by Tony Teora
"Well if it’s national security I can understand. What I would like to know is how much MicroIntel gets for doing the deal?" asked Gill, keeping a straight face.
General Schwartz smiled. "I told the men you were a simple guy Mr. Applebee. Look, I can’t promise money but I can promise that we’ll use our military connections in Japan to make sure the Japanese accept your AD 2100 product. Once that’s online, the President will push through legislation to run the whole US infrastructure on this system and we’ll have control of everything. The people in this room, along with President, will run the US like it should be run."
"Sounds interesting General…you can count on MicroIntel."
Gill thought to himself: Another day, another deal.
Chapter 3: Flying Away
Date: February 10, 2021
Place: Earth
Location: Davichi Home
One of the symptoms of an approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one's work is terribly important. " - Bertrand Russell
"640K ought to be enough for anybody. " - Bill Gates in 1981
Susan loved Paris—although she had never been there physically. Her books were love stories. Robert read one entitled Mon Amour Phillipe. The story started out with a woman named Michelle falling in love with a man Phillipe whom she’d only met once on a train to London. With Michelle it’s love at first sight, and she follows Phillipe back to Paris. She entices Phillipe into a relationship but realizes he is a perpetual cheater: loving, lying and loving again. Michelle decides to kill the other woman Phillipe is dating, using explosives. She car bombs the other woman, thinking this will woo Phillipe into loving only her. Eventually she kills Phillipe with a pressure sensitive bomb under his toilet seat because she cannot attain his true love. Before being caught by the French police she blows up the Eiffel Tower and a French Airport.
According to sixty-six publishers this new type of explosive love novel was ahead of its time.
Robert went to Paris three times at the request of MicroIntel. The French government had required the French division of MicroIntel to remove all English Web site information from the French MicroIntel Web Site (which was actually hosted in the US). It required the company to do all business in French, even though half of the engineering staff were Americans and spoke only broken French, or none at all. Robert was against the move but the French put a 15% tax on all MicroIntel Software. Compliance to the "French Recommendations" removed 10% of the tax. The Internet was a losing battle for France, forcing them to become proficient in English. It didn’t matter to the French government; both American hamburgers and MicroIntel Software had special 5% sin taxes. Gill was infuriated by this new connection of MicroIntel’s software to hamburgers.
On a trip to Paris both Robert and Gill were hit with cream pies. The two men throwing the cream pies yelled: "Viva La France---stop speaking Anglish, parlez francais, you hamburger software imperialists!"
Andre Voulopontif, a top French academic expert on the US said that McDos and Gill Applebee are the "ideal scapegoat for people who no longer know what they are defending themselves against."
Buddy, Lisa, Jimmy and Susan organized the move to Tokyo with the help of MicroIntel. Gill ordered a staff of five and a moving company called FedExPat to organize the whole trip.
During the week before the flight to Tokyo Robert received another e-mail from the Cult Hacker. He couldn’t trace it, but didn’t tell anyone. The hacker was good but Robert knew he would get him somehow.
The week of packing, saying good-bye, and buying last minute clothes ended quickly. The Davichi family boarded the Japan Airlines 747 in Seattle with only a minor problem: the animal inspection center had trouble finding a cage large enough for Buddy. The door of the first cage wouldn’t close as Buddy’s rear end stood out about ten inches.
The center ended up using a zoo’s gorilla cage, with the extra charge sent to MicroIntel.
Buddy entered the oversized cage after eating his anti-gas pill laced dinner. Susan bought the extra strength pills from a toothy Chinese doctor named Chen, who said they might cause some constipation, but added that in broken English, "No gas, we stop gas—give horse two, big dog one."
Susan fed Buddy two pills, one over the recommended dosage, and put the bottle in her travel bag.
Robert settled into his seat next to Susan. Jimmy and Lisa sat separately, toward the back; they didn’t want to speak to their parents for any length of time.
Susan waved over a stewardess. "Excuse me, miss, oh miss, may I have a tonic water please?"
A young Japanese woman gracefully walked over, " One moment please." Her English was clear but definitely non-American.
Susan looked at Robert who was pretending not to notice the slim, pretty stewardess.
"Too bad we couldn’t get a NorthStar flight…we could talk to Ellen."
"I think this plane would cramp her style." Robert laughed to himself.
"What do you mean by that?"
Ellen was Susan’s friend from College who worked on the Asian-Pacific routes. She was five foot three inches, one hundred and sixty-five pounds, divorced, forty-three years old and reminded Robert of a large swollen potato with red hair that smelled of strong raspberry perfume.
"Nothing honey, hey check out the seats."
Susan looked at the soft seats, the list of twenty-four movies available on the twelve-inch MicroIntel WebTele system. She clicked on the menu button and saw that the Japanese teriyaki steak dinner that was rated extremely healthy. It had a GE Steak Health Rating of A-plus. Susan admired the soft leather seats, the wide assortment of drinks and food much nicer compared to NorthStar she thought. "Maybe Ellen should try and work for JAL, everything here seems so nice."
"I don’t think so." Robert reviewed the movie list.
"Why not? She works the international route for NorthStar."
"Did you ever notice the age of the women working the Asian Pacific route for NorthStar? They’re all over forty, honey, and it’s because of their seniority that they get that route. Besides, she’s got a great job."
"Well then she should be experienced enough to work at JAL too."
"Not so. JAL only hires women under twenty-seven."
Susan grimaced and took a sip of her drink. "That should be illegal. Someone should complain or sue. We should use a different airline."
"It’s Japan. There’s a lot less lawyers and the Japanese business travelers prefer JAL."
"What about you? Do you prefer JAL?"
"Only for the seats honey." Susan looked at the seats—she agreed.
In the Japanese Travel Directory, Happy Beautiful Organic Travel Life, the NorthStar Asian Pacific route stewardesses were listed as overworked, stressed out, culturally challenged women who hated their husbands, who they saw only two days too many per week because of the Airline’s busy schedule. "Instead take Japan Airlines," wrote the magazine reporter, Taro Takebe, in an "Airline Shootout" listing various airline services.
Happy Beautiful Organic Travel Life was owned MellonBank Publishing Enterprises who also owned 45% of Japan Airlines.
Robert sat back and closed his eyes. He recalled the time he had taken a NorthStar flight to Japan. Ellen was working the flight and he could never forget seeing Ellen take a beer from a Japanese business traveler named Shin Samaki who she thought had too much to drink. The guy was trying to order a drink in broken English for his friend and Ellen didn’t understand what he was saying, so she took his beer away. The two Japanese guys looked at each other, puzzled. One lit a cigarette, which was quickly pulled from his mouth by Ellen. "No smoking on NorthStar," said Ellen.
Shin Samaki then started to read his magazineHappy Beautiful Organic Travel Life which Ellen also took away. It had a picture of a semi-naked girl advertising Barnacle Bill on the back. Barnacle Bill was banned in her home state of Utah. (Let it be known to the reader that Shin Samaki based his whole view of Americans both on this experience, as well as one he had with Barnacle Bill in Hawaii.)
"Honey, I need to relax. Could you get me a Valium from my bag?"
Robert went into the overhead cabin and searched through Susan’s purse. He found a brown capped bottle and took out a pill. He sat down and handed it to Susan. Susan put the pill in her mouth and swallowed some tonic water. As the pill was going down her throat she knew something felt wrong.
"Robert…which pill bottle was that?"
"I got it from your purse."
"I asked you to get that out of my travel bag, not my purse! The dog’s pills are in my purse!"
"Bag…purse, how am I supposed to know?"
"You idiot—I just swallowed a gas pill!"
"Well, I guess you won’t get any gas on this flight."
"It’s specially designed for large dogs!" A memory flash of the Chinese herb doctor saying "No gas, we stop gas—give horse two, big dog one,"popped into Susan’s mind.
Susan put both hands on her face in distress. "Robert, could you please go into my travel bag and get me a Valium, please."
"Are you sure it’s OK to mix pills?"
Another memory flash came: The Chinese herb doctor was now smiling with stained and bad looking teeth:
"No gas, we stop gas—give horse two, big dog one."
Susan grabbed her head, "Get me a Valium or I am going to get off this plane!" screamed Susan
Robert went back into the overhead and found the purse, and pulled out another, smaller, brown pill bottle. He passed the bottle onto Susan. "Is this the right bottle?"
"Yes." Susan opened the bottle and took one and one-half Valiums---a little extra to compensate for the gas pill. She swallowed the pills and started to feel better.
The intercom spoke: "Please make sure your seats are upright and all personal belongings are stored in the upper storage cabins. We will be taking off shortly."
Susan looked out the window as the 747 rolled out of the gate. The Valium started to relax her. Her stomach felt a little tighter, but not bad for eating an unknown Chinese herb designed to stop diarrhea and gas problems for horses and other large animals.
The engines hummed louder. Wing flags moved down into the takeoff position. The brakes let go and the plane moved smoothly across the runway, picking up speed. They lifted into a partially clouded sky; little fluffy cotton balls passed Susan’s window. Susan sipped her tonic water. The cotton balls were soft and relaxing. Susan looked into the distance and saw a Penguin sitting on cotton ball. He sipped a beer and waved toward her. Susan waved back. He disappeared.
"Saying goodbye to the US honey?" asked Robert.
"Oh yes, just a little tired. Think I’ll take a little nap."
"Fine, the seat belt lights are out. I’m gonna see Lisa and Jimmy."
"Please," said Susan as she reclined and closed her sleepy eyes.
Robert walked to the back of the 747. This was one of the 800 series: a sleek and smart plane that used three onboard computers similar to the new space shuttle computers. Two human backup pilots were there to fix the computers in the event of a small problem. Big problems required the pilots to actually fly the plane. Most of the time the pilots played computer simulation games in the cockpit. Anyone watching thought they were flying the plane, but Robert knew better. MicroIntel wrote the software for the 747-800 series; it was a watered down version of a popular MicroIntel flight simulator game.
At the back of the plane’s business class section Robert’s seventeen year-old son Jimmy was smoking a Lucky Strike with about 15 Japanese men. The 747-800 smoking section fans sucked up the bluish smoke. Jimmy spotted his Dad, and greeted him.
"Hi Dad."
Robert looked out the window. "Son, I really wish you would stop that bad habit."
"Oh Dad, I’m seventeen years old, and I’m in college. It’s my body."
"Yeah, well I paid to feed and clothe that body for seventeen years. I want my money back."
"How much do I owe you?"
"Let’s see---last I recall, including tax and subtracting your scholarships, it’s about $547,000."
"No problem Dad. I’ll have the money paid back within two years after I’m out of college."
"How do you intend to do that?"
"I’m going to write a book about my Mom and Dad, and either you’ll wash away the $547,000 or I’ll get rich selling the book." Jimmy put out his cigarette and smiled.
"Son, I hate you but I guess I’m out $547,000. Are you sure the book would sell?"
"Sure Dad---you’re a big guy at MicroIntel and you screwed up our lives in the process. People love that shit."
Robert hugged his son. "I love you son, but promise me you’ll move out someday."
"You got my word Dad."
Back at her seat Susan awoke from an air pocket bounce. A stewardess asked, "Would you like a drink Ms. Davichi?"
"Yes, a gin and tonic please." The gas pill made Susan hungry. Things were happening inside her stomach.
The stewardess passed Susan a gin and tonic with a twist of lemon. Susan took a sip and opened up the WebTele. She searched through news about Japan. After the news she logged into her VeryHotMail e-mail account. She had 3 messages. The first two were good-byes from Ellen and her friend Mary. The last e-mail was only listed as "Your Friend Eddy".
Susan opened the e-mail:
Hi Susan,
Sorry to bother you but I wanted to tell you that your husband and MicroIntel are working on turning the planet over to the Net Police. They are blind to the truth. The new software in Japan is worse than rotten Limburger cheese washed down with a flat Pepsi. What are you doing in Japan?
Susan nodded her head and then stopped reading to receive her steak teriyaki dinner from a stewardess. Maybe the food would calm her stomach, which was now making intermittent hissing noises.
Japan was a bad idea—Paris was the place to go. She continued reading while eating her steak.
What is Robert doing in Japan? I’ll tell you---he is setting up some screwed software that will control all of Japan’s computer systems. The software will make the Japanese people worse that they already are. Do you know how the Japanese people live?
Susan coughed on a piece of bread but washed it down with some tonic. Her stomach was feeling better.
Japan is a mess—50% of all men in Japan cheat on their wives!
Susan coughed again and swallowed her whole gin and tonic. The letter was making sense to her.
I am your only friend---but please don’t tell your husband. I am going to help you but I can’t if you say anything to him. I work for a very important secret agency and I need your special help. I’ll tell you more at later time. Please keep me a secret.
I’ll write later,
Your Friend Eddy
DEFENDING…DEFENDING…DEFENDING…
********END OF MESSAGE
Susan felt good about knowing something that her husband didn’t know. She now had a friend—it was exhilarating.
At the back of the plane Robert sat in front of Jimmy and Lisa sipping a beer. A loud and somewhat drunk Australian wearing a cowboy hat was sitting next to Robert. He was speaking to an Indian gentleman to his left.
"Like I sez, mate…the Japanese is beautiful pe
ople…especially the women."
"My name is Patel, nice to meet you. I’ve never been to Japan" replied the Indian man.
"Name’s Logan, lived in Japan for ten years, best place in the world, mate" The Aussie lit his cigarette and took in a long drag. He blew out smoke out into a circular ring. It was a practiced exhale.
"Are you married?" asked Patel.
"Sure am—on my second—the first was a bag lunch—Heh!" Logan slapped Robert’s leg and laughed to himself.
"What do you mean by bag lunch? Is that like a lovemarriage or fixed?" asked Patel.
The Aussie turned and looked at Robert as if they were old friends. "The guy wants to know what I mean by bag lunch." The Aussie chuckled again.
"Yeah the first was both-- fixed love I guess. I knocked her up and her Dad said that if I didn’t marry ‘er he’d shoot me dead. Funny how love of your own ass can move a man’s heart. Are you married lad?"
Patel shook his head, "No, not yet. "
"Good thing because taking a woman from the US to Japan is like taking a brown bag lunch to a five star smorgasbord. Who needs the bag lunch? Heh!" Robert cringed in anticipation of a slap but it didn’t come.
"The woman are pretty in Japan?" asked Patel.
The Aussie looked at Robert. "Are these guys from India for real? You know what I’m talking about---don’t’ ya?" Robert nodded his head to avoid the discussion.
"I knew you did."
Logan looked back at Patel. "Hey, Patel, listen to me. Japan is a man’s world—it’s the only one left. I had a forty-year-old baggy ass, pain in the ass, nagging wife that I kept around for eighteen years before I got to Japan. She drove me nuts for the eighteen years we were married. Then she left me for a lawyer. Found this pretty and nice little twenty-eight year-old who treats me like a king. Been married to my second now for eight happy years. I’ll be forty-eight next month."
