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"What the?!? Jesus, you fuckin—" Sharif stumbled into the living room, kicking her record table. A man was crumpled on her floor, sifting confidently through the late night theorizing. "Carl, I swear to God..."
"Sharif, what is all this?"
"Oh, nevermind... Mercury is in retrograde, or Jupiter has too much gas. It's her time of the month I guess."
"These are astrological charts." Carl held an expression more stale than his tone.
"Would you—" Sharif injected drama into a full headed eye roll, storming out of the room. From the kitchen she called, "Coffee, you need coffee? I need coffee."
"I brought you some." He yelled back. "Right here!"
"What, oh…" The voice trailed off. Sharif reappeared, more cordially this time. "Thank you sweetie." She kissed Carl on the forehead. "It's nothing, I'm passing the time."
"I feel insecure around your hobbies."
"Bitch, we both know you don't need cause for your insecurities."
Carl gave off an offended smugness, "Bitch..." he huffed.
"I'm kidding, I love you." Sharif launched herself onto the couch beside him, squeezing him uncomfortably tight. Carl's pudgy midsection absorbed the attack.
"Carol sent me."
Sharif detached immediately. "You can't tell her."
"Oh, right... I'm a vault" Carl zippered his fingers past his mouth sarcastically. "You can cooounnnt on meee."
"Uggggggghhh." Sharif melted dramatically into the couch.
"This... this is actually really cool, Sher."
"What?"
"This... it's juicy."
"What's juicy."
"Are you building a case?"
"A case? A CASE FOR WHAT?" Sharif let loose, thrilled to have some non-judgmental human contact.
"Wrongful term, coercion... you know, venture sharking shit."
"Venture sharking?"
"I know... great term, I'm gonna go viral with it once I take down one of these guys."
Sharif stared impatiently.
"It's like, forcing out founders from an up-and-coming startup. Instead of investing in the standard way, they glide in, all shark-like, and steal early shares before the founders know what they've got."
"No, like I told you, I chose to leave."
"That's not what the paper trail says. And this guy, Demetrius. What a sleaze. How did you put up with this? Is that why you left?"
"Huh?"
"Honey..." Carl's shoulders jerked low and back, head dropping like a puppet. "You just can't take a hint." Sharif looked about cluelessly. "Did he ever invite himself over."
"Well... ya... but... I'm..."
"You just cant sniff out charisma, can you?" Sharif signed in disappointment. The previous night's emotion echoed from the well. "Awwwhh, no... I don't mean..."
"It's ok, it's just raw." Carl gave Sharif a long, silent hug. With the briefest distance of time, Sharif was able to hold her emotions down, still echoing.
"Look, if you want to pursue this, I'm here."
"I... I still don't get it. Last night, this whole thing, I was just playing a game. I didn't actually think there was something wrong here."
"That's exactly what I mean. It's well played when it SEEMS like everything was YOUR choice."
"I'm tired of being moved around like a pawn in everyone's scheme." This time, the circuitry all connected, spinning Sharif into a full, much needed, breakdown.
"Why bees?"
"We just don't get bees. They are, like, rebels."
"Huh?"
"It's like ants, we can't make things that strong."
"Like ants... bees are flying ants!"
"Uhhhmmm, no?"
"Well they look'n like it, with their creepy arms and fuzzy, but not fuzzy body. And the wings, they even louder than flys. That's how you know to be scerd."
"We don't understand how bees fly, they defy our understanding of aerodyamics."
"Rebel swarm!" Joey raised his stick in celebration. "It is I, the Ant King, commander of the bees. You! You will kneel, or die..." Joey waved the stick, aiming it at various parts of the clubhouse. "Bring me my honey, and I shall destroy all magnifying glasses that oppose us!"
"Bees don't deliver honey, they make it, in the honeycomb, which—"
"Feed on your honeys, bees, and grow strong to battle the forces... offff... my sister! Who is afeared of all ants and crawley things."
"Anthropods."
"I deem this lair, Anthropod! Let the feast begin!"
"Most bees don't even eat their honey, that's why they land on flowers, they eat the nectar."
Joey narrowed his stare, readjusting. "Seduce the lazy bears so we may ride them to victory?"
Syd scoffed, shaking her head. "Can we pretend to be gown up now?"
"Meh, we got time for that, when we're ol' n' wrinkly an..." Joey shuddered. "They are all pretending, huh?"
Syd rolled her eyes, "Pop Pop was tellin me about that."
"I bet he was a spy, or an assassin. Dude gives off closet badass vibes."
"Yeh... hah, he's pretty cool."
"What was that you two were working on? It's like a GPS or something."
"Nah, not really, I don't know what it finds, I don't think he does either."
"Is it like a lie detector? Do you have one?"
"No, he doesn't let me play with it."
"Where is it? Maybe I can figure it out."
A condescension radiated from Syd's raised eyebrow, "You?"
"Hey... you don't know. The gran' Pop donne kno. I might be the key. Careful judging a book by its..." Joey lost his train of thought.
"Pages."
"YA! Don't judge a book by it's... wait, what?"
"Let's go, dork."
The two expanded from their childhood clubhouse, obviously too big to be conspiring about bees and ants and lie detectors. They hopped on undersized bicycles and rode down the gravel road.
"This is feelin like some kind of spy movie."
"Spy movie?"
"Or whatever, I don't know. You did just break into my house."
"The terms of your contract were updated this morning when you failed to fully complete the setup on your mobile. You're lucky Aleraco didn't initiate a hearing."
Miles rolled his eyes. "You know… well, you probably do know. What was you name by the way?"
"Hammond."
"Ok, Hammond. Sorry, I mean, nice to meet you Hammond" Miles took a light bow. "I'm going to need some more information if I am to comply with these..."
demands?
"...conditions." Miles emphasized his skepticism.
"If you thought I came for the coffee, it is wonderful by the way, hazelnut? It's not overpowering like they normally make it, you know where it stinks up the whole house and alerts all your co-workers that you just came back from Hawaii."
"Oh, ya, I special order a blend. You know the coffee industry it's—"
Hammond held up a finger. "Let's not get distracted. I'll be your resource for any questions you have regarding the details of your assignment, however you did release your right to a comprehensive briefing when you signed the contract. This is an emergency position."
"Man, I just don't get that. I have no field experience, why put me in a critical position?"
"Orella manages those logistics, I hope I don't have to explain how hierarchies work, it is a bit dull."
"Struggling to feel like I've been," Miles prepared his sarcasm, "chosen for a reason"
"Mr. McCall, I'm not your therapist."
Miles nodded with his eyes.
"You have an assignment. Today, it seems, you will be calling in sick."
"Okay... yeah... I like that."
"The compartmentalization of your assignment is for your benefit. The mobile will have more information than I can provide. I'll be available in the event that things don't go as planned."
Miles held his tongue.
i like plans, just give me the plan, i want the plan, i can handle the plan
Hammond placed his half-full mug on an accessory table as he approached Miles, reaching out an open hand. Now close, Miles found weary wrinkles sprinkled across sharp features, grey stripes budding in a manicured beard.
They shook hands.
“We’ll be in touch. Mr. McCall.”
Miles sheepishly nodded as the character slid by him, silently exiting the house.
Joey peeked over a sil into the near empty shoppe. "Ya, she's wurkn'"
"Perfect." Syd schemed.
A pigeon-toed teenage girl moved slowly behind the counter. She turned, checking the stock of flavors. The after dinner rush would come soon.
Syd slid around the building, under the bartop window, checking the parking lot and road leading to the shop. She tossed a rock as her signal. Joey crept through an open back door.
Syd's gritty amber braids poked into the window, followed by wide hazel eyes.
The shop girl stared back.
"Uhhh... huhhh..." Syd stuttered.
"You think you're sooooo sneaky."
"Candice, how the heck are ya." Syd popped up and propped her elbow on the countertop.
"I'm not stupid. You know Bill is pissed at me. Could you not?"
"Well... I'm leaving tomarrah, so you neent worry bout me."
In the corner between Candice's bare shoulder and cropped haircut was Joey sneaking in the background. Syd's eyes widened unnaturally, she quickly averted her attention and returned to character. "I love that haircut, did you do it yourself?"
"Fuck off."
"Candice, see, we got off on the wrong foot, kinda like an awkward shuffle, you know what that's like."
Candice reached swiftly out the window, grabbing Syd by the collar. "You say ONE more thing!"
Before Syd could respond pops and cracks were echoing from the freezer, nearly shaking the little shack. Candice unlatched, turning to see Joey tripping out the back door. She stood frozen, eyes pinging up and down, trapped in disbelief. She trickled towards the commotion, unable to do anything.
Syd dropped, scuttling around to the front door, she hopped into the restaurant heroically, sliding to a stop. Candice looked over, a blank expression meeting Syd's devious smile.
"You..." Candice looked back at the sparkling display.
Syd didn't hesitate, swooping up armfuls of waffle cones and sprinting out the door.
Candice didn't respond.
As Syd bumbled down the road, a paranoia overtook her. She didn't typically feel grief for her little pranks, but Joey had gone too far. IN the freezer. It most certainly ruined whole batches of creams, creams that she loved. She rounded an alcove of lurid trees, their details jumping off the branches. A euphoria overtook Syd as she halted, taking in the moment as if she had already felt it.
"So?? Was that good?" Joey hopped excitedly.
Syd snapped, "What the fuck was that? You ruined it!"
Joey's pupils rounded their perimeter, his head bowing, "I... but...no—"
Syd shoved with both hands. Joey stumbled from the disappointment, exacerbating the response. "But, I—" Joey started.
"What's wrong with you?!?"
"No, wait, look" Joey approached, grabbing Syd's hand softly. He stared his typical stare, an innocent subordination. He pulled Syd around the corner, pointing to a full wagon.
Syd reeled, "How!!!"
"It was just there, I don't know. Maybe Candy have been stocking and left it out the back. I. I don't know."
"How much of it?" Syd rushed to the cart, looking back, "How much was left?"
"None, like a I said, she must have been in the middle or sumthin."
"You brilliant fool!" Syd hugged, squeezing a pool of warmth into Joey’s cheeks. "Lets go!"
Syd lashed the cart's steering arm expertly, attaching the backside to her bike seat with some rope from her front basket. The cart teetered and skid comically behind the streamers of her bike. She stood as she pedaled to gain powerful strokes, towering over her childhood bicycle. Joey followed, whistling in glee.
The two crested a rolling road, the little town fully in sight behind them. The fireworks would definitely have settled by now, and Candice would be fuming. Syd chuckled at the dramatic insignificance of it all, taking in the breeze which wafted her many memories of the hometown that she would scream she hated, but felt such fondness of. Syd peeked affectionatly at her partner in crime, who had grasped a home-made sign on a spike, "s'Creams! $1," and wrangled it into the roadside. Joey glowed, both hands propped on his hips, waiting for their customers.
1813
Rowland slouched into a abuse-weathered chair. He reflexively switched to the news.
He was late to his normal routine, prone to procrastination when all hope of productivity was lost. He had even missed the morning news to make work on time, now that he was under the caring scrutiny of Rory.
"In epic disappointment, no lives were saved during an apartment collapse last night."
last night? collapse, wait... did he say no survivors?
"A Greenpoint complex efficiently cratered itself 9/11 style into a dust cloud."
jesus… shameless, these dopes
"The only casualties: two elderly dogs and a gerbil named Indie." Murals of the dearly departed flashed onscreen in phone camera format.
"Due to new legislation, the NYC fire department is being sued for their failed attempt to save the animals. King's county has elevated pet's rights to rival that of foster children, or arguably, surpass it."
Rowland drooped a hand over his brow, looking down in disappointment. The commentary was unbearable.
"The high end apartments were home to some of the most exclusive modernized real estate. Heroic response time of the cities finest was able to clear the building of human life-signs before the collapse."
The screen split to reveal a desk poised Barbie doll. "Wow, Nigel, thrilling stuff. Where were these residents?!" Cindy chimed in, adding an increasingly sharp tone to the end of her question.
"They seemed to be out to lunch!" Nigel paused. His porcelain smile actuated into a seeming permanence. "Or, more accurately, dinner at the time. Though in that area, the nightlife is poppin, I'd be at the club, shakin off the midnight blues." Nigel shuffled his shoulders, retaining the same leery smirk.
"Thanks Nigel." The panel expanded to show only the newsroom. "Fortunately, there were no casualties as a direct result of the collapse."
Rowland muted the T.V., bewildered.
what the fuck...
He scrambled for something to write with, wriggling out of his chair. A teetering pile of mail found his notice, a sharpie beside it. Rowland pulled his sweater back, revealing the previous set of notes. On the other arm he jotted the information from the New York event.
When he returned to his chair, laptop in carry, the newscasters had already transitioned into their next segment.
Something about the price of milk, or eggs, or some other commodity that has so deeply rooted supply chain and regulatory dynamics that it seemed unnecessary to talk about.
how much fact is hidden between all this agenda...?
Rowland clumsily slid his phone into unsteady hands.
"Processed a NYC data point? Can meet tonight."
"..." Rowland's tired eyes affixed to the screen. Distracting flashes streaked through his unlit apartment.
"Chubbies @ 2000"
Rowland perked up, thrilled to have a turn-of-day. He lived for the night, shady meetings, and diners. His stomach growled.
Fluorescents begrudgingly came to life. Rowland watched them blink in an unpredictable pattern, casting light on Rowland's laziness. An unkempt kitchen, broom propped on his only table. A bowl of peanuts spilled crumbled shells in a decorative explosion that shrapneled the floor. He crunched through pieces on his way to the scuffed and dented fridge. The inside light, as lazy as his overheads, revealed a single bottle of stout and some sauce packets. He rummaged through the drawers for something, finding withering carrots and moldy yogurt. The freezer was no better, crusted with a thick layer of prickly frost. An empty ice tray and pack of old school ice cream bars stared back. He grabbed the paper-wrapped puck of sugar and sat at his table. Rowland eye's blinked with a numbness, carefully peeling open his dinner.