A Future We'd Like to See 1.12 - Tales of the Rainy City Act II By Twoflower (Copyright 1993) "The world is dull," I wrote, in my pocket diary. "Anything that can liven it up is good. These suits, these businessmen, need to liven up. Loosen up. Slack. Unconform. Everyone is an individual, strive to bring that out. Fantasy is good. A healthy imagination is good. Work is not." It was sort of a mantra of mine. I have a lot of profound thoughts, and write them all down in my diary, but I always take time every month to re-copy this one entry in there so I don't forget it. Maybe some day I'd organize my diary a little, publish it, and lead a new movement of slackness and general fun throughout the universe. Benson gave up the game after yesterday, really, which is primo for him. I can't stand dangerous technology, it's really just too dangerous to mess around with. VOSNet. VOSNet's cool, 'cuz it's unreal, and unreal means more slack. The slacker the better. I ran off from my first job as a trader with my dad, 'cuz haggling is certainly not slack. I worked for awhile at Macroware (the Fathersystem) in their entertainment division, but soon ditched the job as I found myself worrying about things like sensible shoes and sucking up for a promotion. Eroki didn't mind; Benson did, but only to a certain extent. Macroware wouldn't let him add all the gore or realism he wanted in his games, so he bugged out with us. I was sitting in the Peasluvdope the next night after Benson got the game, pocket diary in hand, attempting to puzzle out a new poem I was writing. I'm scheduled to do a reading once a week or so at the Buggl 'n Whack, a Yttian coffee house across the road, or I won't be able to pay our bills. Our meaning Eroki and me. Eroki's my main squeeze, if you wanna be blunt about it; I prefer the term twin souls intertwined into one symbiotic entity. We think along the same lines, dress alike 'cuz I'm she buys clothing for both of us, and such. Codependency can be downright fun when you work hard enough at it. Anyway, she was off dancing and Benson was on his laptop, pumping out more code for another of his great games. Benson is by far one of the coolest guys I know; if only he'd slack a little. Life != work, and although Benson does his fair share of the party thing, he also does a lot of the not-party thing. The poem was gonna be read in fifteen minutes, and I was on line three. If I read a three-line lousy piece of nonslack garbage, I'd have that tranquilizer dart in my arm faster than you can say language device. It's a special service the Buggl 'n Whack provides so that nobody has to hear a bad poem; if yours starts going sour, a sniper plugs you with a dart and you wake up the next morning with the drug charges subtracted from your check. I had a reputation for not getting the dart ONCE, and had to maintain it. Wait... Alright. Inspiration! Someone ought to find out what particle causes this and bottle it. They'd make millions. Scribble, scribble, scribble... no need for legible handwriting, as I'm the only person that'll ever read it. Scribble, scribble scribble. Scribble scribble pause... scribble scribble cross-out cross-out scribble scribble DONE. Shorthand's grand, and rhymes too. "Come ON!" Eroki begged, tugging at my identical green sleeve. "Let's go dance!" "Can't tonight, Wunnykins," I said, kissing her briefly on the cheek. "Gotta go do my poem." "Poo," she pouted, slumping back into the Peasluvdope's booth and sulking. "Someone's gotta pay the checks," I shrugged. "It's not as slack as I'd like, but it's as slack as any job can get." "See you back at the pad?" she queried, brightening up. "Got nowhere better ta go. Hey, Benson!" "Yeah?" he said, looking up from his code. "Gotta motor. And drink less of that coffee, willya? The house brand here'll render you sterile," I joked. Benson rolled his eyes at me and continued tapping. * "Yes, thank you, Mr. Brainstiles, for you lovely but cut short poem. We'll see him up and about in a few hours, folks, then you can heckle him," the host joked. He used the same joke after every launching of the dart. The regular sniper has threatened occasionally to dart HIM if he uses the same lame joke again, but knows he'd get fired for darting the staff. "Up next, you know him as a regular here folks, let's have a big hand for Mr. Fluki Panookie!" There was sporadic applause as I stepped into the spotlight, from the few regulars not too drink to listen. One really wild person in the back was clapping like a maniac, but thankfully stopped so I could read. I flipped through the diary 'til I hit blank pages, backtracked, and found the poem. "'Amtrak to Hell', by Fluki Panookie. It looked like fun, and I needed some fun. Fun wasn't me, by any stretch of the word. If I didn't have fun soon, I wouldn't have fun at all. Or so I thought. So I bought my ticket and stepped on board. And it was fun, as promised. Fun. Very fun. And dangerous. The cars tilted wildly, and threatened derailing But I couldn't protest. I had ridden too long. I had too much fun. Now I couldn't stop having fun to save my life. Help me, someone give me a hand And pull the track switch, or the brake cord Or anything. Stop this train, stop this train I can't do it myself, even if I want to. I'm having fun and can't stop. Please help me. I am on the Amtrak to Hell, and having fun, All the way to the end of the line." No dart. Primo. I didn't know if it was one of my best ones, but it certainly didn't suck bad enough to warrant the sniper. More applause followed, the one weirdo in the back applauding loudest of all and whistling. The host stepped up, I stepped off. He did the compulsory attempt for more applause, cracked another bad joke, and introduced the next two acts, both of which got the dart. * "Mr. Panookie?" I almost didn't turn around. Nobody had called me that since the fourth grade. But still, it was part of my name. "Huh?" I said, turning around. "Umm... is this a bad time?" the figure in the shadows said. "I can come back any time, I always catch your shows and can bug you next time, really--" "No, no prob. Whassup?" The figure stepped out of the light. Shortish, but that's keen, 'cuz it was a Murfle. Female, by the tone of voice and fact that she had hair (other than normal purple fur, all male Murfles are born with only a little Charlie Brown sprig of hair). The eyes read admiration and a possible leak in the sanity tank. "I was wondering... can I have your autograph?" she asked. "I'm your number one fan. I'm always there when you're reading a poem. I was the one in the back clapping... did you hear me?" "The living dead could have heard you," I joked. "Gee, I hope I wasn't too loud--" "Naw, s'just a joke, dudette," I assured. She giggled in a way similar to fifteen fourth graders dragging their fingernails over a chalkboard. "Lemme get my pen out," I said, fishing through my green vest pockets for a writing utensil. "Whaddya want me to write?" "Umm... 'To Sally : Luv ya, from your close, intimate friend, Fluki.'" "Err... howzabout a simple 'Luki Panookie, Poet'?" "Okay." "Gotta piece of paper?" "Naw, just sign here," she said, lifting up her shirt. "What's wrong?" "Jeez!" I exclaimed, averting my eyes out of politeness. "Pullit down, man! Err, woman! We're on the street, for cryin' out loud!" She paused, and I hopefully assumed the ruffling noise was her shirt going back down. "I've offended you," she sobbed. "I'm sorry, really, I'm really sorry, I just... just..." "Whoa. Slack down, no probs here," I said, fishing around my pockets for a hankie. "Look, lemme just rip a page outta my diary and sign that, okay?" "Your PERSONAL diary?" she asked, curiosity back in full swing, all depression gone like a lightswitch. "The one you write your profound thoughts in and everything?" "Yeah. No prob, I get these things with three-ring attachments so I can take out old pages. Here," I said, turning to a random page and scribbling my name on the bottom, then ripping it out. "Share and enjoy." Sally examined the paper, holding it as gently as the dead sea scrolls. "The world is dull. Anything that can... ohmygosh! It's your first poem! And you signed it!" "Well, I keep multiple copies handy," I said. "It's my mantra, sort--" "Wow! Oh my god, I can't believe you'd part with something so amazing, so profound, so holy..." "Wot's so religious about it?" "Gee... THANKS!" she said, leaping up a few feet and clamping a kiss right on me. It lasted quite a few seconds and went in quite a few centimeters, mostly due to my combined shock and surprise. Then she hopped down and raced off, clutching her new prize. I wiped off my mouth and coughed a bit. Boy, she's got quite a vertical leap for a Murfle. Well, every famous dude's got some weird groupies. So much for that. I walked on, back to the pad. * The light was off when I wandered into my low-income housing / personal rent-paid hell / hovel. Makes sense, I was out for quite awhile tonight. Eroki'll be ticked, but she'll get over it. We bounce back from problems like a happy fun ball. I carefully slipped out of my shoes and shirt and such, and tiptoed over to my side of the bed. I had perfected a way of climbing in so that the bed didn't squeak, tilt, or move in any way at all; Eroki was quite a light sleeper, and a grumpy waker. Odd, usually she steals all the sheets. They're on my side. I reached over to drape about half of them on her, and bumped into-- "Fluki?" "YAAH!" I screamed, panicking momentarily, grabbing at the sheets, before realizing she needed 'em more than me. "SALLY!? What... who... HOW did you get in here?" "I picked the lock," she said, turning on the light. "I forgot to give you your pen back." "So you broke into my pad, got undressed, and climbed in bed?" I exclaimed, grabbing at my clothes on the floor. "Where's the logic in that? And how did you find out where I lived?" "Simple, I follow you home every night with a holocam," she said simply. "I've got 60 hours of holotape of you." Wacky groupie? Hah! This weirdo Murflan chick was downright psychotic. I sure as heck hoped C'atel had an asylum handy. "Sally... err, you stay put. I'm calling some friends now," I said, reaching for the holophone. I tapped in 911, but got no response. "I cut the wires," she giggled. "We don't want to be disturbed, do we?" "I've got a strong suspicion you were disturbed to begin with," I said. At exactly the wrong time for Eroki to come home, she did. And naturally, I was in no position to defend myself as her horrified eyes gazed upon the somewhat incriminating scene. "What... the..." she began, dropping the bag of groceries she had obviously left the house to get. "Eroki, let's have a little chat out in the hall, shall we?" I said, clamping one hand over her mouth. "Be right back, Sally! Don't you go anywhere!" She gave a little cute wave, and then I yanked my real girlfriend out in the hall and slammed the door. "This... is not what it looks like," I said, removing my hand. "THEN WHAT IS IT?!?!" she screamed. Lucky our neighbors were open minded, or I'd be getting suspicious stares from down the hall by now. "Listen," I explained. "This SLIGHTLY insane groupie stalked me after the show, practically worshipping the ground I walked on and demanding autographs in odd places. I just passed her off as a weirdo, but it looks like she's manic depressive / obsessive to boot and has some really twisted delusions on me." "And you expect me to believe that?!" Eroki exclaimed. "Dudette, you KNOW I can't lie to you. We've got that mental wavelink sorta thing." "That's true," she said. "I still don't believe that she's that twisted, though--" There was a SWOOSH and the forcesword I kept around for burglars and rats sliced through the hard wooden door like a knife through butter. "Need any more evidence?" I said. "I knew I should have hidden that force field sword better. I suggest we scream, then run." "Pull up your pants first," she whispered, embarrassed. "One three. One, two--" The door went down in a pile of neatly carved wood, and Sally stormed out, clutching the bedsheet in one hand and the HUGE (well, compared to her) sword in the other. "Darling!" "Forget the screaming! Just run!" I yelled, and the two of us were off like a bolt from a blaster. * Call me crazy, but I think when you want to escape a homicidal fan, the best place to go is the other side of town. The idea seemed good at the time; lots of area to cover, no way she could find us. 'Course, I didn't remember the fact that the bridge serves very neatly as a bottleneck from which you can be visible by most of the city. "Gotta... stop... running," Eroki panted. "Gotta rock in my shoe." "Alright, but hurry," I said, pausing. "We gotta get to the police station before--" "BANZAI!" shouted a high pitched voice from above us, as Sally swung down on a loose bridge cable, neatly slamming into Eroki, who was tying her show. Newton's laws boasted their power as she was pushed over the railing of the bridge. "JEEZ!" I exclaimed, running over to the bridge. "Help!" she begged, hanging onto the sub-railing with both hands. That water's got to be pretty deep and cold, adding to the fact that we're maybe thirty feet above it. "Will you PLEASE GO AWAY?!" I shouted to the crazed Murfle. "Yes, thank you for liking my poetry, but you're in dire need of help by men in white coats, so go talk to them about it instead of me, okay?" "But HONEY!" Sally pouted. "We can't be together until this piece of trash is out of the way." "Hey!" shouted a panicked but annoyed voice from below the railing. "I have doubts as to what plane of reality YOU exist in," I said, "But in this one, we never have and never will be an item. In fact, I had no idea you even existed until tonight, a bit of knowledge I regret knowing." "Poo," she pooed. "You're no fun anymore." With that, she made two neat slashes in the air with the sword. I dived out of the way, before realizing I wasn't the target. The combination of a rapidly fading scream and a large chunk of the railing missing supplied me with enough information to convict with. I ignored any possible danger and wrenched the sword out of her hands. "Hey! Gimmie that back!" Sally whined. "You want this?" I said, throwing it as far as possible into the river. "Go get it. Me, I've got more important things to do." Holding my breath, I dived into the C'atel river. * Swimming through the river is a lot like walking C'atellian streets. It's cold, wet, and isn't very clean. I certainly was an adept swimmer, but I had megadoubts as to how good Eroki was at it. I tried to see through the water, but lack of proper lighting and quantity of floating garbage made this an impossible task. So, I figured I'd have to try and find her telepathically. I wasn't kidding about the mental wavelink thingydoohickey we share; we had spent so much time together that we could sense each other coming from about two hundred feet away. It's not uncommon between married Sarens, although we hadn't gotten hitched yet. In addition, Sarens can sense strong emotions... consider the fact that Eroki was probably in a panicked, bewildered state and you've got 360' Eroki-seeking radar. Yup, there she is, about thirty feet below and in front of me and sinking like a rock. I was right about her not knowing how to swim. I kicked and shot downward like a torpedo (thank goodness for those swimming awards), grabbed at something Eroki- shaped that I could only pray was her, and swam back up to the surface. "Gurgle," she stated, with feeling. "Come on, cough it up," I said, towing both of us towards the shore. "Probably got a little water in your three lungs there." Eroki spat up green C'atel water as I dragged both of us on the river's shore. "Argh," Eroki said, grabbing at her skull. "What a headache." Yeah; it was so strong I could feel it blasting away at my own senses. "Dudette, we need a MAJOR vacation of slackness after this mess." "So where's the Purple Terror?" she asked, wringing out her vest. "I dunno," I said. "I disarmed her and dived in." "What, you didn't at least knock her unconscious?" "Hey, I don't hit girls," I pleaded. "It's unkarmatic." * WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM "Rent's not due for a week. Lemme sleep." WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM "Benson!" I yelled through the cheap plastic door. "Lemme in! It's Fluki!" The door slid open with a wholly unoiled sound. "Fluki man, it's the middle of the night--" "I gotta crash here," I said, wandering by him into the apartment. "Eroki too." "Hiya," she waved, following me. "Whoa. Time out. What, are they spraying your building for roaches again or something?" "Don't I wish. I gotta homicidal fan on my rear." "Out," Benson ordered, pointing at the door. "I'd rather not have him follow you here." "Her," I corrected. "Some crazy Murfle named Sally." "THE Sally?" Benson said. "Man, when you get in trouble, you DO get in deep, don't you?" "You know her?" Eroki asked, flopping down on Benson's couch and flipping through HoloVision channels. "Not personally," Benson said, closing the door. "Remember Billy Stokins? That DJ the club had three weeks ago?" "Yeah?" "Rumor has it this Sally chick was stalking him for a week or so. Then Sally and Billy vanished. Never found Sally again, but they found billy by the shipyards... and in an alley... and near the recycling plant... and on the roof of this building... and--" "I get the point," I said, burying my face in my hands. "Crap. Now what?" "They say his girlfriend was mailed to HappiWerld in five small boxes," Benson continued. "And then a few months back Sally was tagging along after this one bartender, and the bloody marys looked sort of suspicious the next week, when some drink expert ran a DNA analysis on them, he found blood cells from him and his girl--" "I GET THE POINT already!" I restated. "What not?" "Well, you die, obviously. Eroki too." "WHAT?" Eroki exclaimed. "Any other alternatives?" I hazarded. "None I can see." "If I skip town?" "She'll follow you, probably." "Change my name?" "Town hall records." "Undergo intense plastic surgery and maybe a sex change operation?" "She'll have one too." "Argh." "Exactly," Benson shrugged. WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM I paused. Eroki paused. Benson paused. There was a general consensus of pausing. Benson got up the courage to walk to the door and peer through the keyhole. "Who's there?" he asked, nervously. "Candygram," a low voice said. "Oh, okay. Is it chocolate or--" "WAIT!" I yelled, but the door was already open. I have GOT to show Benson some old TV tapes sometime. I duck the precaution of ducking, and pulling Eroki down with me. Benson merely dived under the bed. Lucky for me the couch was there, because a Murfle firing a blaster from Murflan height is NOT avoided by ducking. The smell of cheap, charred slipcovers spread through the room at four parts per million. "Come out, come out wherever you are!" taunted Sally. Wait... Alright. Inspiration! I just love these sudden burst of creativity. "Sally darling!" I shouted. "So NICE to see you!" "Fluki!" Sally shouted, overjoyed. Eroki quickly scrambled to the other side of the couch as the Murfle raced towards me, arms open. Hug hug, kiss kiss. Bit of lint there. "So nice to see you too." "Say, dear, that's a NEAT blaster. Can I see it?" "Oh no you don't!" Sally laughed. "You won't trick meee!" "Aww, pleeease?" "Nope!" "Even for your... ah... honey buns?" "Honey buns?" Eroki whispered to herself, more or less in disgust. "Well... alright, but just for yooooou, sweetypie!" she said, handing over the blaster. I dialed it to STUN setting. "Thanks," I grinned. "Luv ya." ZAP. Sally was knocked across the room, impacting against Benson's computer table. A joystick and CD2 player fell off, but there was no other damage. "You killed her!" Eroki said, horrified. "Naah, just a stun. Killing's bad karma, remember?" I said, attempting one of those ancient western gun-spin and holster things. I ended up burning a small hole in the floor. "Awww, man..." Benson whined, crawling out from under the bed. "And I just had it covered... my poor sofa..." "We'll throw it a funeral later," I said. "Where's yer phone?" * The fuzz showed up a few minutes later, gleeful to snatch up someone wanted for four murders and two attempted murders. Last I heard about Sally, she was in prison on the Rura Methane penal colony, obsessing over Elvis. At least that will last her awhile, unless the tabloids are right. We gave Benson's couch an honorable burial at sea, despite Eroki getting a few minor flashbacks about drowning. I don't think she's crossed the bridge again yet. Things pretty much continued on as they had before, except a little slacker with the subtraction of one homicidal maniac.