It's high time to start a revolution.
As the door shut behind him, the automated museum presentation started. Jonathan had been here before and knew what to expect, but it still startled him for a moment.
"What's happenin' baby? My name's Jimi. Welcome to the Rock Museum. We have sex, drugs, destruction, perversion. Everything that makes life ugly," the tinny recorded voice preached at him. Jonathan poked at the Jimi Hendrix dummy; amused at the stereotypical outfit they gave him. An ironic half smile turned up the corner of his mouth, a smile that never made it to his deep green eyes. If this were a presentation about anything else it would be funny. But it wasn't about something else. He was in the Dr. Righteous Museum of Rock Pathology, and he found no particular humor in this particular subject.
He walked further on through the dimly lit theater, paying vague attention to the show being played out for him but mainly looking out for the man he was there to meet. He stopped at the museum's final and biggest display, the re-enactment of the murder that rock star Robert Kilroy was convicted for. He watched it with disgust; the mechanical dummy dying over and over from the fatal blow the Kilroy dummy dealt it with an electric guitar. He was so absorbed in the drama before him that he did not notice the gray suited Roboto moving towards him in the concealing shadows.
After the crusader for musical morality had been "murdered" numerous times, he could not take it anymore. Who the hell does Righteous think he is, thought Jonathan as he ripped the guitar out of the dummy's hand. The idea that rock music was inherently evil was ridiculous, and this museum that school groups filled every day only served to perpetuate Righteous' lies. Wires pulled out along with the guitar and the exhibit immediately ground to a satisfying halt.
"Jonathan Chance."
He spun, guitar still in hand, to find a Roboto standing in front of him. If one of those things reported back that he had been seen here, all of their hard work would be ruined. He lifted the guitar up to smash the Roboto over the head, unconsciously imitating the way Kilroy had supposedly murdered that protester at his last concert. Instead of moving to stop him, the Roboto merely pulled at its own neck, trying to remove its faceplate. The unexpected move stopped Jonathan in his tracks, guitar raised high over his head.
"Kilroy?" He slowly lowered the guitar as the Roboto helmet came off and Robert Kilroy's face was revealed. He lowered the guitar to the ground, smiling in relief.
"Kilroy, it's really you."
"It's good to finally meet you Jonathan," Robert said, tucking the helmet under his arm. "I see you found my message about the Paradise Theatre." He held out a gloved hand to Jonathan.
"When I heard on the news you'd escaped from prison, I knew you saw it when I jammed Righteous' TV show," Jonathan answered, shaking the proffered hand while sizing Kilroy up. His dark curly hair was peppered with more gray hairs than Jonathan had remembered, and there were more wrinkles at the corners of his hazel eyes, but all in all he looked much as he did five years ago when he was thrown in jail.
"See it? You're the reason I broke out of there." Robert made an angry gesture with his hands as he talked. "All those months and years in that prison with those lousy robots and that greasy fried chicken. I never gave up hope. And when I heard your voice I knew that there was still someone out there who cared."
Jonathan quickly moved to correct him. It's not just me. They're thousands of us out there who've had it up to here with this censorship crap. They're ready to do something about it, and do it now.
At this Robert turned in to look more closely at his companion. His voice turned hard with caution. "Jonathan, If you're going to take righteous on you'd better be prepared 'cause he doesn't play games."
In response, Jonathan's eyes glittered with dangerous promises. "Oh, don't worry about that. I'm ready for him. Come on, a friend is waiting to take you to a safe house. I want you to see what we've done so far." Robert followed Jonathan out of the museum, thankful that he no longer had to wear that stifling Roboto helmet.
**************
"You lost him," he said quietly, almost too quietly. "Tell me how, with all the Robotos wired into our network, you could LOSE HIM!" Righteous screamed the last part of this sentence just inches from his assistant's face.
Vanish fought to stop his involuntary flinch and tried to explain. "He was on a prison transport ship, sir. There are hundreds of Robotos being shuttled back to the city for reassignment, repair. Sir, you've been down at the docks. It's chaos when a ship comes in, it would be easy for him to get lost in the confusion." Vanish trailed off, looking at his superior. Righteous had his ice cold blue eyes riveted to his own, searching for some sign that Vanish was trying to lie to him, trying to cover something up. Vanish gazed back at him as steadily as he could. He was nervous about his failure and afraid of Righteous' anger, but he had nothing to hide. After a moment, Righteous was satisfied and abruptly turned away. Vanish relaxed with an almost audible sigh of relief.
"Lt. Vanish, you received your promotion because you're the best man I have. If my best man cannot find one prisoner, what hope is there?" Righteous said sadly, obviously disappointed in Vanish's performance of his duties.
Vanish responded quickly. "Sir, I promise you Kilroy will not remain free for long. I have people all over the city searching for him as we speak. He can't hide forever."
"Good," Righteous responded, his deep voice filled with black pleasure at the thought of what he'd do to Kilroy once he was returned to prison. He glanced at the, tasteful, understated, and very expensive watch on his wrist. "It's almost time for the press conference. I have to remember to reiterate once again just how dangerous he is. This little escape of his might just work nicely for us. We'll look like saviors when we rescue the hard working people of Chicago from Kilroy. We'll portray him as a threat to all law-abiding citizens, and they'll be falling over themselves trying to be the one who turns him in." he glanced at his image in the mirror, soothing his dark blonde hair into place one last time before he turned to leave. He flashed his best grin at Vanish.
"It's showtime."
*****************
Robert sat in the dimly lit corner unnoticed, watching the activity going on around him with interest. He had lain awake many a night in prison, wondering exactly how Chance organized his fellow saboteurs in their fight to destroy Righteous and restore the rights taken away by the politicians on Righteous' payroll. People were coming in and out of the abandoned bar, sporadically, bring news and problems to be solved. Jonathan was at the center of it all, answering questions and issuing instructions.
When he'd first seen Chance in person Robert could not believe that this was the leader of the resistance against Righteous. A small man built like a Gymnast, he had dark blonde hair and a slight southern drawl. He carried no air of athourity, but it was clear that his gracefulness, his warm smile and easy self-confidence put people at ease and made him a natural leader. He was the perfect foil to Righteous' overpowering personality and false sincerity. When the last person turned to leave, Jon finally turned his attention to Robert.
Sorry about that. There are a lot of details to take care of these days." He pulled up a chair next to Kilroy, taking a long drink from a bottle of water. Jon spoke again with a smile, gesturing to his friend who had driven them both here from Paradise. "It wasn't too long ago that it was just you and me, Vinny, sitting around your living room bitching about how much this whole thing pissed us off."
"Yeah. Where were we supposed to pick up girls once the clubs all closed down?" Vinny joked, a heavy accent pegging him as a Chicago native.
Jonathan smiled briefly at his friend's jest, but his expression turned abruptly serious as if preoccupied with some other thought. He hesitated for a moment as if o think about it, then continued in a determined voice. "Kilroy," he started uncertainly, not wanting to offend him but needing an answer. "I have to know. What happened that last night. did you kill that kid?"
Within Robert anger flared momentarily at the question, but it quickly died. When would people stop accusing him of a crime he didn't commit? But Jonathan didn't know him, and he was risking his own safety by taking him in based on Robert's word alone. Jon was not at the concert and he had every right to know. When he spoke, however, he could not keep the bitterness out of his voice. "I never killed anybody, I was framed. That son of a bitch Righteous! He sacrificed one of his own men to put the final stamp of evil on me and rock 'n' roll."
Jon stared at him intently. "What really happened that night?"
Robert paced nervously as he spoke, unable to stand still and contain his frustration and anger at the memory. "I'll never forget it. Rumor had it that Righteous and his men were going to raid the concert, arrest me and everybody in the band. We didn't believe it-we didn't care. We knew we had to take that chance." He felt himself getting angry, and his voice getting louder. He stopped, took a deep breath, and continued more quietly. "Righteous' people stormed the stage, causing confusion and obscuring what they were doing from the audience. When all was said and done we were hauled off and arrested. The whole thing took only a few minutes," he trailed off in disgust.
Jon nodded his head solemnly. "I wondered how he could have pulled off something like that in front of 5,000 people and not get caught. Put enough people around the stage and nobody on the floor would see a thing. So we can add murder to his list of crimes." His eyes conveyed the confidence Rob was hoping to see. Jonathan believed him.
With relief he noticed that Jon glanced at his surroundings, abruptly changing the subject and considering the matter closed. "This place used to be a speakeasy back in the '20s. We have a number of places around the city where we meet, but I've always liked this one. It was built for secrecy, so the bar could operate away from the prying eyes of the prohibitionists. There are a few ways to get in and out of here without anyone noticing, and there are rooms upstairs where barmaids used to. entertain their guests," Jon said with a sly smile. "I think it's a perfect place you to stay awhile. We fixed up one of the rooms with a bed, and clean sheets. and our electrical wizards tapped into the main power system, so we have working lights. The only thing we weren't able to crank up was the oil furnace, so I'm afraid you'll be stuck with cold water to shower with."
"Please don't apologize. What you've been able to accomplish here is remarkable. I don't know how to thank you." Rob started, but Jon cut him off.
"No need to thank me. You were accused of a crime you didn't commit and you broke a law that should never have been passed in the first place. Anything we can do for you is our pleasure. Besides, you've become a hero to many people out there. Your escape has boosted everyone's morale. This is a major victory for us."
Rob smiled and nodded in agreement. As a public figure he was used to being in the spotlight, though never before had it included hiding from the law. If they wanted to use him as a rally around, he'd play the part. but he had just one favor to ask in return.
"Jonathan. do you think there's any way that I can contact my wife and let her know I'm ok?" He watched Jon's eyebrows come together as he considered the request. After a moment, he nodded his confirmation.
"Sure," he said glancing at his friend. "Vinny, do you think you could take care of this?" After he got a nod of confirmation, he turned back to Kilroy and asked, "What's the message?"
Now it was Rob's turn to think. He needed something short and sweet, yet something she would know came from him. He turned to the table and picked up a piece of paper to scribble a note on. He wrote, folded it in half and handed to Vinny, a look of deep gratitude on his face. "I wrote your address on the back. Thank you so much for doing this."
Vinny smiled; it was obvious to see how much Kilroy still loved his wife. "It's my pleasure."
As Jonathan was leading Kilroy up the stairs, Vinny could not resist the temptation and peeked at the note he had been handed to deliver. He read it briefly, shrugged mentally, and left to complete his night's work.
Once back at the main meetinghouse, Vinny found Hope there, working as usual. A woman who'd been in the organization for almost 6 months now, she was a giant help to him. She was always there to do any chore he asked, and at almost any time he asked. She made false the saying 'it's hard to get good help these days'.
"Hope, You're here," Vinny said with relief. "Can you do a favor for me? Something's come up and I was supposed to deliver a package to a contact we have at Leona's. Could you.?" She held her hand for it before the sentence was completed.
"No problem," she said easily. Vinny sighed, grateful that there was one less detail left for him to worry over.
"Thanks a million. You don't know what a help this is." She smiled at him, her green eyes regarding him kindly. They continued to talk as they both went outside to their separate destinations.
"Vinny, You know I'm happy to help," Hope said. "I wish sometimes I could do more"
"You do more than enough already. I don't want to push my luck," he joked. She smiled again and waved her goodbye as they headed off in different directions.
****************
Robert, left alone for the evening, didn't know what to do. It had been so long since he had been able to do whatever he wanted when he wanted to that he was unsure where to begin. Although it would be unwise for him to leave the building, the giddy feeling of freedom was difficult to contain. No locked doors, no listening to Righteous' sermons, no Robotos watching him. Compared to jail this was paradise.
The knowledge that his wife was just a cab ride away, and that there was no one to stop him from going to her, was almost too much to bear. He knew that he couldn't go of course, but the mere fact that it was possible made him miss her even more than he had in years. Before, layers of guards and barbed wire stood between them, now fear for both their lives kept him away. He needed to do something to get his mind off such thoughts.
He looked at the television sitting in the corner and rejected the idea of watching it immediately, for he was way too restless to sit still for long. Robert decided to explore his surroundings, as he was likely to be spending a lot of time there. The bar was not large, taking up just two floors and a finished basement. If he stood in the front doorway looking in he could see most of the first floor, which was dominated by the main room. It was a large open area with wooden floors, some old round tables and chairs scattered around it. Looking about, he could almost imagine it filled with hundreds of people, laughing and dancing the night away. If he strained hard he could almost imagine he heard the ragtime music and smelled the bathtub gin. The racks behind the bar still had some glasses lined up, ready for use, but the bottles of whatever they sold here were long gone.
Directly to his left was a stairway leading to the second floor. There were a half a dozen rooms up there, all but one seeming to be bedrooms, plus a bathroom with a shower attachment fitted to the old claw footed tub. One of the rooms had obviously been used as an office, as there was a wonderful old roll top desk that had some yellowed papers strewn on it. The place looked as if it had been abandoned in a hurry, and the occupants could come back any moment. It was ridiculous, of course, as that was 70 years ago, but their spirit still inhabited the place. It felt comfortable to be there, and it seemed appropriate that Jonathan's group used this place. It had always been a place of resistance, then as now.
The most amazing thing to him, however, was the old upright piano standing forgotten in the far corner of the main room. He ran his hand along it gently, respect for the old instrument making his touch light. If only it worked, he thought. To be able to play again, after all this time. it was a dream he hardly dared to entertain. The piano was ancient, and probably damaged beyond repair. The bar felt warm and dry, though, and it made him hopeful that the piano had not sustained too much damage, since humidity was lethal to wooden instruments.
He hit a few keys, and was rewarded with some sound. It was horribly out of tune, but as long as the thing produced some sound there was something he could work with. Tuning a piano without the proper tools is very difficult, but not impossible, and very time consuming. It looked to him as if he'd have ample time to work on it. He made a mental note to ask Jonathan about getting some of the things he'd need to fix it the next time he saw him.
Wandering on, he found his way to the rooftop. The view from here was anything but impressive, surrounded by squat ugly abandoned buildings. There was no view of downtown Chicago although he knew it lay just to the north. But the air was unusually cool, and the sky was clear enough to see some stars even with the urban light pollution.
It had literally been years since he had been able to sit and look at the stars. Thinking back on it, he realized that in prison they were never allowed outside. The recreation area was just a large indoor space, and during his escape he had climbed up many levels just to get to the deck of the prison ship. His cell didn't have any windows of any sort. He stayed up there for hours, simply enjoying the fresh air and open space, not thinking of much of anything at all.
************
Jonathan waited impatiently for the door to open, shifting from one foot to the other. Finally a familiar face presented itself.
"Well, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" This was not the greeting he was hoping for. The look on his girlfriends face was a strange mixture of emotions he could not read.
He leaned against the door jam and smiled at her in what he hoped was his most winning way. "Hi there, Sam. I was just thinking about you and I thought I'd drop by"
"You were, were you? It seems to me you never come by anymore unless you want something." Her voice was so chilly it made him wince.
"I guess I deserve that. I haven't been around much lately," he said as he glanced over his shoulder, a movement she noted with curiosity. "Listen, can I come in?" She responded by opening the door wider and stepping aside.
He entered her apartment and seated himself on the couch. She stood by the coffee table with he arms crossed. After a moment of silence where she waited for him to say something, she jumped right in to what was bothering her.
"I tried calling you last night and you weren't home. Where were you?" She asked, watching him closely as he screwed up his face trying to remember.
"Let's see, I got off work at seven. got home and jumped in the shower. I went to make dinner and realized there was no food in the house so I had to run out to the supermarket. It was almost nine before I ate." He finished with chagrin, his lie sounding hollow even in his own ears.
"Jon I called you later than that. I got jour answering machine," Samantha frowned at him, not allowing him to escape that easily.
Jonathan felt he had no choice but to continue on the same path. "If you called after eleven I was dead asleep. You know how I never her the phone." She merely nodded. He cocked his head to one side, looking at her. He knew she didn't believe him. Unfortunately, this was not the first time this had happened, but he'd never seen her so angry before. He rose from the couch and walked over to where she was standing. Before he could ask her what was wrong the phone rang. Samantha answered it with annoyance.
"Hello? Hold on." She held the phone out to Jonathan. "It's Vinny." Before he could say hello Vinny started in.
"Jon, thank god I found you. Turn on Channel 9 right now."
Something in the tone of Vinny's voice sent shivers down Jon's spine. He grabbed the remote off the coffee table and flipped the TV on.
"-onathan Chance is wanted for aiding and abetting the escape of convicted murderer Robert Kilroy. Chance is seen here captured on MMM video attempting to disrupt one of Dr. Righteous' record burnings earlier this month. If you have any information on the whereabouts of this criminal please call 577-TIPS. All calls will be kept confidential and any tip that leads to an arrest and conviction will be eligible for a $10,000 reward."
Across the line came Vinny's voice. "Jon?"
"Yeah, I see it," Jonathan responded mechanically. He looked on in stunned silence as that segment of the news ended with 5-year-old footage of Kilroy being led away to jail in handcuffs.
"Jon.." Vinny started gingerly, hating what he was about to say. "You know what you have to do, right? If you don't leave now you'll be in jail by daybreak." He waited as he got nothing but silence on the other end of the line. When Jonathan finally answered him, his voice sounded dry with defeat.
"Yeah, fine. Call Anne and see if she can do it tonight."
"You gonna be ok?" Vinny asked, concerned for his friend. They knew eventually this would happen and they knew what to do, but even knowing that could not prepare him for the fact that his whole life as he knew it was over.
"I'll be fine. I'll be out of here in two minutes. I'll meet you later."
"Sure." Vinny hesitated for a moment "Jonathan. I'm sorry."
"So am I, Vinny. So am I." He hung up the phone and looked up to see Samantha staring at him in disbelief.
"Jonathan? Did you really help him escape?" she asked. Instead of the supportive tone he'd hoped for, she sounded angry and confused.
Jonathan cursed under his breath. He was dreading this, the moment when he had to answer all of these questions. Even though he knew this was coming, he still didn't know what to say. He understood how she felt - over the months he had gotten more and more involved with the resistance, and as a consequence had grown away from her. He would disappear for days, and after standing her up countless times no excuse he gave would be believable. There were just no good answers to those questions other than the truth, and he wasn't prepared to give her that.
Jonathan tried to hedge the question as best as possible, but she was not allowing it. "There's a logical explanation for everything-" he started, but she cut him off angrily.
"Please tell me. I'd love to hear it." Her voice was indeed angry, yet hopeful at the same time. A part of her still believed that there had to be some logical reason for all of this. She prayed for him to say something, anything that she could grasp onto.
What she got instead was stone silence. He couldn't make up some lie for her, for she'd seen the same newscast he had. So it was tell her all, or tell her nothing. He ached to reveal everything, share his dreams and fears with her. But then she would be involved, an accessory to the numerous crimes he had perpetrated in the course of his resistance work. Entangling her in his problems was the last thing he wanted. Jonathan sighed, and for the first time that night she realized how tired he looked. He ran one hand through his hair as he paced the floor. After a moment he turned to face her and took a deep breath, as if he were about to plunge under water.
"Would you believe me when I say I can't tell you?" Jon responded, hoping against hope that she would let the matter rest.
No such luck. She repeated her question again desperately. "Did you help him escape, Jon? Him, a convicted murderer?"
Jonathan suddenly realized that she believed the lies spouted by Righteous. He answered her angrily, "He didn't kill anyone, he was framed."
"And how do you know that, Jon? Did he tell you he didn't do it and you just believed him?" Jen responded sarcastically.
"Yes, I do believe him." He continued on, growing angrier by the minute at the look of disbelief on her face. "He didn't kill that kid. And even if he did, does that make Righteous' laws any easier to swallow? The man has taken away our freedom of expression, a right guaranteed to us by our founding fathers over 200 years ago. No one can take that away from me without a fight."
She shook her head in incredulity. "You're crazy for getting mixed up in this, Jonathan. This isn't your fight."
He tried one last time to reason with her. " Samantha, it IS my fight, mine and yours and everyone else's. Ignoring it won't make it go away." He stopped, a melancholy smile on his face. "Besides, it's a little too late for me to do that now." He faced her hopefully, wanting her to agree with him, say that she understood and would stand by him. But all he got in response was a look full of accusations.
Samantha couldn't believe what she was hearing. How could he keep her in the dark about something so important? She needed to know what was happening, and she insisted upon more answers. "How long has this been going on? And exactly how long were you going to keep it a secret from me?"
He refused to answer her, disappointment coloring his voice. "Look, Samantha . if all you want to do is argue I don't have the time for it. I have to go." He turned to leave, half expecting her to call after him. The door closed in the lock without a word from her. He paused for a moment in the hallway, giving her one last chance. When he had waited a handful of heartbeats he continued out the building, never looking back.
**************
Across town Molly read the note for the hundredth time. Hope and despair warred inside her. Could it really be from him? She had begun to give up hope. His face was all over the video, and it seemed impossible that he could elude Righteous for long. It certainly looked like his handwriting, but that could be forged all too easily. Besides, who else other than Robert would have known to write this? Yet the possibility that Righteous had gotten personal information from him to use against him was too real for her to ignore.
Molly, Everything's ok. Play the birthday tape
and think of me.. I love you.
No one else knew about that tape. Right after they had gotten married and Robert was just starting out, he had written Molly a song because he could not afford to purchase a birthday gift for her. It was just a home recording of him on his piano. and it was the most wonderful gift she'd ever received. She had told no one else that he had done this, not even her sister, for she felt it was a very special and private gift and did not want to share it with anyone else. She knew her husband had never told anyone else either. confused, she folded the note and stuck it in her pocket. She walked into the bedroom and moved the mattress aside from the box spring. A flap of the box spring's material had been cut away and later replaced, making a crude storage place. A few lonely audiocassettes lie wedged between the springs, unnoticed when Righteous and his Robotos had searched her home all those years ago. She took the tape over to her answering machine and played it, listening to her husband's sweet voice sing to her through the tiny speaker. With tears in her eyes, she breathed a silent prayer for his safety.
***********
Vinny let himself into Jonathan's small apartment. It was so barren of personal affects it looked as if no one actually lived there. All of the things Jonathan treasured - his cd's, sheet music and guitar - were hidden in a storage room he paid for, cash in advance, and registered under a fake name. Over the months as the resistance grew he had slowly gotten rid of most whatever other personal items he had, until all that the apartment contained was minimal furniture and his clothes. Vinny had teased him about this, saying he was being paranoid and living like a soldier in a barracks. Now he reflected that it was a good thing he did. all Vinny had to do was throw Jon's clothes and toiletries in a bag and go. Luckily the Robotos outside the building who were to watch for Jonathan were doing just that - watching for Jonathan. They did nothing to bar his entry and once inside there was no one watching the apartment.
Taking no chances, he worked in the dark with only the streetlight to illuminate his movements. In minutes Vinny was done and gone.
**************
Anne stretched, straightening out the kinks that developed in her back from long hours at the computer screen. She hated the night shift - it was spooky to be in an office building late at night. Her telephone rang, cutting though the silence.
"Hello, tech support, Anne speaking." "Anne, its Vinny. What's up?" Like a shot of morning coffee she was instantly alert. Vinny never called her at work. If he did something must be very wrong. She strove to keep her voice light in case anyone else walked by.
"Vinny. nothing much. What's up by you?"
"Anne, I have a favor to ask you. You know that afghan you knitted for our friend last month? Someone else wants you to do one for him." So. Someone else was in danger of being arrested by Righteous. She sighed, thinking that this was a job she was having to perform more and more often.
The euphemism "knitting an afghan" came to represent wiping someone's records out of the MMM database because it would throw a very effective blanket of secrecy over that person. It was an irrevocable action though, because once you were out of the system a new MMM ID could only be issued by applying to the federal government for one, a lengthy process.
People rarely realized just how often you used that ID unknowingly and how closely the government could track you with it. Every time you used your library card, rented a movie or parked your car in a public lot it was noted down for whomever in the government cared to look to find out about it. She didn't even want to think about how much they knew about you from your bank account and employment files. Without an ID you could not get a driver's license, rent an apartment, or hold down a job. On the plus side, and this was the reason such a drastic measure was worth taking, without an ID in the system it was much more difficult for a Roboto to recognize you. When it went to access a picture of you none would be available and they passed you by, assuming you to be a foreign visitor. Only if a Roboto was alerted to your behavior for some reason would it attempt to access the criminal files, which Anne could not affect. Whoever it was she was wiping from the system would still have to limit their movements around the city, being extremely careful, but it would allow them a modicum of freedom. At this point, even what little she could for them would be welcome.
In the end it was a devastating blow in this highly paranoid society, for a person without ID could not do much. Without an ID, a regular life was almost impossible.
She finally answered with an air of disinterest. "Sure Vinny, no problem. You know those little tags I put on there that say "Made with love by Anne for 'blank'? Who's name should I personalize it with?"
"Bob," he said carefully. Bob? Her mind raced. She knew no one named Bob. unless he meant Jonathan Chance. They had given him that code name months ago, when they first felt that secrecy was needed.
"Bob wants an afghan?" She wanted to make sure she understood what he wanted her to do. If Jon was in trouble, there were many people including herself who would also be in jeopardy if he were captured.
"I know, you never thought you'd be knitting him an afghan. But his place is very cold this time of year so he really does need one." Vinny understood her hesitancy, but he was trying to communicate the urgency of the situation without letting on who they were actually taking about. You never knew who was listening in on phone conversations when you worked in MMM Regional Operations.
Anne sighed in resignation. "If Bob wants an afghan, an afghan is what he'll get."
"Thanks a lot. You think you can start on it after work?"
"Sure, no problem. I'll give you a ring when it's done."
"Anne, you're the best," Vinny told her, his voice thick with relief. She was invaluable to their operation, and he knew how lucky they were to have someone with her integrity and access to information as an ally. Vinny realized that if she were ever caught she most probably would be jailed for life. He was hoping she knew just how much they valued her help, and perhaps she did. What he got from the other end of the phone, however, was a snicker.
"I'll bet you say that to all the girls, Vinny."
After they hung up, she immediately started to do a search on Jonathan's MMM ID code. When she accessed the system it was already highlighted in bright red, a code that the person was wanted by MMM authorities. If the code was activated he was to be picked up at once. If she had any question that Vinny was referring to Jonathan, it was gone now. She did a system wide search for anywhere his ID occurred and one by one wiped them out. Within the hour, Jonathan Chance no longer officially existed.
**************
The echoes of his scream were still ringing off the walls of his bedroom when he came fully awake. Vanish sat up in bed and looked around the room wild-eyed for a moment until he realized where he was. His shoulders slumped in relief, and his ragged breathing calmed. He'd had one of his dreams again, and he realized with anxiety that they were becoming more frequent. In this one he was in one of Righteous' interrogation rooms, but instead of overseeing a prisoner's questioning, he himself was strapped into Hyde's chair. Both Hyde and Righteous were hovering around him, barraging him with questions he could not answer. Thirsty, dirty and sleep deprived, he would have said anything they wanted to hear at that point, anything to make them stop. But no matter what he said they were not satisfied, and their torture continued. The desperation he felt left a bitter taste in his mouth even now.
He shook his head to clear the image from his mind, and he got out of bed. After a dream such as this, there would be no more sleep for him tonight. He pulled a bathrobe around himself and shuffled into the kitchen to make some tea, there to contemplate the latest in his series of nightmares.
*****************
Robert gripped the lamp tightly, creeping down the stairway as quietly as possible. He had heard some sounds coming from downstairs as he was drifting off to sleep and instantly came alert. He grabbed the first thing he could find as a weapon and went down to meet whoever was coming into the bar at one in the morning.
The person entering the bar was not attempting to hide their movements. The
overhead light flared to life and Robert watched as Jonathan sank into a chair and leaned forward, head in hands. He looked desolate and very much alone.
Rob stood there for a moment awkwardly, feeling as if he were spying on him. He had no idea if Jonathan would want company, or want to be seen by anyone that way. He walked back up the stairs, put the lamp down, and returned again very nosily. This time, Jonathan was on his feet looking up toward him.
Robert yawned and stretched exaggeratedly. "Hey there, Jonathan. what time is it?"
When Jon responded Robert could hear the strain in his voice. "It's late. I'm sorry I woke you, go on back to bed."
"Don't worry about it. I was having trouble sleeping anyway." He pulled up a chair and sat down in it. Jonathan reseated himself in his chair wearily.
Rob probed gently, trying to find out what was bothering his companion. "Long day?"
"The longest." A long pause, then a question. "Kilroy, when you were in jail did you have any contact with your wife?"
Robert was a bit surprised at the non sequitur, but he answered it nonetheless. "Some. She wasn't allowed to visit, but she sent me some letters. They were opened when I got them, so I knew Righteous read them as they came in. She must've known that too because they were always kind of cold and impersonal."
"But she stood by you through it all," Jon said softly. Robert heard the disappointment in his voice, but did not know why it was there. He just answered Jonathan's question with as much tact as he could.
"Yes, she did. But we've been married for a long time, you know." In response, Jonathan merely nodded. He looked up at that moment as if he heard something and went quickly to the window. A moment later Robert also heard footsteps and Jon opened the door to admit Vinny. "Any problems?" Jonathan asked him as he took a duffel bag from him.
"Nah. Those Robotos are dumb as a lamppost. The only person they were told to look for was you, so I breezed in and out of there."
"There are Robotos looking for Jonathan?"
Vinny turned to answer Robert's question. "Yeah, didn't you see the news?" He gestured to the tv they had set up in the main area. "Jonathan got fingered so he's got to stay out of sight for a while. Looks like you're going to have a housemate."
Robert shook his head, a worried look on his face. "I didn't see it. I didn't turn that thing on at all tonight. I've seen enough tv for one lifetime." Jonathan thought about the propaganda Kilroy was forced to view while in prison, and he believed he'd feel the same way if it were him.
Jon confirmed what Vinny had said. "Well, I saw it. With my face on the evening news I can't stay at home anymore. There's enough room here for both of us, and if I do need to leave it's remote enough that I can pretty much stay out of sight."
Robert rose and walked over to him, a sad look on his face. "Jonathan, I'm so sorry this had to happen." Jonathan looked at him, slightly surprised. He had not expected such sympathy from a man who he barely knew. On the other hand, he and Kilroy were now in the same boat. Only a man who has lost everything can fully understand what that feels like.
Jonathan nodded his thanks, and responded. "It was inevitable, I guess."
Robert picked up one of Jon's bags and carried it up the stairs for him, calling down to Jonathan. "You can have the room next to mine . as long as you don't snore."
A shadow of a smile passed over Jon's face. He bid Vinny good night and followed Robert up to his new home.
As the door shut behind him, the automated museum presentation started. Jonathan had been here before and knew what to expect, but it still startled him for a moment.
"What's happenin' baby? My name's Jimi. Welcome to the Rock Museum. We have sex, drugs, destruction, perversion. Everything that makes life ugly," the tinny recorded voice preached at him. Jonathan poked at the Jimi Hendrix dummy; amused at the stereotypical outfit they gave him. An ironic half smile turned up the corner of his mouth, a smile that never made it to his deep green eyes. If this were a presentation about anything else it would be funny. But it wasn't about something else. He was in the Dr. Righteous Museum of Rock Pathology, and he found no particular humor in this particular subject.
He walked further on through the dimly lit theater, paying vague attention to the show being played out for him but mainly looking out for the man he was there to meet. He stopped at the museum's final and biggest display, the re-enactment of the murder that rock star Robert Kilroy was convicted for. He watched it with disgust; the mechanical dummy dying over and over from the fatal blow the Kilroy dummy dealt it with an electric guitar. He was so absorbed in the drama before him that he did not notice the gray suited Roboto moving towards him in the concealing shadows.
After the crusader for musical morality had been "murdered" numerous times, he could not take it anymore. Who the hell does Righteous think he is, thought Jonathan as he ripped the guitar out of the dummy's hand. The idea that rock music was inherently evil was ridiculous, and this museum that school groups filled every day only served to perpetuate Righteous' lies. Wires pulled out along with the guitar and the exhibit immediately ground to a satisfying halt.
"Jonathan Chance."
He spun, guitar still in hand, to find a Roboto standing in front of him. If one of those things reported back that he had been seen here, all of their hard work would be ruined. He lifted the guitar up to smash the Roboto over the head, unconsciously imitating the way Kilroy had supposedly murdered that protester at his last concert. Instead of moving to stop him, the Roboto merely pulled at its own neck, trying to remove its faceplate. The unexpected move stopped Jonathan in his tracks, guitar raised high over his head.
"Kilroy?" He slowly lowered the guitar as the Roboto helmet came off and Robert Kilroy's face was revealed. He lowered the guitar to the ground, smiling in relief.
"Kilroy, it's really you."
"It's good to finally meet you Jonathan," Robert said, tucking the helmet under his arm. "I see you found my message about the Paradise Theatre." He held out a gloved hand to Jonathan.
"When I heard on the news you'd escaped from prison, I knew you saw it when I jammed Righteous' TV show," Jonathan answered, shaking the proffered hand while sizing Kilroy up. His dark curly hair was peppered with more gray hairs than Jonathan had remembered, and there were more wrinkles at the corners of his hazel eyes, but all in all he looked much as he did five years ago when he was thrown in jail.
"See it? You're the reason I broke out of there." Robert made an angry gesture with his hands as he talked. "All those months and years in that prison with those lousy robots and that greasy fried chicken. I never gave up hope. And when I heard your voice I knew that there was still someone out there who cared."
Jonathan quickly moved to correct him. It's not just me. They're thousands of us out there who've had it up to here with this censorship crap. They're ready to do something about it, and do it now.
At this Robert turned in to look more closely at his companion. His voice turned hard with caution. "Jonathan, If you're going to take righteous on you'd better be prepared 'cause he doesn't play games."
In response, Jonathan's eyes glittered with dangerous promises. "Oh, don't worry about that. I'm ready for him. Come on, a friend is waiting to take you to a safe house. I want you to see what we've done so far." Robert followed Jonathan out of the museum, thankful that he no longer had to wear that stifling Roboto helmet.
**************
"You lost him," he said quietly, almost too quietly. "Tell me how, with all the Robotos wired into our network, you could LOSE HIM!" Righteous screamed the last part of this sentence just inches from his assistant's face.
Vanish fought to stop his involuntary flinch and tried to explain. "He was on a prison transport ship, sir. There are hundreds of Robotos being shuttled back to the city for reassignment, repair. Sir, you've been down at the docks. It's chaos when a ship comes in, it would be easy for him to get lost in the confusion." Vanish trailed off, looking at his superior. Righteous had his ice cold blue eyes riveted to his own, searching for some sign that Vanish was trying to lie to him, trying to cover something up. Vanish gazed back at him as steadily as he could. He was nervous about his failure and afraid of Righteous' anger, but he had nothing to hide. After a moment, Righteous was satisfied and abruptly turned away. Vanish relaxed with an almost audible sigh of relief.
"Lt. Vanish, you received your promotion because you're the best man I have. If my best man cannot find one prisoner, what hope is there?" Righteous said sadly, obviously disappointed in Vanish's performance of his duties.
Vanish responded quickly. "Sir, I promise you Kilroy will not remain free for long. I have people all over the city searching for him as we speak. He can't hide forever."
"Good," Righteous responded, his deep voice filled with black pleasure at the thought of what he'd do to Kilroy once he was returned to prison. He glanced at the, tasteful, understated, and very expensive watch on his wrist. "It's almost time for the press conference. I have to remember to reiterate once again just how dangerous he is. This little escape of his might just work nicely for us. We'll look like saviors when we rescue the hard working people of Chicago from Kilroy. We'll portray him as a threat to all law-abiding citizens, and they'll be falling over themselves trying to be the one who turns him in." he glanced at his image in the mirror, soothing his dark blonde hair into place one last time before he turned to leave. He flashed his best grin at Vanish.
"It's showtime."
*****************
Robert sat in the dimly lit corner unnoticed, watching the activity going on around him with interest. He had lain awake many a night in prison, wondering exactly how Chance organized his fellow saboteurs in their fight to destroy Righteous and restore the rights taken away by the politicians on Righteous' payroll. People were coming in and out of the abandoned bar, sporadically, bring news and problems to be solved. Jonathan was at the center of it all, answering questions and issuing instructions.
When he'd first seen Chance in person Robert could not believe that this was the leader of the resistance against Righteous. A small man built like a Gymnast, he had dark blonde hair and a slight southern drawl. He carried no air of athourity, but it was clear that his gracefulness, his warm smile and easy self-confidence put people at ease and made him a natural leader. He was the perfect foil to Righteous' overpowering personality and false sincerity. When the last person turned to leave, Jon finally turned his attention to Robert.
Sorry about that. There are a lot of details to take care of these days." He pulled up a chair next to Kilroy, taking a long drink from a bottle of water. Jon spoke again with a smile, gesturing to his friend who had driven them both here from Paradise. "It wasn't too long ago that it was just you and me, Vinny, sitting around your living room bitching about how much this whole thing pissed us off."
"Yeah. Where were we supposed to pick up girls once the clubs all closed down?" Vinny joked, a heavy accent pegging him as a Chicago native.
Jonathan smiled briefly at his friend's jest, but his expression turned abruptly serious as if preoccupied with some other thought. He hesitated for a moment as if o think about it, then continued in a determined voice. "Kilroy," he started uncertainly, not wanting to offend him but needing an answer. "I have to know. What happened that last night. did you kill that kid?"
Within Robert anger flared momentarily at the question, but it quickly died. When would people stop accusing him of a crime he didn't commit? But Jonathan didn't know him, and he was risking his own safety by taking him in based on Robert's word alone. Jon was not at the concert and he had every right to know. When he spoke, however, he could not keep the bitterness out of his voice. "I never killed anybody, I was framed. That son of a bitch Righteous! He sacrificed one of his own men to put the final stamp of evil on me and rock 'n' roll."
Jon stared at him intently. "What really happened that night?"
Robert paced nervously as he spoke, unable to stand still and contain his frustration and anger at the memory. "I'll never forget it. Rumor had it that Righteous and his men were going to raid the concert, arrest me and everybody in the band. We didn't believe it-we didn't care. We knew we had to take that chance." He felt himself getting angry, and his voice getting louder. He stopped, took a deep breath, and continued more quietly. "Righteous' people stormed the stage, causing confusion and obscuring what they were doing from the audience. When all was said and done we were hauled off and arrested. The whole thing took only a few minutes," he trailed off in disgust.
Jon nodded his head solemnly. "I wondered how he could have pulled off something like that in front of 5,000 people and not get caught. Put enough people around the stage and nobody on the floor would see a thing. So we can add murder to his list of crimes." His eyes conveyed the confidence Rob was hoping to see. Jonathan believed him.
With relief he noticed that Jon glanced at his surroundings, abruptly changing the subject and considering the matter closed. "This place used to be a speakeasy back in the '20s. We have a number of places around the city where we meet, but I've always liked this one. It was built for secrecy, so the bar could operate away from the prying eyes of the prohibitionists. There are a few ways to get in and out of here without anyone noticing, and there are rooms upstairs where barmaids used to. entertain their guests," Jon said with a sly smile. "I think it's a perfect place you to stay awhile. We fixed up one of the rooms with a bed, and clean sheets. and our electrical wizards tapped into the main power system, so we have working lights. The only thing we weren't able to crank up was the oil furnace, so I'm afraid you'll be stuck with cold water to shower with."
"Please don't apologize. What you've been able to accomplish here is remarkable. I don't know how to thank you." Rob started, but Jon cut him off.
"No need to thank me. You were accused of a crime you didn't commit and you broke a law that should never have been passed in the first place. Anything we can do for you is our pleasure. Besides, you've become a hero to many people out there. Your escape has boosted everyone's morale. This is a major victory for us."
Rob smiled and nodded in agreement. As a public figure he was used to being in the spotlight, though never before had it included hiding from the law. If they wanted to use him as a rally around, he'd play the part. but he had just one favor to ask in return.
"Jonathan. do you think there's any way that I can contact my wife and let her know I'm ok?" He watched Jon's eyebrows come together as he considered the request. After a moment, he nodded his confirmation.
"Sure," he said glancing at his friend. "Vinny, do you think you could take care of this?" After he got a nod of confirmation, he turned back to Kilroy and asked, "What's the message?"
Now it was Rob's turn to think. He needed something short and sweet, yet something she would know came from him. He turned to the table and picked up a piece of paper to scribble a note on. He wrote, folded it in half and handed to Vinny, a look of deep gratitude on his face. "I wrote your address on the back. Thank you so much for doing this."
Vinny smiled; it was obvious to see how much Kilroy still loved his wife. "It's my pleasure."
As Jonathan was leading Kilroy up the stairs, Vinny could not resist the temptation and peeked at the note he had been handed to deliver. He read it briefly, shrugged mentally, and left to complete his night's work.
Once back at the main meetinghouse, Vinny found Hope there, working as usual. A woman who'd been in the organization for almost 6 months now, she was a giant help to him. She was always there to do any chore he asked, and at almost any time he asked. She made false the saying 'it's hard to get good help these days'.
"Hope, You're here," Vinny said with relief. "Can you do a favor for me? Something's come up and I was supposed to deliver a package to a contact we have at Leona's. Could you.?" She held her hand for it before the sentence was completed.
"No problem," she said easily. Vinny sighed, grateful that there was one less detail left for him to worry over.
"Thanks a million. You don't know what a help this is." She smiled at him, her green eyes regarding him kindly. They continued to talk as they both went outside to their separate destinations.
"Vinny, You know I'm happy to help," Hope said. "I wish sometimes I could do more"
"You do more than enough already. I don't want to push my luck," he joked. She smiled again and waved her goodbye as they headed off in different directions.
****************
Robert, left alone for the evening, didn't know what to do. It had been so long since he had been able to do whatever he wanted when he wanted to that he was unsure where to begin. Although it would be unwise for him to leave the building, the giddy feeling of freedom was difficult to contain. No locked doors, no listening to Righteous' sermons, no Robotos watching him. Compared to jail this was paradise.
The knowledge that his wife was just a cab ride away, and that there was no one to stop him from going to her, was almost too much to bear. He knew that he couldn't go of course, but the mere fact that it was possible made him miss her even more than he had in years. Before, layers of guards and barbed wire stood between them, now fear for both their lives kept him away. He needed to do something to get his mind off such thoughts.
He looked at the television sitting in the corner and rejected the idea of watching it immediately, for he was way too restless to sit still for long. Robert decided to explore his surroundings, as he was likely to be spending a lot of time there. The bar was not large, taking up just two floors and a finished basement. If he stood in the front doorway looking in he could see most of the first floor, which was dominated by the main room. It was a large open area with wooden floors, some old round tables and chairs scattered around it. Looking about, he could almost imagine it filled with hundreds of people, laughing and dancing the night away. If he strained hard he could almost imagine he heard the ragtime music and smelled the bathtub gin. The racks behind the bar still had some glasses lined up, ready for use, but the bottles of whatever they sold here were long gone.
Directly to his left was a stairway leading to the second floor. There were a half a dozen rooms up there, all but one seeming to be bedrooms, plus a bathroom with a shower attachment fitted to the old claw footed tub. One of the rooms had obviously been used as an office, as there was a wonderful old roll top desk that had some yellowed papers strewn on it. The place looked as if it had been abandoned in a hurry, and the occupants could come back any moment. It was ridiculous, of course, as that was 70 years ago, but their spirit still inhabited the place. It felt comfortable to be there, and it seemed appropriate that Jonathan's group used this place. It had always been a place of resistance, then as now.
The most amazing thing to him, however, was the old upright piano standing forgotten in the far corner of the main room. He ran his hand along it gently, respect for the old instrument making his touch light. If only it worked, he thought. To be able to play again, after all this time. it was a dream he hardly dared to entertain. The piano was ancient, and probably damaged beyond repair. The bar felt warm and dry, though, and it made him hopeful that the piano had not sustained too much damage, since humidity was lethal to wooden instruments.
He hit a few keys, and was rewarded with some sound. It was horribly out of tune, but as long as the thing produced some sound there was something he could work with. Tuning a piano without the proper tools is very difficult, but not impossible, and very time consuming. It looked to him as if he'd have ample time to work on it. He made a mental note to ask Jonathan about getting some of the things he'd need to fix it the next time he saw him.
Wandering on, he found his way to the rooftop. The view from here was anything but impressive, surrounded by squat ugly abandoned buildings. There was no view of downtown Chicago although he knew it lay just to the north. But the air was unusually cool, and the sky was clear enough to see some stars even with the urban light pollution.
It had literally been years since he had been able to sit and look at the stars. Thinking back on it, he realized that in prison they were never allowed outside. The recreation area was just a large indoor space, and during his escape he had climbed up many levels just to get to the deck of the prison ship. His cell didn't have any windows of any sort. He stayed up there for hours, simply enjoying the fresh air and open space, not thinking of much of anything at all.
************
Jonathan waited impatiently for the door to open, shifting from one foot to the other. Finally a familiar face presented itself.
"Well, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" This was not the greeting he was hoping for. The look on his girlfriends face was a strange mixture of emotions he could not read.
He leaned against the door jam and smiled at her in what he hoped was his most winning way. "Hi there, Sam. I was just thinking about you and I thought I'd drop by"
"You were, were you? It seems to me you never come by anymore unless you want something." Her voice was so chilly it made him wince.
"I guess I deserve that. I haven't been around much lately," he said as he glanced over his shoulder, a movement she noted with curiosity. "Listen, can I come in?" She responded by opening the door wider and stepping aside.
He entered her apartment and seated himself on the couch. She stood by the coffee table with he arms crossed. After a moment of silence where she waited for him to say something, she jumped right in to what was bothering her.
"I tried calling you last night and you weren't home. Where were you?" She asked, watching him closely as he screwed up his face trying to remember.
"Let's see, I got off work at seven. got home and jumped in the shower. I went to make dinner and realized there was no food in the house so I had to run out to the supermarket. It was almost nine before I ate." He finished with chagrin, his lie sounding hollow even in his own ears.
"Jon I called you later than that. I got jour answering machine," Samantha frowned at him, not allowing him to escape that easily.
Jonathan felt he had no choice but to continue on the same path. "If you called after eleven I was dead asleep. You know how I never her the phone." She merely nodded. He cocked his head to one side, looking at her. He knew she didn't believe him. Unfortunately, this was not the first time this had happened, but he'd never seen her so angry before. He rose from the couch and walked over to where she was standing. Before he could ask her what was wrong the phone rang. Samantha answered it with annoyance.
"Hello? Hold on." She held the phone out to Jonathan. "It's Vinny." Before he could say hello Vinny started in.
"Jon, thank god I found you. Turn on Channel 9 right now."
Something in the tone of Vinny's voice sent shivers down Jon's spine. He grabbed the remote off the coffee table and flipped the TV on.
"-onathan Chance is wanted for aiding and abetting the escape of convicted murderer Robert Kilroy. Chance is seen here captured on MMM video attempting to disrupt one of Dr. Righteous' record burnings earlier this month. If you have any information on the whereabouts of this criminal please call 577-TIPS. All calls will be kept confidential and any tip that leads to an arrest and conviction will be eligible for a $10,000 reward."
Across the line came Vinny's voice. "Jon?"
"Yeah, I see it," Jonathan responded mechanically. He looked on in stunned silence as that segment of the news ended with 5-year-old footage of Kilroy being led away to jail in handcuffs.
"Jon.." Vinny started gingerly, hating what he was about to say. "You know what you have to do, right? If you don't leave now you'll be in jail by daybreak." He waited as he got nothing but silence on the other end of the line. When Jonathan finally answered him, his voice sounded dry with defeat.
"Yeah, fine. Call Anne and see if she can do it tonight."
"You gonna be ok?" Vinny asked, concerned for his friend. They knew eventually this would happen and they knew what to do, but even knowing that could not prepare him for the fact that his whole life as he knew it was over.
"I'll be fine. I'll be out of here in two minutes. I'll meet you later."
"Sure." Vinny hesitated for a moment "Jonathan. I'm sorry."
"So am I, Vinny. So am I." He hung up the phone and looked up to see Samantha staring at him in disbelief.
"Jonathan? Did you really help him escape?" she asked. Instead of the supportive tone he'd hoped for, she sounded angry and confused.
Jonathan cursed under his breath. He was dreading this, the moment when he had to answer all of these questions. Even though he knew this was coming, he still didn't know what to say. He understood how she felt - over the months he had gotten more and more involved with the resistance, and as a consequence had grown away from her. He would disappear for days, and after standing her up countless times no excuse he gave would be believable. There were just no good answers to those questions other than the truth, and he wasn't prepared to give her that.
Jonathan tried to hedge the question as best as possible, but she was not allowing it. "There's a logical explanation for everything-" he started, but she cut him off angrily.
"Please tell me. I'd love to hear it." Her voice was indeed angry, yet hopeful at the same time. A part of her still believed that there had to be some logical reason for all of this. She prayed for him to say something, anything that she could grasp onto.
What she got instead was stone silence. He couldn't make up some lie for her, for she'd seen the same newscast he had. So it was tell her all, or tell her nothing. He ached to reveal everything, share his dreams and fears with her. But then she would be involved, an accessory to the numerous crimes he had perpetrated in the course of his resistance work. Entangling her in his problems was the last thing he wanted. Jonathan sighed, and for the first time that night she realized how tired he looked. He ran one hand through his hair as he paced the floor. After a moment he turned to face her and took a deep breath, as if he were about to plunge under water.
"Would you believe me when I say I can't tell you?" Jon responded, hoping against hope that she would let the matter rest.
No such luck. She repeated her question again desperately. "Did you help him escape, Jon? Him, a convicted murderer?"
Jonathan suddenly realized that she believed the lies spouted by Righteous. He answered her angrily, "He didn't kill anyone, he was framed."
"And how do you know that, Jon? Did he tell you he didn't do it and you just believed him?" Jen responded sarcastically.
"Yes, I do believe him." He continued on, growing angrier by the minute at the look of disbelief on her face. "He didn't kill that kid. And even if he did, does that make Righteous' laws any easier to swallow? The man has taken away our freedom of expression, a right guaranteed to us by our founding fathers over 200 years ago. No one can take that away from me without a fight."
She shook her head in incredulity. "You're crazy for getting mixed up in this, Jonathan. This isn't your fight."
He tried one last time to reason with her. " Samantha, it IS my fight, mine and yours and everyone else's. Ignoring it won't make it go away." He stopped, a melancholy smile on his face. "Besides, it's a little too late for me to do that now." He faced her hopefully, wanting her to agree with him, say that she understood and would stand by him. But all he got in response was a look full of accusations.
Samantha couldn't believe what she was hearing. How could he keep her in the dark about something so important? She needed to know what was happening, and she insisted upon more answers. "How long has this been going on? And exactly how long were you going to keep it a secret from me?"
He refused to answer her, disappointment coloring his voice. "Look, Samantha . if all you want to do is argue I don't have the time for it. I have to go." He turned to leave, half expecting her to call after him. The door closed in the lock without a word from her. He paused for a moment in the hallway, giving her one last chance. When he had waited a handful of heartbeats he continued out the building, never looking back.
**************
Across town Molly read the note for the hundredth time. Hope and despair warred inside her. Could it really be from him? She had begun to give up hope. His face was all over the video, and it seemed impossible that he could elude Righteous for long. It certainly looked like his handwriting, but that could be forged all too easily. Besides, who else other than Robert would have known to write this? Yet the possibility that Righteous had gotten personal information from him to use against him was too real for her to ignore.
Molly, Everything's ok. Play the birthday tape
and think of me.. I love you.
No one else knew about that tape. Right after they had gotten married and Robert was just starting out, he had written Molly a song because he could not afford to purchase a birthday gift for her. It was just a home recording of him on his piano. and it was the most wonderful gift she'd ever received. She had told no one else that he had done this, not even her sister, for she felt it was a very special and private gift and did not want to share it with anyone else. She knew her husband had never told anyone else either. confused, she folded the note and stuck it in her pocket. She walked into the bedroom and moved the mattress aside from the box spring. A flap of the box spring's material had been cut away and later replaced, making a crude storage place. A few lonely audiocassettes lie wedged between the springs, unnoticed when Righteous and his Robotos had searched her home all those years ago. She took the tape over to her answering machine and played it, listening to her husband's sweet voice sing to her through the tiny speaker. With tears in her eyes, she breathed a silent prayer for his safety.
***********
Vinny let himself into Jonathan's small apartment. It was so barren of personal affects it looked as if no one actually lived there. All of the things Jonathan treasured - his cd's, sheet music and guitar - were hidden in a storage room he paid for, cash in advance, and registered under a fake name. Over the months as the resistance grew he had slowly gotten rid of most whatever other personal items he had, until all that the apartment contained was minimal furniture and his clothes. Vinny had teased him about this, saying he was being paranoid and living like a soldier in a barracks. Now he reflected that it was a good thing he did. all Vinny had to do was throw Jon's clothes and toiletries in a bag and go. Luckily the Robotos outside the building who were to watch for Jonathan were doing just that - watching for Jonathan. They did nothing to bar his entry and once inside there was no one watching the apartment.
Taking no chances, he worked in the dark with only the streetlight to illuminate his movements. In minutes Vinny was done and gone.
**************
Anne stretched, straightening out the kinks that developed in her back from long hours at the computer screen. She hated the night shift - it was spooky to be in an office building late at night. Her telephone rang, cutting though the silence.
"Hello, tech support, Anne speaking." "Anne, its Vinny. What's up?" Like a shot of morning coffee she was instantly alert. Vinny never called her at work. If he did something must be very wrong. She strove to keep her voice light in case anyone else walked by.
"Vinny. nothing much. What's up by you?"
"Anne, I have a favor to ask you. You know that afghan you knitted for our friend last month? Someone else wants you to do one for him." So. Someone else was in danger of being arrested by Righteous. She sighed, thinking that this was a job she was having to perform more and more often.
The euphemism "knitting an afghan" came to represent wiping someone's records out of the MMM database because it would throw a very effective blanket of secrecy over that person. It was an irrevocable action though, because once you were out of the system a new MMM ID could only be issued by applying to the federal government for one, a lengthy process.
People rarely realized just how often you used that ID unknowingly and how closely the government could track you with it. Every time you used your library card, rented a movie or parked your car in a public lot it was noted down for whomever in the government cared to look to find out about it. She didn't even want to think about how much they knew about you from your bank account and employment files. Without an ID you could not get a driver's license, rent an apartment, or hold down a job. On the plus side, and this was the reason such a drastic measure was worth taking, without an ID in the system it was much more difficult for a Roboto to recognize you. When it went to access a picture of you none would be available and they passed you by, assuming you to be a foreign visitor. Only if a Roboto was alerted to your behavior for some reason would it attempt to access the criminal files, which Anne could not affect. Whoever it was she was wiping from the system would still have to limit their movements around the city, being extremely careful, but it would allow them a modicum of freedom. At this point, even what little she could for them would be welcome.
In the end it was a devastating blow in this highly paranoid society, for a person without ID could not do much. Without an ID, a regular life was almost impossible.
She finally answered with an air of disinterest. "Sure Vinny, no problem. You know those little tags I put on there that say "Made with love by Anne for 'blank'? Who's name should I personalize it with?"
"Bob," he said carefully. Bob? Her mind raced. She knew no one named Bob. unless he meant Jonathan Chance. They had given him that code name months ago, when they first felt that secrecy was needed.
"Bob wants an afghan?" She wanted to make sure she understood what he wanted her to do. If Jon was in trouble, there were many people including herself who would also be in jeopardy if he were captured.
"I know, you never thought you'd be knitting him an afghan. But his place is very cold this time of year so he really does need one." Vinny understood her hesitancy, but he was trying to communicate the urgency of the situation without letting on who they were actually taking about. You never knew who was listening in on phone conversations when you worked in MMM Regional Operations.
Anne sighed in resignation. "If Bob wants an afghan, an afghan is what he'll get."
"Thanks a lot. You think you can start on it after work?"
"Sure, no problem. I'll give you a ring when it's done."
"Anne, you're the best," Vinny told her, his voice thick with relief. She was invaluable to their operation, and he knew how lucky they were to have someone with her integrity and access to information as an ally. Vinny realized that if she were ever caught she most probably would be jailed for life. He was hoping she knew just how much they valued her help, and perhaps she did. What he got from the other end of the phone, however, was a snicker.
"I'll bet you say that to all the girls, Vinny."
After they hung up, she immediately started to do a search on Jonathan's MMM ID code. When she accessed the system it was already highlighted in bright red, a code that the person was wanted by MMM authorities. If the code was activated he was to be picked up at once. If she had any question that Vinny was referring to Jonathan, it was gone now. She did a system wide search for anywhere his ID occurred and one by one wiped them out. Within the hour, Jonathan Chance no longer officially existed.
**************
The echoes of his scream were still ringing off the walls of his bedroom when he came fully awake. Vanish sat up in bed and looked around the room wild-eyed for a moment until he realized where he was. His shoulders slumped in relief, and his ragged breathing calmed. He'd had one of his dreams again, and he realized with anxiety that they were becoming more frequent. In this one he was in one of Righteous' interrogation rooms, but instead of overseeing a prisoner's questioning, he himself was strapped into Hyde's chair. Both Hyde and Righteous were hovering around him, barraging him with questions he could not answer. Thirsty, dirty and sleep deprived, he would have said anything they wanted to hear at that point, anything to make them stop. But no matter what he said they were not satisfied, and their torture continued. The desperation he felt left a bitter taste in his mouth even now.
He shook his head to clear the image from his mind, and he got out of bed. After a dream such as this, there would be no more sleep for him tonight. He pulled a bathrobe around himself and shuffled into the kitchen to make some tea, there to contemplate the latest in his series of nightmares.
*****************
Robert gripped the lamp tightly, creeping down the stairway as quietly as possible. He had heard some sounds coming from downstairs as he was drifting off to sleep and instantly came alert. He grabbed the first thing he could find as a weapon and went down to meet whoever was coming into the bar at one in the morning.
The person entering the bar was not attempting to hide their movements. The
overhead light flared to life and Robert watched as Jonathan sank into a chair and leaned forward, head in hands. He looked desolate and very much alone.
Rob stood there for a moment awkwardly, feeling as if he were spying on him. He had no idea if Jonathan would want company, or want to be seen by anyone that way. He walked back up the stairs, put the lamp down, and returned again very nosily. This time, Jonathan was on his feet looking up toward him.
Robert yawned and stretched exaggeratedly. "Hey there, Jonathan. what time is it?"
When Jon responded Robert could hear the strain in his voice. "It's late. I'm sorry I woke you, go on back to bed."
"Don't worry about it. I was having trouble sleeping anyway." He pulled up a chair and sat down in it. Jonathan reseated himself in his chair wearily.
Rob probed gently, trying to find out what was bothering his companion. "Long day?"
"The longest." A long pause, then a question. "Kilroy, when you were in jail did you have any contact with your wife?"
Robert was a bit surprised at the non sequitur, but he answered it nonetheless. "Some. She wasn't allowed to visit, but she sent me some letters. They were opened when I got them, so I knew Righteous read them as they came in. She must've known that too because they were always kind of cold and impersonal."
"But she stood by you through it all," Jon said softly. Robert heard the disappointment in his voice, but did not know why it was there. He just answered Jonathan's question with as much tact as he could.
"Yes, she did. But we've been married for a long time, you know." In response, Jonathan merely nodded. He looked up at that moment as if he heard something and went quickly to the window. A moment later Robert also heard footsteps and Jon opened the door to admit Vinny. "Any problems?" Jonathan asked him as he took a duffel bag from him.
"Nah. Those Robotos are dumb as a lamppost. The only person they were told to look for was you, so I breezed in and out of there."
"There are Robotos looking for Jonathan?"
Vinny turned to answer Robert's question. "Yeah, didn't you see the news?" He gestured to the tv they had set up in the main area. "Jonathan got fingered so he's got to stay out of sight for a while. Looks like you're going to have a housemate."
Robert shook his head, a worried look on his face. "I didn't see it. I didn't turn that thing on at all tonight. I've seen enough tv for one lifetime." Jonathan thought about the propaganda Kilroy was forced to view while in prison, and he believed he'd feel the same way if it were him.
Jon confirmed what Vinny had said. "Well, I saw it. With my face on the evening news I can't stay at home anymore. There's enough room here for both of us, and if I do need to leave it's remote enough that I can pretty much stay out of sight."
Robert rose and walked over to him, a sad look on his face. "Jonathan, I'm so sorry this had to happen." Jonathan looked at him, slightly surprised. He had not expected such sympathy from a man who he barely knew. On the other hand, he and Kilroy were now in the same boat. Only a man who has lost everything can fully understand what that feels like.
Jonathan nodded his thanks, and responded. "It was inevitable, I guess."
Robert picked up one of Jon's bags and carried it up the stairs for him, calling down to Jonathan. "You can have the room next to mine . as long as you don't snore."
A shadow of a smile passed over Jon's face. He bid Vinny good night and followed Robert up to his new home.