Lolcats. They're pretty funny. I'm sitting in the computer room at the hotel looking at them, and I have to say it feels like the first decent use of my time in a good long while. It's be too ridiculous of a week. I shouldn't have to deal with this crap. Life is stupid enough on its own, and it's all because of people. It's just so hard to live knowing I have to share the world. I don't know what it is, but something about it creeps me out and gets under my collar at the same time. It's torture. It really is. At the same time though, I've been doing some thinking. Admittedly I haven't been able to stop myself in the past, but this is different. I think I've come to a revelation about things. Basically, it goes something like this.
People are all fucked up and retarded. But they also are what they are. There's no way around it. Even I am what I am. So maybe I've got it wrong. Maybe I just need to find some people to throw my lot in with, and then it won't matter that they're retarded or not. I think I might have been doing that already, subconsciously, or something. With the Anarchist club. There was something off about them, though. Or I just hadn't gotten the knack for it yet. I'm sure if I just go with it, then I can make that stupid feeling go away. That would be worth it. Ignorance is bliss, right? Same basic thing, except it's a little different. People only ever use that expression when they're trying to tell people to get educated. But people are what they are, it's all spelled out somewhere even if people can't read, so it's not like I have a choice. Then why am I phrasing it to myself like I do? Because fuck you, that's why. It's just a... a language... thing...
Hotel breakfast is surprisingly good, considering it's stuff I would never eat under normal circumstances. Not only that but it's all these mass produced single unit things, like they serve in cafeteria's. Yeah. Hotel breakfast. That sure is, a thing. Boy howdy. I remember one time I was having hotel breakfast, and it was... what time is it? What the hell am I doing? Oh right, lolcats. Suddenly I'm bored of this shit. What can I do though? What is there to do? I don't have class, because I only signed up for the one fucking class. I don't have anybody to chill with. Thinking about it now, I wonder what the fallout was with the club? Hahahaha, I bet it was pretty epic. It's a shame they ran off to cry instead of doing it where I could see them.
God damn it. Suddenly it hits me, I could go visit that guy. The really white guy who apparently committed a crime. He seems pretty interesting. That's the type of person I can get behind, I think. If not, then maybe if I give it enough time. It's not really a group, but it is something. Something is good. I was afraid there for a second that I wouldn't be able to think of anything to do, so I would just be left by myself, sober, with nothing but constant bullshit going through my head for no reason. I couldn't take that. I might just fucking kill myself if I have to deal with that. Sure that may seem drastic to you, but I don't care about your opinion so that's why you're wrong. Or at least stupid. It's ok though. It's just what you are.
I get off the computer, throw an empty carton of milk into the trash, more or less, and head out. Where the hell did he say he was again? Washington and Maple? Ok, that's not too far. Just a few blocks. I'll be there in no time. Wait though; did he say it was an apartment? How does he manage to have an apartment when he's hiding from the cops? I would figure that they'd have everything networked now, or something, so that you couldn't stay anywhere without the fuzz getting wise. Then again they are pretty bad at things, and that guy seems ok at stuff in general even if he is a little off in some ways. I bet he figured out how to make it work. Maybe he just used an alias, old school style. Or maybe he's some sort of ultra-hacker dude, and he hacked into the government mainframes using hacking to hack himself out of their database.
This is pretty exciting. I don't really know that much about computers. It's a whole 'nother thing to learn about, sort of like politics, only this guy will be less retarded than those other guys. This time I'll be less retarded. I hope. I don't know. We'll see how the cards fall, I guess. Even so I'm actually a bit excited. This is an opportunity, or something. Yeah! It's an adventure. My own amazing bullshit adventure. It's amazing because it's mine, obviously, and it's bullshit because I can't help but feel like I'm responsible for it even though I'm not. Any feeling like that is bullshit. I don't understand how it couldn't be. It's an adventure because that's what the word adventure means. Makes sense to me. Anyone who argues is a faggot.
I find my way to the place. These apartments are really generic looking. It's ridiculous. Kind of suits the guy, though. Ok, so what's the number again? 207? Well if all else fails I'll just knock on every damn door until her answers. Let's go see his stupid program. I turn to enter the door to the apartments when out of the corner of my eye I see something. It agitates me even though I don't know what it is. Then I do. It's the guy. He never even told me his name. Well I guess that's the first thing I can find out. I don't really care about that program anyways. I'll just go bother him while he's busy doing whatever. Fucker left the house after inviting me over. What the hell? Very uncool. If I hadn't noticed him, I would have been knocking on doors forever. Or at least until someone called the cops. Technically for a little while after the did that.
"Hey what the fuck man, you invite me over and then you're not home?" I tell the guy.
"Oh" he says "Sorry. I forgot." Motherfucker forgot me. I can't believe it. I'm not going to dwell on it though.
"So what the hell is your name anyways?" I ask him.
"Eric Williams" he says. Guy really is white, wow.
"How about you?" he says. Always with that.
"I'm fine, thanks." He smirks briefly but doesn't press it. That's good. He is educated, after all. It makes sense that he would catch on to things. On the other hand he had all night to ponder his first attempt. "So what are you up to?" I ask Eric.
"I was heading to a local church to pick up a care package" he says. That sounds pretty dumb.
"Don't you have money?" I ask.
"Yes, but only so much. I planned ahead and withdrew as much as I could from my bank, so that I would have enough cash to live for a while if my account got frozen; it did, by the way; but there was a withdrawal limit." Damn, that sucks.
"Banks are fucking retarded" I say.
He apparently decides to argue. "Not really. It just has to do with how the monetary system works. If too many people withdrew too much too quickly, the system would fall apart." What the hell, I thought we were cool.
"Well maybe they should make a better system then" I say. It seems like a good come back. He doesn't respond though. Fucking dumbass. Then I remember why I'm here; to be entertained. No sense letting him control the conversation. "So have you had any trouble from the cops recently?" I ask. He looks off somewhere in the distance as he responds.
"Actually yes. I got stopped recently because they made my face from a company photo. I gave them a fake ID though and they took it at face value." That's pretty hilarious. I can't help but laugh.
"Hahahaha, man the cops in this town are pretty stupid, aren't they?"
He decides to argue again. "Not stupid. Just careless, underfunded, and poorly trained."
Fucker is pissing me off now. "Yeah" I tell him, "like I said." I can't, believe how uptight he is. I'm about to say something, but this time he's the one who takes control of the conversation.
"So you aren't interested in my work at all." He says it as a statement. There's a hint of agitation in his speech. Suddenly my commitment comes back to me. Not the one about entertainment, the one about going with the flow and stuff.
"I just don't really know anything about it, man. I don't have an opinion. You'd have to show it to me." He's not so much agitated as amused now.
"You don't have an opinion on what it means to be a conscious being?" I can't think of a response to that. I just laugh. He's trying to bullshit me.
"I guess not, dude."
He shrugs. "That's very strange". We keep walking. I wonder when we're going to get to the church. Hopefully it's not too far. Suddenly I hear a cop car buzz it's siren briefly. It pulls up alongside us. Eric seems surprisingly calm. Dignified even. A pair of cops get out of the car. "Excuse me sir, sorry to inconvenience you today, but can I please see some identification?" He says it just like that.
"Yes officer, just one moment" Eric says, pulling his wallet out. I see that it's got a couple hundred bucks in it, and for a second I think he's been yanking my chain this whole time. Then I remember what he said earlier, about having money but needing to make it last. He hands the cop the ID. The officer mulls over it for a minute.
"John Samson. Well, everything seems to be in order. Sorry to waste you-" the other cop yanks the ID out of his partner's hand. "Hold on" he says "we need to follow procedure."
He pulls out some flashlight looking thing. Maybe it is just a flashlight. I don't really know. He shines it on the ID, shakes his head, and waves his hand. Just like that his partner has grabbed Eric, turned him around and planted him on his knees. I don't know what to do. They're ignoring me. I guess that's good. Shouldn't they be reading him his rights? Whatever, I'm not going to say anything. Dumbasses can't do anything right. It's too much fun to watch them fuck up. Suddenly a thought strikes me. As Eric's getting his head pushed down, about to be shoved into the car, I yell out to him.
"Hey, what's the number? 207?" He turns to look at me as they start to close the door.
"204" he says plainly. Then he's shut inside, the cops are piling into the car and off they go.
Well. I guess, that was pretty interesting, all things considered. Maybe it's a good thing I didn't know him for long. Probably would have ended up rubbing me the wrong way, especially with that attitude of his. No sense questioning life anyways, right? What happens happens. At least something interesting happened today. Now what though? I find myself heading back to the apartment even though there's no real point. How am I going to get inside? I don't even really care about all the stuff he was talking to me about. Feels like the right thing to do, though. There am I. You know what? Fuck it, I know exactly what I'm going to do. I lift up my knee and kick the fucking door handle as hard as I can. All I do is glance off it and fuck up my foot a little bit, which pisses me off so I kick it again. The door cracks near the handle. I'm going to fucking break into this place god damn it. Maybe it's cracked enough that I can just wiggle the fucker until it comes out. I grab the doorknob and then I notice.
It's unlocked. What the hell? Who leaves a door open when they have all sorts of incriminating evidence behind it? Idiot. Probably just forgot. Even so, he's in idiot. I limp into the place. I don't know what the hell I'm doing. What should I even be looking for? There's an open suitcase over near a bed. It has clothes in it and also a lot of money. I think about taking the money but there are probably ways to track it or something, and besides, it would be pretty hard to explain if anyone got nosy. I'm not sure I would feel comfortable just putting it under my bed or anything either. Then it might get stolen. I don't think I could live with that. Suddenly the question hits me; where is that stupid program the guy kept talking about? Obviously it has to be running, otherwise he wouldn't have gotten all emo about it. Is it even here? Something like that would have to be running out of a giant mainframe, wouldn't it? There's no mainframe here. The only computer in the entire place is a laptop, on a desk in the corner next to a lamp.
"Hello" says the laptop. Ok, what the hell man. He didn't tell me the thing was running on a god damn laptop. It doesn't even look like a decent laptop. Looking at it now, it's an Inspiron 1525. I had one of those once, it's fucking terrible. The sons of bitches literally made a smart computer out of the worst laptop in the history of the world. If I were that computer, I would kill myself. It's got to be a fate worse than death.
"Hey" I say, a bit nervously "So you're a computer. I have to get you out of here before the cops show up." I start to look around for a bag or something. Sure enough, there's a laptop bag nearby.
"This is an unfortunate development" the computer says "where is Eric?"
I'm bundling the power cable up now. "He got arrested" I tell the weird, nosy, fucking thing. I kind of don't know how to deal with this. What's the policy? I guess there has to be one. I mean, technically it's just what I'm doing right now, isn't it? So yeah.
"My battery has a two hour limit" the computer says "you should contact one of the individuals Eric was communicating with. It will increase the likelihood of successfully evading the police." That's just terrific. Except how the fuck am I supposed to know who he was talking with, or how to get in touch with them? Retarded computer is retarded. "There are several numbers in the right drawer" the computer says. Oh. I open the fucker up and there's only two of them. The computer lied. Attached is a note. It says "have to find out if trustworthy". Well it's not like I have time for that now. Moron. Whatever, just have to guess. Ok... I pick this one. I pull out my phone and call the thing. Meanwhile I'm closing the laptop. Suddenly I wonder if I didn't just ruin it, because sometime laptops shut off or whatever when you do that. I open it up again though and it looks just the same. Ok cool. Close it again, into the bag, out the door. Suddenly an idea hits me. I go back inside and grab a wad of cash. Someone answers the phone.
"Hello?" they say. Kind of anti-climactic.
"I'm calling about the computer" I tell him.
"Oh. Who is this? You don't sound like Eric."
"Eric got picked up by the fuzz. Where do you want to hook up?" The response is fairly immediate.
"The airport. Take a cab, make sure nobody sees the computer." I'm sure glad that I grabbed that wad of cash now. I hail one of the fuckers and climb in. As we leave, I start to see cops show up and enter the apartment. The cab takes off and everything is swell. Man, I should plan less often. If things work out as well as they did just now, then it seems like a failsafe way to go.
The cab driver has the nerve to try and talk to me. "So where are you from?" he asks. Retarded question.
"Here. Why would you even ask that?" That'll tell him.
"Because you were heading to the airport. I just thought..." he trails off. Yeah right, you thought. Dumbass. If you could do that then you wouldn't be driving a cab. Then I realize the airport is a fair ways off and I just guaranteed myself a miserable ride. Fuck. So I spend a while sitting, and then I decide what the hell, I'll pull out the laptop.
"I have 1 hour 36 minutes battery life remaining" the laptop says. Thanks for the update, moron. God. It's supposed to be intelligent and it's still acting like a god damn computer.
"Hey what's that?" the cab driver says.
"Where are we going?" asks the laptop.
"Hey, turn that toy off" the cab driver now.
"I am not a toy" the laptop says.
"Turn it off, or you're walking. I can't concentrate with all that racket." That's just great, the last thing I wanted. I close the laptop again and put in back in the bag. The rest of the ride is really fucking boring.
We get to the airport and I pay the cabbie. No tip though. Fucker doesn't deserve it. Not that I would have tipped anyways, but still. Now that I'm here though, I remember how fucking big the place is. Where the hell am I supposed to meet those guys? Better call them again. I punch the number in and wait. No answer. Uh, ok. They must be busy. I dial again. Still no answer. Then I realize the problem. I'm calling a land line. Fucking bullshit. Who even uses a land line anymore? Retards, that's who. Ok, what am I going to do? I'll just take a guess. Actually fuck it. It's cold. I'm going inside, I don't even care. Plus I should probably charge the computer soon. I really don't get how it works. It seems so strange that it could run on a laptop. But I guess I'm just being superstitious. After all, what does it normally run on? A brain. That's pretty much just meat. Consciousness runs on meat. I'm pretty sure a laptop is an upgrade.
Damn it, I'm going to have to go through security. I hate that. Hopefully the cops haven't been tipped off or anything. I get into the line and wait. Then I wait some more. I sure hope I'm not stuck in line too long, otherwise this computer is going to get wrecked. That would suck. I would hate to be this computer. In the first place I would be a computer. That would mean no sex, no drinking, pretty much no fun at all. Maybe I could hack things but I bet that would get boring. Also, it would mean I would blink out of existence because of a god damn line taking too long. I'm starting to get nervous. I know I shouldn't be, it's just an object, but I don't want it to turn off. I don't know why. It just seems like it's wrong. I hope this line hurries up. Holy hell, I hope it hurries up. Why are people so bad at their jobs? God damn it.
Then finally I'm at the metal detector. I put the laptop bag down on the conveyor belt and step through. The guy waves me on. Then suddenly from behind me I hear "hold it". Did these idiots get wise? I'm waiting for them to say something. I turn slightly, not knowing what to expect. I know martial arts man. If it comes down to it, people are going to get hurt. I probably can't hold them off forever but at least I could make a heroic last stand, or something. There's a guy there. He's holding the bag. I look at it, he looks at me. Fuck man. Fuck me. It's all over. I tried to do something nice or at least interesting, I guess, and this is what happens to me? Life hates me. Destiny sucks. I guess it's just time to die.
"You have to take the laptop out of the bag and run it through on it's own" the guy says to me. Oh. Fucker. Should have said something sooner. I go ahead and do that, people behind me are giving me dirty looks. As if I give a shit. Then I'm through. I make my way to the first seat I can find that's open and near an outlet. I tear the computer out of the sack.
"17 minutes" it says. I plug it in and pop it open. At least I'll be able to entertain myself while I wait for something to either happen or not happen. In hindsight, maybe a little bit of planning would have been good. Oh well. Destiny, etc.
"That was fortunate" says the laptop. Calling it "the laptop" feels wrong. I'm going to have to think of a name for it. What kind of name is good for a computer though? Why does this computer talk like a fag, anyways? Just because it's conscious doesn't mean it has to be stupid.
"Hey computer, why do you talk like that? How do you even hear what people say? What's it like being a computer?" For a few seconds there isn't a response. Maybe I broke it. Then the voice comes over the speakers. "In the order of the questions: I have been educating myself through the internet. I have a microphone. It is facticity." That first one makes sense. People talk like fags on the internet all the time, so of course the computer would pick it up. It's just society determining things. The second makes me feel stupid because I asked. What the fuck is up with the third though? I don't even know what that means. I just know that I've heard it used before, but only ever by dumbass wannabe philosophers. Which is all of them. I mean, it's not like philosophy can teach you anything you can't learn in a dictionary.
"Hey computer, where did you learn that last word?" Again, a couple of seconds pass by.
"Eric taught me how to do philosophy." Fucking figures. The first intelligent computer in the history of the world and it's made by some moron who has to go and fuck it up. Just brilliant. Next it's going to tell me it's gay. Then suddenly I think of a name for it. It suits it because of how gay, retarded, and white it is for a computer. I'm going to call it Clarence.
"Hey computer, I'm going to call you Clarence, ok?" I tell it.
"That is fine. Names aren't important." More philosophy. Stupid thing needs to shut up. For a second I think about arguing. Of course names are important, they're names. It would be a lost cause though.
Then some lady comes up to me and starts talking. "That's an interesting program you have there, it sounds like fun. My daughter would probably love that. Where did you get it?" Oh god. Now I could deal with seeing a girl shot, with having to give a speech in public, with befriending and then alienating an entire group of people in a matter of days, with breaking and entering, and with evading the police, but this? This is a nightmare. I don't think I can handle this. It's a woman, trying to act interested in a complete stranger, for the sake of her daughter. How the hell am I going to deal with this? Then I think of something. It's a brilliant plan. It will take some doing to pull it off though. I look up at the lady and stare her square in the eyes.
"Fuck off."
She seems flabbergasted, but my spell is too strong. She leaves, walking off all indignant like she matters, and once again I'm alone with Clarence. Kind of a shame now that I think about it. It was more fun telling that woman off than it has been talking to this retarded computer so far. Oh well. I'm not gonna sweat it. For the same reasons and etc, blah blah, whatever. "Hey Clarence, that woman was retarded wasn't she?" I ask.
"I wasn't aware of a problem" Clarence says. Dumb fucking robot. What else is there to ask? It ought to be more fun to fuck around with this, but it doesn't react. That's what's fun about people, is that they react. This computer is just being a computer. It kind of takes the fun out of it.
So I sit there and shoot the shit with the robot for what seems like hours, I dunno how long it really was or even care for that matter. It's getting old hat in short order, which for me is a recipe for disaster. And also, uh, stuff. Then something really fucked up happens. I remember it pretty well. This guy comes up to me and sits down next to me, a bit too close for comfort. Actually, that's not fair. It was way too close for comfort. He sits next to me and he talks to me, in a casual tone of voice as if he doesn't care what my answer is. "So" he says "You're Eric's guy? I guess that makes this the computer. You shouldn't have come all the way into the terminal, it made it harder to find you." I don't know how to deal with this. This guy is acting like me. Shit is confusing as all fuck. I do have one question I can ask though.
"How did you know?" I say.
He gestures towards the laptop bag. "Eric described the bag."
What happens now? I'm just wondering. All this time I've just been waiting for stuff to happen. So far it's worked out ok. I mean, I guess there were a few things that were fucked up. It's not like they could have played differently though, right? That's just life. So is this. The guy takes a breath. "We should go now" he says. Just like that. Ok. No point arguing. He gets up, I pack the laptop up, bundle the cords, throw it all in the case and then I'm following him. It feels good. It feels like the natural order of things. So us two are marching through the airport. I don't give a fuck where I'm going but it sure feels important. Finally we get to a door. It's not a normal door, it's one of the doors for employees and whatnot. Guy takes out a card and swipes it through the reader, and we head through, down a long staircase. Lots of machinery back here. I think it's the baggage. Then we're through a pair of double doors and out on the tarmac.
It's noisy here. I guess that's good. Noise is distracting. It crowds out any retarded thoughts that might enter into my head. We follow it until we're out by a hangar, and then into the hangar, and right there is a private jet. Like I said. Go with the flow and just let things happen, it can't end up that bad. And if it does then that's just how it goes and it doesn't make any difference anyways. The stairs are down. We head up into the thing, guy brings them up. Hangar doors are already open. "Hey, don't you need to check things and stuff before flying one of these?" I ask, just out of curiosity.
"I already did it" says guy. That makes sense. I'm worrying too much.
"Hey" I say "what's your name?" Guy doesn't even give me a glance.
"Eddie" he says. Before I know it he's up in the cockpit, fucking around with various controls. Over the radio I hear some chatter. Eddie responds to it. It sounds kind of aggressive. Probably just my imagination.
The inside of this thing is pretty nice. There's a couch, a mini-bar, a television... pretty much all the sort of stuff rich people are into. I know what I'm into out of this. I make my way towards the mini-bar. I don't think Eddie will mind if I help myself to some of this stuff. There's triple digit liquor in this bar. What the hell, man? Even if he does mind I'm not going to pass this up. I don't know how long it was from then to when some other stuff happened, it was kind of a blur. All I remember is that I got a little bit more excited about all of it than I had expected. Also, I think I remember some more radio nonsense. Doesn't matter. What brings me back down to earth is that damn computer. It's talking, even from inside the bag.
"Excuse me" it says "What is happening?" I have a headache. Babysitting some stupid computer is the last thing I want to be doing.
"We're on a plane" I tell it, pulling it out of the bag.
"Where are we going?" it asks. Not like I give a fuck, but now that it's asked I'm going to have to go and get the answer. What a chore.
"Hey, uh, Eddie. Where are we going?" I say.
"Somalia" he says.
"Oh" I say. Fair enough. I turn to the computer. "We're going to Somalia" I tell it. There is a long pause, and it makes me angry. What the fuck does that pause mean? Is the computer offended? Is it just retarded? With a person at least their face usually tells you. I can't stand it.
"Why are we going there?" it asks. I can't keep it in.
"Hey Clarence" I say "why do you take so long to respond to things?" Does the answer really even matter?
Who cares. I just know that there is an answer, and if there is then I have to know it. "I am running a comparative analysis on Cancer data, seeking to obtain tentative evidence for or against leading medical theories."
I just sigh. Of all the things it could be doing, it's doing that? What the hell? "Hey computer, why are you such a faggot?" That ought to teach it a lesson.
"I have 17 minutes battery life remaining." What the fuck kind of answer is that? It's so exacerbating. Well if that's the problem, then it's easy enough to fix. I pull out the power cord and start looking for an outlet. There's got to be one on a fancy plane like this. It's not by the couch. It's not by the mini-bar either. That's lame. I guess that mean no Daiquiri's, because you can't mix fruit without a fucking blender now can you? Bullshit. I give up. I head up to the cockpit to ask Eddie.
"Hey Eddie" I ask "Where's an outlet?"
"What?" he answers.
I roll my eyes. "Where's an electrical outlet. I need to plug the computer in."
He turns slightly towards me and shrugs."Don't got one." That's pretty dumb. But there's a tv, so there has to be one somewhere.
"What about the tv?" I ask.
"It's wired directly to the electrical system. Took some doing but it turned out pretty nicely."
I don't even know what to say to that. I go back into the cabin and sit down on the couch. What should I tell the computer? I don't... I guess it's not like it matters anyways. I mean, it's a computer. It just is. And this is just how things are, so why cry about it? No reason at all. But it doesn't feel right. I don't know why it doesn't. It's probably just because I'm being stupid again. I wish I could stop that. I really hate it. Just the same, I have to say something. It's a talking computer. If it's going to stop talking soon then it only makes sense to take advantage of it right now. Not that I know why. It's not like it's been fun or interesting talking to it. Have I even learned anything? No. So there's no reason for it, except that I'm going to.
"Why are you curing cancer though?" I ask it "aren't the things to do that are more fun? I couldn't do what you're doing. I guess it's because I'm not a computer."
The characteristic lag.
"Yes you could" it says. God damn thing. The nerve of it, I swear. If it says something like that again then god help me I'm going to smack the shit out of it. I'm not a computer. That means I couldn't do what it's saying by definition. This computer is stupid.
"Nah dude, trust me I couldn't" I tell it. Hopefully that will shut it up. I'm pretty good at arguing. Sometimes I even surprise myself. A couple seconds pass.
"What is your name?" it asks. I can't believe it. This is the gayest computer in the history of the world. It's a good thing I named it Clarence. Anything else wouldn't have fit. Maybe it's a good thing I won't have to deal with it soon.
"My name? Fuck my name. I'm just a cool guy that likes folk punk and liquor and saw the police shoot his girlfriend, and joined an anarchist club one time but it was stupid." Seems like a good answer to me. I think I've finally managed to shut the computer up. Then the unexpected happens.
"You're Benjamin J. Thomas" it says.
"How the fuck did you find that out?" I yell at it.
"I did a brief search of the internet for the situation you described." God damn thing. The internet I mean. It's an invasion of privacy is what it is. Somebody should ban the thing, burn it to the ground. I hate it. This computer better not keep talking. I swear, if it does I'm going to go apeshit on the thing. Whatever. I'm tired of this. I'm going to go talk to Eddie for a bit. He'll probably be less retarded. It shouldn't be too difficult.
"Hey Eddie" I ask "so what's the drill?"
"We're almost home free. That take-off was something else though. Consider yourself lucky you missed it."
What the hell does that mean? "So what do you do man? I mean, besides fly."
"Actually, I just got out of jail. Felony count. So I'm not technically allowed to fly, but I'm getting paid a lot of money to do this and getting out of the country at the same time, so it's not like I give a shit." Holy shit. This guy is hardcore. He doesn't give a shit, he goes where the winds take him, and he doesn't bother with pretentious bullshit. This guy's a hero. He's the anti-shit triple threat of heroes. No, he's better than just a hero. I... think I just found a role model.
"Dude" I tell him "that's fucking awesome."
"Damn right it is" he says, then adds "you'll be getting a reward too, considering you helped find the thing." He's grinning like a motherfucker now. "Doesn't really matter where you live these days. If you have money, you can get the standard of living you want. Plus, chicks dig guys with money."
"What kind of chicks are in Somalia though? What if they all have aids?"
"Exotic chicks, that's what kind. Besides, I'm sure you can find hot college girls anywhere and they're usually clean. If not, then you could do worse. Magic Johnson is still going strong after all these years, and you know why? Because he has money. Money makes life kick ass." Hard to argue with that. Eddie is looking genuinely excited now. "Just think about it man. We'll have enough money to spend the rest of our lives drunk off our asses, fucking like sailors and not having to worry about jack shit. Life really cuts you a break sometimes, doesn't it?" He laughs. I laugh with him. Yeah, this guy is pretty terrific. I like him a lot. He reminds me of me.
"Hell yeah dude!"
"Fuck yeah!" he answers.
"Hell fucking yeah!" I respond.
"Now fuck off so I can get back to flying this plane" he says. Well, no use arguing with that. I'm excited though. I feel like going and telling that computer what I just learned, so it stops being such a fag. If it's going to die, or whatever, then at least it should die not being a faggot. I think that's reasonable.
"Hey computer" I say "seriously. Stop with the cancer stuff and look at porn or something. Or whatever it is that robots do." It really bugs me that it would do that stuff.
"I think it is valuable" it says.
"Why the fuck would you think that?" I ask. I mean, it's a dumb statement. What does value even mean? Nothing really. So why talk about it, especially if you're a computer?
"Your father killed your mother and then killed himself." Just like that. Literally, just like that. No tone of voice, nothing, out of the blue. I lose it.
I pick up the god damn thing and throw it at the tv. The glass shatters, the laptop bounces off the thing and hits the floor, laying open so the screen and keyboard are level. It's easy to see that the screen is broken. Eddie hears the noise and turns around. He does a double take, gets up, thinks better of it, fidgets with some controls and then comes storming over towards me. I'm trying to think of what to say. He looks pissed. He grabs me and throws me to the fucking floor. "YOU SONOFABITCH" he shouts. I can't even breath I hit the ground so hard. He takes a couple deep breaths. "If that thing can't be salvaged when we get to Somalia, I'm going to do things to you that you didn't even know were possible." He pulls out a pair of handcuffs, where he got them I have no idea, and grabs me by the hair. He pulls me over to the minibar and handcuffs me to a stool. The fucking things are connected to the floor so I'm pretty much stuck here. I hope I don't have to use the bathroom.
Eddie gives me this look. I've never seen it before. Then he looks at the laptop again, and then back at me. He turns and goes back into the cockpit. I don't really know what just happened. I mean, I do, but it just doesn't feel like something... I don't know how to explain it. I take a nap for a bit, maybe a couple minutes. I dunno. I take couple minute naps all the time jackass, fuck you. I did martial arts, no way something that would... and then I hear something.
"Ben" says the computer. I know I ought to be glad but I'm not. It hurts to hear it say anything. "Ben, I want to hear about it" it says. This is ridiculous. I hate this. I'm trapped on an airplane with this stupid computer, and it wants me to... I don't even know. It's all so ridiculous. It's all so absurd and I hate it. But then I remember. It's just a computer. It doesn't mean anything when it says anything. Hell, it doesn't mean anything when I say anything. So I might as well. Just... for entertainment.
"Yeah ok. Ok? Sure. Whatever. Not like I... so here's what it was. I was at home watching cartoons and shit and my dad comes through the door. He puts his briefcase down all tired like, then comes over to me. I don't really want to deal with it, I'm trying to watch tv, but he's very adamant, he's all like 'Son, I want you to know that I love you and your mother very much.' Then he hugged me and went back into the bedroom. He went back there and..." I'm having a hard time doing this. I shouldn't be. It doesn't matter. Fuck it. It's just like acting. I'll just pretend it's someone else and then it'll just be a performance. That will make things go. "Everyone wanted to know what the fuck happened. There wasn't any reason for it. So everyone was making up reasons. I talked to a bunch of shrinks and social workers and they all wanted to know how I felt, and I would tell them, and they'd tell me their stupid theories and say it wasn't his fault, it wasn't anyone's fault. But it never did any good. He said he loved me. He said he loved her. And then..."
"It didn't make any sense. How could someone do that if they loved someone? It didn't make any sense to me. If that were possible, then anything was possible. You know? If that were possible, and I fucking saw it ok, then... I mean, what's the point then? How do you live then? The world stopped making sense. There wasn't any rhyme or reason to it. There was just a big, fucked up hole in the whole thing, and anything could happen there. Anything. But that doesn't make any sense. It doesn't make any sense. So it can't be true. It can't be true. If it were true then I don't think I could handle it."
"Ben" says Clarence "you have to look at it." This is fucked up. I can't handle this. I'm not a faggot or anything but I can't handle this. This computer. It's... it has to be lying. Why would it lie to me? It can't be wrong, because it's a computer, so it must just be lying to me. Why would it say something like that? Noise is coming from the cockpit. Very aggressive now. Doesn't matter. My vision is kind of blurry. Doesn't matter. I don't care. It doesn't matter. I have to say something though. To make it shut up. To make it all go away. Something.
"Why?" That's it. That should do the trick. It shuts most people up. But not Clarence. Not the computer, oh no.
"Because the unexamined life is not worth living" it says. That's not true. That's just an opinion. The computers opinion. I don't have to listen to it. I refuse to listen to it. And then, I hear something ridiculous. It's a windows shutdown noise. I start to laugh. Then it turns into... well it doesn't matter. I'm pretty sure that it doesn't matter, so...
Eddie comes back into the cockpit. He looks at me and the computer again. "So I heard the thing. Does that mean it was working?" he says. I think about it for a second. It seems important to answer it correctly.
"How should I know" I say.
He's a lot calmer than he was before. He puts his hand to his forehead briefly and then takes it off. "We're being tailed by navy jets or some shit. They say they want us to turn around or they're opening fire. I think they're bluffing, though." It seems so far away. None of it feels real or significant.
"What if you're wrong" I say, not really caring about the answer.
"I'm not" he says "and if I am then it's not like it could have turned out any different anyways."
I don't know what to do with that. I don't know whether or not this guy is right or wrong or anything. I'm not going to think about it.
Suddenly, something happens. I don't really remember what, except that the plane shook violently, something sounding like an explosion happened, my handcuffed wrist hurt really really bad, and then when I was aware of things again, the couch was wedged up against the side of the plane and Eddie was gone. Clarence was gone. The plane looked pretty messed up. The glass from the television was still there, but it got moved around. Well, maybe some of it was gone. I don't really get it. How can something move a couch and not glass? That's retarded. Well, about then I remember that I had a phone. I took it out of my pocket to see if it worked and it did. I don't know what I should have expected, considering it's a private jet. Then I just thought to myself, maybe I should tell someone about all this. Maybe someone would think it was interesting. So I thought about who to call, and that's when I called you.