Tales From Our Near Future

by Jackson Coppley

  “So I can jump a few firewalls. I bet you can, too, when you try,” said Patty.

  ‘Or when I’m horny,’ thought Freddy remembering what he told Dr. Feldman about knowing where cat houses were from police reports. At last he said, “So what are the odds? I mean, the two of us having this?”

  “Not bad, when you consider who introduced us,” replied Patty.

  ‘Of course,’ thought Freddy ‘Why would I think I’m Feldman’s only case?’

  “Well, that’s great!” smiled Freddy. “I mean, wow, that’s something we have in common. No one else seems to get it.”

  “Yes, but not too ‘wow,’” replied Patty dryly.

  “Why?”

  “Freddy,” Patty said looking seriously at Freddy, “What do you see from me recently?”

  “Oh come on,” said Freddy. “Don’t you think that I know everything?”

  “Just try,” said Patty.

  Freddy smiled at this parlor game Patty wanted to play, the one that he lived with all the time. But he turned his eyes towards the space above Patty, looking at nothing in particular, clearing his immediate thoughts. Then it came. He started seeing something that he thought he had seen when Patty and he were making love. All of her thoughts and expressions were there.

  He turned his focus back to Patty, confused. “But what? Where?” he said, not sure where these things were posted, if in fact they were.

  “They’re tweets,” said Patty. They’re out there for all to see. “Can you imagine all the shit that I took from my girlfriends the next day?” she said exasperated.

  Freddy let out a hearty laugh. “But why did you post them?”

  “You think I had a keyboard? Did you see me with a keyboard?” Patty said raising her voice so others started to notice.

  Freddy, subduing his laughter a bit, said “What? What do you mean?”

  Patty, lowering her voice to a whisper, said “I thought them.”

  “What?” Freddy responded incredulously.

  “I thought them,” she repeated.

  Freddy’s laughter stopped. He studied Patty closely.

  Patty continued. “I know that this is something that you don’t have. I didn’t know I had it. We’re still trying to figure it out.”

  “We?” Freddy asked.

  Patty, appearing to select her words carefully, reached out and held each of Freddy’s hands across the table, and said, “Freddy, what I did has serious implications. I can’t tell you what they are, but I promise you that you will know.”

  Freddy was flummoxed. He could say nothing.

  “I am really here as a messenger,” she said. “Tomorrow morning at 9 AM, two men will knock on your door to take you to see someone. Please go with them.”

  “To see who?” asked Freddy.

  “I can’t tell you, but it’s someone close to me. You’ll be safe. I promise.”

  “Will you be there?” he asked.

  “I can’t,” she said.

  Somehow, in some way, Freddy felt a polar shift in his brief relationship with Patty. He had felt so good about where they were going. Now the car hit a brick wall at 100 miles per hour. He did not know what to say, but just nodded his head.

  Patty got up from her seat and Freddy stood. Stepping towards him, Patty hugged him, lingering, and delivered a brief kiss on the cheek. Without a word, she walked out onto the street as Freddy watched. He saw her stop and take a deep breath lifting her hand in a fluttering wave. Freddy weakly returned it. Then she was gone.

  CHAPTER 7

  THEY WERE PROMPT

  They were prompt, that was for sure.

  At 9 AM sharp, there was a knock on Freddy’s apartment door. There stood two matching men, both tall, sporting dark suits, white shirts, blue ties, and matching lapel pins and earphones with the telltale curled cord behind the ear. Before they flashed their IDs at Freddy, he knew they were Secret Service. The one on the left spoke first as he displayed his ID, “I am Agent Johnson and this is Agent Smith.”

  ‘Smith? Johnson?’ thought Freddy. ‘Really?’ If these were aliases, they certainly lacked imagination. The web was so cluttered with Smith and Johnsons, Freddy didn’t have the time to reel in any additional information. Nevertheless, the men were imposing, this being the first time government agents of any sort had called on Freddy. But as Patty paved the way with assurances yesterday, Freddy was going to do as he was told.

  “Please come with us,” said Agent Smith.

  Freddy followed agents Johnson and Smith to the curb, where a black SUV was parked. Agent Smith opened the rear door and Freddy took a seat. With Johnson at the wheel and Smith seated directly in front of Freddy, they pulled away and headed north. The window was so dark that Freddy had trouble making out where they were headed, but it appeared to be somewhere in the District’s Northeast quadrant, a section that Freddy seldom visited.

  “So, where are we going?” asked Freddy.

  “To meet someone,” said Smith who turned to face Freddy. “I understand that you were told about this yesterday,” he said.

  “Well, I didn’t get the details,” Freddy replied.

  Smith smiled, perhaps attempting to ease Freddy. “Well, actually, we don’t have the details either. We’re just doing the transport.”

  “You do a lot of that?” asked Freddy.

  “More than you’d know,” responded Smith turning back to face forward, ending the conversation.

  It was less than a half-hour to their destination. The car pulled up to the curb and Smith opened the door for Freddy. Freddy took in the location. Of all his plugged-in capabilities, a GPS was not one of them; however, he judged himself as being somewhere off the Florida Avenue corridor. The street contained a row of derelict houses near an abandoned warehouse. Johnson opened the flimsy metal gate in front of one of the houses and Smith motioned Freddy to walk through. Johnson and Smith both looked around the area as though searching a crowd for would-be evil-doers, likely a habitual behavior, as the street was clearly empty.

  Smith took the lead and Freddy followed him through the gate, with Johnson bringing up the rear. Smith led Freddy down the cracked sidewalk through half-dead weeds to the door of the English basement, just a few steps down from the street level. They entered one dilapidated wood door to another of similar condition. Smith pushed a doorbell. A magnetic latch sounded and the door was opened. ‘There must be a camera somewhere,’ Freddy judged since it was unlikely that the door opened for just anyone.

  Once inside the door, the environment changed completely. Outside was old and dilapidated. Inside was new and fresh, but sterile. They walked down a short hallway with fresh sheetrock walls painted a dull gray. As they walked down the corridor, Freddy noticed something else. He was losing any signal to the Web. It was as if they were entering a deep cave, one of the few times Freddy had that feeling of disconnection. Apparently, whoever was here did not want Freddy accessing his customary resources.

  At the end of the hall was another door. This one was a modern metal structure with a pad to its right. Johnson took a plastic card from his pocket and held it near the pad. The door clicked open. Johnson pushed the door open and motioned Freddy in.

  The small room inside was the same dull gray as outside, equipped with just a table and a chair on opposing sides. On one wall was a mirror. This looked like an interrogation room right out of the movies. Freddy was very ill at ease.

  Johnson pulled one of the chairs away from the table. “Have a seat,” he instructed Freddy. Freddy did as he was told. Smith reassured Freddy. “Don’t worry. We’re going to be right outside. We’ll take you back when you’re finished.” Freddy felt like Smith assumed the role of protective/comforting father figure. Did he really think they bonded in such a short ride from his apartment?

  Smith walked out with Johnson. Freddy felt alone, very alone, the sense of solitude intensified by his lack of connection. He was not accustomed to the all-surrounding quiet of simply his own thoughts.

 
He did not have to wait long. Soon, the only other door opened. In walked a man in his fifties. Strong and handsome, thick shock of salt-and-pepper hair, he looked like a senator. Freddy stood as he entered. The man held a manila folder. He briskly walked over to the table and stuck out his hand, gripping Freddy’s hand firmly. He looked Freddy directly in the eye and said, “Freddy, it is a pleasure to meet you.” ‘This guy’s got to be a politician,’ Freddy thought.

  “Sit down, please” the man said, sitting.

  Freddy followed instructions. The man laid the folder on the table, pausing as he searched Freddy’s face. Finally, he asked, “Do you know who I am?”

  “No,” said Freddy.

  The man smiled. “I didn’t think so,” he said. “But with your, let’s say, ‘special power,’ you might have known. My name is Mike. I’m Patty’s father.”

  All of a sudden, Freddy felt like a teenager again, quivering in front of his prom date’s dad. However, his prom dates never had the Secret Service bring him in for a follow-up grilling.

  “I’m familiar with the program you entered,” said Mike. “The one that gave you that power.”

  “Program?” Freddy asked.

  “Well, it started out one way and became something else,” said Mike. “For you, and for Patty, it was not thought to be that unusual. You remember the cause of what happened to you?”

  “Of course,” said Freddy.

  “Tell me,” said Mike as he leaned back in his chair crossing his arms.

  “Well,” said Freddy, “I’m guessing you know all of this.”

  Mike smiled. “Indulge me,” he said, waving his hand for Freddy to continue.

  “There was this program to try a new location system, like the ones they use in countries like Mexico. People who were likely kidnapping targets had a traceable device implanted.”

  Mike nodded slowly as Freddy spoke.

  “This one was different in a couple of ways. One, it was Internet-centric and, two, it was so small, it could fit into the bloodstream,” Freddy continued. “It worked as advertised. I can be located easily anywhere.”

  Mike smiled. “But?” he said.

  “But?” Freddy repeated. “But the connection, at least for some like me, was stronger. It was like we were able to cruise the Internet instantly at will. It was just a weak link at first. But with a little work, it became, well, pretty strong.”

  Freddy actually liked exposing the source of his power to someone. His ego liked the impression people had when he just seemed smart, but it was as if he was cheating and nobody knew. Confession must be good for the soul after all.

  “But then again,” he said to Mike, “you know all of this.”

  Mike straightened up in his chair and put his arms on the table between Freddy and him, putting his hands together and leaning towards Freddy with a serious expression. “Of course,” he said. “I just thought you would feel better if you told it.” He was right.

  “Look, Freddy, let me tell you a few things that you don’t know. Until recently, you didn’t know that Patty had the same situation. But you don’t know why, do you?”

  Freddy shook his head.

  “That’s because of me, for the very reason you touched upon earlier: the risk of kidnapping. That wasn’t a concern for you. You entered the experiment voluntarily. But for Patty, it was a necessity. You see, I worked in some spots in the world for the State Department where, if some people knew what I was really up to, Patty and every other person near to me would be at grave risk. So Patty had the same implant as you. And she, like you, developed the same power. That was not our intent, but that’s what happened.”

  “Yes,” Freddy said, “that’s great.”

  “Well,” said Mike stretching out the word for effect, “If that was the end of it, yes. That would be great.”

  Freddy waited for the big ‘But.’

  “Freddy,” said Mike, “I like you. From everything I know, it would be great if you and Patty were together.”

  Freddy smiled at this endorsement from Patty’s old man.

  “But, as you know, when you are together, something else happens.”

  Freddy was confused.

  “When you are together, something happens that we’re still trying to figure out. You know that Patty not only receives, she broadcasts.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Freddy mumbled meekly, not really wanting to get into a discussion of what Patty posted while he made love to Mike’s daughter.

  “Well, that never happened before, and from what the guys in the lab tell me, it has to be something to do with the two of you being in close proximity to each other.”

  ‘Close proximity,’ thought Freddy ‘Hell, I was in her.’ Freddy quickly quenched that line of thinking. He didn’t know whether or not Mike could read his mind. It was all becoming a blur to him.

  “Well,” said Freddy at last, “I’m sure she can control that, now that she knows.”

  “No,” said Mike so vehemently and out of character that it frightened Freddy.

  Mike relaxed. “Look,” he said lowering his voice slightly, “Patty knows a lot. More than you could possibly imagine. Just knowing who I am puts her at risk and puts a lot of innocent people in danger. It is just not something that she can risk. She could never send any of that outside of her own head.”

  Freddy asked, “And so?”

  Mike replied, “And so you cannot see her again.”

  “What?” said Freddy, reverting back to a teenager facing his date’s dad.

  “Look, I know that is tough. I think my little girl is special. I know that you see that in her. But this has to stop.”

  “How does Patty feel?” Freddy asked.

  “Rotten,” said Mike. “She likes you. But, Freddy, she knows this has to be.”

  “So what are you going to do to me? Kill me?” asked Freddy facetiously.

  “We thought about it,” said Mike. Freddy’s smile froze.

  “Ah, come on,” said Mike. “I’m kidding. You’ve been watching too many movies. Look,” Mike said, “even if we took care of things that way, it would be a short-term solution. One day, probably soon, everyone will be like you. There are more like you now than you know. Patty’s just one of them. It changes everything. Power has ruled all through history through ignorance. Now, everybody is getting smart. Well, at least everyone is getting the same information. It changes the game, and we just have to learn to play by the new rules. So, do we understand each other?” asked Mike.

  “We understand,” responded Freddy rather weakly.

  “Good,” said Mike.

  Mike rose and walked to the door through which Freddy had entered. He knocked twice on the door and it was opened by Agent Johnson with Smith standing to the other side.

  “We’re finished,” said Mike to the agents.

  Freddy stood. Mike met Freddy and walked him to the door with his arm wrapped around Freddy’s shoulders.

  “It’s going to be OK,” said Mike. “It always is.”

  Johnson and Smith walked Freddy back out onto the street and to the car. The black SUV pulled away from the curb. Freddy sat in silence all the way back to the apartment sorting out all that had just transpired.

  The agents walked Freddy to the door of his apartment.

  “Thank you,” Freddy said as an afterthought of the right thing to say.

  “Thank you,” said Smith and Johnson almost at the same time, and then they were gone.

  CHAPTER 8

  IT SEEMED LIKE IT NEVER HAPPENED

  It seemed like it never happened.

  Yesterday afternoon was just a haze and Freddy could do nothing last night but drink beer with a couple of shots from the liquor cabinet, trying to sort it all out. Fortunately, today was Saturday and Freddy had nowhere to go. He lay on the couch were he had fallen asleep in a stupor. He regained consciousness in the morning light, his connections back in place. The weather was going to be bright and cool, there was nothing in the news of interest, and
some of his friends were in the coffee shop nearby. All of this Freddy knew even though he had trouble opening his eyes and waking up.

  Freddy pulled himself off the couch and attempted to stretch out the cricks in his back from spending the night on an Ikea special. He went to the bathroom and splashed water on his ragged face. As he toweled off and looked into the mirror, there was one thing that bothered him. Try as he could, there was nothing out there that he could find about Patty. Nothing.

  He went back into the living room where his laptop lay on the coffee table. Hands on the keyboard, he tried searches, something he seldom had to do. He thought something had popped loose in his own internal wiring. Every search and social media site showed the same thing: nothing. Patty had become a nonperson of the Internet.

  It made sense, he thought, that her dad and his buddies had removed everything. But, they could not remove Patty herself. She was flesh and blood, and Freddy knew where she lived. Freddy jerked on jeans and a black T-shirt and headed out the door.

  Freddy went up the long Metro escalator two steps at a time to the street. He walked briskly down the sidewalk, sometimes breaking into a jog. At Patty’s building, he threw open the outer door to the lobby and grabbed the phone to ring for entrance. After a couple of rings, a female Spanish voice answered, “hola.”

  Freddy was confused, but responded, “May I speak to Patty?”

  “Patty?” questioned the woman.

  “Patty Savino. Is this apartment 1030?” asked Freddy.

  “Si, it is, but there is no Patty here,” she responded.

  “Did you just move in?” asked Freddy.

  “Si, it was just yesterday,” she said.

  “And you did not meet a woman named Patty?” asked Freddy.

  It seemed that the woman sensed that something bad had happened for this young man on the intercom. This Patty he sought must not want him to find her and it was clear that this man was upset.

  “We took the apartment furnished. My husband and I are here on assignment for a few months. I am sorry, but we know nothing about your friend.”