by R E Kearney
Rube raises the bag to the pew seat and promptly returns to gazing ahead. Amid stifled grunts and growls, Rube hears the old man struggling to open the blue bag. After a few muffled curses, he finally succeeds in unfastening both the outer and inner containers. Following some rustling and shuffling, cursing and zipping, the bag is shoved back against Rube’s side.
“Here you go.” The old man pats the bag’s side. “Now, go down the street and buy two yam chops and twenty-three ounces of sausage at the Vegan Butcher. Don’t ask the price. Just pay. My fee and my other costs are included in the charges. You don’t have a need to know, so they’re not going to tell you.”
“And then I leave through the back exit. I got it.” Rube rises to his feet. He turns to leave and then hesitates. In spite of Rele ordering him not to ask questions of the old man, he does. “So tell me…I’m curious. How many members do you have in your...uh…church?”
The old man chuckles at Rube’s question. “Yeah it’s empty. Not many of us left living here. Most afraid to be seen even near here. Cause, as soon as DMS society security discovers you’re a possible dissident, you’re out…expelled. Out wandering the wastedlands. But, you don’t have to be present to be a member. Fact is, better if you ain’t. We got believers scattered around the world. Ready to act instantly. Rele messages them and they move. No questions.”
“Rele? Not Sheriff?” Rube needs the old man to confirm Rele’s stories.
“You ask a lot of questions, fellow. Too many.” Using the back of the pew in front of him, the old man pulls himself into a bent-standing position. “Yeah, Rele’s the brains…the planner…the driving force…the spearhead. Sheriff? Well, Sheriff is actually just a figurehead. Sheriff draws them in and Rele directs them.”
Not accepting the old man’s dismissal of Sheriff, Rube continues to question him, as they slide to the end of the pew. “What draws them to Sheriff? What’s her magic formula?”
“Hate and hope. Sheriff gives them hope by feeding their hate. Sheriff’s followers hate everybody that isn’t just like them…ignorant and poor. They’re uneducated…uninformed…easily manipulated. So, Sheriff channels their hate. Makes them soldiers in our war to eliminate the unnatural Elite. Rele is her general. Ok?” The old man is fatigued and growing grumpy. “That’s more than you need to know. Now go!”
Searching the sky for spying drones with each step, Rube hikes to the Vegan Butcher. But, he sees nothing. His eyes are focused inward. The old man’s description of Sheriff’s followers as ignorant, poor, uneducated, uninformed and easily manipulated burns his brain. He wonders if he should be insulted or humiliated. He decides he is both. Yet, simultaneously, he rededicates himself to serving Sheriff.
Looking up instead of ahead, he smacks into the back of a man waiting to cross the street. He says he is sorry, but his apology is not well received. Without losing his smile, the man Rube stumbled into, insults him and his mother. Stunned by the man’s verbal assault, Rube steps backward, trips over a ground delivery drone and crashes onto his back. Four wide-smiling women ask him if he is hurt as they hurry past without helping him.
Rube stumbles into the Vegan Butcher shop, injured, agitated and ready for a fight. Lifelong livestock raiser and meat eater, he grew up hating vegetarians and meatless meat. But, the welcoming smile of the strikingly, beautiful young woman managing the small shop immediately disarms him. Although, she is busy with two customers ahead of him, she does not ignore him. She repeatedly glances toward him.
Living in the wastedlands for so long, Rube has not seen a woman this stunning before. He is enthralled. Like a stone statue, he stands and stares. Only when she turns and waves, does he realize that his mouth has dropped open and he is drooling.
Embarrassed, Rube drops his eyes and begins surveying the store’s coolers filled with mock meats. The Vegan Butcher’s extensive variety of manufactured vegetable sausages, patties, sliced cold cuts and roasts surprises him. As he studies their ingredient lists, he discovers that every item is synthesized from plants developed by the Society Preserving Endangered Agriculture.
The heat of hate flashes through Rube. Surrounding him, mocking him is the source of his humiliation - SPEA. He wonders why he is conducting Rele’s secret transaction in a business of his enemy. He is suspicious. Why here? Is he being set up?
“Now, how may I help you?” The woman behind the counter softly asks, yanking Rube back to reality. He scans the store. The other customers are gone.
Her question startles him, knocking Rele’s specific directions out of his brain. He stumbles and stutters. “Uh…uh…yam chops…and uh…Italian sausage.”
“How much?” Her light blue eyes capture Rube’s total attention.
“How much of what?” Rube is still lost.
She snaps her fingers toward the entrance locking the shop. Her SIC smile melts into a frown. She growls. “How many yam chops and how much Italian sausage?”
Rube silently searches his memory until Rele’s directions rise to the surface. He blurts out. “Two yam chops and twenty-three, exactly twenty-three, ounces of Italian sausage.”
Her cordiality drains into stern seriousness. “Yes, I have that order ready for you. Please follow me.”
Her sudden change of attitude stuns Rube. He wonders what he said or did wrong. Like a spanked puppy, he silently follows her into a small office separate from the main store.
She ushers Rube inside and closes the door. From a small cooler, she retrieves a package of yam chops and a package of Italian sausage. When she shoves them into his hands, he notices that their Vegan Butcher labels have been removed.
“Shove them in there.” She stabs her finger at his blue bag.
While Rube slips the two packages into his bag, she prepares her payment processor, biometric, finger scanning equipment. Rube has never seen such a machine before. He stares at it, not knowing what to do.
“Well? You have your stuff. Now, hurry up. Pay for it and get out!” She barks.
“What do I do?” Rube asks meekly.
“Are you joking? Where are you from? No. No wait, I don’t want to know anything about you. The less I know, the better.” She points to the biometric reader and directs him. “Just place your right index finger there and wait for it to beep. Then, remove your finger and leave my shop.”
Rube carefully follows her orders. After a few seconds, the reader beeps. Their deal is done. When Rube raises his eyes, he discovers her glaring at him.
“The rear exit is that way.” She jerks her thumb to her side. “Do not tell anybody about this transaction. In fact, forget that you were ever here and never come back.”
EAR SHOT
Shloop. Creak. Plop. Whirr. Shloop. Creak. Plop. Whirr.
“CRAGI! Must you make so much noise?” Robert growls while covering his newly installed ears.
CRAGI stops and rotates her cranial sensors. Whirr. Click. Her camera-eye lenses enlarge to enable each light-sensitive, charge-coupled-device, microchip to convert what her lenses see into digital format. Ween. Her mechanical mandible drops to activate her voice chamber. Clink.
“To what sound do you refer to as noise, Robert? My robotic operating system open-source audio recognizer sensors are not chronicling receiving unusual sound waves.” CRAGI queries.
Robert shakes his finger at CRAGI. “Those sounds! Those noises! All that creaking and whirring, popping and plopping you do when you move. You’re so loud.”
“During my structural movement my actuators, end effectors and micro gears generate sounds registering a near silent 05 decibel level.”
“Near silent does not mean that I do not hear it. Too loud. Too loud!” Robert squashes his skull between his hands. “How am I going to function out in the DMS when I suffer such excruciating pain sitting in a hospital room with just you?”
“Ow! Stop yelling. You hurt me.” Petra-two complains from Venus.
“Pull on your left earlobe a minimum of three t
imes to reduce the volume of your auditory implants to normal human decibel registration level.” AGI directs Robert internally.
Robert tugs on his left earlobe three times. With each tug, he squelches ten decibels of auditory response. He sighs at the sound of human-hearing silence. He closes his eyes and lays his head back, hoping to finally enjoy a short nap.
AGI immediately interrupts his peaceful interlude. “To increase your decibel level sensitivity tug on your right earlobe. The auditory volume algorithm written and implemented is activated by the connection of only your hand to your earlobe to avoid unauthorized hearing level alterations.”
“CRAGI, perambulate around the room, so I can test AGI’s algorithm.” Keeping his eyes shut, Robert listens for CRAGI to walk. He smiles when he hears nothing. He slides into some much needed sleep.
“Wake up! Wake up Robert!” Mugavus’ shrill commands shatter Robert’s dreams. Petra-two awakes wailing.
Groaning, Robert opens his eyes. Facing a demanding, dictatorial Mugavus, he immediately slams his eyes closed. He reaches for his left earlobe. Rapidly, he pumps one, two, three, four, five times.
When Robert opens his eyes, he grins with relief, as he watches Mugavus’ lips move, but hears nothing. He nods his head, as if he is listening. Mugavus continues talking. Robert acts attentive. But, his charade ends suddenly when he mistakenly replies to her question with an affirmative thumbs up.
Mugavus’ face flushes fiery red. She charges forward until she is looming over him shaking her finger inches above his nose. Too late, Robert realizes he is in trouble.
Not wanting to expose his ability to tune out Mugavus, Robert accesses AGI. “What is Mugavus saying?”
“Someone accessed your block chain ransom at Vegan Butcher in Greenly. Mugavus is inquiring concerning your plans regarding this occurrence.”
Robert jolts alert. He grabs his right earlobe and pumps. With Mugavus still loudly scolding him, he quickly realizes that he has pumped himself into the middle of a howling storm.
“Please tell me again about the Greenly situation, Mugavus. I must apologize. AGI was distracting me.” Robert lies in an attempt to defuse Mugavus’ rage.
Seething, Mugavus snarls in Robert’s face. “Times up. Get up. Yes, someone accessed your block chain ransom at Vegan Butcher in Greenly. But more importantly, while you’ve been relaxing there have been attacks on our Singapore and Dubai facilities. People are starving. People are rioting. People are dying. Tööle minema!”
When Mugavus yells at him to go to work in her native Estonian, he knows she is serious. His feet hit the floor and he starts toward the door. “Finally, just what we’ve been searching for, another clue. CRAGI, you and I must visit that Vegan Butcher in Greenly, immediately. You know, Mugavus, old friend, Thomas Edison was so right when he said that there is no substitute for hard work. So, CRAGI and I will do some digging and see how many worms we can expose to the sunlight.”
“Good! About time! What shall I do to help?” Mugavus steps into line behind CRAGI.
Robert increases the speed of his getaway. Without looking back, he snidely taunts her over his shoulder. “Mugavus, you will help me the most by staying away. Your assistance always results in more injuries for me and more cyborgization of my body. I would like to keep all of my remaining human parts and pieces, if you don’t mind.”
“Purely coincidence, Robert. You know I only intend to help.” Mugavus calls toward his distancing back.
With the elevator door closing, Robert shouts. “As Groucho Marx once said, ‘Next time I see you, remind me not to talk to you.’”
BEAUTE
“Twenty-five thousand dollar credits for two yam chops and twenty-three ounces of Italian sausage? Didn’t that seem just a little expensive and unusual to you?” After introducing himself as a SPEA investigator, Robert begins interrogating the extremely attractive lady named Beaute Concue in her office in the emptied and locked Vegan Butcher.
Beaute shrugs her shoulders. “All I know is that I did what I was ordered to do. My directions were that when an older man specifically asked for two yam chops and exactly twenty-three ounces of Italian sausage, I was to provide his order and then have him pay for it using our biometric reader here in the office.
“Orders? Who gave you these orders?” Robert focuses his computerized eyes on Beaute’s face, so AGI can scan her to determine if she is lying.
“She is pretty. Her hair is fluffy gold.” Peter-one comments. Silently, Robert shushes him. He does not need any of his thirteen chip-children meddling in his mind in the middle of his interrogation.
Nervously, she looks to her left, to her right and then down away from Robert. “I don’t know. I received my orders digitally.”
“She is lying. She knows the individual’s identity.” AGI immediately concludes.
Rotating toward her, CRAGI corroborates AGI’s judgement. “You know the originator of your orders. Your eyes are dilated. Your pulse is rapid. Your face is flushing.”
Beaute turns her back to CRAGI. “I’m not saying anything to some mechanical monstrosity.”
“I suggest that you answer all of my questions truthfully, if you want to continue operating the Vegan Butcher and living in the DMS, Beaute?” Robert sternly instructs her. “Because, perhaps you didn’t understand when I identified myself that I can have my associates at SPEA close you down and lock your doors in five minutes. I’m certain that you realize dishonesty will lead to your immediate ejection into the wastedlands. I doubt you’ll enjoy living the rest of your life as a wandering Eject.”
Beaute flares. “I am so, so tired of you guys at SPEA always threatening me. If you’re such an effective investigator for SPEA then you should already know my situation and the name of the man. I shouldn’t have to tell you anything.”
“Beaute Concue was originally named Beth Connor. Two years ago, Beth Connor underwent extensive face and neck modification surgery, augmentation mammaplasty and cosmetic dental surgery. Upon completion of her surgeries, she changed her name to Beaute Concue. An individual named Rele Gieren compensated her medical expenses of one hundred thousand dollar credits.” CRAGI states the results of her identity search.
Before Robert is able to comment upon CRAGI’s information, AGI internally communicates a JPEG of Beth Connor. Visually comparing Beaute Concue to Beth Connor, Robert perceives two distinctly different people. Not only did she undergo extensive body modification surgeries, she also significantly reduced her weight.
“Becoming beautiful is an expensive process, isn’t it Beaute? Rele Gieren must really value you and your skills.” Robert probes. “I imagine that you are quite indebted to him.”
“Is it so terrible…so unforgivable to want to be better…to be different?” Beaute gently slides the back of her fingers of her right hand across her cheek. “No matter how big I smiled and how obedient and conforming to DMS behavior standards I was, I could never earn enough SICs. But Rele, had the resources. Rele brought out the beauty in me. So, yes, I owe Rele.”
“Rele Gieren is a former, Denver based SPEA cyber communications facilitator. He was the first SPEA associate to fail your amygdala measurement program requiring ejection. His tests also indicated a high level of monoamine oxidases enzymes. Through three cyber communications, he vowed vengeance upon SPEA and you, personally. SPEA security did not consider his threats credible and did not transmit them to you. His communications through SPEA ceased upon ejection from the Denver Metrostate. He is known to be in the wastedlands His current circumstances and exact location are unknown.” AGI neurally updates Robert.
“Obviously, Rele expected and received quid pro quo from you. So, were you and he a couple?” Robert continues delving.
Smirking, she shakes her head. “Couple? Do couples exist anymore? I would say we enjoyed a long-term, mutually accommodating relationship. More business than amorous.”
Robert scans Beaute from head to toe. “Ok, well, I see what
you got out of this deal. What did Rele get?”
She smiles seductively while slowly running her hands down along her breasts, as if opening a curtain. “I made certain that he enjoyed all that he proposed and purchased for me. I would still be dowdy, dumpy Beth Connor without him. I hated myself, then. He transmuted me into the woman of his fantasies…my dreams. He called me his fashion accessory. And, I assure you, sir, he got as good as he gave. I repaid for this face and body over and over again.”
“She is pretty. I like her. Can she come here?” Peter-one again interrupts. He is smitten. Again, Robert mentally orders him to hush.
“I suppose in your situation, Robert Mapplethorpe may have been correct when he said that beauty and the devil are the same thing.” Robert continues quizzing her. “And you’re still working to repay him, I presume. You remain his fashion accessory?”
Beaute’s expression grows serious. She begins fidgeting. “I didn’t want to get involved in this affair. I thought I was done with him. Finally freed from him when he was ejected. I mean, I hadn’t heard from him for months. Then, earlier this week, he digitally contacted me. A little later, this strange, old man shows up…tells me Rele sent him…”
Robert raises his hand signaling Beaute to stop while AGI internally provides him results from tracing the transaction. “Block chain transaction records indicate the Evangelical Church of Human Purity received the ransom funds from the yam chop and sausage purchase. An individual who calls himself Reverend Boig operates and inhabits the Evangelical Church of Human Purity. The Vegan Butcher received no funds.”
Robert lowers his hand. He smiles reassuringly at Beaute. “Perhaps I won’t need to banish you to the wastedlands. I’ve just learned that you are basically an ignorant innocent. Rele forced you to act as a smufer or his money mule. He used you to electronically transfer money he acquired illegally through your Vegan Butcher account to the Evangelical Church of Human Purity. The old man you met is probably calling himself Reverend Boig.”
