"laa la laaaaaahh luh, lah luh lah luh, Lah lu lah, luhh lah
"laa la laaaaaahh luh, lah luh lah luh, Lah lu lah, luhh lah
After 2 days, in the desert sun, my skin began to turn red,
After 3 days, in the desert fun, I was looking at a river bed,
And the story it told of a river that flowed, made me sad to think it was dead"
Flynn was very old school in some respects. He still drove an Aztek Pontiac. It was the same car that his dad had gifted him. For a handicapped citizen, Flynn was pretty good behind the wheel. There were few manual transmission cars still on the road, with fewer Pontiacs, and Flynn enjoyed moving the joystick style gear around in its socket. Right next to the gear was a bright blue citrus flavored drink that Flynn picked up every morning from the coffee joint closest to home.
For miles ahead there seemed to be a huge pile-up of cars on the expressway, and there was seemingly no end to forever and ever line…. Flynn sighed. He hated being stuck not knowing what to do next. It stirred up bad memories….
"You see I've been through the desert on a horse with no name…."
Leaning back slightly and adjusting his seat, Flynn realized that like all the others he was going to be stuck here for a while. To his right and just a little bit in front, was a beaten down truck that looked like it had taken far more trips than what it was built for. The next second he glanced in the rearview mirror, a few rows behind he couldn't help but spot the latest Toyota luxury segment vehicle to hit the market. They were designed to be noticed, after all. Flynn estimated himself to be somewhere between the two income brackets. This had not occurred merely through the normal course of events. Who exactly did mom and aunt Marie think they were kidding? Flynn knew where the money had come from and exactly why it was given to him. Even in death, he managed to get his way. It had to be him.
Flynn didn't consider himself a cynic. It was all too easy to paint a rosy picture of the world and then pretend that nothing bad ever happened. It was certainly stupid to try and convince yourself that everything was great and then be surprised when things don't go your way. Above all else, he was a realist. There was no need to shy away from what should have been the most obvious explanation.
Gretchen and Elliot Swartz were not good people. They were not particularly evil, nor vindictive in any way - but they were a far cry from being good people. Flynn knew that they couldn't have voluntarily parted with a sum of close to 10 million dollars without any press coverage. Nor was it the kind of story that one could tell at an evening dinner party, and look like angels. Besides, they had done enough of that kind of thing on a much bigger scale and the press was there to notice every detail of that event. It was around the time, when Flynn had received the last phone call. It felt like another life time so long ago, when he was a young and foolish man.
The authorities weren't fooled either. The only reason that mom didn't have the FBI hounding her was that it was a closed case. They had found the body, identified it and it had made the headlines. No prosecutor could make a name for himself from it, no detective could spend a career on it and no conspiracy theorist could claim that Heisenberg was still alive and handing out the blue stuff.
The fallout publicity had been bad, but after a while the public tends to forget, and both Skyler White and Flynn could walk the streets unrecognized once again.
But other facts were forgotten as well and the injustice rankled. Such as the fact that the people who came out looking like the altruistic heroes in his mother's eyes were the ones who had helped create him.
"In the desert, you cant remember your name, coz there ain't no one for to give you no pain…."
There was video footage of Gretchen saying on public television, that the "sweet kind brilliant man" that was once a part of Gray Matter technologies was no longer there. In the fallout since Heisenberg's death, that video had had skyrocketed in the number of views it received on Youtube. In fact, Holly had once shown him a list of top 10 Youtube videos, that formed some weird category of it's own, and this one was at number 3. Number 1 was a two hour long documentary about about some internet prodigy who had killed himself under duress from judicial overreach. Number 2 had something to do with scientologists. Flynn didn't remember what else was on that list.
A sharp honking sound from behind shook Flynn back to reality. He started up the engine, and the entire stream of traffic moved forward, but not for long. He went about 20 feet and had to park again.
Flynn rolled down the window and peered out side. He could just see around the curve of the road from here. There seemed to be a steady stream of smoke rising. Must be an accident that somebody managed to get themselves into. It could have been a fire that may have started at a gas station or maybe at a departmental store, but Flynn somehow found it hard to imagine that it would have been something so big that it would spilled out on to the road and caused this huge pile up. Despite the bad publicity, and rumors of a still somewhat active underground drug scene, Albuquerque was still mostly peaceful.
Flynn turned the song off. He knew that today was not a good day to get into a melancholic mood. He had work to do and a job to focus on.
