I Read the News Today..............
I was waiting for this - Givings' call. I heard from her on Wednesday. She wanted to meet Thursday - yesterday - but I couldn't. I had a biopsy scheduled. Being scheduled for 8 AM doesn't mean anything because once you enter a hospital you're on "doctor's time". I got there at 7:20, and was out by 12:30 - biopsy, x-ray, and office visit all in 5 hours. That's enough for one day. I agreed to meet Givings this morning.
Usually, she likes to meet around 9 AM at the Menlo Park Mall. But since I put her off, we agreed on 11. I got there early so I figured that I'd pick the table. I got some decaf and a muffin, picked up the paper, and staked out a table in the back of the Food Court.
The local paper has a funny way of treating personal interest stories that happen in the area. The hopeful, happy ones make the front page with a nice picture. The not-so-hopeful ones get buried. I usually just read the banners, photo captions, and the location line. If it grabs me, maybe I'll read the opening paragraph. Today's paper had the follow up to an article I'd seen a day or so ago. Not a happy ending for the family.
It seems that a week ago Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, a man disappeared while out taking his morning exercise walk. There was a Silver Alert issued. Apparently he was an older guy with a history of heart-related problems. They found him Tuesday, or rather some guy walking his dog found him. He was found down the side of an embankment off Chain-of-Hills Road where it rises over a small stream. The coroner says it looks like a seizure, or heart attack. No signs of violence. No sign of a struggle. No sign of a guy with a Flasher or a bright light. First time I'd seen anything Event-related
Givings showed up and I put away the paper.
"Sorry I didn't get you any coffee. I didn't want it to get cold." I smiled. She got something from the Starbucks, and sat down.
"Mr. O'Neill, I want to apologize for the Adam's Tower situation. It didn't turn out the way I'd projected. In fact, it didn't do anything."
I kept smiling, and shrugged. I didn't think I needed to add anything.
"Anyway, Mr. Smith has informed me that he spoke to you.."
"Wait. Mr. Smith? Is that his name? Is he the guy who called me last week? He's one of the People Upstairs, right?"
"Yes. That's the name I know him by. He is one of the more important members, and the one that I get my instructions from. And Doyle, as well. I mean, he gives Doyle his instructions, too."
"What does he look like?"
"I don't know. I've never met him. I get my instructions via phone conversations and e-mails mostly. When we do meet, he tends to remain in the shadows. I take it that it's a security thing with him. But that's not the reason for this meeting. We need to discuss how to proceed."
"Discuss? You want to discuss proceeding with me? That's interesting. Usually you just have instructions."
"That has changed, at least for now. Mr. Smith feels that you might have some ideas on how to progress with Phase 2."
I sat back, using my coffee to stall a little.
"Let me see if I remember...Phase 2 was supposed to be an attempt to increase the number of victims per Event, correct?"
"Correct." She looked annoyed.
"And the Adam's Tower thing, you know, using Legionnaire's Disease, was supposed to do that only it didn't work, right?"
"Correct, again." Annoyed and a little angry. I let her stew a little, picking up my trash and dumping it in the nearest basket.
"OK. I've actually given this some thought. Do you know what you read a lot about this time of year?"
"The Holidays?..No..No, I don't recall anything specific."
"Fire. You read about fire a lot."
"Fire?"
"Yes. Fire. Caused by faulty wiring and dry Christmas trees, or candles, or space heaters in unheated rooms. There's always reports of tragic fires happening during the Holidays."
I paused and looked at her. She looked sceptical, but interested.
"Go on."
"There has to be any number of overcrowded homes in Perth Amboy, Rahway, Linden, even Edison and Woodbridge. Illegal aliens crowded into poorly ventilated, unheated houses. Any number of potential fire-traps. All you need to do is have someone who fits in - and I certainly wouldn't - go around and "Prime" the chosen sites. Then when a fire starts, an anonymous call to the Fire Department. I'd bet there'd be some loss of life."
"That does sound like it would work, but wouldn't they look suspicious?"
"I don't think so. You spread them out from now through, say, February, and I'd bet they'd only get some local coverage and they'd never be connected. And there may be a side benefit."
I left that idea dangling. She bit right away.
"What side benefit?"
"Since you'd know what was going to happen, you could have INS handy to round up the suddenly homeless. Those without papers get deported. Another reduction to the drain on our resources."
"ICE. They're known as ICE now. Not INS." But she said that distractedly.
"Whatever. It doesn't matter what they call themselves. They're still answerable to DHS, right?"
No answer. She was slowly nodding to herself, weighing the pros and cons. Finally, she pushed back her chair.
"Very interesting, Mr. O'Neill. It has a great deal of potential. Very little exposure on our part, instant results, good upside. I'll have to run this by the People Upstairs, of course, but I'm sure Mr. Smith will like it, and he carries a lot of weight with the rest."
She stood, and looked at me for a minute. Then she stuck out her hand. I shook it.
"Thank you, Mr. O'Neill".
She walked away.
Oh boy.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
The Devil You Don't Know.......................
It's been over 2 weeks since the Adams Tower experiment. Two weeks with nothing to show for it. No mention in the news - TV or press, and no activity that I could see from my living room window that might indicate that the plan Givings put into effect actually worked. Two weeks! And all I've gotten is frustrated.
It didn't help that I haven't staged any Events during those weeks. I've been out, but, somehow, I never got around to anything. That, of course, added to my frustration. Until Monday............
The hospital called. They wanted to know if it would be all right to reschedule my biopsy from today till next Thursday. It seems my cardiologist would be the only one on, and they were trying to lighten the load. I had no problem with it. Then yesterday, I began to feel less tense. Maybe subconsciously I was obsessing over the biopsy and the fact that this would be the 2nd anniversary of my transplant. Maybe there was some anxiety involved. Anxiety added to frustration. I didn't know. I didn't think so, but what did it matter. I couldn't deny that I certainly felt better, looser.
This morning, my emails contained a couple of coupons to local book stores and I decided to check them out. I know I've mentioned that I get most of my books at libraries, but if the coupon is worth it I'm game for a bookstore. Besides, I was feeling better. Since I don't have a printer for my computer, I drove up towards a friends house in Avenel to use theirs.
Driving down Remsen Avenue, I saw some guy out raking his leaves. I could feel the itch coming back, but I drove past. When I got out of the car, I saw an older man coming down Butler, walking slowly. Again, the itch.
I went inside and printed out my coupons.
When I came out, the old man was walking back up Butler away from me. I got in, drove the other way on Butler, Turned on Prospect, went down one block, left for 2 blocks, then a left on Demorest. I had the Flasher out, and the windows down. I should've found the old man at the corner of Butler, but he was no where around. Damn. I kept going on Butler, and slowed at the corner of Remsen. I could see the man raking his leaves over on my left. There was no one else around. I turned.
My windows were still down and the Flasher was still out. I pulled up along his curb.
"Excuse me. I seem to be lost. Can you help me?"
He came over, and I leaned across the seat, checking around for any traffic. No one.
Point, push, Flash. He dropped to the lawn and I drove down Remsen and made the right on to Avenel Street. I was definitely feeling better.
Avenel Street becomes Chain of Hills Road on the other side of St. George Avenue. I like to go this when when I'm heading for Barnes & Nobles. It's a quite, winding road with park-like scenery that just makes me smile. Since it runs parallel (sort of) with Routes 1 and 27, it doesn't get a lot of traffic. Just locals. I came into the middle of an S-shaped section, with a tight curve behind me and another in front. In between, on the passenger side, was some guy out power walking. I slowed. The windows were still down. I couldn't see around either curve. Here it was just me and the power walker. I slowed. The gap narrowed. Point, press, Flash. I sped up a little, but not by much. These curves can be tricky. I rounded the curve and passed a minivan going the other way. By the time I got to Green Street my phone had beeped. Confirm #1.
I was hungry, so I went to the McDonald's just the other side of Menlo Park, along Route 1. I parked, and noticed that there was someone sitting in the a car about 2 spaces over. I took my book and went inside. My phoned beeped again. Confirm #2.
When I came out, I noticed that the person was still in their car. I moved around mine, to the passenger side, and opened that door putting inside the book I had. As I turned, Flasher in hand, I realized that there were 2 people in the car. Oh well. I got in my car and drove back to the mall.
Instead of parking outside of the Barnes & Nobles, I chose to go to the parking facility on the opposite side of the mall. I had a vague idea of maybe finding someone in their car. There was a car in a handicapped spot with its blinkers on, but no one was inside. I parked, entered the mall, and did some window shopping.
When I came out, the car with the blinkers was still there, only now the blinkers were off, the headlights were on, and there was someone inside. I walked to my car, got things ready, and drove back. The handicapped spot was at the end of a row, directly across from the mall proper. There was no one around as I turned parallel to the car. I stopped and got out. Looking around, I saw no one. I heard no one. I walked to the other car. Point, press, Flash. I walked back to my car, got in, and drove away. Man, I was feeling really good.
My phone beeped again. Confirm #3. That would be all she wrote for now.
When I got home, while I was trying to decide how to record the day's Events, someone called. It was the same number Givings and Doyle used, but it wasn't them.
"Mr. O'Neill. I trust you are well?"
I recognized the voice. I'd heard it before. Back in August, with Givings. One of the People Upstairs.
"Yes. I am. Who's this?"
"Sorry. No time for that now. I just wanted to personally acknowledge your activities today. I was beginning to feel that you might be disillusioned after the Adams Tower fiasco."
"No. No. I'm good. I'm just, you know, a little startled to hear from someone other then Givings or Doyle. Is there something I can do for you?"
"There will be, but not right now. Ms. Givings is on leave for a couple of weeks. We thought it best for now. You should hear from her shortly regarding a resumption of Phase 2. I just wanted to personally touch base with you. Check out how you were and congratulate you on reaching your second anniversary. I trust you will have a good holiday."
With that said, he hung up.
What's that they say about dealing with the devil?
It's been over 2 weeks since the Adams Tower experiment. Two weeks with nothing to show for it. No mention in the news - TV or press, and no activity that I could see from my living room window that might indicate that the plan Givings put into effect actually worked. Two weeks! And all I've gotten is frustrated.
It didn't help that I haven't staged any Events during those weeks. I've been out, but, somehow, I never got around to anything. That, of course, added to my frustration. Until Monday............
The hospital called. They wanted to know if it would be all right to reschedule my biopsy from today till next Thursday. It seems my cardiologist would be the only one on, and they were trying to lighten the load. I had no problem with it. Then yesterday, I began to feel less tense. Maybe subconsciously I was obsessing over the biopsy and the fact that this would be the 2nd anniversary of my transplant. Maybe there was some anxiety involved. Anxiety added to frustration. I didn't know. I didn't think so, but what did it matter. I couldn't deny that I certainly felt better, looser.
This morning, my emails contained a couple of coupons to local book stores and I decided to check them out. I know I've mentioned that I get most of my books at libraries, but if the coupon is worth it I'm game for a bookstore. Besides, I was feeling better. Since I don't have a printer for my computer, I drove up towards a friends house in Avenel to use theirs.
Driving down Remsen Avenue, I saw some guy out raking his leaves. I could feel the itch coming back, but I drove past. When I got out of the car, I saw an older man coming down Butler, walking slowly. Again, the itch.
I went inside and printed out my coupons.
When I came out, the old man was walking back up Butler away from me. I got in, drove the other way on Butler, Turned on Prospect, went down one block, left for 2 blocks, then a left on Demorest. I had the Flasher out, and the windows down. I should've found the old man at the corner of Butler, but he was no where around. Damn. I kept going on Butler, and slowed at the corner of Remsen. I could see the man raking his leaves over on my left. There was no one else around. I turned.
My windows were still down and the Flasher was still out. I pulled up along his curb.
"Excuse me. I seem to be lost. Can you help me?"
He came over, and I leaned across the seat, checking around for any traffic. No one.
Point, push, Flash. He dropped to the lawn and I drove down Remsen and made the right on to Avenel Street. I was definitely feeling better.
Avenel Street becomes Chain of Hills Road on the other side of St. George Avenue. I like to go this when when I'm heading for Barnes & Nobles. It's a quite, winding road with park-like scenery that just makes me smile. Since it runs parallel (sort of) with Routes 1 and 27, it doesn't get a lot of traffic. Just locals. I came into the middle of an S-shaped section, with a tight curve behind me and another in front. In between, on the passenger side, was some guy out power walking. I slowed. The windows were still down. I couldn't see around either curve. Here it was just me and the power walker. I slowed. The gap narrowed. Point, press, Flash. I sped up a little, but not by much. These curves can be tricky. I rounded the curve and passed a minivan going the other way. By the time I got to Green Street my phone had beeped. Confirm #1.
I was hungry, so I went to the McDonald's just the other side of Menlo Park, along Route 1. I parked, and noticed that there was someone sitting in the a car about 2 spaces over. I took my book and went inside. My phoned beeped again. Confirm #2.
When I came out, I noticed that the person was still in their car. I moved around mine, to the passenger side, and opened that door putting inside the book I had. As I turned, Flasher in hand, I realized that there were 2 people in the car. Oh well. I got in my car and drove back to the mall.
Instead of parking outside of the Barnes & Nobles, I chose to go to the parking facility on the opposite side of the mall. I had a vague idea of maybe finding someone in their car. There was a car in a handicapped spot with its blinkers on, but no one was inside. I parked, entered the mall, and did some window shopping.
When I came out, the car with the blinkers was still there, only now the blinkers were off, the headlights were on, and there was someone inside. I walked to my car, got things ready, and drove back. The handicapped spot was at the end of a row, directly across from the mall proper. There was no one around as I turned parallel to the car. I stopped and got out. Looking around, I saw no one. I heard no one. I walked to the other car. Point, press, Flash. I walked back to my car, got in, and drove away. Man, I was feeling really good.
My phone beeped again. Confirm #3. That would be all she wrote for now.
When I got home, while I was trying to decide how to record the day's Events, someone called. It was the same number Givings and Doyle used, but it wasn't them.
"Mr. O'Neill. I trust you are well?"
I recognized the voice. I'd heard it before. Back in August, with Givings. One of the People Upstairs.
"Yes. I am. Who's this?"
"Sorry. No time for that now. I just wanted to personally acknowledge your activities today. I was beginning to feel that you might be disillusioned after the Adams Tower fiasco."
"No. No. I'm good. I'm just, you know, a little startled to hear from someone other then Givings or Doyle. Is there something I can do for you?"
"There will be, but not right now. Ms. Givings is on leave for a couple of weeks. We thought it best for now. You should hear from her shortly regarding a resumption of Phase 2. I just wanted to personally touch base with you. Check out how you were and congratulate you on reaching your second anniversary. I trust you will have a good holiday."
With that said, he hung up.
What's that they say about dealing with the devil?
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Little, Pink Flamingo.................
I spent Thursday through Sunday of last week in Avenel, house-sitting for a friend. I enjoy doing this - it's kind of like a mini-vacation for me. This time I got to experience what the season of Autumn can be like, all within a 4-day span. Thursday was gray and rainy - a damp, chill harbinger of winter. Friday was a glorious, bright, shiny day, though cool. Saturday was down-right cold, with a wind that made it colder and tried to tear what was left of the rust-colored leaves from the trees.. Sunday was almost an exact copy of Saturday but was redeemed by the fact that I was back home in the afternoon.
There is something to be said for being home. Comfortable. Familiar surroundings and routines push away any problems that exist outside my windows. I made some coffee (instant, decaf), turned on the game, and settled back in my recliner with the crossword puzzles from the Sunday papers. And, of course, ..
Givings called. I can't say I wasn't expecting it. It had been almost 3 weeks. She wanted to meet at the Menlo Park Mall (again) so we agreed on the Cafe in the Barnes and Noble store outside the mall.
The day came with blustery, gale force winds and capped itself by intermittent sleet. I got there early, as usual, and looked around inside. There's nothing I like better then browsing through a book store, but I have to admit the I don't like the concept of people lounging around, reading for free whatever book or magazine they decided to pick up, while they nurse a cup of overpriced coffee. But that's just me.
Twenty minutes in, and I got a text from Givings. There was a gas main leak on Route 1 which was affecting traffic on Route 27, and she was going to be at least another half hour. Somehow, I couldn't see Doyle ever being late for a meeting. He'd have been prepared for any eventuality.
I wasn't going to eat here at these prices, so I drove over to the McDonald's on Route 1 just east of the mall. Probably saved myself 5 bucks. As I was finishing, Givings texted that she'd arrived. I lingered over my coffee a little, letting her wait for me. I drove back. and found her at a table near the window, with a muffin and a cup of coffee. She started right in as I sat down.
"Sorry I'm late and I don't have a lot of time because of this delay, so I'd appreciate it if you'd just listen and hold any questions till I'm done." She paused for my reaction, so I just nodded.
"The last time we met, we spoke about 'Random Tragedies', and how the People Upstairs wanted to try them as a means of increasing the number of people eliminated. I told you that we were waiting on their approval of a particular scenario I planned out that involves the Adams Tower building near you. Remember?"
Again, I nodded.
"Good. Approval has been received, and the plan is a 'Go' for tonight.."
"Tonight?" I held up my hand, surrendering to the fact that I promised not to interrupt.
"Yes. Tonight." She paused. I said nothing. "We have the permits, and the work has already begun, although you'd probably left before they started."
Again, a pause. I just looked perplexed, which wasn't hard.
"What we have planned is a water main leak on Martin Street, at the corner of Rahway Avenue, right near the Tower. A real one. Don't ask how. It started about 9 this morning, and we've already logged the call and have Middlesex Water on the site. They will shut off the water and dig into the ground on both sides of Martin, effectively closing the street. They will stretch out the work until around 8 tonight. We want you to go to the site just after dark, and see the policeman on duty. He will give you a small package and a map of the basement to the Tower. You will take the package into the basement, place it where the map indicates, then return outside, give the map back to the cop and go home. Any questions?"
I took my time with this. She had rattled through that very quickly, looking at her watch a lot. In hindsight, I was being a little vindictive.
"Well?" She was anxious.
"I don't see the payoff. What kind of results are you looking for?"
"I'll explain that tomorrow, once we can ascertain that the package is in place and functional."
"You can't tell me anything now?"
"No. That's how the People Upstairs want this. They want to know that you can follow directions."
"Anyone could follow that. Anyway, how do I get in? What if I'm seen?"
"We think that the weather will keep people indoors, and it should be dark enough if you wear your black jacket with the hood. The door to the basement will be conveniently open, since the work crew will have to go in to check that the repairs worked."
I started to say something else, but she got up.
"I'm sorry, but I'm behind schedule. Just follow the instructions, and we'll discuss the rest tomorrow. Where would you like to meet?" A concession for her being late?
"Since you like it here, how about the chairs in front of Macy's on the lower level at 9?"
She nodded once, turned, and walked off.
I went back to my car. Just to the left of the drivers side, I found a small, rubber, flamingo that must've been hanging off someones rear view mirror for a while. The string was still attached, and you could see where it had snapped off. How it got here, I didn't know, but I picked it up, got in my car, and tossed it into the glove compartment.
I made it a point to pass Martin Street on my way home. The Water Department was out there, digging away. And the usual cop car was there. (Have you noticed that there's always a cop car around when there's work being done on a street. Why? Do they think we won't see the workers? That we'll run into them?)
...............................................................................................................................................................
It was getting dark by 5:45, so I put on my black, hooded jacket and walked up to Martin Street. The Water guys were busy digging away. As I got closer, I saw the cop notice me, and walk back to his car. When I got there, he handed me a package and an envelop.
"Don't you want to see some ID?"
"Won't be necessary. I'm part of the crew that keeps you under surveillance. Just follow the directions in the envelop. The door in is just over there, on the other side of the dumpster." He went back to doing whatever cops do at work sites like this.
Other then the work crew, there was no one else around. The door was open, and following the map and directions in the envelop, I mad my way to the boiler room in the sub-basement, opened an access panel in some duct work, and inserted the package. Per the instructions, I pulled a tab off the top of the package, closed up the duct, made my way out, and returned the envelop to the cop.
I walked home.
This morning the Water Company crew was gone. Givings was waiting for me, looking more relaxed then she did yesterday. I started the conversation.
"You're looking better today. Everything go OK last night?"
"Yes. Perfectly. You did well."
"What, exactly did I do?"
"You placed the package where it would have the most effect, and according to the technicians, it's operating perfectly."
"Alright, so what does it do?"
"It releases spores of Legionnaire's Disease which will be wafted up through the vents as the heat rises from the boiler, eventually reaching every room in the building."
"Legionnaire's Disease? Isn't that deadly?.... Never mind. Stupid question. What kind of results do you expect? When do you expect them?"
"That's hard to say. We don't control the distribution of heat in the building, that's done through individual thermostats in the apartments. We also don't know the physical condition of the occupants, although a good majority of them are elderly. We just have to wait, and allow for the incubation period to run its course, then monitor the residents." She looked pleased. I wasn't.
"You mean to tell me that the People Upstairs OK'd this plan? It could take days... no... weeks until there's any results. That doesn't sound like the kind of plan they would want. How did you convince them?"
"It wasn't me. Apparently, there is some dissension among the members, but they did agree, finally, to do this." She was getting huffy now. "We will wait, and you will be credited for each resident that falls victim to the illness. In the meantime, you still have the Flasher. Feel free to use it!" She stormed off before I could stop her.
I couldn't believe that The People Upstairs agreed to this.
It doesn't feel right.
It doesn't feel satisfying.
Where was the Instant Gratification we, as Americans, expect?
And, besides, what did I get out of it?
All I got was a little, pink flamingo.
I spent Thursday through Sunday of last week in Avenel, house-sitting for a friend. I enjoy doing this - it's kind of like a mini-vacation for me. This time I got to experience what the season of Autumn can be like, all within a 4-day span. Thursday was gray and rainy - a damp, chill harbinger of winter. Friday was a glorious, bright, shiny day, though cool. Saturday was down-right cold, with a wind that made it colder and tried to tear what was left of the rust-colored leaves from the trees.. Sunday was almost an exact copy of Saturday but was redeemed by the fact that I was back home in the afternoon.
There is something to be said for being home. Comfortable. Familiar surroundings and routines push away any problems that exist outside my windows. I made some coffee (instant, decaf), turned on the game, and settled back in my recliner with the crossword puzzles from the Sunday papers. And, of course, ..
Givings called. I can't say I wasn't expecting it. It had been almost 3 weeks. She wanted to meet at the Menlo Park Mall (again) so we agreed on the Cafe in the Barnes and Noble store outside the mall.
The day came with blustery, gale force winds and capped itself by intermittent sleet. I got there early, as usual, and looked around inside. There's nothing I like better then browsing through a book store, but I have to admit the I don't like the concept of people lounging around, reading for free whatever book or magazine they decided to pick up, while they nurse a cup of overpriced coffee. But that's just me.
Twenty minutes in, and I got a text from Givings. There was a gas main leak on Route 1 which was affecting traffic on Route 27, and she was going to be at least another half hour. Somehow, I couldn't see Doyle ever being late for a meeting. He'd have been prepared for any eventuality.
I wasn't going to eat here at these prices, so I drove over to the McDonald's on Route 1 just east of the mall. Probably saved myself 5 bucks. As I was finishing, Givings texted that she'd arrived. I lingered over my coffee a little, letting her wait for me. I drove back. and found her at a table near the window, with a muffin and a cup of coffee. She started right in as I sat down.
"Sorry I'm late and I don't have a lot of time because of this delay, so I'd appreciate it if you'd just listen and hold any questions till I'm done." She paused for my reaction, so I just nodded.
"The last time we met, we spoke about 'Random Tragedies', and how the People Upstairs wanted to try them as a means of increasing the number of people eliminated. I told you that we were waiting on their approval of a particular scenario I planned out that involves the Adams Tower building near you. Remember?"
Again, I nodded.
"Good. Approval has been received, and the plan is a 'Go' for tonight.."
"Tonight?" I held up my hand, surrendering to the fact that I promised not to interrupt.
"Yes. Tonight." She paused. I said nothing. "We have the permits, and the work has already begun, although you'd probably left before they started."
Again, a pause. I just looked perplexed, which wasn't hard.
"What we have planned is a water main leak on Martin Street, at the corner of Rahway Avenue, right near the Tower. A real one. Don't ask how. It started about 9 this morning, and we've already logged the call and have Middlesex Water on the site. They will shut off the water and dig into the ground on both sides of Martin, effectively closing the street. They will stretch out the work until around 8 tonight. We want you to go to the site just after dark, and see the policeman on duty. He will give you a small package and a map of the basement to the Tower. You will take the package into the basement, place it where the map indicates, then return outside, give the map back to the cop and go home. Any questions?"
I took my time with this. She had rattled through that very quickly, looking at her watch a lot. In hindsight, I was being a little vindictive.
"Well?" She was anxious.
"I don't see the payoff. What kind of results are you looking for?"
"I'll explain that tomorrow, once we can ascertain that the package is in place and functional."
"You can't tell me anything now?"
"No. That's how the People Upstairs want this. They want to know that you can follow directions."
"Anyone could follow that. Anyway, how do I get in? What if I'm seen?"
"We think that the weather will keep people indoors, and it should be dark enough if you wear your black jacket with the hood. The door to the basement will be conveniently open, since the work crew will have to go in to check that the repairs worked."
I started to say something else, but she got up.
"I'm sorry, but I'm behind schedule. Just follow the instructions, and we'll discuss the rest tomorrow. Where would you like to meet?" A concession for her being late?
"Since you like it here, how about the chairs in front of Macy's on the lower level at 9?"
She nodded once, turned, and walked off.
I went back to my car. Just to the left of the drivers side, I found a small, rubber, flamingo that must've been hanging off someones rear view mirror for a while. The string was still attached, and you could see where it had snapped off. How it got here, I didn't know, but I picked it up, got in my car, and tossed it into the glove compartment.
I made it a point to pass Martin Street on my way home. The Water Department was out there, digging away. And the usual cop car was there. (Have you noticed that there's always a cop car around when there's work being done on a street. Why? Do they think we won't see the workers? That we'll run into them?)
...............................................................................................................................................................
It was getting dark by 5:45, so I put on my black, hooded jacket and walked up to Martin Street. The Water guys were busy digging away. As I got closer, I saw the cop notice me, and walk back to his car. When I got there, he handed me a package and an envelop.
"Don't you want to see some ID?"
"Won't be necessary. I'm part of the crew that keeps you under surveillance. Just follow the directions in the envelop. The door in is just over there, on the other side of the dumpster." He went back to doing whatever cops do at work sites like this.
Other then the work crew, there was no one else around. The door was open, and following the map and directions in the envelop, I mad my way to the boiler room in the sub-basement, opened an access panel in some duct work, and inserted the package. Per the instructions, I pulled a tab off the top of the package, closed up the duct, made my way out, and returned the envelop to the cop.
I walked home.
This morning the Water Company crew was gone. Givings was waiting for me, looking more relaxed then she did yesterday. I started the conversation.
"You're looking better today. Everything go OK last night?"
"Yes. Perfectly. You did well."
"What, exactly did I do?"
"You placed the package where it would have the most effect, and according to the technicians, it's operating perfectly."
"Alright, so what does it do?"
"It releases spores of Legionnaire's Disease which will be wafted up through the vents as the heat rises from the boiler, eventually reaching every room in the building."
"Legionnaire's Disease? Isn't that deadly?.... Never mind. Stupid question. What kind of results do you expect? When do you expect them?"
"That's hard to say. We don't control the distribution of heat in the building, that's done through individual thermostats in the apartments. We also don't know the physical condition of the occupants, although a good majority of them are elderly. We just have to wait, and allow for the incubation period to run its course, then monitor the residents." She looked pleased. I wasn't.
"You mean to tell me that the People Upstairs OK'd this plan? It could take days... no... weeks until there's any results. That doesn't sound like the kind of plan they would want. How did you convince them?"
"It wasn't me. Apparently, there is some dissension among the members, but they did agree, finally, to do this." She was getting huffy now. "We will wait, and you will be credited for each resident that falls victim to the illness. In the meantime, you still have the Flasher. Feel free to use it!" She stormed off before I could stop her.
I couldn't believe that The People Upstairs agreed to this.
It doesn't feel right.
It doesn't feel satisfying.
Where was the Instant Gratification we, as Americans, expect?
And, besides, what did I get out of it?
All I got was a little, pink flamingo.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Some Explanations...............
Yesterday was supposed to be rainy, but when I got outside the sun was out. It was a bright, clear day, and warm, the kind of Indian Summery day I hadn't seen in a long time. I felt good. I felt in balance.
Maybe that "in balance" needs some explanation. The one thing transplant recipients and their support staff fear the most is rejection. To prevent that, they're put on anti-rejection medications - which are also classified as immuno-suppressants. I'm on tacrolimus, and it's monitored through periodic blood tests and measured on a numeric scale - the main focus being on the range between 6 and 15. Up around 15, and there's a risk of damage to other organs such as the liver, down around 6 and it's not as effective at preventing rejection. Starting in September, my level bounced back and forth between the two extremes, which required multiple blood tests, and several changes to the dosage. All that is over for now. I am back in balance. I feel good.
I got in the car and headed out on to Rahway Avenue. Up ahead I could see that the light at Freeman Street had turned red so like a lot of other people in my neighborhood I made a quick left on to Martin Terrace (this will let me bypass the light completely). There she was, an older woman heading in my direction. Maybe she came out of Finn Towers, I didn't know. It wasn't important. I looked around. No one.
There was no one else around. No pedestrians, no cars. I had the windows down, and the Flasher on the seat beside me. I had to act quickly, it was a short block. Slowing, I watched her coming on. She was moving diagonally across, probably heading for the sidewalk. We closed the gap. She came up on my driver's side, still in the street. I scanned the area again. Still no one. Point, press, Flash. I sped up quickly and turned the corner onto Ellis Place. Looking in my rear view, there was nothing. No one. Not even a woman crossing the street. I stopped at the sign at Freeman, and made the left. I had some errands to run.
Back in balance and feeling good.
It stayed warm, but the sky did cloud over a few times. I bought some stuff, returned some stuff, and wound up coming back from Edison along Middlesex Avenue (Route 27). I turned right onto Parsonage Road, with the vague thought of going to Roosevelt Park and getting some fresh air and exercise.
I passed through the housing developments, under the train tracks, and came out by the park. There was a woman in a red sweater walking along what I thought was the outside track. I made the right turn onto Oakwood and the next quick right brought me into the park's first parking area. As I drove slowly through I saw parents and their children in the playground, people fishing in the little stream. All thoughts of exercise were gone. My phone chimed. Confirmation Number One.
The road turns in through the retirement home, passed older people on benches, probably watching the younger people in the park and remembering. The road then curves back to Parsonage Road. I could see the woman in the red sweater. She wasn't on a track, but walking along the side of the road at the park's edge, inside the guide rail.
This might get tricky. Parsonage runs uphill, and I could see that side easily, but to my left there's a sharp curve as it dips back under the train tracks. I slowed. My windows were still open. I stopped at the sign. Uphill was clear, and she was getting closer, no one was behind me, but I was unsure of who might pop up from downhill. I was running out of time. She got closer.
I hit the gas, turning quickly onto Parsonage. I took a quick look behind - nothing. Point, press, Flash. I kept going, up to Oakwood again, and stopped at the red light. A couple of cars pulled up behind me. No one was honking horns. No one was yelling. The light turned green, and I made the left and kept going. By the time I'd turned off onto Thornhill, then Gill Lane my phone had chimed again. Confirmation Number Two.
I felt good. I was in balance.
Then Doyle called...................
I was to meet him this morning at Barnes & Noble outside the Menlo Park Mall. I was concerned because his instructions sounded a little "spyish" and besides, he wasn't supposed to be involved with my side of things anymore. Of course, I agreed to meet him.
On the second floor, along the side of the store facing out onto Parsonage Road, there is a gap between the shelves for Fiction and the ones for Graphic Novels. The staff has placed a display of Barnes & Noble Classics here, parallel to the windows. There are 2 chairs between the display and the windows, offering a kind of privacy to anyone sitting there. I picked up a copy of Crime and Punishment and sat down to wait. It wasn't long. Doyle's voice came to me from behind the display.
"Good to see you, Denny. How's it going?"
"What the hell? Are you really gonna hide back there?"
"Sorry. I'm not supposed to be here, but there was something I meant to explain from the last time we met. So just pretend to read your book, and just listen. Don't talk, just nod if I ask anything, OK?"
I nodded.
"Fine. Last time we met - Jeez, must be a month ago, I said it was good that you'd looked a target in the eye. You asked why, and I said I'd explain, but I had to make sure you understood the new changes, so I forgot. With me so far?"
I nodded again, making sure to play my part by turning a page now and then.
"What our Psych people told me was that this was a sign that you'd really bought in to the whole operation. You were now a real part of this. You could target someone, and take them out face to face without any qualms. These shrinks said that you would have no problems going forward."
He paused. I sat for a while, then, because I thought he might be waiting for it, I nodded.
"You see, I was afraid that the People Upstairs were moving too fast, that you might have second thoughts when they told you what they had planned. I was relieved to see that wasn't gonna happen. I kinda grew fond of you, seeing as how you were my first recruit. I knew you wouldn't let me down."
He said nothing for a few minutes. I turned a few more pages. I probably should have been worried that someone might find us talking like this, but I know Doyle and his precautions pretty well by now.
"OK. Now don't go telling anyone about this little tete-a-tete, OK? I'm not supposed to be here. In fact, I'm in Delaware right now, checking on a possibility. Givings is your handler now. And be careful around her. She was good at taking orders, but I'm not sure how she'll be at giving them, how she'll do setting up this next stage. Watch your back."
He was quiet again. This time for too long. I got up, trying to act casual, and put the book back. I looked around the display case, but Doyle was gone. Figures.
Again, he left me a new set of questions. And a guilty feeling for pretending to read the book in the store. I hate people who do that.
Yesterday was supposed to be rainy, but when I got outside the sun was out. It was a bright, clear day, and warm, the kind of Indian Summery day I hadn't seen in a long time. I felt good. I felt in balance.
Maybe that "in balance" needs some explanation. The one thing transplant recipients and their support staff fear the most is rejection. To prevent that, they're put on anti-rejection medications - which are also classified as immuno-suppressants. I'm on tacrolimus, and it's monitored through periodic blood tests and measured on a numeric scale - the main focus being on the range between 6 and 15. Up around 15, and there's a risk of damage to other organs such as the liver, down around 6 and it's not as effective at preventing rejection. Starting in September, my level bounced back and forth between the two extremes, which required multiple blood tests, and several changes to the dosage. All that is over for now. I am back in balance. I feel good.
I got in the car and headed out on to Rahway Avenue. Up ahead I could see that the light at Freeman Street had turned red so like a lot of other people in my neighborhood I made a quick left on to Martin Terrace (this will let me bypass the light completely). There she was, an older woman heading in my direction. Maybe she came out of Finn Towers, I didn't know. It wasn't important. I looked around. No one.
There was no one else around. No pedestrians, no cars. I had the windows down, and the Flasher on the seat beside me. I had to act quickly, it was a short block. Slowing, I watched her coming on. She was moving diagonally across, probably heading for the sidewalk. We closed the gap. She came up on my driver's side, still in the street. I scanned the area again. Still no one. Point, press, Flash. I sped up quickly and turned the corner onto Ellis Place. Looking in my rear view, there was nothing. No one. Not even a woman crossing the street. I stopped at the sign at Freeman, and made the left. I had some errands to run.
Back in balance and feeling good.
It stayed warm, but the sky did cloud over a few times. I bought some stuff, returned some stuff, and wound up coming back from Edison along Middlesex Avenue (Route 27). I turned right onto Parsonage Road, with the vague thought of going to Roosevelt Park and getting some fresh air and exercise.
I passed through the housing developments, under the train tracks, and came out by the park. There was a woman in a red sweater walking along what I thought was the outside track. I made the right turn onto Oakwood and the next quick right brought me into the park's first parking area. As I drove slowly through I saw parents and their children in the playground, people fishing in the little stream. All thoughts of exercise were gone. My phone chimed. Confirmation Number One.
The road turns in through the retirement home, passed older people on benches, probably watching the younger people in the park and remembering. The road then curves back to Parsonage Road. I could see the woman in the red sweater. She wasn't on a track, but walking along the side of the road at the park's edge, inside the guide rail.
This might get tricky. Parsonage runs uphill, and I could see that side easily, but to my left there's a sharp curve as it dips back under the train tracks. I slowed. My windows were still open. I stopped at the sign. Uphill was clear, and she was getting closer, no one was behind me, but I was unsure of who might pop up from downhill. I was running out of time. She got closer.
I hit the gas, turning quickly onto Parsonage. I took a quick look behind - nothing. Point, press, Flash. I kept going, up to Oakwood again, and stopped at the red light. A couple of cars pulled up behind me. No one was honking horns. No one was yelling. The light turned green, and I made the left and kept going. By the time I'd turned off onto Thornhill, then Gill Lane my phone had chimed again. Confirmation Number Two.
I felt good. I was in balance.
Then Doyle called...................
I was to meet him this morning at Barnes & Noble outside the Menlo Park Mall. I was concerned because his instructions sounded a little "spyish" and besides, he wasn't supposed to be involved with my side of things anymore. Of course, I agreed to meet him.
On the second floor, along the side of the store facing out onto Parsonage Road, there is a gap between the shelves for Fiction and the ones for Graphic Novels. The staff has placed a display of Barnes & Noble Classics here, parallel to the windows. There are 2 chairs between the display and the windows, offering a kind of privacy to anyone sitting there. I picked up a copy of Crime and Punishment and sat down to wait. It wasn't long. Doyle's voice came to me from behind the display.
"Good to see you, Denny. How's it going?"
"What the hell? Are you really gonna hide back there?"
"Sorry. I'm not supposed to be here, but there was something I meant to explain from the last time we met. So just pretend to read your book, and just listen. Don't talk, just nod if I ask anything, OK?"
I nodded.
"Fine. Last time we met - Jeez, must be a month ago, I said it was good that you'd looked a target in the eye. You asked why, and I said I'd explain, but I had to make sure you understood the new changes, so I forgot. With me so far?"
I nodded again, making sure to play my part by turning a page now and then.
"What our Psych people told me was that this was a sign that you'd really bought in to the whole operation. You were now a real part of this. You could target someone, and take them out face to face without any qualms. These shrinks said that you would have no problems going forward."
He paused. I sat for a while, then, because I thought he might be waiting for it, I nodded.
"You see, I was afraid that the People Upstairs were moving too fast, that you might have second thoughts when they told you what they had planned. I was relieved to see that wasn't gonna happen. I kinda grew fond of you, seeing as how you were my first recruit. I knew you wouldn't let me down."
He said nothing for a few minutes. I turned a few more pages. I probably should have been worried that someone might find us talking like this, but I know Doyle and his precautions pretty well by now.
"OK. Now don't go telling anyone about this little tete-a-tete, OK? I'm not supposed to be here. In fact, I'm in Delaware right now, checking on a possibility. Givings is your handler now. And be careful around her. She was good at taking orders, but I'm not sure how she'll be at giving them, how she'll do setting up this next stage. Watch your back."
He was quiet again. This time for too long. I got up, trying to act casual, and put the book back. I looked around the display case, but Doyle was gone. Figures.
Again, he left me a new set of questions. And a guilty feeling for pretending to read the book in the store. I hate people who do that.
Monday, October 18, 2010
In For a Penny...............
Givings called. This actually happened last week, but it's taken me some time to wrap my head around it. We met at the Menlo Park Mall, outside of Nordstrom's, on the lower level. There are some small cafe tables set up there.
She sat at what one close to the side of the escalators, where there was a semblance of some privacy. She had her back to Nordstrom's and was facing the rest of the mall. I guess she thought I would be coming from that direction, and usually I would considering that Barnes & Noble is in that direction. This time, however, I was running late, so I parked on the far side and actually came in to her right side. I saw her before she saw me.
She had a haunted look, as if there were something troubling her. She must've felt someone looking as I got nearer, because she turned towards me and lost all expression on her face.
"Mr. O'Neill, please have a seat." All business. "How are you feeling? would you like something to eat or drink?"
She pointed to a small concession stand to the right of Nordstrom's. She had a cup of coffee and a muffin which I guess she'd gotten from there.
"No thanks." I sat. "I'm anxious to get this started. What took so long? I met with Doyle almost 2 weeks ago."
"I know, but this is all my call now. I wanted to make sure you were up to it."
"What do you mean?"
"We monitor your doctor, or didn't Doyle tell you. We knew that your tacrolimus level was elevated, and then you were concerned about you temperature, so we, or rather I, waited until I felt everything was back in sync."
"All right. Thanks, I think. Everything is fine now. Although they don't know what caused the change. Anyway, what's next? Doyle said you were upping the ante."
"Did he explain why?"
"Not really. Just that the People Upstairs were moving forward, wanting to get a 'bigger bang for their buck'."
She lowered her eyes for a minute, picking at her muffin as she gathered her thoughts. She sipped her coffee, then looked up at me.
"That's one way to put it. Lets see, how to explain this?" More coffee, some muffin. "The People Upstairs like the program, but it isn't having a big enough impact. They've decided to approach this problem in two ways - first, they have Doyle setting up similar programs, on a test basis, in neighboring states. How he's going to do this, I don't know. Doyle has moved on, for now. Second is up to me." She paused again, more coffee, but she never took her eyes off me.
I waited her out. I had nothing to say, and no reason to interrupt. I did wish I'd gotten a coffee and something to eat though. I was hungry.
"You read the papers, don't you, Mr. O'Neill? Or at least watch the news on TV?"
"Sure. I like the paper. Why?"
"Recently, we had that mine disaster in Chile. You saw that, of course. How could you miss it. That drew world-wide attention. But how many other disasters happen that are "minor', that don't draw attention outside of their own local area? Do you know?"
I said I didn't.
"Would it surprise you to know that every day, somewhere in the United States - not the rest of the world, just here - somewhere in America there's a local disaster. A fire, an earthquake, an accident, something that only makes the local papers. And in many cases, only for a day or two."
"No. I guess not. I guess random tragedies happen all over."
"Good choice of words, Mr. O'Neill. "Random Tragedies". I like that. I like that because that is what we are going to be testing out."
"What? Are you crazy? I don't understand."
"Easy, Mr. O'Neill. It is really quite simple, as the People Upstairs explained it to me."
"I gotta get some coffee." I got up and went to the concession stand. Anything to calm down. Was I hearing this right? I went back, and sat down. She continued.
"Hear me out, Mr. O'Neill. You've been pretty involved with this program since day one - in fact, you are the program, so far. Let me explain this."
I motioned for her to go on, pretending to sip at my coffee.
"The People Upstairs want to expand on what you've been doing. You see, one at a time, or in your case, three at a time, is a very small impact. They want to increase that, and at the same time, not expose themselves unnecessarily. So they have decided to use these "Random Tragedies" to their own advantage. You have to admit that there is always some loss of life in these events. They believe that they can orchestrate, over a period of time of course, several events in several different areas, that will up the victim count substantially. Do you see?"
I said nothing, at first. I tried to find a flaw in this argument, although I admit I didn't try that hard. It was appalling, yet fascinating at the same time. Finally, I had to respond.
"I get it. I understand what they're saying, but is it possible? Can it be done without being caught?"
"That's where we come in. I have been given the assignment to plan and execute, if you'll pardon the word play, a "Random Tragedy", and they want you to be the one to set it in motion."
"Why me?"
"Because you are already in the field, and we're going to do it here in your back yard, as it were. In fact, we intend to do several, over the next month or two, so we can see if there's any change in how the news media covers them. We're betting that they don't go beyond local."
"What happens then?"
"If the news stays local, we expand to other states. Hopefully, Doyle will have others like you in place. If the News goes national, we stop and reconsider."
She stopped. She was giving me time. She finished her muffin and coffee. I did too.
"Are you in, Mr. O'Neill?"
"You know I am. You wouldn't have told me if you didn't know that I'd do it."
"Of course. Just going through the formalities"
"What happens now?"
"We are finishing preparations for the first target. Once the People Upstairs approve the plan, you will be brought on board. That should take about another week. In the meantime, you still have the Flasher, so feel free to continue using it."
She got up to leave.
"Can I know what, or where, the first target will be?"
"I don't see why not." She walked over to a waste basket and through out her wrappings. She came back. "The first target is the Adam's Towers building a few blocks from your apartment." She walked away.
I knew the building. It was housing for the aged and disabled.
In for a penny...............
Givings called. This actually happened last week, but it's taken me some time to wrap my head around it. We met at the Menlo Park Mall, outside of Nordstrom's, on the lower level. There are some small cafe tables set up there.
She sat at what one close to the side of the escalators, where there was a semblance of some privacy. She had her back to Nordstrom's and was facing the rest of the mall. I guess she thought I would be coming from that direction, and usually I would considering that Barnes & Noble is in that direction. This time, however, I was running late, so I parked on the far side and actually came in to her right side. I saw her before she saw me.
She had a haunted look, as if there were something troubling her. She must've felt someone looking as I got nearer, because she turned towards me and lost all expression on her face.
"Mr. O'Neill, please have a seat." All business. "How are you feeling? would you like something to eat or drink?"
She pointed to a small concession stand to the right of Nordstrom's. She had a cup of coffee and a muffin which I guess she'd gotten from there.
"No thanks." I sat. "I'm anxious to get this started. What took so long? I met with Doyle almost 2 weeks ago."
"I know, but this is all my call now. I wanted to make sure you were up to it."
"What do you mean?"
"We monitor your doctor, or didn't Doyle tell you. We knew that your tacrolimus level was elevated, and then you were concerned about you temperature, so we, or rather I, waited until I felt everything was back in sync."
"All right. Thanks, I think. Everything is fine now. Although they don't know what caused the change. Anyway, what's next? Doyle said you were upping the ante."
"Did he explain why?"
"Not really. Just that the People Upstairs were moving forward, wanting to get a 'bigger bang for their buck'."
She lowered her eyes for a minute, picking at her muffin as she gathered her thoughts. She sipped her coffee, then looked up at me.
"That's one way to put it. Lets see, how to explain this?" More coffee, some muffin. "The People Upstairs like the program, but it isn't having a big enough impact. They've decided to approach this problem in two ways - first, they have Doyle setting up similar programs, on a test basis, in neighboring states. How he's going to do this, I don't know. Doyle has moved on, for now. Second is up to me." She paused again, more coffee, but she never took her eyes off me.
I waited her out. I had nothing to say, and no reason to interrupt. I did wish I'd gotten a coffee and something to eat though. I was hungry.
"You read the papers, don't you, Mr. O'Neill? Or at least watch the news on TV?"
"Sure. I like the paper. Why?"
"Recently, we had that mine disaster in Chile. You saw that, of course. How could you miss it. That drew world-wide attention. But how many other disasters happen that are "minor', that don't draw attention outside of their own local area? Do you know?"
I said I didn't.
"Would it surprise you to know that every day, somewhere in the United States - not the rest of the world, just here - somewhere in America there's a local disaster. A fire, an earthquake, an accident, something that only makes the local papers. And in many cases, only for a day or two."
"No. I guess not. I guess random tragedies happen all over."
"Good choice of words, Mr. O'Neill. "Random Tragedies". I like that. I like that because that is what we are going to be testing out."
"What? Are you crazy? I don't understand."
"Easy, Mr. O'Neill. It is really quite simple, as the People Upstairs explained it to me."
"I gotta get some coffee." I got up and went to the concession stand. Anything to calm down. Was I hearing this right? I went back, and sat down. She continued.
"Hear me out, Mr. O'Neill. You've been pretty involved with this program since day one - in fact, you are the program, so far. Let me explain this."
I motioned for her to go on, pretending to sip at my coffee.
"The People Upstairs want to expand on what you've been doing. You see, one at a time, or in your case, three at a time, is a very small impact. They want to increase that, and at the same time, not expose themselves unnecessarily. So they have decided to use these "Random Tragedies" to their own advantage. You have to admit that there is always some loss of life in these events. They believe that they can orchestrate, over a period of time of course, several events in several different areas, that will up the victim count substantially. Do you see?"
I said nothing, at first. I tried to find a flaw in this argument, although I admit I didn't try that hard. It was appalling, yet fascinating at the same time. Finally, I had to respond.
"I get it. I understand what they're saying, but is it possible? Can it be done without being caught?"
"That's where we come in. I have been given the assignment to plan and execute, if you'll pardon the word play, a "Random Tragedy", and they want you to be the one to set it in motion."
"Why me?"
"Because you are already in the field, and we're going to do it here in your back yard, as it were. In fact, we intend to do several, over the next month or two, so we can see if there's any change in how the news media covers them. We're betting that they don't go beyond local."
"What happens then?"
"If the news stays local, we expand to other states. Hopefully, Doyle will have others like you in place. If the News goes national, we stop and reconsider."
She stopped. She was giving me time. She finished her muffin and coffee. I did too.
"Are you in, Mr. O'Neill?"
"You know I am. You wouldn't have told me if you didn't know that I'd do it."
"Of course. Just going through the formalities"
"What happens now?"
"We are finishing preparations for the first target. Once the People Upstairs approve the plan, you will be brought on board. That should take about another week. In the meantime, you still have the Flasher, so feel free to continue using it."
She got up to leave.
"Can I know what, or where, the first target will be?"
"I don't see why not." She walked over to a waste basket and through out her wrappings. She came back. "The first target is the Adam's Towers building a few blocks from your apartment." She walked away.
I knew the building. It was housing for the aged and disabled.
In for a penny...............
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
ARC 3
Changes......................
This past Saturday, I took the train/bus combo into the Bronx and met up with my brothers. Then we drove up, and spent a few hours with our last surviving aunt. Good people, good talk, good time. Sunday passed uneventfully. Monday, Doyle called.
They knew I had another blood test scheduled for Tuesday - my Tacrolimus level has been fluctuating and I've been back and forth several times - so we agreed to meet this morning in the parking lot of the Rahway Library.
Of course, he was there when I arrived, sitting in one of those dark blue, government-issue sedans.
"Level's up to 16, huh? I wouldn't worry about it. Adjusting your dose should take care of that."
I was stunned at first, but didn't say anything. They tracked me through the implant and always had a way of knowing what was going on. I was surprised that he mentioned it, but I didn't want him to know.
"So, how did the meeting go last week?" I figured I might as well change the subject and jump right in.
He grinned at me. "You have a slow leak in that front tire, you know? I have a can of that inflator stuff in the trunk. You can use that." He got out and walked to the back, opening the trunk. He brought the can back with him. "Here. You know how to use this?"
"Very funny. You know I had AAA come out Monday cause of a flat. How did you know it was a slow leak?"
"Kenny, the kid who answered the call, he's one of us. He did what we told him to." Another not too subtle way of showing me that they had a very close eye on me.
I set up the inflator, and turned back to him.
"OK. I get it. You keep a close eye on me. I don't really need the reminders."
"I know. Let me ask you something. The last time we met you wound up coming up here afterwards, remember?"
I said I did. I come to this library often.
"Yeah, well, you staged an Event here that time. A Postal worker."
"I know that."
"You stopped. You didn't slow down as you passed his truck, you stopped. Did he see you?"
I started to hedge, but I knew it would be useless.
"He saw me, and I saw him. Looked into his eyes before the Flash went off. What difference does it make?"
"A big difference. Even though it was random, you acknowledged him. It became personal."
"OK. So what?"
"That brings it to the next level. Which is good. It's what we wanted. Though we couldn't predict when you'd get there."
"Why is that important?"
"I'll tell you later. Right now, I need to bring you up to date on the meeting from last week. The People Upstairs are making a move forward and you're gonna be involved."
The inflator was empty. I removed it and threw it in the trunk. "The directions say I need to drive around for a couple of miles so the stuff can coat the interior."
"So we'll discuss this in your car."
We got in, and drove in circles around the parking lot. He continued.
"There are things you need to know about the power structure in the People Upstairs, but I don't have the time now to tell you. What you need to know now is that we're expanding on the original premise. Do you remember what that was?"
"You mean to protect our resources? To reduce the 'drain' on them?"
"Yeah, but we can call a spade a spade now. The original plan called for - as Scrooge put it -a reduction in the surplus population. You were doing that one person at a time, in a random pattern. The People Upstairs want to improve on that."
He paused, gathering his thoughts. I had nothing to say. I couldn't object, because what he said was true.
"There are 2 parts to this," He continued, " The first is that I will be trying to set up similar programs in a few different areas, different states. Of course, finding the right people - people like you, may be difficult. It will also be time consuming. To that end, you'll be dealing with Givings for the foreseeable future."
He looked at me, but I just nodded. No reason to object now. I pulled the car back into a parking spot by his car and turned it off. We didn't get out.
"Givings will be in touch soon. She's narrowing down a range of targets that will give us the biggest bang for the buck."
"What?!?"
"The 2 of you will be carrying out a much larger Event, involving more then 1 target, but it has to be something that's quick, easy, and explainable. That's Givings' job. When she has it picked out, it will be up to you to stage it."
I wanted more information, he couldn't give it to me. He got out of my car.
"Givings will be in touch, sooner rather then later, I think. Meanwhile, you still have the Flasher and are welcome to continue what you've been doing."
He turned to walk away, but stopped short of his car.
"Good luck!"
He got in, and drove away.
So did I. He forgot to tell me why making it personal was important.
This past Saturday, I took the train/bus combo into the Bronx and met up with my brothers. Then we drove up, and spent a few hours with our last surviving aunt. Good people, good talk, good time. Sunday passed uneventfully. Monday, Doyle called.
They knew I had another blood test scheduled for Tuesday - my Tacrolimus level has been fluctuating and I've been back and forth several times - so we agreed to meet this morning in the parking lot of the Rahway Library.
Of course, he was there when I arrived, sitting in one of those dark blue, government-issue sedans.
"Level's up to 16, huh? I wouldn't worry about it. Adjusting your dose should take care of that."
I was stunned at first, but didn't say anything. They tracked me through the implant and always had a way of knowing what was going on. I was surprised that he mentioned it, but I didn't want him to know.
"So, how did the meeting go last week?" I figured I might as well change the subject and jump right in.
He grinned at me. "You have a slow leak in that front tire, you know? I have a can of that inflator stuff in the trunk. You can use that." He got out and walked to the back, opening the trunk. He brought the can back with him. "Here. You know how to use this?"
"Very funny. You know I had AAA come out Monday cause of a flat. How did you know it was a slow leak?"
"Kenny, the kid who answered the call, he's one of us. He did what we told him to." Another not too subtle way of showing me that they had a very close eye on me.
I set up the inflator, and turned back to him.
"OK. I get it. You keep a close eye on me. I don't really need the reminders."
"I know. Let me ask you something. The last time we met you wound up coming up here afterwards, remember?"
I said I did. I come to this library often.
"Yeah, well, you staged an Event here that time. A Postal worker."
"I know that."
"You stopped. You didn't slow down as you passed his truck, you stopped. Did he see you?"
I started to hedge, but I knew it would be useless.
"He saw me, and I saw him. Looked into his eyes before the Flash went off. What difference does it make?"
"A big difference. Even though it was random, you acknowledged him. It became personal."
"OK. So what?"
"That brings it to the next level. Which is good. It's what we wanted. Though we couldn't predict when you'd get there."
"Why is that important?"
"I'll tell you later. Right now, I need to bring you up to date on the meeting from last week. The People Upstairs are making a move forward and you're gonna be involved."
The inflator was empty. I removed it and threw it in the trunk. "The directions say I need to drive around for a couple of miles so the stuff can coat the interior."
"So we'll discuss this in your car."
We got in, and drove in circles around the parking lot. He continued.
"There are things you need to know about the power structure in the People Upstairs, but I don't have the time now to tell you. What you need to know now is that we're expanding on the original premise. Do you remember what that was?"
"You mean to protect our resources? To reduce the 'drain' on them?"
"Yeah, but we can call a spade a spade now. The original plan called for - as Scrooge put it -a reduction in the surplus population. You were doing that one person at a time, in a random pattern. The People Upstairs want to improve on that."
He paused, gathering his thoughts. I had nothing to say. I couldn't object, because what he said was true.
"There are 2 parts to this," He continued, " The first is that I will be trying to set up similar programs in a few different areas, different states. Of course, finding the right people - people like you, may be difficult. It will also be time consuming. To that end, you'll be dealing with Givings for the foreseeable future."
He looked at me, but I just nodded. No reason to object now. I pulled the car back into a parking spot by his car and turned it off. We didn't get out.
"Givings will be in touch soon. She's narrowing down a range of targets that will give us the biggest bang for the buck."
"What?!?"
"The 2 of you will be carrying out a much larger Event, involving more then 1 target, but it has to be something that's quick, easy, and explainable. That's Givings' job. When she has it picked out, it will be up to you to stage it."
I wanted more information, he couldn't give it to me. He got out of my car.
"Givings will be in touch, sooner rather then later, I think. Meanwhile, you still have the Flasher and are welcome to continue what you've been doing."
He turned to walk away, but stopped short of his car.
"Good luck!"
He got in, and drove away.
So did I. He forgot to tell me why making it personal was important.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Potential............
Doyle called. We met by the Woodbridge Municipal Building. There's a Memorial to borough residents who died on 9-11 just outside the building, surrounded by some benches. I walked up, since it's fairly close to my place. Nice day our. Doyle was there already.
"Know why I asked you to meet me here?"
"You have something to tell me?"
"No..well, yes..but that's not the only reason. What I'm trying to get at is - why 'here'?"
I gave him the obvious answer. "Saturday was the 9th anniversary of the attack, and you're being sentimental? Frankly, it doesn't work well for you."
"HAH. That's partly it. 9-11 was just Saturday, and it was a tragedy for this country, but do you know why I draw your attention to it?"
I tried to think of some other reason, but drew a blank. I told him so. He just shook his head.
"9-11 created some big changes in how the government looked at it's internal security operations. In short, because of 9-11, the Department of Homeland Security was created, and led, 9 years later, to us standing here discussing it." He actually grinned. It was my turn to shake my head.
Again, I was speechless. He continued.
"To get to the point, the People Upstairs will be meeting next week. They do this every year at this time, and try to lay out the direction our piece of the Department should take in the upcoming year. You are going to be a big part of that discussion."
"You told me about the meeting before. Why meet again?"
"To see how you were doing, and to make sure how important this is. You've done everything they've asked of you. You've actually done better, but you know this."
"I know."
"Well, what you don't know - and I don't have much information on - is what they'll be discussing. How much do you know about the People Upstairs?"
"There are 6 of them, and it takes 4 of them to pass on whatever they are trying to decide on."
"That's pretty much it, but you need to know that they are - or at least were - pretty much split on how to proceed. One faction wants to continue on a small scale, and one wants to escalate. How or why, I don't know. But you need to be ready for whatever happens."
I didn't know what to say. He'd just confused the issue, as far as I was concerned. "You want me to be prepared for something that even you don't know about?"
"Yeah. Put that way, it isn't too helpful, is it? Sorry, but I thought you should just - I don't know - get too comfortable, I guess."
"Thanks for the update. Anything else you can't tell me?"
"Nope. That's it for now. One of us will be in touch after the meeting. Till then, keep up the good work"
He laughed, stood, stared at the Memorial for a bit, then walked away with a look back.
I had nothing to do, so I walked home, got in my car, and decided to visit a few libraries. I headed towards Rahway.
There's a way into the Municipal Complex in Rahway that leads directly to the library. It's off Main Street, and bends around this large sports complex. There was a Post Office truck - actually one of those mini-vans they use - in their back lot. I was in the library for about 15 minutes, but left empty handed. I drove out the same way I'd come in. The Post Office van was still there.
I took out the Flasher, rolled down my window, and approached slowly. No one was around. No other cars passed. The vans window was down, the mail carrier seemed to be sorting through his route. I came up real close, actually coming to a stop. The carrier put down what he was working on and looked at me. I didn't care. Point, press, Flash.
I drove away. The confirm came in as I drove down St. George's Avenue.
Keeping up the good work.
Doyle called. We met by the Woodbridge Municipal Building. There's a Memorial to borough residents who died on 9-11 just outside the building, surrounded by some benches. I walked up, since it's fairly close to my place. Nice day our. Doyle was there already.
"Know why I asked you to meet me here?"
"You have something to tell me?"
"No..well, yes..but that's not the only reason. What I'm trying to get at is - why 'here'?"
I gave him the obvious answer. "Saturday was the 9th anniversary of the attack, and you're being sentimental? Frankly, it doesn't work well for you."
"HAH. That's partly it. 9-11 was just Saturday, and it was a tragedy for this country, but do you know why I draw your attention to it?"
I tried to think of some other reason, but drew a blank. I told him so. He just shook his head.
"9-11 created some big changes in how the government looked at it's internal security operations. In short, because of 9-11, the Department of Homeland Security was created, and led, 9 years later, to us standing here discussing it." He actually grinned. It was my turn to shake my head.
Again, I was speechless. He continued.
"To get to the point, the People Upstairs will be meeting next week. They do this every year at this time, and try to lay out the direction our piece of the Department should take in the upcoming year. You are going to be a big part of that discussion."
"You told me about the meeting before. Why meet again?"
"To see how you were doing, and to make sure how important this is. You've done everything they've asked of you. You've actually done better, but you know this."
"I know."
"Well, what you don't know - and I don't have much information on - is what they'll be discussing. How much do you know about the People Upstairs?"
"There are 6 of them, and it takes 4 of them to pass on whatever they are trying to decide on."
"That's pretty much it, but you need to know that they are - or at least were - pretty much split on how to proceed. One faction wants to continue on a small scale, and one wants to escalate. How or why, I don't know. But you need to be ready for whatever happens."
I didn't know what to say. He'd just confused the issue, as far as I was concerned. "You want me to be prepared for something that even you don't know about?"
"Yeah. Put that way, it isn't too helpful, is it? Sorry, but I thought you should just - I don't know - get too comfortable, I guess."
"Thanks for the update. Anything else you can't tell me?"
"Nope. That's it for now. One of us will be in touch after the meeting. Till then, keep up the good work"
He laughed, stood, stared at the Memorial for a bit, then walked away with a look back.
I had nothing to do, so I walked home, got in my car, and decided to visit a few libraries. I headed towards Rahway.
There's a way into the Municipal Complex in Rahway that leads directly to the library. It's off Main Street, and bends around this large sports complex. There was a Post Office truck - actually one of those mini-vans they use - in their back lot. I was in the library for about 15 minutes, but left empty handed. I drove out the same way I'd come in. The Post Office van was still there.
I took out the Flasher, rolled down my window, and approached slowly. No one was around. No other cars passed. The vans window was down, the mail carrier seemed to be sorting through his route. I came up real close, actually coming to a stop. The carrier put down what he was working on and looked at me. I didn't care. Point, press, Flash.
I drove away. The confirm came in as I drove down St. George's Avenue.
Keeping up the good work.
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