- Anybody who wears red and thinks they've done their part in "raising awareness" is full of crap. It's like wearing green on Earth Day, like serving frosting without a cake and trying get candles to stand up in it. Only people have have donated money and/or time to one of the organizations saving lives in Haiti should be wearing red tomorrow.
- This is primarily a fund-raiser, ideally you should be encouraging people to donate too. This is not exactly easy, there's a fine line between being rude and asking for money. There's an even more obscure one between showing off and asking for money too. If you just leave at a modest "Oh yeah, we're raising money for relief efforts in Haiti" you should be okay.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Haiti Does Not Need Phonies
So tomorrow is "Wear Red for Haiti Day". That's all well and great but let's be sure of two things before it happens.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
A New Perspective
The following short story is a piece from the fictional viewpoint of an anonymous Puerto Rican lady of 26 living in some city USA. I might write a few others from this character.
A Peculiar Old Lady
She moved in not long after the elections, a few people had moved out after that ugly incident, including my neighbor Tony. She was right next door (as in to the right), usually wearing very plain flower print dresses and simple pins of cute dogs or angels and the like. She always watered her plants every three days at six, when I usually leave for work, leaving slow tiny drips on the pavement. And as I would step into my Honda she would always wave and give a smile.
I believe she was Polish, though I can't be sure. I know she was Catholic and her name was Polish, likely from a marriage. But she still looked kind of Polish, with almond eyes and rosy cheeks that had escaped wrinkles somewhat better than the rest of her. She always kept her hair neatly combed and behind her shoulders, sometimes complemented with a periwinkle blue hat that made her appear taller. She was in pretty good shape for her age too, walking to the store with perfect posture not even breaking a sweat on stairs or when carrying several bags of groceries.
I remember when some girl scouts and a parent came selling cookies, my niece among them, and I had had to tell her that I could only buy one box, I had just lost my job and my new one was a bit of a drop in pay. Normally I'm the only one she bothers to sell to in my area but I suggested she try her luck next door. The lady bought ten packages of cookies in each variety from the group, somehow splitting it up nice and even. They were all so happy, apparently they met some kind of mark so they could go on a field trip, dancing and singing outside the door. It was such a generous buy, that's when I really started paying more attention to the lady.
She was generally quite hospitable with everyone, some Jehovah's Witnesses had come by with literature, and she literally invited them in for tea. They kept coming back like they always do, but she just kept inviting them in as if they had been invited, although it is my understanding they were much less pushy about religious conversion after their first visit. She did the same for a traveling salesperson, although she declined to buy anything. When the Davis' moved in she made them homemade ice cream sandwiches as a housewarming gift.
Every Christmas and Easter she would send cards too, paying a little extra at the post office to delay their departure in to her neighbors and friends' mailboxes. She did this because she always left for two weeks to visit family on these days, the Forth of July and Thanksgiving. She had started paying me to water her plants during these vacations.
We grew close in time, she'd invite me over to play cards with some friends at a bridge club or to come to some fundraiser and help out, but usually these things were quite a ways away.
I miss her now. She mugged last week and has been hospitalized since. Her family has stated she will not be living in the city anymore. Some people say that the last white rich person is officially gone from downtown, but I hope she's still here inside a few of us. I know that I will send cards every Easter and Christmas, be kind to strangers at my door, and be generous to important causes.
I believe she was Polish, though I can't be sure. I know she was Catholic and her name was Polish, likely from a marriage. But she still looked kind of Polish, with almond eyes and rosy cheeks that had escaped wrinkles somewhat better than the rest of her. She always kept her hair neatly combed and behind her shoulders, sometimes complemented with a periwinkle blue hat that made her appear taller. She was in pretty good shape for her age too, walking to the store with perfect posture not even breaking a sweat on stairs or when carrying several bags of groceries.
I remember when some girl scouts and a parent came selling cookies, my niece among them, and I had had to tell her that I could only buy one box, I had just lost my job and my new one was a bit of a drop in pay. Normally I'm the only one she bothers to sell to in my area but I suggested she try her luck next door. The lady bought ten packages of cookies in each variety from the group, somehow splitting it up nice and even. They were all so happy, apparently they met some kind of mark so they could go on a field trip, dancing and singing outside the door. It was such a generous buy, that's when I really started paying more attention to the lady.
She was generally quite hospitable with everyone, some Jehovah's Witnesses had come by with literature, and she literally invited them in for tea. They kept coming back like they always do, but she just kept inviting them in as if they had been invited, although it is my understanding they were much less pushy about religious conversion after their first visit. She did the same for a traveling salesperson, although she declined to buy anything. When the Davis' moved in she made them homemade ice cream sandwiches as a housewarming gift.
Every Christmas and Easter she would send cards too, paying a little extra at the post office to delay their departure in to her neighbors and friends' mailboxes. She did this because she always left for two weeks to visit family on these days, the Forth of July and Thanksgiving. She had started paying me to water her plants during these vacations.
We grew close in time, she'd invite me over to play cards with some friends at a bridge club or to come to some fundraiser and help out, but usually these things were quite a ways away.
I miss her now. She mugged last week and has been hospitalized since. Her family has stated she will not be living in the city anymore. Some people say that the last white rich person is officially gone from downtown, but I hope she's still here inside a few of us. I know that I will send cards every Easter and Christmas, be kind to strangers at my door, and be generous to important causes.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
What I mean by the philosophy of katamari damacy
It's funny how life begins really. Just one little cell, then we grow inside our mothers in the image of our parents. And then we are released into the world picking up everything around us. And the soul grows until it is magnanimous. Brilliantly huge, complex, nonsensical. And everywhere we roll the Katamari it leaves it's mark on the world. Be it the gap in a row of chess pieces or a missing baseball stadium. And then, after a short amount of time, almost too soon, the katamari is catapulted into the heavens for all to see. And some people make katamaris so big that they can't missed. They glow brightly forming constellations with our family and friends, our contempories.
Society is like that too. It all works in reverse. The culture rolls and rolls upon its people. Some by chance, somenot. And we toss in our lives and creations to be a part of the sky, to be a part of our culture's katamari. And before you know it, it is time for a new culture and the katamari taken to the cosmos. It it will forever shine on the earth below it and the katamari that roll upon it. Just an eternal ball of junk rolling upon itself, forming an every growing infinitiy.
Society is like that too. It all works in reverse. The culture rolls and rolls upon its people. Some by chance, somenot. And we toss in our lives and creations to be a part of the sky, to be a part of our culture's katamari. And before you know it, it is time for a new culture and the katamari taken to the cosmos. It it will forever shine on the earth below it and the katamari that roll upon it. Just an eternal ball of junk rolling upon itself, forming an every growing infinitiy.
Monday, March 16, 2009
How One Finds the North Star prt. 3
And just like that this boy was prepared to dispose of this suspicious black box. The wheels on it are seizing, having forfeited control of the brakes.
Jerald feels his hands dig in his back pocket, there he finds a small flash drive. He pulls it out but he out of the corner of his eyes he sees a cybernetic man dressed in strange clothing waltz in and look straight at him. Jerald feels his hand put the drive back in his pocket. He enters a code into the laptop and shuts it down. The cyborg looks at him and rolls away on screechy little wheels. Jerald looks closely at it for the first time. It appears to be mishmash of parts belonging to other robot models, most of them Russian make. It is kind of boxy and covered in protruding wires. On the presumed front a long arm extends with a Shernofsky model hand. Probably at least twenty years old. The robot's camera below the arm peers out briefly at the strange man before rolling away.
Jerald then walks out of the shop and into the subterranean tunnels under Anchorage. He then looks at some glossy posters, the man had followed him out at a distance. Jerald himself remembered this moment perfectly. It happened four days ago just before he was assigned to the boy. Boss had him tracking the Russian Mishmash, apparently her name was Colette Benois and she used to be a robotics genius that had defected from Russia to work for P.I.S., the Pangaia Information Service. At that time Russia was one of the few remaining independent nations. Boss was paid a very large sum of money to kill this woman and so he rigged her car blow. She was reported dead bur recently rumors had gone around that she had survived and literally built herself back up. Now Jerald could be certain they were true. He tried to reach for his forearm, to contact Boss, but it didn't work. He was still dreaming with his ass planted on a toilet in downtown Anchorage.
The most curious thing however was the flash drive that the boy was holding. Jerald had seen them before, they were known as Greek Arrows, apparently the were designed in Greece. They were inconspicuous and light blue, which concealed how incredible they really were. They contained a complex virus that no one had ever deciphered because it injected itself into computers and erased their data faster than they could be read. The Mafia had tried to break dozens of them but the program would not be contained or read. In the truest sense it wasn't a virus because it never spread to other computers, but it could likely be modified to do so if one could open it without infection. In his days in P.I.S. he always kept a baggie with one in it along with a cyanide tablet of the same color, his old girlfriend used to joke about how they matched.
The dream continued, but its effect was weakening. Jerald could see the computer next to him on the couch unraveling its duct tape. Somehow it conveyed a look of fury and a lust for vengence. Jerald was in front of a monitor again. He took out a chip and injected it into his laptop. A hologram of a woman appeared before him on the screen.
"Hello Michael, I'm your mother. I know it's been a while and I look different, but it's still me on the inside. I'm sorry for putting you through all this, I wanted to tell you I was alive for so long. I have thought of you each and everyday since we were separated. I was and probably still am being hunted by the same men who tried to kill me before. I plan to run to the southern hemisphere where the Russians cannot find me. I am want to take you with me. If you want to stay, I understand. You haven't seen me in ten years and you probably already have a life here... It's very hard to leave behind all your friends, I should know. But I just wanted you to know that I am still I alive and that I will always love you. Contact me at Callisto2343@blumail.com with your answer."
That was the end of the hologram. Below it there were instructions, which Jerald could see his eyes following, to meet at the harbor in four days at 10:30. There he would meet a double agent that Colette used to know, from there they would travel to the down the coast outside of town and take a boat to Antarctica. The govt. there was fairly new and there was no established crime base there. In order to establish that the man was indeed the inside man, Michael was supposed to ask about how to find the North Star and the inside man would answer correctly. It seemed that Michael was supposed to know what answering correctly means. Jerald stopped thinking for a second, he felt tears streaming down his cheeks. It was an odd sensation, he wasn't incredibly overwhelmed with emotion but he could feel the boy's response.
Soon Jerald broke free of the trance. He immediately jumped off the seat and ran for the door. His legs however were still asleep and he immediately fell into the door of the stall. Jerald waited for a few embarrassed seconds on the floor as he tried to maneuver his pants back up. Lucy was yelling at him again but all most as soon as showed annoyance Lucy shut up again. He started laughing, the boy had kept his end of the deal despite knocking him out.
The owner of the shop walked in and saw Jerald with his pants half pulled up laughing hysterically on the floor. He stared in awe and left. Bosses voice came in his ear this time, not his head.
"What the hell happened to you?! You haven't made contact in hours!"
"I'm sorry Boss, I got knocked out by the kid and he ran."
"Well go get him already dammit! It's 10 already, the woman's on her way!"
"Okay,okay..."
"And watch over Larry, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."
"Larry?"
"I never introduced you two?"
"No. I never been introduced to you either Boss for that matter. No one has the way I hear it."
"Shut Jerry, I'll kill you. Larry was supposed to contact you three days ago and help you with this mission. He used to be our inside guy in the P.I.S."
"I never made contact with him boss."
"Jesus, that fucking liar! He was always talking to me about how you sleep on the job and make sarcastic remarks, I just assumed you made contact! Listen, go find Larry and make sure he does it all right, he's supposed to meet Benois at the harbor and shot her and the kid dead. If he doesn't you gotta bring Larry back alive, okay?
"Boss, you gotta give me details here, I don't even know what the bastard looks like."
"Didn't I tell you to shut up Jerry? Anyway-"
"It's Jerald."
"SHUT UP! Anyway file says he's old, bald head, wrinkly, has a cybernetic lower half. You can't miss him."
"Will that be all Boss?"
"Actually Jerry, I forgot, shot the kid and the woman if Larry doesn't. Then you bring in Larry. Capiche?"
"Gotcha Boss."
Jerald had to get there fast, by that point his legs had woken up, he just had to get to the harbor. He walked out of the controlled climate and discovered it was not only dark but freezing. Anchorage was like that nowadays, like a desert by morning, like a tundra by evening. The tundra was safer though, the UV rays were not out. He ran through the streets to the harbor, the streets were faster because everyone always took the subterranean streets. He soon spotted Larry at a distance. His legs were clearly not liking the cold, they clanked and squealed as the joints seized, he was having a hard time of it.
Once Larry reached the harbor he saw the boy and the woman. Jerald kept his distance, they walked up to each other. The woman cyborg was behaving oddly however, she kept waving her appendage about. Jerald immediately pulled out his gun, Larry still hadn't noticed his approach.
Larry himself pulled out his gun and pointed it at Michael. "Sorry kid."
A loud bang was heard, then nothing. Larry's face hit the pavement with a snap. Apparently his face had some hardware in it too. Jerald looked at the poor sap from the distance, he was still pointing his gun at some nonexistent figure, his arm frozen in the exact same position before he died. The boy stood there frozen too.
He walked up to the kid. "Do you have anything to say?"
The kid was still mute. The wind was starting to pick up.
Jerald broke the silence, "Have you ever wondered how to find the North Star? "
"Umm... Yeah, I have."
"I can point you in the right direction."
Micheal breathed a sigh of relief. The three of them started to walk along the shore.
"I never paid you for the program. You're just as good at this as your mother."
"Oh, thanks." Michael was still a little nervous apparently. There was blood spatter starting to freeze to his face. Then he wiped it with his sleeve. Jerald gave the kid some bills, 70,000 dollars.
"The surgery was only 35,000."
"I owe your mother," Jerald looked at the rolling collection of Russian parts. "for these eyes right here." The cybernetic woman continued to look at him. "I might escape somewhere myself. If Boss gets a hold of me, I might be calling you again. But I don't think you have anymore missing children for me to foot that bill."
They arrived at the boat, it was a relic from the state patrol, when Anchorage was part of the U.S. On its side was the Alaskan flag and some graffiti. The back had a name printed on it from when it was under private ownership. It read "Heaven Bound". Jerald gave the keys to Michael. "There's enough battery power to get you 100 miles at 40 mph. After that you have to pull out the solar panels. A two-week supply of military rations and water are in the hull and I put in some blood packs to inject into your mum over there. She should have available any otherr information you need. You'll also need this." He gave Michael the pistol. Michael took it and looked at it.
"Do you know how to use it?"
"Of course but won't you need it?" Micheal was opening the gun and checking the number of bullets. Two short, Michael wondered where the other one went.
"Not where I'm going, I've got a plane ready to take me out of here too. Can I have your cell?"
"Why?"
"The Mafia can track these things and today it has to believe you're going north into Europe. I have a robot just for that too." Michael handed over the cell. You should ditch your wireless internet card on your laptop too, you can use your mother to keep you connected. I think she's wireless..."
Michael looked at at the strange-jacket man dumbly. "What? That was supposed to be funny."
"hehe..." Michael hugged him. "Thank you"
"You're welcome." After a while Michael let go and started the boat. Jerald watched them speed off.
He walked back in the direction of the computer site where he was watching Michael. He took one last look at downtown Anchorage. The boat was no longer visible. He started texting to the P.I.S. on Michael's cell phone. He held his thumb over the send button. Out of his back pocket he pulled out a baggy. Inside it was a yellow blue flashdrive with a blue pill. Boss called.
"Jerry you son-of-a-b..."
"It's Jerald." Jerald took the small yellow flashdrive and plugged it in his forehead. Then he pressed send on the cell phone.
"SHUT UP!!! JUST SHUT UP!!! You-"
He heard Lucy say something but it shut out quickly. His internal CPU was freezing up inside him. His eye shut down. The whir in his lungs cut out. He thought to himself for a moment. No sounds interrupting, it was very cold and very peaceful. A loud speaker came on in the streets. Jerald could not see it but it was on every TV, radio, computer and cell phone. The government had cut power to cell towers and the mountains.
The world was shutting down with him.
Boss was hopefully isolated and automatically running on battery power. No one could know for sure, but without a working computer to maintain homeostasis in that convoluted fish tank, he would die within the hour.
"All citizens a state of emergency is in effect. Please do not use any electronics for the next 24 hours unless other wise directed, I repeat no electronics for the next 24 hours. Please shut down your computers, cell phone and other communicating electronics. Cyborgs, please disconnect from the internet and and do not engage in any digital communication..." Jerald saw a man approaching him from the distance he pulled out a pistol and pointed it at Jerald.
"Boss says you disobeyed orders, you know what that means."
"No, I don't. What does it mean?"
"It means you take the S.O.B. home and torture him until he cries for death. Then we give it to him."
"Oh, I guess I must have forgotten. Thanks." He took his last gift from Michael, one he had taken without his knowledge, a second flashdrive, from his pocket. A Greek Arrow. The man's eyes widened. He saw the first yellow flashdrive in Jerald's head, but a second?
"Don't do that!" He shot. It was too late though, the second one was in, erasing the contents of the first as the first erased the contents of his head. The man knelt by Jerald. He pulled out both drives in vain. Blood seeped out of Jerald's head and on to the pavement. It froze at the edges.
"You know, you just disobeyed an order pal." Jerald wheezed. "I got a small baggy in my pocket with a blue pill. I think you need it more than I do now." Jerald then lost himself in the constellations above his head. The North Star was almost directly above him, he thought about his girl and his son traversing the waves under the heavens. And then he died.
Jerald feels his hands dig in his back pocket, there he finds a small flash drive. He pulls it out but he out of the corner of his eyes he sees a cybernetic man dressed in strange clothing waltz in and look straight at him. Jerald feels his hand put the drive back in his pocket. He enters a code into the laptop and shuts it down. The cyborg looks at him and rolls away on screechy little wheels. Jerald looks closely at it for the first time. It appears to be mishmash of parts belonging to other robot models, most of them Russian make. It is kind of boxy and covered in protruding wires. On the presumed front a long arm extends with a Shernofsky model hand. Probably at least twenty years old. The robot's camera below the arm peers out briefly at the strange man before rolling away.
Jerald then walks out of the shop and into the subterranean tunnels under Anchorage. He then looks at some glossy posters, the man had followed him out at a distance. Jerald himself remembered this moment perfectly. It happened four days ago just before he was assigned to the boy. Boss had him tracking the Russian Mishmash, apparently her name was Colette Benois and she used to be a robotics genius that had defected from Russia to work for P.I.S., the Pangaia Information Service. At that time Russia was one of the few remaining independent nations. Boss was paid a very large sum of money to kill this woman and so he rigged her car blow. She was reported dead bur recently rumors had gone around that she had survived and literally built herself back up. Now Jerald could be certain they were true. He tried to reach for his forearm, to contact Boss, but it didn't work. He was still dreaming with his ass planted on a toilet in downtown Anchorage.
The most curious thing however was the flash drive that the boy was holding. Jerald had seen them before, they were known as Greek Arrows, apparently the were designed in Greece. They were inconspicuous and light blue, which concealed how incredible they really were. They contained a complex virus that no one had ever deciphered because it injected itself into computers and erased their data faster than they could be read. The Mafia had tried to break dozens of them but the program would not be contained or read. In the truest sense it wasn't a virus because it never spread to other computers, but it could likely be modified to do so if one could open it without infection. In his days in P.I.S. he always kept a baggie with one in it along with a cyanide tablet of the same color, his old girlfriend used to joke about how they matched.
The dream continued, but its effect was weakening. Jerald could see the computer next to him on the couch unraveling its duct tape. Somehow it conveyed a look of fury and a lust for vengence. Jerald was in front of a monitor again. He took out a chip and injected it into his laptop. A hologram of a woman appeared before him on the screen.
"Hello Michael, I'm your mother. I know it's been a while and I look different, but it's still me on the inside. I'm sorry for putting you through all this, I wanted to tell you I was alive for so long. I have thought of you each and everyday since we were separated. I was and probably still am being hunted by the same men who tried to kill me before. I plan to run to the southern hemisphere where the Russians cannot find me. I am want to take you with me. If you want to stay, I understand. You haven't seen me in ten years and you probably already have a life here... It's very hard to leave behind all your friends, I should know. But I just wanted you to know that I am still I alive and that I will always love you. Contact me at Callisto2343@blumail.com with your answer."
That was the end of the hologram. Below it there were instructions, which Jerald could see his eyes following, to meet at the harbor in four days at 10:30. There he would meet a double agent that Colette used to know, from there they would travel to the down the coast outside of town and take a boat to Antarctica. The govt. there was fairly new and there was no established crime base there. In order to establish that the man was indeed the inside man, Michael was supposed to ask about how to find the North Star and the inside man would answer correctly. It seemed that Michael was supposed to know what answering correctly means. Jerald stopped thinking for a second, he felt tears streaming down his cheeks. It was an odd sensation, he wasn't incredibly overwhelmed with emotion but he could feel the boy's response.
Soon Jerald broke free of the trance. He immediately jumped off the seat and ran for the door. His legs however were still asleep and he immediately fell into the door of the stall. Jerald waited for a few embarrassed seconds on the floor as he tried to maneuver his pants back up. Lucy was yelling at him again but all most as soon as showed annoyance Lucy shut up again. He started laughing, the boy had kept his end of the deal despite knocking him out.
The owner of the shop walked in and saw Jerald with his pants half pulled up laughing hysterically on the floor. He stared in awe and left. Bosses voice came in his ear this time, not his head.
"What the hell happened to you?! You haven't made contact in hours!"
"I'm sorry Boss, I got knocked out by the kid and he ran."
"Well go get him already dammit! It's 10 already, the woman's on her way!"
"Okay,okay..."
"And watch over Larry, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."
"Larry?"
"I never introduced you two?"
"No. I never been introduced to you either Boss for that matter. No one has the way I hear it."
"Shut Jerry, I'll kill you. Larry was supposed to contact you three days ago and help you with this mission. He used to be our inside guy in the P.I.S."
"I never made contact with him boss."
"Jesus, that fucking liar! He was always talking to me about how you sleep on the job and make sarcastic remarks, I just assumed you made contact! Listen, go find Larry and make sure he does it all right, he's supposed to meet Benois at the harbor and shot her and the kid dead. If he doesn't you gotta bring Larry back alive, okay?
"Boss, you gotta give me details here, I don't even know what the bastard looks like."
"Didn't I tell you to shut up Jerry? Anyway-"
"It's Jerald."
"SHUT UP! Anyway file says he's old, bald head, wrinkly, has a cybernetic lower half. You can't miss him."
"Will that be all Boss?"
"Actually Jerry, I forgot, shot the kid and the woman if Larry doesn't. Then you bring in Larry. Capiche?"
"Gotcha Boss."
Jerald had to get there fast, by that point his legs had woken up, he just had to get to the harbor. He walked out of the controlled climate and discovered it was not only dark but freezing. Anchorage was like that nowadays, like a desert by morning, like a tundra by evening. The tundra was safer though, the UV rays were not out. He ran through the streets to the harbor, the streets were faster because everyone always took the subterranean streets. He soon spotted Larry at a distance. His legs were clearly not liking the cold, they clanked and squealed as the joints seized, he was having a hard time of it.
Once Larry reached the harbor he saw the boy and the woman. Jerald kept his distance, they walked up to each other. The woman cyborg was behaving oddly however, she kept waving her appendage about. Jerald immediately pulled out his gun, Larry still hadn't noticed his approach.
Larry himself pulled out his gun and pointed it at Michael. "Sorry kid."
A loud bang was heard, then nothing. Larry's face hit the pavement with a snap. Apparently his face had some hardware in it too. Jerald looked at the poor sap from the distance, he was still pointing his gun at some nonexistent figure, his arm frozen in the exact same position before he died. The boy stood there frozen too.
He walked up to the kid. "Do you have anything to say?"
The kid was still mute. The wind was starting to pick up.
Jerald broke the silence, "Have you ever wondered how to find the North Star? "
"Umm... Yeah, I have."
"I can point you in the right direction."
Micheal breathed a sigh of relief. The three of them started to walk along the shore.
"I never paid you for the program. You're just as good at this as your mother."
"Oh, thanks." Michael was still a little nervous apparently. There was blood spatter starting to freeze to his face. Then he wiped it with his sleeve. Jerald gave the kid some bills, 70,000 dollars.
"The surgery was only 35,000."
"I owe your mother," Jerald looked at the rolling collection of Russian parts. "for these eyes right here." The cybernetic woman continued to look at him. "I might escape somewhere myself. If Boss gets a hold of me, I might be calling you again. But I don't think you have anymore missing children for me to foot that bill."
They arrived at the boat, it was a relic from the state patrol, when Anchorage was part of the U.S. On its side was the Alaskan flag and some graffiti. The back had a name printed on it from when it was under private ownership. It read "Heaven Bound". Jerald gave the keys to Michael. "There's enough battery power to get you 100 miles at 40 mph. After that you have to pull out the solar panels. A two-week supply of military rations and water are in the hull and I put in some blood packs to inject into your mum over there. She should have available any otherr information you need. You'll also need this." He gave Michael the pistol. Michael took it and looked at it.
"Do you know how to use it?"
"Of course but won't you need it?" Micheal was opening the gun and checking the number of bullets. Two short, Michael wondered where the other one went.
"Not where I'm going, I've got a plane ready to take me out of here too. Can I have your cell?"
"Why?"
"The Mafia can track these things and today it has to believe you're going north into Europe. I have a robot just for that too." Michael handed over the cell. You should ditch your wireless internet card on your laptop too, you can use your mother to keep you connected. I think she's wireless..."
Michael looked at at the strange-jacket man dumbly. "What? That was supposed to be funny."
"hehe..." Michael hugged him. "Thank you"
"You're welcome." After a while Michael let go and started the boat. Jerald watched them speed off.
He walked back in the direction of the computer site where he was watching Michael. He took one last look at downtown Anchorage. The boat was no longer visible. He started texting to the P.I.S. on Michael's cell phone. He held his thumb over the send button. Out of his back pocket he pulled out a baggy. Inside it was a yellow blue flashdrive with a blue pill. Boss called.
"Jerry you son-of-a-b..."
"It's Jerald." Jerald took the small yellow flashdrive and plugged it in his forehead. Then he pressed send on the cell phone.
"SHUT UP!!! JUST SHUT UP!!! You-"
He heard Lucy say something but it shut out quickly. His internal CPU was freezing up inside him. His eye shut down. The whir in his lungs cut out. He thought to himself for a moment. No sounds interrupting, it was very cold and very peaceful. A loud speaker came on in the streets. Jerald could not see it but it was on every TV, radio, computer and cell phone. The government had cut power to cell towers and the mountains.
The world was shutting down with him.
Boss was hopefully isolated and automatically running on battery power. No one could know for sure, but without a working computer to maintain homeostasis in that convoluted fish tank, he would die within the hour.
"All citizens a state of emergency is in effect. Please do not use any electronics for the next 24 hours unless other wise directed, I repeat no electronics for the next 24 hours. Please shut down your computers, cell phone and other communicating electronics. Cyborgs, please disconnect from the internet and and do not engage in any digital communication..." Jerald saw a man approaching him from the distance he pulled out a pistol and pointed it at Jerald.
"Boss says you disobeyed orders, you know what that means."
"No, I don't. What does it mean?"
"It means you take the S.O.B. home and torture him until he cries for death. Then we give it to him."
"Oh, I guess I must have forgotten. Thanks." He took his last gift from Michael, one he had taken without his knowledge, a second flashdrive, from his pocket. A Greek Arrow. The man's eyes widened. He saw the first yellow flashdrive in Jerald's head, but a second?
"Don't do that!" He shot. It was too late though, the second one was in, erasing the contents of the first as the first erased the contents of his head. The man knelt by Jerald. He pulled out both drives in vain. Blood seeped out of Jerald's head and on to the pavement. It froze at the edges.
"You know, you just disobeyed an order pal." Jerald wheezed. "I got a small baggy in my pocket with a blue pill. I think you need it more than I do now." Jerald then lost himself in the constellations above his head. The North Star was almost directly above him, he thought about his girl and his son traversing the waves under the heavens. And then he died.
How One Finds the North Star prt. 2
The kid frowned in thought. "How secret are we talking here?"
Chapter 23.717 states that prolonged communication with the target is unwise for this type of mission because the target may remember you, and therefore notice you in the future when... "As secret as you got. I need to keep this away from the corporate executives."
"Do you use audio or Thoughtwave?
Press 1098 to contact mission... "It's Thoughtwave"
"How often to you have to reply?"
This information has been brought to you by Northern Cybernetics..."Just when my boss talks. The CPU streams some unwanted data back to the big guy too."
"I can do it but it's going to cost you, this is going to take a special program I don't normally use and DoubleU."
"Is that an acronym? Connecting you to success©!
"No it's program for managing and creating information to fool bosses and overprotective women."
"Women?"
"Yeah, that's where a lot of my business comes from. Don't you watch the news? Private citizens are tapping borgs like you all over the place." This kid was clearly full of that liberal protection junk. Or maybe he was just pitching his business deal.
"Will this work on a real business? I'm being bothered by people with a little bit more at their disposal than a housewife."
"Not a problem I stole my version from the P.I.S." Jerald was a little surprised. This kid was only 16 and he was already cracking govt. files. He'd have to pay more attention on this job. "So how much?"
"35 grand."
Thirty-five grand wasn't actually too bad. Jerald had paid more for clothes than that.
Jerald and this kid, he later learned Art, discussed the details of the software. Jerald would first have to read aloud 30 pages of syllables with different inflections so the program could speak on his behalf back to his boss, Boss. Another program would convert all of Boss's transmissions to audio for when he was not in autopilot. And the cherry on the cake was a silenced Lucy. She would get her own words returned back to her by his thought generator as if she actually put the words in his head like usual. Her own transmissions to Boss would be halted and given to Jerald and he would decide if they should be sent to Boss.
He and Art would have to meet in the men's room for programming and payment. If it happened wirelessly it would be detected and besides payment methods were closely regulated too. Currency was all digital unless you were using black money, which was gold foil wrapped in plastic and harder to trace.
Jerald was only 45 but he had seen old men's rooms before the cybernetic revolution. All over the walls there were plugs and various maintenance devices for cyborgs including generic motor oil dispensers and polishing wipes. The human outlets were a little grimy, like no one had cleaned them for a while. Jerald walked into a stall and sat down. There was an older man with a robotic lower body dispensing at an outlet to the far left. When he left he gave Art the signal by tapping his feet.
Art walked in and stopped, looking at where the old man had been. Then he pulled out his cell and started texting for several seconds before entering the stall next to Jerald. Jerald saw a plain cord slide out from under the divider, which he then plugged into his forehead. Art began typing and Jerald could see the words appear in his mind via Thoughtwave. This wasn't the first time he had software installed in a restroom, so Jerald was quite used to seeing and hearing command prompts drift in his head. On Art's laptop the conscious thoughts of Jerald were translated onto the the screen. Generally communication and incoming stimuli were easiest to see but some semiconscious thoughts drifted in the background.
"You're pretty used to to this blackmarket software business."
"I used to go to Manolio's before he was busted to get songs stuck in my head."
"Lol. I can't say I miss him, business has been good since he got busted."
"How long is this going to take? "
"About five minutes."
"That's a long time for software."
"Like I said, this bootlegged. I have to cover my tracks while I'm doing this."
Jerald what is this? Lucy was inquiring about the thoughts in his head.
"It's just a new piece of software don't worry about it." Lucy wasn't as stupid as Art had apparently hoped.
Chapter 1.003 says not to accept such proposals from...
"Be quiet Lucy." Jerald was getting worried, Lucy was prone to tattling.
"Don't worry I can fix this. I'll just need to rewrite her memory for today."
" I will not allow that I must..."
Lucy had become silent. "Hey you did it."
"This is going to take longer than I had expected. Will it be a problem if we're in here another 15 minutes?"
"Yeah it will be. My boss will definitely get suspicious if he doesn't hear from Lucy, that CPU. Whats the hold up anyway?"
"Just some minor technicalities. Actually, I need a password to access your hard drive. It seems Lucy had managed to block me before I cut her off."
"She didn't send a signal though. That's second in her programmed response." Jerald was getting worried, this was just software installation and it was already taking too long.
"Stop worrying, I know what I'm doing. >: ("
"Who said I was worrying?"
"You did."
Jerald's expression turned sour. "You're in my private thoughts aren't you?" Jerald knew he was in deep shit now, this kid was clearly doing more than installing a program.
"Oops. : )"
"Get out now of there and I might not kill you." He reached for his pistol.
"I already took your password, it registered in your mind when I typed it. You won't be doing anything for a couple hours."
Immediately Jerald felt his eyes shut down along with his hearing and his artificial lung was respirating more slowly. The pistol fell to the cement floor. "You're making me take a nap. Great. You better not sleep tonight boy, unless you plan to kill me."
"I know who I'm dealing with. I've seen you following me for days. Please understand, I'm not doing this to hurt anyone, I just want to help my mom."
"WhT? M s slpP thay" Jerald thought to himself. He was quickly loosing consciousness.
"I've prepared you so that you sit upright in the stall and I've provided you with a recording explaining why I had to do this. I'm sorry."
Jerald fell into a strange dream. He was sitting in a small dark room on a couch. To his right was a computer completely duct-taped over. The wires were severed from the computer and duct taped at the ends too. It had a pink scarf tied around the monitor. It was all very surreal. On top of the tower there was a remote with only one button. It looked like this |>. He pressed it and a tv lit up in front of him. Jerald was sucked in.
Jerald was now in front of a laptop playing some video game. A message popped up on his screen.
Callisto: Are you alone?
He typed back.
Captain Awesome: Who the ---- are you?
Callisto: At one o'clock I am coming to meet you at the 56th floor repair shop on Broadway. I'll appear as an automated junk robot. Just assume it's regular biz and take the chip from the left shoulder compartment.
Callisto has logged off.
Jerald now found himself in the shop on Broadway. A big sign hung above the door. The phrase "We have Controlled Climate!" was emblazoned below the name of the store. As expected there was a terrible looking electronic monstrosity there. Art took his laptop and plugged in to the beastly pile of junk.
"Hello, are you Callisto?"
"Yes. Is your name Michael Benois?"
"What if it is?"
"Just making sure I have the right person. Take the chip."
"What's your password?"
"You don't need that to take a chip."
Several seconds pass before the conversation resumes.
"Hurry and take the chip, we don't have all day."
"Are you mafia?"
"No, I'm not. We don't have time for Q & A, the chip will explain everything."
"You're going to be the one to do the explaining. I've already hacked into your system. You're going to tell me everything starting with how you found me. Otherwise I'm going to erase all your data right here."
Jerald thought about the dramatic change in this kid. He was clearly used to life on the run. On the screen images from the cybernetic monster began popping up. They were of Art in several places, one in a grocery store aisle, another texting from below. The shot zoomed in to see his cell and his username. Nowadays instant messaging and texting were synced, to ease communication.
"I've been following you for a week now. Please trust me, take the chip, I can't afford to be delayed."
"And who are you exactly?"
"Your mother."
"Ha. Good one. Who are you really?"
"I'm not lying to you."
"My mother's dead. Goodbye."
Wow, you noticed this little black space? You're pretty smart, you that? If you found this then perhaps you noticed the symbolism of Callisto and therefore the origin of my story. Thanks for reading!
Chapter 23.717 states that prolonged communication with the target is unwise for this type of mission because the target may remember you, and therefore notice you in the future when... "As secret as you got. I need to keep this away from the corporate executives."
"Do you use audio or Thoughtwave?
Press 1098 to contact mission... "It's Thoughtwave"
"How often to you have to reply?"
This information has been brought to you by Northern Cybernetics..."Just when my boss talks. The CPU streams some unwanted data back to the big guy too."
"I can do it but it's going to cost you, this is going to take a special program I don't normally use and DoubleU."
"Is that an acronym? Connecting you to success©!
"No it's program for managing and creating information to fool bosses and overprotective women."
"Women?"
"Yeah, that's where a lot of my business comes from. Don't you watch the news? Private citizens are tapping borgs like you all over the place." This kid was clearly full of that liberal protection junk. Or maybe he was just pitching his business deal.
"Will this work on a real business? I'm being bothered by people with a little bit more at their disposal than a housewife."
"Not a problem I stole my version from the P.I.S." Jerald was a little surprised. This kid was only 16 and he was already cracking govt. files. He'd have to pay more attention on this job. "So how much?"
"35 grand."
Thirty-five grand wasn't actually too bad. Jerald had paid more for clothes than that.
Jerald and this kid, he later learned Art, discussed the details of the software. Jerald would first have to read aloud 30 pages of syllables with different inflections so the program could speak on his behalf back to his boss, Boss. Another program would convert all of Boss's transmissions to audio for when he was not in autopilot. And the cherry on the cake was a silenced Lucy. She would get her own words returned back to her by his thought generator as if she actually put the words in his head like usual. Her own transmissions to Boss would be halted and given to Jerald and he would decide if they should be sent to Boss.
He and Art would have to meet in the men's room for programming and payment. If it happened wirelessly it would be detected and besides payment methods were closely regulated too. Currency was all digital unless you were using black money, which was gold foil wrapped in plastic and harder to trace.
Jerald was only 45 but he had seen old men's rooms before the cybernetic revolution. All over the walls there were plugs and various maintenance devices for cyborgs including generic motor oil dispensers and polishing wipes. The human outlets were a little grimy, like no one had cleaned them for a while. Jerald walked into a stall and sat down. There was an older man with a robotic lower body dispensing at an outlet to the far left. When he left he gave Art the signal by tapping his feet.
Art walked in and stopped, looking at where the old man had been. Then he pulled out his cell and started texting for several seconds before entering the stall next to Jerald. Jerald saw a plain cord slide out from under the divider, which he then plugged into his forehead. Art began typing and Jerald could see the words appear in his mind via Thoughtwave. This wasn't the first time he had software installed in a restroom, so Jerald was quite used to seeing and hearing command prompts drift in his head. On Art's laptop the conscious thoughts of Jerald were translated onto the the screen. Generally communication and incoming stimuli were easiest to see but some semiconscious thoughts drifted in the background.
"You're pretty used to to this blackmarket software business."
"I used to go to Manolio's before he was busted to get songs stuck in my head."
"Lol. I can't say I miss him, business has been good since he got busted."
"How long is this going to take? "
"About five minutes."
"That's a long time for software."
"Like I said, this bootlegged. I have to cover my tracks while I'm doing this."
Jerald what is this? Lucy was inquiring about the thoughts in his head.
"It's just a new piece of software don't worry about it." Lucy wasn't as stupid as Art had apparently hoped.
Chapter 1.003 says not to accept such proposals from...
"Be quiet Lucy." Jerald was getting worried, Lucy was prone to tattling.
"Don't worry I can fix this. I'll just need to rewrite her memory for today."
" I will not allow that I must..."
Lucy had become silent. "Hey you did it."
"This is going to take longer than I had expected. Will it be a problem if we're in here another 15 minutes?"
"Yeah it will be. My boss will definitely get suspicious if he doesn't hear from Lucy, that CPU. Whats the hold up anyway?"
"Just some minor technicalities. Actually, I need a password to access your hard drive. It seems Lucy had managed to block me before I cut her off."
"She didn't send a signal though. That's second in her programmed response." Jerald was getting worried, this was just software installation and it was already taking too long.
"Stop worrying, I know what I'm doing. >: ("
"Who said I was worrying?"
"You did."
Jerald's expression turned sour. "You're in my private thoughts aren't you?" Jerald knew he was in deep shit now, this kid was clearly doing more than installing a program.
"Oops. : )"
"Get out now of there and I might not kill you." He reached for his pistol.
"I already took your password, it registered in your mind when I typed it. You won't be doing anything for a couple hours."
Immediately Jerald felt his eyes shut down along with his hearing and his artificial lung was respirating more slowly. The pistol fell to the cement floor. "You're making me take a nap. Great. You better not sleep tonight boy, unless you plan to kill me."
"I know who I'm dealing with. I've seen you following me for days. Please understand, I'm not doing this to hurt anyone, I just want to help my mom."
"WhT? M s slpP thay" Jerald thought to himself. He was quickly loosing consciousness.
"I've prepared you so that you sit upright in the stall and I've provided you with a recording explaining why I had to do this. I'm sorry."
Jerald fell into a strange dream. He was sitting in a small dark room on a couch. To his right was a computer completely duct-taped over. The wires were severed from the computer and duct taped at the ends too. It had a pink scarf tied around the monitor. It was all very surreal. On top of the tower there was a remote with only one button. It looked like this |>. He pressed it and a tv lit up in front of him. Jerald was sucked in.
Jerald was now in front of a laptop playing some video game. A message popped up on his screen.
Callisto: Are you alone?
He typed back.
Captain Awesome: Who the ---- are you?
Callisto: At one o'clock I am coming to meet you at the 56th floor repair shop on Broadway. I'll appear as an automated junk robot. Just assume it's regular biz and take the chip from the left shoulder compartment.
Callisto has logged off.
Jerald now found himself in the shop on Broadway. A big sign hung above the door. The phrase "We have Controlled Climate!" was emblazoned below the name of the store. As expected there was a terrible looking electronic monstrosity there. Art took his laptop and plugged in to the beastly pile of junk.
"Hello, are you Callisto?"
"Yes. Is your name Michael Benois?"
"What if it is?"
"Just making sure I have the right person. Take the chip."
"What's your password?"
"You don't need that to take a chip."
Several seconds pass before the conversation resumes.
"Hurry and take the chip, we don't have all day."
"Are you mafia?"
"No, I'm not. We don't have time for Q & A, the chip will explain everything."
"You're going to be the one to do the explaining. I've already hacked into your system. You're going to tell me everything starting with how you found me. Otherwise I'm going to erase all your data right here."
Jerald thought about the dramatic change in this kid. He was clearly used to life on the run. On the screen images from the cybernetic monster began popping up. They were of Art in several places, one in a grocery store aisle, another texting from below. The shot zoomed in to see his cell and his username. Nowadays instant messaging and texting were synced, to ease communication.
"I've been following you for a week now. Please trust me, take the chip, I can't afford to be delayed."
"And who are you exactly?"
"Your mother."
"Ha. Good one. Who are you really?"
"I'm not lying to you."
"My mother's dead. Goodbye."
Wow, you noticed this little black space? You're pretty smart, you that? If you found this then perhaps you noticed the symbolism of Callisto and therefore the origin of my story. Thanks for reading!
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