by Aidan Truhen
“Thank you sir.”
“I am not sure that it meets our present needs Rex but I think next time we will start with you.”
“Thank you sir.”
“…Carry on Rex.”
“Yes sir.”
Lucille:
LUCILLE!
“…”
“…”
“…”
“Yeah who knows actually that might do it.”
“…”
“…”
“What about you Price?”
“Naw Doc I am still collating our many options.”
“Well get it done. In the meantime I have a thing.”
“Yum yum—”
“Silence!”
She does not look jokey so I silence.
* * *
—
We sit in the long room and Doc says to everyone: “Do not be like Jack.”
That seems harsh to me but Doc is speechifying and I do not want to be rude.
Doc says: “We already have Jack we do not need everyone to be Jack. But we are the Demons now and not anything else. That is the only thing that matters in this moment. Where we are? Who we were? These things are not relevant anymore. This job needs to be everything and I’m telling you how you get there. You do not choose to be like Jack. You choose to be like you as if you were hopped-up on appalling Jackness like fucked-up on a toxic testosterone psychotropic methamphetamine Jack serum.”
Rex puts up his hand. “Um I do not know how to do that.”
Doc nods.
“Open your eyes and look at the ceiling fan I will administer it now.”
“What—”
“I cultured this out of Jack’s blood this morning. That means it also contains Volodya. Look upward Rex you will feel a slight pressure as the needle goes in.”
“Uh-oh gosh well uuhhhhhttttt oh gosh I feel sick.”
“Rex it is only a needle. There. Now. Who’s next?”
“There. And there. And here—”
Doc. Injects. Her own. Eyeball.
That’s my girlfriend right there.
“…You are populated with Jack’s microflora. With Volodya’s. You are a little bit them and so am I.”
Charlie wants to know if that will actually do anything.
“I have no idea. Perhaps. There is an element of magical thinking. But you will feel different and you are different. The degree of difference is unknown. You are all, biotically speaking, Jack. Except you, Price. There is obviously no point giving you a serum of yourself so I have made this one for you.”
“What is that?”
“It’s us.”
“…It’s a big one ain’t it?”
“Don’t be a baby.”
“I am just saying Doc everyone else got a little tiny poke and that is like something you would use to make a cow pregnant and we all know how I feel about cows.”
“Jack?”
“Doc?”
“Jack.”
“Doc?”
“This injection contains all of us who are alive. I cannot give you Volodya because he is dead. But you do not need me to do that because he is already in you because he gave you his blood when he knew he was dying. He knew he was dying and he chose that and I do not think you thanked him.”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“I am not crying.”
“I know.”
“Into my fucking eyeball Doc I am ready!”
“In fact this injection goes in your gluteus muscle.”
“What right here in front of the anarchists?”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“Of fucking course it does, typical log-cabin motherfucker, all right you guys fuck off to work while I drop trou for the dead Russian asshole. Jeez Doc you just had to didn’t you. I mean where’s my fucking dignity in all OW OW OW.”
* * *
—
So what do I do now?
I have like a mood or a modus: I’m Jack. I’m the Price you pay.
That’s it.
(Wow. Little head rush there. Demon juice got some kick I guess.)
I mean Lucille doesn’t really have skills either he just hugs people and they die of his giant knifepuppy affection but somehow that does not bother him. Well I say somehow…it’s because I burned out his brain using drugs and electric shocks and turned him into a giant knifepuppy because I wanted to.
That’s my modus in action right there I guess and now here is Doc and she says I am the guy to make the appalling shit happen.
That’s my modus too I guess.
I mean it’s not what I want. I am just a guy trying to get along.
* * *
—
I sit by and my leg hurts and I wonder what I am going to do.
Stabbed in the fucking leg by a fucking kid.
Stabbed with a fucking oyster knife like a fucking joke criminal.
Stabbed by a child.
What am I?
I’m a guy without a log-cabin motherfucker to my name is what and I don’t know who to talk to about it. Like who to make representations but also like who to talk to.
I’m the first of the Seven Demons. I have all of them in my blood right now. I think you could cook an egg on my balls. Volodya would do it he would stake me out and cook an actual fucking egg and he would claim it wasn’t weird just some old Ukrainian survival thing.
When man is losing that much heat, is no alternative in cold night.
(Head rush.)
Fucking post-Soviet log-cabin motherfucker I think he just made that shit up. Fucking universal donor bullshit.
I leave the coffee and I go and stand behind the awful bar and stare into the stupid mirror between the Japanese whisky and the French vodka.
“My name is Jack Price and I am the Price you pay.”
But I’m just not feeling it. Who the fuck is that in the mirror? Got some crime face going on but who the fuck?
“My name is Jack Price.”
“Hi, I’m Jack, and I’m—”
I mean the thing is it was funny one time but once you pay a price it is paid and that’s it. Otherwise it’s a subscription.
I am not a fucking subscription.
Looking at that face. I dunno man who the fuck owns that face? Some guy. One time was a coffee guy. Then he was a smartass coke guy. Then he killed a bunch of folks. Some stuff happened in between whatever. Then his friend died his employee and he was evidently not ready for that to happen.
How is it he was okay with his lawyer that he was actually a little bit in love with how is it he was okay that she got shot in the side of the head and he was fine with that but this is not okay? Who thinks that way?
Who?
“My name is—”
I’m not feeling it.
Yeah well Jack would you like to phone a friend?
Sure why not I got lots.
Lots of friends.
Only want to talk to one of them.
* * *
—
“Hallo yes this is a post-Soviet log-cabin motherfucker and I am a little bit dead forever right now please leave a message beep.”
“O you’re deceased? Well gosh that’s embarrassing I forgot—man is my face red—”
Face arms legs fuck I was fucking covered in blood so—
(Head rush. I think I may be high. Demon juice high.)
Okay come on come on my name is—
“MY NAME IS”
“My name is FUCK IT”
What am I ever supposed to do with this?
You know what Jack why don’t you call s
omeone who isn’t dead?
* * *
—
Outgoing VoIP call:
“Hi It’s Barton hi I am VERY RICH in a water bed right now who’s this?”
“Hey Barton it’s Jack Price.”
“Jack Price?”
“Jack Price, Barton.”
“Jack who?”
“The guy with the plane. The bad guy, Barton. I have had a not good day do not make me come over there and murderize you for being you.”
“O Banjo Telemark? The artist sir?”
“…Yes. Yes I am an artist Barton.”
“Okay sir.”
“…”
“Sir?”
“…I am thinking Barton. I will require your input shortly.”
“O. O okay just uh—that’s a little tricky right now sir there is stuff going on—yowow mama Calliope—I’m just a little distracted sir—”
“…”
“…”
“Fog of crime.”
“O my saints and kittens—yes sir fog of crime sir—”
“…did you say saints and kittens?”
“…um yes sir I was greatly moved—oh my—now I am a little self-conscious sir—damn it I will beat you like a four-egg omelet—not you sir I am talking to Calliope—”
“Barton I would send you more money but you cannot possibly spend what you have.”
“Oh thank you sir I guess.”
“Is there anything revolting you need that I can arrange or pay for you seem like a nice person there are certain aspects you might balk at.”
“No sir I’m real contented right now sir you see—oh—oh YEEEebob be a little kind there—I’m fine sir—just a little matter of—”
“Barton I do not think I need to know what you are doing and I fear you are about to tell me so I am going to go. Call me if anything comes up.”
“Oh very good sir okay O yoooyooHOBA—”
“Bye now Barton.”
Call disconnected.
* * *
—
See there’s two ways of doing something so that no one knows it’s happening. There is the one where you walk on tiptoe in the dark and if the lights come on you have a problem like—
Well I guess you get stabbed in the leg with an oyster knife.
But then there is the other way of doing something that no one knows is happening. Fog of crime. That is when you fill a room with light and noise and women in sequins and men in top hats and ten thousand elephants and while all that is happening and everyone is staring at the show—
You stab someone with an oyster knife.
Sometimes it’s about the modus and that is good. Sometimes it is all about process. But other times you fucking mainline your Ukrainian and the blood of your criminal associates and you just fucking do it. That is also some kind of truth.
Sometimes it is about the vision and my vision right now…
(Wham.)
That was more than a head rush. I think I just exploded out of my own face and—
I can see worlds of crime. They are all around me and I am them. I am space and time I am coffee I am cocaine I am universes. I am gods and I am—
I am Demons.
“My name is—”
Yes.
“My name is—”
Say it.
“My name is Banjo Telemark.”
Let me show you my art.
* * *
—
Ringedy ring.
I am busy being full of worlds of crime so I let it go to voice mail.
* * *
—
Ringedy ring.
Voice mail.
* * *
—
Ringedy ring RING RING RING okay fine FINE what—
O it is Sharkey.
* * *
—
It probably is not the ideal moment to take this call because I do not feel diplomatic and Sharkey, well you know: Sharkey has cause to be a little annoyed. In fairness—well if I had it to do over—
Naw I guess it would go exactly the same.
VoIP encrypted: accept y/n
“Hi it’s Jack I’m a little busy right now but go ahead.”
“Jack it’s Sharkey.”
“Hi Sharkey I am glad to hear you well. I am right now doing a thing so I cannot undertake any new work if that is why you are calling also I am stoned out of my gourd on Demon juice—”
“You’re a dead man you fuck.”
“Okay well that is disappointing I was hoping we could move past this Sharkey and go back to being friends?”
“Friends you shit you wanna be FRIENDS now?”
“I can’t say it’s like my dearest wish man but yeah that’s where I was heading I mean we gotta work together and it’s basically my default like, you know, a stranger is a friend you haven’t—”
“You put DYNAMITE ON MY BALLS—”
“In fact it was not technically dynamite. That’s like that stuff in cartoons. This was way more, you know, professional and grown-up. And I gather from the fact we are talking that the service have, you know, I guess unlimbered your scrotum. So—”
“Dynamite. On. My. Balls.”
“Okay I get where you’re coming from but you know Sharkey I was real upset and I needed your attention and you got this attitude like you’ve seen it all and done it. I figured that actually had not happened to you before. And see here we are and it is fine and we can work together. I was upset with you over you know your client betraying me and killing my friend but I have moved past it and you still have your moving parts so—”
“You’re gonna put dynamite on my balls you fuck? You’re a dead man I am going to kill you with my own hands. KILL YOU and I will juggle with your fucking balls and I will have dogs and the dogs will—”
“Sharkey I have to say your timing is not great we are right now holding a sort of a wake for a colleague and I feel like your mood is a little disruptive maybe even disrespectful.”
“FUCK YOU—”
“Okay man I’m kind of done with this little chat let’s talk again when you’re more even tempered—”
But la la la Sharkey is angry. The dogs will either eat me or fuck me or both I really have no idea I am not listening. I mean honestly how are you gonna do both at once? Hello: SPINE?
“Sharkey it is Jack have you killed me yet or am I still screaming?”
“You’re fucking dead right now Jack. I am connected you know who I am connected to? To fucking Ottavio Leopold Calvanese you fuck you remember him—”
“That is a real elegant fellow there Sharkey.”
“Yeah you tell him that see what it gets you.”
“Sharkey.”
“Yeah you walking dead man piss-pot motherfuck?”
“Sharkey are we not going to do business together anymore?”
“FUCK YOU JACK I am coming for you I am gonna come for you Jack you’re dead D E A D is what you are you COME TO MY HOUSE—”
“It’s really more of a duplex but anyway you’re saying I should count you as an active like enemy like even if I had some massively financially rewarding thing coming I should not come to you and cut you in that would not make it better. We’re just enemies now over this whole thing? Because man I thought we were bigger than that.”
“Dead Jack. Dead.”
(Mute call.)
“CHAAARLLLIIIIEEE?”
No answer so I go back in the room with the board, which I will not call the board room.
“Charlie Sharkey is calling and he is pissed.”
“Oh dearie dear.”
“Also he is—I got to say this man I feel like he’s mostly coming from a negative sort of place and—did I say I was basica
lly high on you guys like your mitochondrial sexy hormones—”
“Price that is not a real thing JESUS you’re burning up what the—”
“I am filled with worlds of crime Doc.”
“Yes I imagine you are—”
“I see paradigms. Socially.”
“Price—”
“But that is not the point I cannot keep Sharkey on hold forever he is going to become unreasonable well no actually he is already—well never mind that I mean but professionally speaking for a moment Sharkey is aware of my continued being aliveness and I do not think he is our friend. Like he is now officially a loose end. Charlie I wanted to ask you is he—”
“Yes boss.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes he is.”
“The stupid on this guy Charlie it burns.”
“I know boss we should have factored that in to our decision making.”
“Yep no question that was an operational flaw will you mark it down?”
“Yep already done. You wanna explain to him?”
“Yes please—Sharkey? SHARKEY. Sharkey.”
“Yeah the fuck dead man?”
“Could you schschfffp ffkkkffsch I cannot hear you?”
“IS THIS BETTER YOU FUCK?”
“Yes it is thank you.”
“YOU ARE GOING TO BEG ME JACK.”
“I am genuinely saddened by this turn of events man but I got to ask although I already know the answer: Is it possible that you are so appallingly dumb you are calling me on the actual phone I left at your place as a detonator?”
“Wha—”
SNAP.
Because once the phone has exploded the rest of the pretty enormously loud bang noise does not get transmitted. It is safe to assume that although Sharkey’s balls are completely preserved from this sad sequence of events his brains do pass through his other ear at something approaching the speed of sound.
I mean it’s not like we didn’t all know this was coming, but I tell you I am seriously concerned that the legacy crime world is woefully slow on uptake of the digitally mediated workplace environment.
FOUR
“DOC WE WILL NEED A DEAD GUY AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.”