Glass Shore

by Stefan Jackson

  And I shouldn’t disregard the possibilities of Pii. What if Pii is part of the overall plan? Bradshaw states the Pii program was put in place after The Event. What if the program was in play long before The Event? Preparing the public to calmly accept and reasonably respond to a major incident. The Event should have triggered a major economic breakdown, perhaps even global war. Neither of those things happened and that was due to the cool response of the people. President Cresthaven gave his speech, asking for help from private citizens, corporations and other governments. He apologized to the world for The Event. And so everyone related differently after The Event. The market did take a hit but all the new jobs, both government and private, reversed things seemingly overnight. People hunkered down and fixed the problems and generated a lot of fast and hard money. And once that design was in motion, it was easy to introduce new science and lifestyle programs alongside the tried and true living plan, and so fashion the future.

  If Pii is real, Malcolm Space and Geek are affected by the program and look what they’ve created.

  I wonder if the program affects me?

  Sometimes I really don’t like the way I think.

  I need a drink or a hit. Or both. I get up and walk over to Geek’s mini-bar. I pour a shot of whiskey. I slam back the warm liquid and set up another.

  I don’t know whether to read the Senate testimonies of Bradshaw and Orison, or dig deeper into Kamru’s escape from his safe house and subsequent disappearance, or look into the Pii program. Somehow I have the feeling I’m going to dive into all of the above.

  I slowly sip the second shot until the little glass is dry. Good tasting booze. I walk back to the workstation and take a seat.

  I look back at the traffic monitor and traffic is back to normal flow on Madison. I close the page.

  I check the desktop for broadcast controls. I know Geek has them.

  I see TV etched above a keypad at mid-right. I press 1. NY1 appears above me. LIVE from East 51st Street is displayed on the lower left corner on the silent scene. I watch a sour and defiant Space walk tall, calm and hard into the police station. No attempt to conceal his identity. No shame. No concerns. He is escorted by two very large officers and with his hands secured to his waist and a wire attached to his ankles that allows only half-a-step of liberty. It’s obvious that a medic has bandaged him up, yet, even with the gauze and tape plastered over his face, the disfigurement of his nose is like a blaring horn. It is clown-large and bright purple. The way those cops had slammed him to the concrete during the arrest, I’m surprised he’s not missing teeth and suffering from a concussion.

  Just as I find the control for sound, I hear a whoosh, followed quickly by the familiar voices of my family. I look at the clock. They’ve been away for better than two hours.

  Time flies when you’re having fun.

  32

  “This is Winston Belmont, live in Midtown, standing before the Seventeenth Precinct on east Fifty-first Street where, only moments ago, mega-billionaire industrialist, Malcolm Space, was brought to this police station in restraints, his face bruised from a fracas with authorities during his arrest earlier today at his office on Madison. At this time we have no word on the charges against Mr. Space.”

  Geek enters the cabin first. He carries six clothing bags. Of course they went shopping. A new look requires a new wardrobe. Geek sports a classic Latin flavor. Deep caramel skin with a head of healthy silver-hued hair set off by hard gray eyes.

  “Damn, new and improved Geek.” I say.

  “I think so too,” he replies. “So what the hell did we miss? Is he in jail?”

  “Yeah, the arrest was hilarious. He knocked a cop down and then other officers just dumped on him.”

  “His face is all messed up,” Liz says, looking at the monitor replaying Space’s arrival at the police station. She is now a lovely Asian doll with a smooth, light yellow-brown complexion and wide, alluring sea green eyes.

  “Beautiful,” I say to her. She gives me a kiss. Her arms are also loaded down with bags. “We got stuff for you too.”

  “Thanks.”

  Then I see Nikki. The color of her skin is that of burnt sage. Her hair is now jet and cropped short and thin. Her eyes are white as ice. She is, as ever, drop-dead sexy.

  “You look good,” I tell her with a smile.

  She runs her fingers along the nape of my neck and along my shoulders.

  “So what the hell are you looking at?” she asks, dropping her bags by the servers.

  I point to the pages floating before us. NY1 replays the scene of Space being escorted into the police station. “Watching Space’s arrest. Checking out the trial of the terrorists. I found something very interesting you should see.”

  “You got a lot going on here,” Geek says. “Get up and fix me a drink.” He mutes the volume of the NY1 page.

  I get up and head for the bar. Geek sits down and resumes control of his desk. Nikki and Liz crowd around him.

  I stop to look at the quiet trio. Seems they’ve bonded. It’s soothing to see this. It’s an odd feeling. I’ve never thought of anything as soothing. Even comforting. And that’s where I’m at, right now.

  Liz smiles as she looks at me.

  I grab three shot glasses and walk back to my crew. I hand out the glasses. I pour and receive a round thank you for my generosity.

  The trio reads and sips their whiskey shots. It’s very quiet.

  “I can tag the Security Council tape and the Jump One transcript onto this diary,” Nikki says. “I’ve been chasing this rabbit for years. How did I miss this?”

  I consider Nikki’s question. We’ve uncovered a great deal of information since we’ve been with Geek. The next moment I find myself glancing at our host. Our Information Agent.

  “You should see the disclaimer at the bottom of the page,” I tell her.

  She reads, nods. “Of course. I don’t care. The data I have supports Bradshaw. The three items make a solid case for my father.”

  “Señor Geek, please send the Security Council clip and the Jump One transcript to that link,” Nikki requests.

  “Yeah, okay,” replies Geek.

  “You guys have had an insane busy day,” Liz says. “You’ve squashed the richest man on the planet. The president wants you dead. And it’s not over yet. I’m nervous you know. I mean so much money and all the conspiracies. This never ends well in the movies.”

  “This isn’t a movie. We’re in control. We just have to stay on top of it,” Geek says. “Gliddin will use WEB and other official sources to get to Nikki and Apollo. That’s easy to track. I also have a good idea of the pros Space will contract for your execution. We can monitor them. No surprises. No accidents.”

  So that’s where I get it from. Like father, like son. Geek has all of his ducks in a row and has a contingency plan for each duck. No surprises. No accidents. I think the same way. Yet, I know it’s my programming. Once again here I am pretending to be human. Trying to connect with dad.

  Liz sighs. She pulls out her pipe and the hash she purchased in the Underground. She loads up. Sparks up. Deep coughing and a cloud of smoke later, she passes the pipe to Geek. He accepts and tokes up.

  Geek passes the pipe to Nikki.

  Nikki has a hit then passes the smoking pipe to me.

  I hit it.

  “So is the Pii thing real?” Nikki asks Geek.

  “Yes.” His reply is quick and sure.

  I ask, “Bradshaw states it was initiated after The Event. Could it have been in play before The Event?”

  Geek is silent. At length, he answers, “Yes. I’ve always thought so at any rate. Why do you ask?”

  “Because it fits my theory.”

  Liz asks, “How do you know it’s a real program?”

  I pass the pipe to Liz.

  “I first heard about the Pii theory about sixty years ago. Apollo was still under construction in my mind only. I had been good-friends with Ayni Rouessua and she frequently discussed, more like
vigorously debated, how governments squandered the potentiality of people. She was sure she could harness more from people by making them feel better about their work, their bodies, their social and private affairs. People just need constant positive support. She just couldn’t figure out an unobtrusive way to provide affirmative endorsement during the day and soothing encouragement while sleeping. She also said that people shouldn’t be aware of the support.

  “Years later, when I was working on Apollo, I considered bringing Rouessua aboard, but she had fallen off the face of the planet. And I was so busy and so deep into his construction that I didn’t have time to follow up. So I let it go.

  “I heard about the program for the second time, right after The Event. I’ve confirmed the use many times over the years. And like Bradshaw says, even knowing about it can’t stop the program from being effective . On that count, Rouessua was wrong.

  “Then as now, the Pii program is distributed through television, the net, radio, ring tones, any intonation or modulation that has a minimum duration of three nanoseconds carries a Pii code. People are bombarded with passionate props.”

  “Prove it,” Nikki says.

  Geek nods. Works his keypads.

  “Does the program work on me?” I ask.

  “I believe so. Your brain works like mine, albeit faster. I can’t see how you’d be immune to the program.

  “Here, watch.” Geek points to the NY1 broadcast. It is a commercial, sponsored by the New York State tourism council. The on-screen guide is a beautiful blonde woman in a black body-suit with a flared collar. She runs across the green field and says, “Visit Lake George, the gateway to the Adirondacks. An immense blue and green space in which to relax, play and plot an adventure.” The camera pulls out and away from the guide, offering a verdant pasture and rolling green hills in the distance.

  Geek pauses the commercial, capturing a still of the beautiful valley. He then removes the color. Then peels away degrees of gray. We can now clearly see the words, Love You.

  “You understand that is constantly displayed during this commercial. Now tell me, how do you feel about Lake George?”

  “I’d like to go there. It looks nice,” replies Liz. “There’s nothing sinister about that.”

  Nikki says, “Right. Yeah, I could see myself up there. Sure, I’d like to go there. Yet, I like to travel. I like everywhere.”

  “You like Earth?” asks Geek.

  None of us answer but my answer is yes. And that’s why Nikki, Liz and I are silent. We get it. We like the planet because we’ve been told to. And we know the earth likes us. If fact it loves us. Says so, right there on the monitor.

  Silence continues. We stare at the screen. Perhaps waiting for something alarming to happen in the calm valley.

  Love You.

  I say, “I can’t hate the situation. I feel I should be mad right now but I can’t find the anger.”

  “Why should you be mad?” asks Geek.

  “Well, I’m being programmed.”

  “Programmed to love, yeah that sucks,” Nikki says with a smile.

  Geek is the only one laughing. “Apollo, son, you are one big program. I’m about to install an upgrade in you for appearance control. You’re telling me that this,” he points to the gray valley, “is unforgivable.”

  I know my mouth is open but whatever I was going to say is cut short by Nikki’s laugh.

  Liz is smiling too. She looks at Geek and says, “This is why that friend of yours said we shouldn’t know about it. It’s gonna bug me forever.”

  “You’ll get over it. You’ll even forget about it. I forget about it all the time. I’ve been affected by it much longer than you and….” Geek shrugs his shoulders.

  “How does the program work with glass?” I ask.

  “Glass, mirrors, reflective metals and jewels carry germs with the program. My favorite is wedding bands. Every time a husband and wife look at their wedding bands they receive the message that they are loved. You know that divorces are rare. You know as well as I do that people still have affairs and they get caught but obviously it doesn’t matter. They follow the program. Love conquers all.”

  Geek cancels the still shot and just as the broadcast is about to jump live I see something that makes me shout out, “Stop!”

  Geek does, but the valley is now in color.

  “Go back to the gray scale,” I say.

  He does. I point at the picture and say, “See, just over the trees.”

  “Oh, wow,” says Liz.

  “Damn,” Nikki states.

  Geek just nods.

  The faint words brush the treetops; The Meek shall inherit the Earth.

  “So, why aren’t we a non-violent society?” Nikki asks.

  “Ego and passion. To become non-violent, we’d have to eliminate both qualities and that makes no sense. Let people love and lust, let them have secrets and desires; those passions fuel the machine. The goal is to generate money every way possible. People work to support their desires, which supports the machine and increases profits across the board. It’s a win-win scenario.

  “Hollywood still makes movies about them but when was the last time you heard about a real serial killer? Unfortunately lovers still kill lovers, and there always seems to be the street-fight that ends in a death. Terrorist attacks and suicides are almost non-existent.

  “Abortions are a rarity. Women know they are loved and they know the child they bring into the world will be loved so it’s all joy.”

  I nod. That case of the missing child I found a few years back; it had been the first Amber Alert in the Commons in many years. The abductor didn’t harm the child. She had just wanted to hold the kid. The woman had been sterilized due to a rare infection and she just lost her mind over it. They were having a tea party when I found them.

  “I thought mind control was all about making everyone the same,” Liz says.

  “Once again, ego and passion. You don’t want to mess with that,” is Geek’s sure and fast response. “Some people receive the life-affirming messages in a much different way. And yes, we can detect and amend brain abnormalities very early in life but human robots would be unproductive.

  “People need to be independent. Freedom to create, work and play in their unique way. Independent people are a sound economy. Each person will find his own way and not be reliant on family, friends or the government. The Pii program ensures that people maintain one perspective, duty now for the future. People engage their lives with pride, energy and confidence. People are aware of themselves and they like themselves so at work, or concerning creative and athletic pursuits, including sex, no one gives less than their all. People are satisfied. That’s real mind control. That’s power you can’t laugh at.”

  Geek stands, then walks over to his wall of old-fashioned accessories and gadgets. He rummages through a small metal pail. I can see he’s frustrated – he removes the pail from its holding spot and dumps its contents over his workstation. My sisters and I gather around dad and check out the swag. Slender vacuum tubes, film capacitors, unmarked transistors, tiny incandescent glass bulbs, chunky computer chips, silver discs – which I believe are batteries – flash cards, memory sticks, zip discs, square glass, bobbie pins, paper clips and dust bunnies.

  Geek singles out two small squares of glass. He hands the glass chips to Nikki and Liz.

  He scoops up the spilled contents and sets the stuff back to the metal pail. He returns it to its proper place.

  Geek ask, “How do you girls feel?”

  “Very good,” states Liz. She takes a deep breath. I can tell she’s happy. I’m sure everyone in the room can tell she’s happy.

  Nikki nods in agreement. “Feeling sexy,” she says.

  Liz nods, “Yes. Yes.”

  “Let me hold one of those,” I say and find they both gave up the glass chips rather quick.

  “Take it,” Nikki says as she drops the chip in my palm.

  “Yeah,” Liz utters short and with fire
as she thrust the chip into my palm.

  So I look. Twinkle.

  Sweet. Nice buzz. Twinkle.

  Twinkle. I take a deep breath. Feeling good….

  Twinkle.

  Yeah, hell yeah. Twinkle. I’m warm and my dick is getting hard….

  Twinkle. This is amazing.

  I hand the chips, more like mirrors I guess, back to Geek. He drops the mirrors into the pail without glancing at them.

  Geek says, “I believe those were first freely distributed during the global New Year’s celebrations in twenty-forty. And every year since then, but of course, with time and technology, better versions.”

  “Twenty plus years before the Event,” I say. “That works with my theory. I believe the game plan was to mentally prepare the masses to deal with utter catastrophe and, to accept and learn all the new technology that was in the pipeline. You can’t place idiots in space. And space is where the big money is.”

  Geek shakes his finger at me and says. “You really don’t know how right you are, Apollo. There are programs detailing all levels of math problems and scientific applications. People see these images from birth. People have come to equate hard math and science with leisure activities and comfortable surroundings. The hard work is satisfied by subliminal phrases of praise, confidence and love.”

  “What about blind people?” Liz asks.

  “Rouessua had thought that the blind and the mentally challenged would be easy to win over with pop music. Catchy little ditties that make people sing along. And if someone can remember the song, then they’ve accepted the program.”

  “So a sighted person looking into a mirror and singing their favorite song…” I start but Nikki finishes.

  “Is getting slammed with equations, phrases of love, diagrams, and symbols setting them up for even more information to come later, at a different location.”

  Geek nods and says, “The learning set of the Pii program is structured on a mathematical analytic function; a bridge between simple and complex power series. Think fractal geometry, and you’ll get the picture on how information is written.”

  “We receive small pieces of random data and our mind places that data in an order we can understand,” Nikki says, her eyes focused on Geek as though her vision could cleave him in half.