A Curious Tale... 2.

Mr Blake left fifteen minutes later, after reeling out all the property I wasn’t supposed to have under the Unitary Dividend Caste System. He left without any solid evidence against me anyway.
I hopped in the ride and cut a tortuous winding path to my rendezvous with Dante. It was a cute little bistro in the heart of the central business district of Lagos. Dante was waiting for me, her lips pursed and arms akimbo.
“You’re late.” She said. “Again.”
“Yes Dante but it’s not as easy to sweet talk the QSA as it is to get to you.”
“The Queers?! Are you sure you still wanna do tonight?”
“Sure. It was just some sop called Blake.”
“Blake? Not Elijah Blake?”
“No, this one was called Silas.”
“That’s still bad. He’s Elijah’s son. Don’t you remember Elijah Blake, the square that took over from Nuhu Ribadu as head of the International Anti-Corruption Force?”
“Yeah yeah,” I said, trying to be flippant. “Well he didn’t get anything on me. Where are Drake and Jay?”
“Probably on their third bottles by now. Let’s go in.”
Damilola Rafferty Kentebe preferred to be called Drake. He was the strong silent type. Too strong, in my opinion. But silence is good in this game. Jason Johnson Coker had long feminine fingers that could operate a computer in exactly one ninth the time it’d take a regular guy. And Dante knew something about absolutely everything except her real name. She’d shown up amnesiac on my doorstep two years ago and since then had spent all her time learning about anything and everything. She was just Dante though, the only person apart from me I could trust. And she was 5’ 7”, and sexy in that weird way that only girls that aren’t drop dead gorgeous are – not absolutely stunning, but you’d always take a second look.
We headed out for the Bureau of Statistics. There was only ever one guard on duty. Dante got out of the hover car and walked past him. He ogled her and got a sleeping dart in his neck for his trouble. I tend to be surprised at people who use guns. All you get is a murder trial or an attempted murder trial, and since all guns are linked to their owners UDCS accounts, you get caught. You can’t avoid getting caught with a gun, so why use one?
“How long will he be out?” Drake asked.
“Five hours plus a monstrous headache,” I told him.
Drake stripped the guard and donned his uniform. He looked almost respectable. I told him so.
Drake took one end of the building, and I went to the other. That left Dante and Jay free to go into the building. We’d thought out this little fiddle a few weeks ago. Jay said he could crack any code in existence, so we decided to test him. He’d cracked the Unitary Dividend Caste System remotely in an hour and a half, so we thought we’d do a bit of book keeping, or cooking if you’d prefer.
We were all in our final year at Livermore, except Dante, who worked in some kind of lab on the outskirts of town. We’d decided to change the figures in our accounts exactly a week after graduation. We’d be rich, and since we’d all be expected to return to our homelands, our new identities wouldn’t be traced as long as we left this town. Dante would come with me of course.
Jay was in, fiddling with whatever it is them computer people fiddle with, and Dante was making sure he felt secure doing it. She was a great learner; she could take in information faster than it could be dished out. She wasn’t in school, but she was the reason my grades had been holding up so well. So learning martial arts had been no problem at all for her, and she was a champion. So yes, Jay felt secure in the knowledge that Dante could take anything short of a riot squad.

A Curious Tale... 1.

“Hey baby.”

“Oh hi Dante. What’s happening?”

“Nothing much. I’m bored. Are you coming to see me tonight?”

“Sure thing girl. And I’m bringing something special.”

“Oooh. I can hardly wait. See you. Bye.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Bye.”

As I put the phone down the doorbell rang. I walked over to the Sector. The life futuristic is a good thing. The sector is one of those things you just can’t do without nowadays, a voice and touch activated remote control to every part of the house. I wasn’t expecting anyone so I was a bit rattled. When I saw the thin smile on the smooth shaven face, the close cropped hair and very smart suit, I just knew it couldn’t be good. I flipped a switch and all my appliances were hidden from sight. My apartment looked like a regular student’s hostel with sparse furnishing and much clutter. Third year was not an easy task. I flipped another switch and the QSA (the government called them Quality and Standards Assessors, we called them Queer Snitching Assholes) could see me.

“Tosoye George?” he asked. I grunted.

“Tosoye Ethelbert George?” I winced at the middle name.

“Yeah, what do you want?”

“Oh just a routine check citizen.” I winced again at the term, but I let him in anyway. He frisked me.

“Hey hey hey,” I yelled “you ain’t harassing me in my own home man!”

“Very nice home if I may say.”

I shrugged.

“Rather too nice, really.”

“Whaddya mean, too nice?” I wanted this guy out of my flat asap.

“Well you’re classified as a DC3 student (DC stands for dividend caste, by the way). You shouldn’t be able to afford a single resident’s flat. You should be in a six man apartment.”

“Is that why you’re checking me up?” I actually laughed while I told him a friend of mine who lived with his parents let me stay in his place. He frowned, so I offered to call my friend up.

“We know all about your friend. We also know you drive an H8M3 Overcraft. You couldn’t in eight years save up that much money. Your basic allowance only covers for public student’s transport.”

“Look,” I said, finally ticking over. “I honestly don’t have time for this. I’m meeting my girlfriend at eight, and I need to get spruced up.” I was really starting to hate this guy.

Silas Blake. That was the name on his lapel pin. I wished he would just leave. He just stood there watching me, the epitome of patience. I sighed and began to answer him.

“Okay see, I got the ride from my friend’s dad. He promised me one if I got direct admission into university. Then he told me to wait a couple years to see if my grades would hold up. They did, so first thing this year he called me and gave me the codes to my spunky new craft. Is that enough for you?”

A Curious Tale... a preamble

I started this a while back on FaceBook, then the pressures of life made me stop... While I wasn't writing, I realised that what I'd written was effectively a sub-plot of another story I'd had in mind for a while, so now I'm writing that story, and trying to write it out in full... So I'll delete everything on FaceBook and essentially craft a new story, with those chapters coming in somewhere... As before, everything except what's already been written is off the top of my head, and I'll try to come back and write a bit more everyday. If you like it spread the word...

Random thoughts now I'm sad...

I'll tell you I'm fine, no matter how many times you ask. Truth be told though I'm not. I'm pining, but I'm not allowed to tell her... I'm bored, but fun costs money, so I have to get a job, and it's kind of a big deal right now... I'm out of luvv long term, and the end's not in sight... My family... okay I'm not even going into that... Long and short I'm miserable... I need a microphone... a good microphone...

Leverage

I'm Alec Hardison, or at least in another lifetime I am. Seriously...? I have this idea that I'd like to watch Leverage until my eyes pop out. I have no idea why I like it, but I do. Or at least I do until the next great series starts...
So for now I'm getting my geek on, a triple whammy of The Big Bang Theory, Leverage and Chuck ought to work wonders for my nerd cred, right...?

Contemplating murder

Mandy clutched the knife more tightly in her right hand. She moved close to The Other Mandy and looked at her threateningly. The Other Mandy just stared as fiercely back, as if daring Mandy to do her worst.
Mandy bit her lip and thought. Why wasn’t The Other Mandy scared? Didn’t she see the knife she held? Mandy was sure she would have been terrified if The Other Mandy had held a knife to her. But she would bluff. Then it clicked. The Other Mandy was bluffing. Mandy smiled.
She wasn’t sure why she wanted to kill The Other Mandy, but she was sure that it was the right thing to do. How could there be two Mandys in the same place? It didn’t make sense. There was only one thing to do. The Other Mandy had to go.
She raised the knife and made as if to strike The Other Mandy, who immediately let loose a high pitched scream.
“Shut up!” Mandy hissed. The Other Mandy was immediately quiet.
“Take it easy,” she coaxed. “It’s going to be quick and just the tiniest bit painful.” She was enjoying watching the various expressions of terror dancing over The Other Mandy’s visage.
Mandy stopped grinning, and moved up close until their noses touched. The Other Mandy was quietly begging Mandy not to kill her. Mandy thought about it.
“No,” she told The Other Mandy quietly at first, and then more loudly, psyching herself up until she finally said,
“No! You have to die.”
The Other Mandy saw that Mandy was faltering. The Other Mandy seized the advantage, softly at first.
“Please let me leave, I’ll go far away and you’ll never have to see me again.”
“Shut up!” Mandy was the one screaming now. “One more word out of you and I swear I’ll make it extremely painful.” Mandy was more mad at herself than anything else. She’d set her mind on killing The Other Mandy, and here she was losing both her nerve and her temper.
“You’re not going to do it,” The Other Mandy said quietly, but matter-of-factly.
“You’re about to make me,” Mandy spat back.
“You’re not going to kill me,” The Other Mandy was in the ascendancy now.
Mandy steeled herself and raised the knife, ready to do this once and for all.
“Mandy!”
Mandy lowered the knife again.
“Mandy, are you alright?”
“Yes mum,” she sighed.
“Could you come downstairs please?”
“Coming mum”
“Told you so,” The Other Mandy taunted.
Mandy snarled and walked away, turning her back on the mirror.

The Ring

“Sweetheart”
He had a way of saying that that just melted Joan inside. It was like a code.

for (i = Nathan; i <= infinity; i says "Sweetheart")
do MELT.exe

It annoyed her that she loved it so much.
This time it wouldn’t work though. She was determined to find out for herself whether or not he still loved her. She walked down the stairs to confront him, checking the time on his old grandfather clock on the way. 3:48 am.
“You’ll expect me to believe you’ve been in the studio since eight o’clock right?” she said.
“It is what is, love,” he replied.
“It is what what is? You’re lying.”
“And why would I wanna do that?”
“Umm... let’s see,” she said in mock concentration. “Maybe because you were with your guys in the club and didn’t want me holding back your playa, or maybe... maybe because you were with another...” she let the words hang.
He sat down and looked up at the ceiling. What was all this nonsense? He was sure she didn’t believe any of what she was saying, so he wondered why she said it.
He let her vent her fabricated frustrations, offering little by way of reply, gently encouraging her to let it all out in the hope that she’d run out of steam and allow him talk. She surprised him.
“My bags are in the car and I’m leaving”, she said.
“Why?” was all he could manage.
“Why?” she asked, incredulous. “Why? Because you never listen to a word I say that’s why. Because you’re never at home when I need you, that’s why...”
And she was off again, far from him, a voice that he could tune out as easily as a radio. He only snapped back to the present when the $35,000 engagement ring he’d bought her hit him square on the forehead.
“Ouch!” he said.
“You can keep your fairytale wedding, I’m gone” she said, and out the door she went. He followed her outside.
She’d stopped in front of the car he’d bought her, obviously torn between the fact that she shouldn’t really take the car if she was leaving him, and the presently greater fact that she couldn’t get anywhere near her mum’s house alone at three am in the morning if she didn’t drive. He walked out from the shadow of the doorway.
“Take the car,” he said, “it’s yours anyway”
She hesitated.
If you really don’t feel comfortable, I can drive you over. In any case you really shouldn’t be alone at this time in the morning. What do you say, sweetheart?”
She wanted to say no, but he’d called her sweetheart again. And she knew he was absolutely right, because deep inside she knew he cared deeply for her. But how could he be so calm about her leaving him? She accepted his offer with as much bad grace as she could muster, and sat silent in the car while he drove.
He didn’t say anything either, neither to tell her she was being foolish and should stop all that nonsense immediately; nor to plead with her to stay with him. He just did what she wanted. It infuriated her. He was supposed to get angry, sad, frustrated or at least confused. But he just drove in silence, a very wry smile on his face. She determined to see this through. What she didn’t know was that he was just as determined to win this little war.
>>>>>
Two weeks later Joan got a phone call from a friend.
“Hey you! Tune into E! Now!”
“Why?!” she asked.
“Just do it, okay. It’s important”
Joan flipped channels and watched. She wasn’t really ready to pay attention to the idle gossip peddled by E. She was pining, missing Nathan. But that was until she saw the ring. Her engagement ring on the finger of a rich middle aged fan of Nathan’s. The story said he’d sold the ring on eBay at half the price he’d paid for it. She was livid.
She couldn’t believe he could do such a thing. No wonder he’d been so calm about it. She’d been nothing but a fling right? Nothing but a plaything to be enjoyed until he grew tired. Well thank God she’d left him before he’d been able to dump her. Damn! He was IMPOSSIBLE!
She kept her thoughts in this frame of mind for a good amount of time by remembering all the good times they’d had, and forcing herself to believe they were all lies. Lies! All of them. But how could he be so callous? That was just evil, to make a public mockery of their relationship like that. She couldn’t forgive him this time. That was impossible. But she could go over to his house and give him a rather sizable slice of her mind. Yes. That’s what she would do. She got into HER car (he’d left it with her, the more to be able to mock her she now suspected). Well she wasn’t going to have it. She’d leave his hunk of trash parked outside his house after he’d heard her out. And hear her out he would.
She leapt out of her car as she got to his drive. She ran down the rest of it, and knocked angrily on his door. He looked as if he’d been expecting her, she thought. Whatever.
“Sweetheart”, he said, and she fought hard to steel herself against his onslaught. He didn’t know how hard it made things for her. Sweetheart. After selling her ring. She composed herself.
“Hello Nathan, I’m really mad at you.”
“That’s why you left, isn’t it?” Nathan asked, and she boiled over.
“You sold our engagement ring on eBay!” she screamed.
He didn’t say anything.
Then she broke the floodgates. As usual, he let it all wash over him. He realised he’d let himself get too used to her petulance.
“Be quiet,” he said.
She shut up, stunned.
“What did you say?”
“I told you to be quiet,” he said quietly. “You always make a big deal of little things. If this is why you came” he said, producing the ring, “then you’ve seen it, you can leave.”
She sat down quietly, thoughts racing through her head. She was trying to make sense of what she’d just seen. He’d wanted her to notice him, she realised. Their relationship wasn’t the lie, the eBay sale was. And she’d fallen for it. She was sure he’d known all along that she really cared about him, and that anything that connected her to him was precious to her. So he’d laid down the bait and she’d come running. And now he was asking her to leave.
“But Nathan...” she stammered, “I never realised.”
“Goodbye Joan,” he said.
“Goodbye,” she said, the shame too much to bear, the finality crushing, the knowledge that she’d single-handedly destroyed their relationship bringing tears streaming down her face.
“Goodbye, sweetheart,” he said.

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