth; but
then reminding myself that she was in fact a real person and had probably got
the wrong room, I politely told her as much. Didn’t speak Chinese, just said,
“No,” and, “Sorry,” and pointed to my room number, gesturing with my arms that
it wasn’t this number that she wanted.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Anyway, thought I’d write this
down. Having trouble sleeping to be honest.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Also, the thought has hit me
that possibly she did have the correct room after all and I just turned away
the girl of my dreams.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-68374897887024179102016-11-14T07:40:00.002-08:002016-12-03T21:26:43.798-08:00Unfinished Story #3 part 3<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Thursday<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Went to find my school again
today, but still no luck.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Okay, let’s start at the
beginning. I woke up with the intention of finding a hostel so I could use the
internet there, meet some other foreigners, etc. Then I realised that I needed
internet to find a hostel. I haven’t got any lonely planet book or anything
like that – definitely should have come more prepared.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Looked for an internet room in
this hotel but couldn’t find one. No restaurant either. Asked at reception but
nobody seems to understand anything I’m talking about. I have a phrase book but
it’s all stuff like, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I need some condoms
please</i>, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Have you got something
for diarrhoea?</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Where can I buy
some suntan lotion?</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">They understood when I paid
for another night however. Three hundred yuan, which converts to about thirty
quid. Not bad for the size and quality of the room.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Had breakfast in McDonalds
again. There’s one near the hotel, you can’t miss it as the only recognisable
anything in this entire city. Everything looks like a Chinese restaurant.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Then I caught a taxi and went
back to the address of where my school should be. Just to double check if I’d
be taken to the same building as I was yesterday. Could’ve walked there from
here but needed to confirm the address was right.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">No luck again. Same story as
yesterday.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">There were a bunch of people
selling stuff in the street nearby. Saw some baby ducks – who’s gonna buy a
baby duck and what for? The rest of it was the usual stuff you get in
Chinatown. Ornaments and fancy little boxes for keeping the ornaments in. Nothing
especially exciting.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">While I was there a sudden
panic ensued, which I later realised was because someone had spotted the police
nearby. All the sellers hurriedly packed up all their stuff and legged it round
the corner out of sight. Quite funny to watch.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Friday<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Need to get myself a winter
coat at some point. The weather outside is pretty cold. Found an internet café
at least. There’s an email from my school:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Hi Adam.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Looking forward to our meeting you. You first class on January 11. Did
you arrive at Beijing yet?<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Please reply soon.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Happy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Not sure how to react to
this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, I was supposed to be
picked up at the airport on the 5<sup>th</sup> of January. No mention of that.
But if my first class is on the eleventh then at least I’m not in any trouble.
I replied with:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Hi, Happy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">In Beijing now but can’t find the school. What is the address? I’m
staying at the Grace Hotel on Fujing Street, Chaoyangmen district.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Looking forward to your reply,<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Kevin.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Bought cigarettes that taste
of flowers. It was the cheapest pack. Got some beer too and went back to my
room. I know I should explore Beijing, make the most of this free time I have,
but not in the mood. It’s cold and I don’t really know what I’m doing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Saturday</span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">No entry.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Sunday<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">There’s a writing desk in my
hotel room. That’s where I’ve been jotting this diary stuff down. The carpet is
dark brown, the bed is huge, high and soft, covered in brown and cream blankets
with duvet to match. There’s a coffee table with two wicker chairs, a modern TV;
the double windows cover one whole wall of the room which leads to a narrow
balcony overlooking the metropolis. There’s about twenty lights in the room
which are all turned on using a control panel by the bed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The bathroom is gold; the bath
itself is more like a spa pool than anything else; bubbles can be turned on;
there are round neon lights on the bottom of the bath and the thing lights up like
Christmas while you’re in there.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Most of the last few days have
been spent reading my book, drinking green tea and smoking far too much: on the
bed, sat in one of the wicker chairs, out on the balcony, in the bath … I had a
few beers in here last night – flicked through the TV channels looking for
anything interesting. Mostly watched Chinese cartoons and music videos.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I’m on the fifteenth floor. I
take the lift down in the mornings. As far as I know there’s nothing else in
this hotel apart from rooms. Gotta stop eating McDonalds.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Handing my keys in for the
last time today. Going to a hostel I found on the internet. It’s been nice here
in a weird way, but also rather lonely. Time for a new start.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-22785954182568755422015-10-15T22:13:00.003-07:002015-10-15T22:13:19.054-07:00Story 31 - Soup<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Actually did make soup last night. Was going to get a tin of Campbell’s or maybe a box of sachets but Sarah gave me the idea of making my own. She reckoned it was easy enough, just get some vegetables, stick them in boiling water and there’s your soup. Bought a leek, a potato, a tomato and a carrot. Cut them up, boiled some water and threw the lot into it. Added salt, pepper and waited, waited for what seemed like forever for the thing to turn into soup but it never did become anything other than a load of vegetables in hot water. Still had it though, and I guess it was healthy enough, in spite of the fact I was up half the night pissing. (I go in the sink by the way. Not sure if I’ve mentioned this before but during the night I can’t be bothered to walk to the end of the corridor for a leak so I use the sink in my room. Kinda disgusting, but convenience outweighs all that.)</span><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Off to a party at East Slope later. The weather’s nice at the moment. It’s like a beautiful summer’s evening outside.</span>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-36304236918211814812015-09-05T09:29:00.000-07:002015-09-05T09:29:06.085-07:00Unfinished Story #2<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">I’ve sprawled out on the seat of the train, but I don’t know this yet.</span><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">There’s the sound of white noise. An intense, thunderous burst of hisses and booms - my eyes open and immediately I’m groping at the control panel in my wrist.</span><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">“F***ing thing,” I say.</span><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Digging my nails further into the skin I manage to switch off the main circuit. A hush as my eyes adjust to the empty carriage.</span><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Silver walls dully reflect the artificial light. The air is murky and damp. Strange, as these trains are usually air conditioned. It must be on the blink. That or a deliberate act of vandalism.</span><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">My hand moves to the holster under my coat, and my gun is still there. I take it out, checking the settings, then lay back, gazing up at the ceiling’s videoscreen to see an image of doves flying above. A moment later they morph into bats, then stars, then footballs, and then as the map of our progress is displayed in a brilliance of colour I see that we’ve just past Kowloon.</span><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">“Shit.”</span><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">I sit up, look left and right to double check that I am alone. A humming from the train replaces the silence, and as I stand the humming becomes louder. My stress levels have increased and there’s the beginnings of a headache.</span><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">“What the hell?”</span><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Instinctively I look to the control panel in my wrist to see how long I was out, but it’s off, because I switched it off, and when I painfully turn it back on using the manual lever the display reads four zeros, which blink at me stupidly.</span><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">I press the call button and a distorted image of Frank appears on screen for all but a few seconds before fading into nothingness.</span><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">“F***ing thing,” I say again. So what now?</span>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-12254803324926926252015-08-29T08:39:00.001-07:002015-08-29T22:39:38.241-07:00Unfinished Story #1<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">Nothing overly special going on in my last class. I write a couple of sentences on the board, then get them to repeat a few times in between throwing a ball at each other. They take out their books, write a few more similar sentences, do the spelling test, we read a story about a cat getting stuck up a tree, play a game of Marco Polo and then I’m outta there.</span><br />
<br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">It’s Friday night and I’m in the mood to get wasted. <i>Like there’s anything else to do?</i> I hear myself thinking. Heading home amongst once so unfamiliar surroundings, I marvel at how quickly one adjusts to this new environment. Crowds of dark, smiling faces, side stools selling everything from fried intestines to confectionated chicken feet to mango and ice cream kebabs. I purchase a king sized plastic cup of tapioca milk tea; already immune to the stink of steaming, putrid drains, I happily sip at my beverage, dodging through the rush of scooters, taxis, bicycles and car horns. If you’ve ever been there you know the score. We’re in any Asian city so I may as well leave it at that. You’re far from home, and how quickly us foreigners fall into the expected stereotype of becoming alcoholics in a distant land. A niche we fit into so well. For those of us who are able to survive out here for more than a year of this weirdly addictive loneliness, it is but a necessity.</span><br />
<br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">Beneath towering Skyscrapers, I continue my journey home. Attractively modern buildings mix with shorter, more hastily built concrete obscenities - and these in turn seem out of place next to the few remaining ancient temples that shine with a proud but humble determination amongst the glittering neon lights. Wading through this regular conglomerate of ancient and modern, of past, present and future, I’m making my way into a Seven-Eleven to grab a bottle of local medicine wine, a preheated chicken burger and packet of chocolate corn chips. For me the place is a whirl of incomprehensible language, both audible and visual, but being used to such an environment, I’ve found there’s something relaxing about it too. I stand apart, and mostly I’m ignored. I’m like a ghost, coming from a different world, another dimension, and due to my ignorance I’m able to remain in that world apart. I slide silently amongst the other customers, happily immune to the surrounding babble. This is the way it’s always been, and this is the way I like it.</span><br />
<br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">Whilst queuing up to pay, I’m therefore disturbed and rather put out when I receive a tap on the shoulder from a girl standing behind me who’s keen to ask where I’m from.</span><br />
<br style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Optima, Segoe, 'Segoe UI', Candara, Calibri, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">“Where are you from?” she blurts, in a twangy accent. High spirited, false friendliness; it’s</span>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-59658047973443933112015-07-07T08:10:00.002-07:002015-07-07T08:10:36.654-07:00Story 30 - The Wooden Bicycle<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">There was this one time years ago when I saw a bicycle that was made completely of wood. The pedals, chain, handle bars and everything. Even this wooden bicycle bell which sort of rattled when I used it.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I was outside my </span><span style="font-family: 'PMingLiU'; font-size: 12.0000pt; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">friend</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">’s house, who wasn’t my best friend, although he lived across the street. There was an alleyway and if you walked up about halfway you’d find a house on your right whose garden was overgrown with weeds and the gate was all rotten, with a distinctive smell I can still remember now. A nice </span><span style="font-family: 'PMingLiU'; font-size: 12.0000pt; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">fragrance</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> that came from all the plants I suppose. The whole alle</span><span style="font-family: 'PMingLiU'; font-size: 12.0000pt; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">y</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> smelt like this and it all, the scent, definitely adds to my memory of the bicycle.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I was in the garden outside his front door one day</span><span style="font-family: 'PMingLiU'; font-size: 12.0000pt; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">,</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> call</span><span style="font-family: 'PMingLiU'; font-size: 12.0000pt; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">ing</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> on him to see if he wanted to go out to play.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">It was before I’d even rung the bell that I was looking all over this strange </span><span style="font-family: 'PMingLiU'; font-size: 12.0000pt; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">creation</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">. The same size as a normal bike; at least as any normal bike was to me at the time – now I have no idea. Brown, wooden, not shiny or anything…</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">My friend came to the door and I asked about it as soon as he answered and he said it was his brother’s. I knew at once he meant the brother who’d died but being a child I didn’t feel any need to move away from the subject so I carried on talking and asking if it was ok to ride, if he’d ever ridden it and how come I hadn’t seen it before. In spite of my enthusiasm though, he simply replied that his dad was using it for something without answering any of my questions. I still don’t know if anyone ever rode the thing.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I’d been in my friend’s house sitting in his front room when he’d first told me about his brother. Can’t remember exactly what we were doing in there ‘cause he was much more of a playing outside on the street or in the woods kind of friend so it was unusual in a way for me to be in his front room on this or any occasion. There was this picture of a guy standing next to a motorbike looking like some kind of hero or film star and it might’ve even been black and white. When I’d asked my friend who it was in the picture he’d said that it was his older brother and that he’d died in a motorbike accident.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">So anyway, my friend called back to his mum that it was me at the door and he was going out and then we were sort of back in the alleyway walking to the end into the park with the swings and slide and we hung around there for a while before going to call on another of our friends called Wa</span><span style="font-family: 'PMingLiU'; font-size: 12.0000pt; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">y</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">ne Stevens who had a younger brother we also played with from time to time. We went round their house for a bit and played with toy cars in their front room; their mum made us a sandwich each. After that I remember us, the four of us were playing cricket in their driveway.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">It was a nice day actually. And I never saw the bicycle again until about three or four years later when my friend was having a kind of garden sale which would’ve been a garage sale if they’d had a garage but they didn’t. They were moving to another place up the other side of London and getting rid of some of the </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic;">crap they didn’t need</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">. I’d forgotten all about the bicycle but there it was lying under their apple tree next to an old rocking horse and as soon as it caught my eye the memory of seeing it a few years before came flooding back to me. Suddenly I could feel myself standing there knocking at my friend’s door and playing in the park, woods or round each other’s houses, playing with Star Wars toys and Transformers, watching cartoons and all those things we used to do.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Things were different then of course. Like, I was still mates with almost all of the same people (in fact I think his garden sale was the beginning of my first experience saying goodbye to any of my friends) but the stuff we did was… well I must’ve been about twelve or thirteen by then.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I think at that time a typical social experience so to speak would have been football after school, computer games at youth club, with t</span><span style="font-family: 'PMingLiU'; font-size: 12.0000pt; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">he odd nigh</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">t</span><span style="font-family: 'PMingLiU'; font-size: 12.0000pt; mso-spacerun: 'yes';"> of </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">cigarettes and cider on the way home.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Before even announcing my presence to my friend or his family I’d already picked up the bicycle from the grass and was looking at it remembering stuff about my friend’s brother, how he’d died and everything in a road accident.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The bike was still in a fairly new sort of condition. A polished wooden seat, wooden spokes, and instead of tyres the rims of the wheels were thick with a darker coloured wood.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">A bicycle once belonging to a boy, who somewhere had long ago rotted in his grave, was still here in the house where he’d lived. Like, here it still was, surrounded by neighbours slowly drifting around the garden, hunting through boxes of household items, possessions spread across the grass.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">And the way the bike was </span><span style="font-family: 'PMingLiU'; font-size: 12.0000pt; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">now </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">patiently sitting there propped up on its wooden stand, avoiding, not partaking in all the commotion surrounding it, it seemed sort of beautiful; but lonely too in a funny sort of way. And I remember it seemed weird, a little wrong how they were selling the thing. In some ways it was like someone’s heart or his soul which was being forgotten, neglected and discarded.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">To be honest the whole thing made me feel a bit sick.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-81803694147049127842014-06-01T21:18:00.000-07:002014-06-01T21:18:16.009-07:00Story 29 - Bears<div class="content">
I’ve always been scared of
bears. Ever since I was a kid. There was this TV programme for us
younger viewers which had a sketch with a bear jumping around trying to
catch a bunch of children who were running away smiling and screaming
and it was all meant to be humorous I think. The bear was a guy in a
costume. People, adults, would come out to hit the bear on the head with
bats and he’d stumble around dizzily, crazily, and as I think back now
I’m sure it was supposed to be wildly amusing. But to me it was
terrifying.<br /><br />My mum locked me out the house. In the back garden to
think about what I’d done. She needed a break from my unruliness, my
energy, whatever it was, and I was standing there by the kitchen door,
standing on the patio alone. A bear was coming around the corner. It
would be here any moment. I could hear it, feel its presence. Bear
footsteps, growling, and I was banging on the door screaming for my
mother to open up and save me.<br /><br />There I am, shouting for help over
and over again in a complete fit of panic until finally she unlocked
the door and I was in her arms crying about the bear that was trying to
eat me. And my mother was my mother again, telling me not to worry and
that I was being silly, reassuring me that of course there was no bear;
how could a bear be in our back garden?<br /><br />But she let me in too. In
no time at all I had her love back - I remember being given a yoghurt,
or some such treat from the fridge and being allowed to stay in the
kitchen, sat on a chair behind her while she finished off the dinner and
washing up.</div>
<div class="content">
</div>
<div class="content">
</div>
Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-24103496667261385362014-05-11T00:36:00.003-07:002014-05-11T00:36:43.047-07:00Story 28 - Waking Up in the Middle of the Night StoryIt was a gradual feeling of realisation that I’d been moving around,
changing positions for at least the past twenty, thirty minutes; though I
couldn’t be sure. My damp half of the duvet was completely drenched in
sweat; bladder aching with a dull and strangely comfortable pain; which
funnily enough, I wasn’t so desperate to relieve at once.<br /><br />Instead
I lay there on the edge of cloud-cuckoo-land, trying to remember what
the hell kind of world I’d only just been dreaming about a few moments
before - swirling into and out of semi-consciousness, shapes and voices
moved slowly away, barely out of grasp.<br /><br />My girlfriend on the bed
next to me was giving off heat like some kind of burning radiation
device. My own personal living, breathing hot water bottle. The last
thing I needed in the middle of summer in a place like this. And then,
as the sweat continued to ooze from my pores I began to notice a
familiar buzzing in the room. The high pitched wheezing noise of a
mosquito we must have missed earlier on. Now there was no way of me
getting back to sleep.<br /><br />I picked up my Casio watch from the tiled floor beside me and pressed the light.<br /><br />2:33.<br /><br />This meant… not counting her reading, me reading and our usual goodnight, I’d been asleep for hardly an hour.<br /><br />I
moved on to my back, then again to the front, flattening my face
against the pillow. Then I was pushing the palm of my right hand against
the smooth floor, hoping for some of the coolness to filter through my
body, allowing my bare foot to do the same and it helped a little; but
not enough. I needed a cigarette. A glass of milk. A piss. I needed to
get up, out of this bed, this room.<br /><br />Sliding silently out from
under the duvet, I grabbed a t-shirt, glanced briefly at the lump in the
bed to check my girlfriend was still asleep, carefully opened the
bedroom door and before I knew it was standing in front of the fridge in
the kitchen searching for milk, water, some juice, a beer, something to
quench my sudden thirst. All I could find however were the remains of
my girlfriend’s unfinished vodka and lemonade; the tumbler carefully
covered with cling-film, preventing, I supposed, the last few remaining
bubbles from escaping so easily.<br /><br />I ripped the film from the glass
and downed the contents, looking around afterwards for anything else to
drink, rechecking the fridge before settling for a cigarette and mildly
painful piss in the bathroom.<br /><br />I ran the tap, opened the window,
flicked ash into the sink and outside intermittently … considered
risking a couple of gulps of tap water before deciding not to and taking
a few deep breaths of outside air instead.<br /><br />I dragged on the end
of my cigarette, wondering what to do next. I didn’t feel like going
back to bed. Maybe a bit of TV for a while would go down well. Though
without anything to quench my thirst … possibly I was gonna have to
think about hydrating myself as a priority.<br /><br />I flicked through the
TV channels anyway, being careful to hit hard on the decrease volume
button as soon as the screen lit up. News, a cooking programme, shopping
channel, some girls playing pool in bikinis, another girl telling me
about her likes and dislikes whilst suggestively playing with her
bra-strap, baseball, more baseball, wrestling, yesterday’s basketball
game, news … back to the girl telling me about her interests who was now
down to just a bra and panties. I gazed at the monitor knowing exactly
what was gonna happen next but waited anyway. This girl liked long walks
on the beach, eating sushi and going to the spa. She had a tattoo of a
purple rose on her thigh, long fake eyelashes, deep blue eyes, short
thick dyed yellow hair and red underwear. She had the thumb of her left
hand hooked around the top of her panties while the other hand was
waving around in rhythm to her giggles as she let me in to knowing all
about her secret love of swimming naked.<br /><br />And there it was,
straight to adverts just as her hands were moving up to behind her bra:
Adverts with lots of other girls waiting for my call or text. So I
switched off the TV, knowing that yet another girl would only be
appearing after the break, all ready to tease me into reaching for my
credit card which I had no desire or need to be getting myself into.<br /><br />I
returned to the bathroom to grab my cigarettes, pulled a pair of jeans
off the back of the sofa; checked the pockets for money, finding a
couple of decent notes inside. I took another look in the bedroom to see
if my girlfriend was still asleep; which I guessed from the look of the
lump that she was; but I whispered, “Just popping down the 7-11, be
back in a while,” anyway.Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-71559172230244896382014-04-20T06:17:00.000-07:002014-04-20T06:17:27.013-07:00Review - The Dead Beat by Cody James<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUDfj5TqK9bUFGvwuReQOYuykbdbvd1b2C4cYHtorfy_-7u6T6iFQZpPynHruZAljjAd2a8oxNbATLUhQX98r44CqI9TXKr5tJYWpr7Y2E84bosghINVsTN1yCFTuu_GEvu6OkzlbrwZ8/s1600/9526723.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUDfj5TqK9bUFGvwuReQOYuykbdbvd1b2C4cYHtorfy_-7u6T6iFQZpPynHruZAljjAd2a8oxNbATLUhQX98r44CqI9TXKr5tJYWpr7Y2E84bosghINVsTN1yCFTuu_GEvu6OkzlbrwZ8/s1600/9526723.jpg" height="320" width="214" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Awesome book. Such a shame it's out of print. This is a real rock'n'roll
novel that makes compulsive reading. Reminded me of Margaret Atwood's
The Edible Woman for its sense of atmosphere and beautiful, honest
prose. I can't recommend it enough - but as I say, it's almost
impossible to get hold of a copy these days. In 2011 it was up for the
Guardian's Not The Booker Prize and due to the overwhelming amount of
positive reviews from bloggers there was an inevitable backlash from the
literary community. A few harsh words were written and Cody James
pulled the book to its current out of print status. Totally undeserved.
This book could've, should've become a cult classic.Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1758183581501278015.post-386204124430840072014-03-10T07:30:00.003-07:002014-03-30T01:04:35.150-07:00Story 27 - Frisbee<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Played
Frisbee this afternoon. I’ve often see all these people playing it outside the
library on Wednesdays. Never realised before today that it was an actual proper
Frisbee club. They join up every Wednesday afternoon and throw the Frisbee at
each other, then go for a drink afterwards at this pub in Falmer village.
Sometimes they even go away for weekend trips too. <st1:place w:st="on">Devon</st1:place>
or somewhere like that where they camp and throw the Frisbee.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">I’m taking
the piss a little, but that’s not to say I don’t appreciate how friendly they
all were when I wandered in amongst the group. All I needed to do was sort of
mope around nearby when the Frisbee suddenly came flying towards me. I caught
it and then it was simply a matter of throwing it to someone else to be
included in the game. Didn’t think too much about who I was throwing it to.
There were a couple of fit girls and I considered aiming it towards one of them
more often than not but the whole concept seemed a little silly and Neanderthal
so in the end I didn’t. Plus I generally felt a little shy too. Voiced a few,
“Ah, missed it,” sounds but finally the only person I ended up talking to at
all was the leader (who’s name was Nigel – all confident and sporty looking; a
total Mr Popular amongst the Frisbee gang). He asked what year I was in, what I
was studying and if I wanted to join them in going to the Lion Inn pub in
Falmer; but I declined ’cause I’m up for a proper getting-wasted-and-going-to-the-
union evening.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0