Chapter 16Firepower
San Francisco, 2013
It had been awhile, but a guy recognized JJ while he was at the burrito place. Not his usual one, the more hippy dippy one on 24th, near where he had met up with some guys earlier. Oscar liked this place, and JJ had stopped in to buy them both dinner. He had been short on his rent for a couple months now, more than a couple actually, so he tried to do something like this for Oscar to make up for it. Oscar, when stoned, would pretty much equate a burrito in front of him to a fat wad of cash.
He pulled out a chair to sit while they made his order. And he could feel the dude’s eyes on him in this particular way. Like part scared, part admiring. He was young, skinny, dressed all in black, a cap pulled low on his head, earbuds dangling. When they called JJ’s order, he met the guy’s eye as he passed. Gave a slight nod, like, yeah, I’m him, the guy from that video.
It gave him a little rush, that recognition. Didn’t exactly make up for having to walk, having no car, no extra cash to make up the missing rent. But it was something. Hell of lot better than the attitude he’d been getting from some of the original Occupiers. JJ had been all but shut out of recent discussions. All the talk was of staying relevant, creating a positive spin in the public’s eye, making the movement grow in a quote respectable way.
He munched on a couple chips as he walked down Valencia, rolling his eyes at the more obvious signs of gentrification along this end. That’s what most of those guys wished for, he thought. Something once cutting edge and now all prettied up so that the Walnut Creek wannabes wouldn’t be scared to walk here. How many of the original players had up and left, he wondered. Gotten all excited that they’d re-elected their president and moved on. Jumped on the gay marriage bandwagon, like that was somehow equivalent to institutionalized poverty, or challenging the government’s increasing program of secret drones.
Or maybe they decided gun control, aka gun violence prevention, was the new cause. Yeah, it was a shame about those little kids in Connecticut, sure. But poor kids in cities got gunned down every day. Poor people were in the situation where they had no choice but to commit armed robbery because of the damn corporate inequity. The real powerbrokers were still in power. Obama’s win hadn’t changed that. Gays winning the right to lead boring middle class lives like straight couples, that did nothing for the truly impoverished and oppressed of the world.
JJ paused at the book bin outside a used book store. They’d never notice if he snagged something. Too bad the selection was lousy. He would rather read stuff online anyway. Hyperlink if he wanted more info, read the snarky comments for fun. Through the dark glass, he could see this young woman really studying the books. Superimposed was his vague reflection – dark hoodie and squinting frown. He wondered, if she looked up or he went in there, would she be scared? See a rough old school Mission resident, or maybe recognize him from Occupy?
Or maybe she would just look right through him like he wasn’t there. That happened too often. It sucked worse than any other reaction. JJ turned away, kept walking towards home. But there was a lesson there, he thought. You start looking quiet and old and nobody pays attention. Occupy – or whatever new name or brand or mission emerged – needed to stay fresh and loud to make an impact.
JJ dodged around the neighbor kids out kicking a soccer ball around the sidewalk in front of his house, and tramped up the steps. Oscar had some music blasting, something new and techno sounding. He was at his computer, fiddling with the sound, head bobbing idly in time to the beat.
JJ held up the bag.
“Awesome,” Oscar said, hands out, like a he was offering a blessing.
They didn’t bother with plates, just ripped the foil off the top. “Who is this?” JJ asked, trying not to spit out food while he talked.
Oscar told him a bunch of stuff about the band. And the sound. And some more stuff, but as he was listening, JJ was trying to think how he could interest Oscar in the ideas he was thinking about. How to get the serious activists back on track. How to really shake things up, what kind of actions would seriously get the kind of attention worldwide that the original movement had. Or that, like, all the mass shootings were doing. It was frustrating – even Oscar, like Mr. Movement, had gotten all distracted by the 49ers going to the Superbowl and shit like that.
JJ at least initiated the conversation. It was hard to articulate exactly, but Oscar has been around, the dude was pretty smart.
“I don’t know, man,” he said, cutting in when JJ paused, kind of flailing to wrap up what he meant. “I think we need to face it that a lot of the initial energy is gone. You know how everybody gets their news from who their facebook friends are following, right – I mean, that just exacerbates how fast something like Occupy can get old.”
JJ pffted his lips. “So, like, the guys who started Arab Spring should have just given up? When their facebook friends got bored with it?”
Oscar grinned, and languidly reached for the last of the chips. “Not the same. You know when we were first going down there?” He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the Federal Reserve downtown. “There were a lot of people who were like, we’ll occupy until they frigging close the banks and jail the corrupt execs. Until college education is free.”
“So what, those are bad ideas now?”
“It doesn’t really take into consideration the entire scoop of the problem, you know? I mean that the financial crisis was worldwide. Huge. That the actual 1 percent is so totally cloistered that a hundred marches on their banks won’t bother them. They don’t actually come down here at all.”
“But we still have to take it on! It’s still bullshit!”
“I’m just saying, if there’s a limited amount of resources as in activists and their time and attention, it makes sense to pick your battles. Find out what’s going to resonate with a wider audience. What can actually make an impact, like taking over the foreclosed houses.” Oscar gave him this look, the weary, I’ve been around forever look.
JJ gave a grudging nod – he didn’t really agree, nobody could convince him that anything less than the explosive confrontations of the original movement were needed now all the more. But he knew Oscar wouldn’t be pushed once he’d made this sort of pronouncement. Actually, he sounded kind of like Amelia there, JJ thought, momentarily amused. His stepmother had used prettier language but kind of said something similar last time she had called. Something along the lines of choosing a small set of conceptual targets such as ending for-profit military contracts or legally preventing corporations from being called people.
Amelia had also again asked him to promise not to do something he would regret. Which he roughly translated into something that would embarrass them and Jackie. Well maybe they’d be proud when he did something to get noticed around the globe on the six o’clock news instead of just on YouTube. Amelia might have some respect anyway. Jackie would probably just tut tut in her annoyed big sister way no matter how big an impact he made. Anyway, for now it was easier just to avoid their calls. Like how it was easier to just not be around Oscar when the rent was due.
“Hey, I saw the Jakes earlier, at Muddy’s,” Oscar said. “And that other guy that hangs out with them, the student? You should talk to those guys. I mean if you really want to get some people behind new direct action.”
“Cool, maybe I will.” JJ didn’t know those guys very well, but they had hung out. These two friends both named Jake were definitely gutsy as far as charging the cops and stuff like that. They were young, early 20s. Looking for leadership, he thought. Oscar was right, those would be the type of guys to back him.
JJ went into his room, kicking off his boots and pulling on a lighter, marginally cleaner shirt. Trolled through the same old websites, annoyed at the lack of serious dedication to the cause, or to the original ideas expressed in the movement. Thinking about the guy at the taqueria, he brought up the video of h
imself to watch. He hadn’t seen it in months, hadn’t ever really looked at it that closely. Hard to believe it had been more than a year ago – in some ways it felt like it had just gone down. But then again it seemed like a world away. Because that anger, that was so obvious in everybody’s faces and that he could feel in his gut even now, it just wasn’t out there anymore.
JJ reversed and replayed the part where you could see all the people around him going nuts, like pounding on anything in the path between them and their righteousness. The faces, the expressions, so alive with feeling. That was it, that’s what was lost, and that’s what he needed to create again. By any means necessary.
Scrolling, he saw even more comments. A bunch of people had comments and there were twitterfeeds that kind of mocked the thing, but a bunch more were totally positive. Damn, if he was looking for fellow believers, this was the place, right? He just needed to get out in front of them all again.
His sister had always said he was special, JJ thought. Maybe she didn’t know just how special. Maybe nobody did. People were always underestimating him. But maybe next time, he wouldn’t be stopped so easily. Let the philosophy majors worry about the ethical implications. Let somebody else figure out the vision statement. He just needed followers and firepower. No one would forget when he finally made his stand.
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