CHAPTER 18: THE FAST AND THE FURIOUS, PART 2
Another day passes for the city of Ocean Shores, dawning once again a warm light upon the city of bricks and concrete made atop a sandy oasis land kissed constantly by the flow of the ocean. It is yet another life-giving breath for the town, but the breath is rather than someone with youth and energy, more akin to the last dying gasps of a patient in a hospice, having the last of life come out as a cancer eats away their body.
And what better analysis and comparison could be made to Ocean Shores? How different is a city in comparison to a human body? Its peoples are not too different from cells, units of genetic material that can be molded and changed to any form that is needed, and can congregate together to form vital organs, not unlike how people can form together to form a community or a business.
Those organs come together to fulfill the greater functions of the body, pushing the whole forward to achieve greatness. They create life.
So, then, what can be compared to a cancer or any other disease that takes away the vital cells that were once present? Could it be societal change, with the coming of the internet and smartphones allowing instant access to any vice one might desire, even such cornerstones of humanity like love and intimacy?
Such an answer might seem easy to blame, but the accusation is no different from putting a scapegoat on display. The true culprit is capitalism, brought to extremes by corporate greed. The human resource is only sustainable upon a sufficient amount of wealth and food under fair conditions; to have too little or too much is a misbalance that leads to ruin.
Only one man has most of the wealth in Ocean Shores, and the rest are left to struggle, forcing them to migrate to greener pastures to grow again.
The one man with the wealth is skate park owner Alex Gravity, and he is believed to be part of a conspiracy to take Ocean Shores for himself using skateboards which defy gravity itself using advanced technology. The former members of a childhood clique calling itself Team Rocket has come back together to try to uncover the conspiracy and put a stop to the plans, reuniting a group of four old friends:
Otto Rocket, the brash, young sports fanatic all grown up...
'Twister' Rodriguez, his best friend...
Reggie Rocket, the level-headed older sister of Otto...
...and Sam 'Squid' Dullard, the technology prodigy.
The latter member of the team has been hard at work the previous day in attempt to understand the technology that the hoverboards were constructed with, and on this next morning he continues his work in attempt to replicate the boards using what materials he could obtain for cheap.
A jury-rigging and improvised replication of sophisticated (and, as discovered yesterday, nuclear-powered) technology might seem like a bridge too far to cross for any man to achieve, let along a college dropout who had run an electronics store for most of his adult life, but that is no hinderance on Sam nor his determination.
He is a man of science and electronics through and through, and the task of understanding and recreating an entirely new technoolgy might seem overwhelming and intimidating, but that is not the case for Sam Dullard. The environment he has made for himself out of the array of near-incomprehensible notes and vast amounts of homemade motherboards and circuitry are the closest thing to a womb he can make for himself.
And thanks to multiple consumptions of Blue Buffalo energy drinks, he is more than able to keep up the work for a long period of time.
However, the hard work he had set aside for himself had come with an interruption coming with a phone call, one that he has been waiting since the destruction of his store the night Otto first fought the rogue skaters and uncovered the conspiracy. Putting all his work to a stop for the one reason he deemed an acceptable excuse, Sam picked up his phone and answered with prejudice.
"Hello?" Sam asked.
"Hello, is the Sam Dullard?" The caller asked.
"Yes, that's me."
"This is Helping Hands Insurance. We're calling you back on the claim you made the previous day."
"Oh, finally, thank god. Yes, yes, thank you, so, when are my proceeds coming in?"
"Mr. Dullard, we regret to inform you that your claim has been denied."
Sam paused in disbelief following the news, followed by an intense frustration that carried in his tone of voice.
"What? What do you mean it's been denied?" Sam asked.
"Helping Hands is currently pulling out of the city of Ocean Shores and is no longer covering that area. Your coverage is void." The caller said.
"What?! Then what the hell was I paying you people for over 5 years? I paid you that money for when something like this would happen! That's the whole point of having insurance!"
"Your payments had covered the time when Helping Hands was operating in the area. The company is no longer covering the area, ergo, your payments have discontinued, and the coverage has as well."
"I need that money! My entire business got fucking blown up! What am I supposed to do now?"
"I apologize for the inconvenience, sir. We at Helping Hands wish you the best on your future endeavors."
Receiving no helping hand from the insurance company ironically claiming the name for itself, Sam angrily hung up the phone, slamming it on a table as he stepped away from it. Grabbing his head with the sides of his fists, he began to scream and pace about, letting out all of his frustrations in one burst of emotional pain.
The tantrum is initially lost on those inside the house, who still rest, but it eventually makes enough noise to awaken those sleeping to rise to his enraged noises. Reggie is the first to wake, following a long, much-needed rest on the couch as the others sacrificed it for her to use, and takes the most concern with the noises.
She recognizes Sam's voice in between the screams and yells, and instantly knows that there is something wrong with him. Her concern is made not out of fear for an external threat, but one that is internal to Sam, and takes a deep and heavy concern for what is troubling him.
Stepping through the door to the garage, she has come to find Sam sitting on the floor with his legs pulled into his chest in a fetal postion, putting an end to his tantrum, but not to his emotional troubles. Her fear is made all the worse with his visible showing of distress, driving her forward to see to his needs and ease his pain.
Kneeling down to the floor, she reached a sympathetic hand to his shoulder, lightly grasping his shoulder.
"Sammy? What's wrong? What happened?" Reggie asked.
Sam shook off Reggie's hand, continuing to shield himself in his fetal position. Not one to take a rejection as rude as the one inflicted on her, Reggie intervened by grabbing Sam's hands and pulling them away from his head, forcing him to make eye contact with her and voice his problems.
"Sammy. Talk to me. What happened?" Reggie asked.
The eye contact they shared was broken off with Sam turning his head to the side in shame, reluctantly speaking out his problems with her at last.
"I... I lost my insurance on my business. They're not paying me back for the damage." Sam said.
"What?!" Reggie asked.
"The company said they're pulling out of Ocean Shores and there's nothing they can do. I'm fucked."
Reggie's hostility ended with the explanation from Sam, and she now sat on the floor in a casual manner to remain with him.
"I'm sorry, Sammy. I lost my job, too, you know. I'm not exactly in the best shape for money, either. None of us are. It's just a job." Reggie said.
"It wasn't 'just a job' to me. None of you guys built a business from the ground up. I spent years into that store, and I made it my life. I was... I was good at it. I've always been good with electronics. I liked it. That job was what made me feel alive." Sam said.
"You sound like your whole life and world's coming to an end, Sammy. It's gonna be fine. Don't be so angry."
"You don't understand, Reggie. That was my whole world. That was all I had, and I built it all was mine. I really tried to make myself worth something. I put whatever money I could into that store, and I made it work. Now, I'm all broke. What am I supposed to do now? I have nothing. I'm worth nothing."
"Shh..."
Reggie's hand returned to Sam's body once again, this time coming to touch his face. Her initial touch is made with a lone index finger laid across his lips, silencing his self-demeaning rant within the instant of her skin contacting his. The sniffles and cries he let out ended with a gasp and shudder, beginning the first of the new emotional experiences her touch offered him.
Laying a gentle, caressing palm across his cheek next, using the rest of her hand to ease his pain, her touch made the next noises from Sam a steady breathing. Closing his crying eyes, he focused only on the calming touch of Reggie, slowly and subconsciously reaching his own hands up to touch her arm.
Taking in the feeling of the touch, he began to realize that this is the first instance of intimate touch that he has received in a long time, and perhaps one of the first moments of touch from another that he has experienced at all. Opening his eyes once again, he returns to making eye contact with Reggie, taking in the shade of her eyes and the compassion transmitted by their stare.
"Sammy. Don't you ever say that. You're not worthless. I don't think you're worthless, and I especially don't think that your worth is based on what you have or not, what you've done or what you haven't." Reggie said.
"But... But that's all I had." Sam said.
"That's not true. You've got us. You've always had us. And you've got me, too."
Reggie's second hand then reached Sam's face, doubling the sensory input that brought him peace against the tragic turn of his own life events, increasing his breathing and heart rate and putting his mind in a daze. The sudden shift in mood as directed by Reggie left him skeptical of the new intimate emotions, making his logical mind turn to reason in attempt to get away from them.
"Reggie... What are you doing? I thought you didn't want us to do anything like this." Sam said.
"Do anything like what?" Reggie asked.
"You know... The way you're touching me and looking at me, it's... Isn't this what boyfriends and girlfriends do?"
"Still like a boy, aren't you? Well, I told you I'm not that easy... but you've got a head-start on being one of my oldest friends. Like I said, being around you just feels... right."
Reggie then moved forward towards Sam's face, attempting to initiate a kiss. As she moved closer, all logical means of negotiating himself out of the situation were soon overridden by his emotional needs, calling on the body and mind to cooperate in the act and fulfill the connection.
And leaning forward as well, Sam returned the kiss, putting the two together by the lips.
The motion is one that is assumed to have no audience, but it finds one with the observers of Tito and Twister, who had woken as well to investigate the cause of the earlier disruption of sleep, standing in the open doorway. Remembering the past instance where he had intruded on the two and interrupted a private moment for the two, Tito elected to excuse himself and not make himself known.
"C'mon, cuz. Let's let them have their moment." Tito said.
Tito departed from the scene to return back to the house, but Twister had not followed him yet. Instead, he chose to stay behind and look on the scene, not with any voyeuristic tendencies, but with a deep feeling of jealousy and desire. He can imagine the tenderness and intimacy his two friends feel before him, and he can almost feel them...
...but 'almost' is not good enough to fulfill his own needs of intimacy and love. Letting out a quiet sigh, Twister departed from the doorway as well, walking back inside the house with a heavy heart and a dour mind, having both brought down with the feeling of an insatiated appetite, while simultaneously losing said appetite.
And, for reasons he does not fully understand, finds them all focusing around Otto Rocket.
[Soundtrack Cue: KMFDM - Money]
Inside the VIP area of Zero Gravity Zone, the man on Twister's thoughts is present, and, in a rare instance in his life, Otto does not share the same thoughts.
Rather than focus solely on himself, his eyes and mind are obsessed with the VIP area where he now spent time with the Rippers, gaining himself a position on their team. A hedonist since his days as a body, he is entranced by the exclusive offerings of the park to the team, and no expense has been spared for the park's sponsored team, which warrants Otto's full attention towards it.
A giant surround sound system installed in the section played loud music, much to the enjoyment of the occupants and giving both excitement and relaxing feelings to those in the room. Accompanying the stereo system was a massive 4K TV was mounted on the wall, playing numerous kung-fu movies, with Mike imitating the protagonists' moves on a punching bag, attempting to perfect his fighting techniques.
In the corner, amidst several tools and parts, Jared continued his work on numerous skateboards, ensuring each was good for use and perfected to his standards. Being far too caught up in his work, Jared took almost no notice to the other people in the room, keeping himself focused on his work.
Relaxing in a hot tub sitting in another corner was Wes, relaxing by himself with a glass of champagne, seeking to find a more refined way to relax rather than the adolescent hobbies of his teammates. Likewise, Dax sought out a far less physically taxing activity, choosing to spend more time with Otto Rocket and share many conversations with him.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
As they continued to talk the day away, the two sung out the lyrics to Black Flag's 'TV Party', engaging in a fun display of celebration over nothing.
"We've got... nothing better to do..." Dax sang.
"Then watch TV, and have a couple of brews..." Otto sang.
"Don't talk about anything else, we don't wanna know! We're dedicated, to our favorite shows!" They both sang.
Their cheers and shouts soon came to an end as the two settled on a couch, relaxing from the play they had just engaged in.
"Oh, damn. I still can't get over how much you guys get spoiled here. I mean, a whole club room basically all to yourselves? This is fucking awesome." Otto said.
"It's a nice setup, but it ain't all there. This place is just Pleasure Island." Dax said.
"What do you mean? If it's 'Pleasure Island', then it is all there, isn't it?"
"Then you must not have remembered the story of Pinocchio as clearly as I do."
"What the fuck's a stupid Disney movie got to do with this?"
"That movie's where the term 'Pleasure Island' came from. That's when Pinocchio and the other boys got turned into donkeys, remember?"
"Oh, yeah. I think I saw that once when I was a kid. Pretty fucked up for just a dumbass Disney movie."
"Yeah, well, there's a deeper message that you can read into that. The analogy of that scene, the analogy the whole movie's supposed to make, is basically to tell kids to listen to their parents, and they know better. The kids don't listen to their parents, especially Pinocchio, who doesn't even listen to Jiminy Cricket, and what happens? They get fucked. They get turned into donkeys and sold to work in the salt mines."
Otto then paused to look at the joint in his hand, questioning the point being made by Dax.
"So, what are you trying to tell me? You spiked these with acid and I'm gonna see some weird shit?" Otto asked.
"The point is that you can draw a different conclusion from the film. Yeah, the kids get a little bit of pleasure, and, in return, they get sold out. That's the basis of any ideology in general that wants converts, especially capitalism. The whole concept of Pleasure Island is that you lure unsuspecting boys in with all kinds of fun, and you use that to make them yours." Dax said.
"And this applies to us how? Like the rest of the guys are... gonna get turned into donkeys or whatever?"
"If by that, you mean you understand the metaphor I'm making, then, yes. Mike and Jared. Take a look at them. They don't give a damn about their own lives or anything involving the future. They just want their candy and toys. Most men at heart are just boys: You just give 'em enough candy and toys, and they're all yours for whatever end you want them for. Just like Pinocchio, who wanted to be a real boy."
"So if that's the case, then how are you any different?"
"Because I know how the game is played. If you know how the game is played, then you can use it to your advantage in any way you like. If you know the game, and don't let them play you, then you're unstoppable. I know that Alex Gravity's just a man who cares about his money, and nothing else. He'll chew you up and spit you out, just like any other capitalist in his position. He only sees resources. Me? I only see people and what rat races they try to put themselves in. I don't care about power or status or glory or whatever else it is that people try to get their hands on. I've always lived for one thing, and one thing only."
"Which is?"
"The ride, Otto. Wherever that may be. Skating, surfing, snowboarding, anything that gets you high."
The two were soon joined by Wes, coming to the couch dressed in a bathrobe to keep himself dry from his time soaking in the hot tub.
"Hey, Dax." Wes said.
"Hey, babe." Dax said.
Dax and Wes shared a kiss, with the latter sitting on the couch with the former's arm around him.
"And, of course, that also includes fucking. What's the point of living your life if you're not using it to seize every moment, make the most of everything?" Dax asked.
"Sounds good to me, dude, but you never wanna take a bit and calm down? Even I like to take some time to smoke some grass and chill out."
"I don't smoke, drink, or do drugs. I'm not Straight Edge, but I prefer living natural highs. Why would I do a line of cocaine and tear up my nose when I could jump out of a plane and feel the air blowing past my face as I fall straight towards the Earth?"
"I don't do coke, but I see what you mean. So, what, you're just at it 24/7, never sleep?"
"I rarely sleep, and even then it's only because I just had sex. My head's always in the moment too much that I forget about all my other troubles; food, water, sleep, all that just goes away."
"Hell of a life, dude."
"Hell of a life, indeed. The more you hang with us, the more you'll start to find me rubbing off on you a bit. That happens to everybody in the team."
"Uh..."
"Not in a literal way, of course. Like I said, I barely care about sex. Besides, you really my type."
"Oh, well, that's a little reassuring."
"Don't take that wrong, though. You're pretty cool to me. You're fitting right in the team like a glove."
"Glad to hear it."
A break is found in their dialogue, allowing Otto to contemplate over the points made by Dax, bringing his thoughts back around to formulate a question of his own.
"You know, Dax. That whole Pinocchio thing you said makes me wonder a little, and what you said last night, too. You don't believe that people should be controlled for any reason at all, right?" Otto asked.
"Correct." Dax said.
"Then why are you so against parents being in control of their kids, but you don't mind Alex Gravity being in charge of you guys? That seems like, kind of a contradiction to me."
Wes shook his head and let out 'tsks' at the question, turning to Dax in playful disapproval.
"You gave him your whole world philosophy like you do everybody, didn't you?" Wes asked.
"I do it with everybody, because I believe everybody needs to hear the truth. But to answer your question, Otto, the answer to your question is simple: Choice." Dax said.
"What do you mean, 'choice'?" Otto asked.
"It's about who has full understanding of the situation, and who doesn't. When you're a kid, you don't get any say in whether you get to be born or not. You just are, and you are because two people fucked. That's a fact of nature. There's no ideological or political movement that could change that. At least, not with the current technology we have. No, the problem is the lack of accountability in the structure. The inability to change the system for the better. If you're a kid, you've got only your own parents as your authoritative figures, and you can't do anything to change that. They're not government officials you can elect or impeach. You get them, and you're stuck with them."
"Well, if they're abusive assholes, you could always call CPS or something."
"That's if they believe you. It's not like in the movies where the government'll just snatch the kids away at the first sign of trouble. They always give the parents the benefit of the doubt, and always assume the kids are exaggerating. Just like the point I made yesterday: You don't even register as human."
"So, you think they should take the kids away at the first sign of trouble?"
"Where there's smoke, there's fire, Otto. And why frame it as 'take their kids away'? Don't you see that's part of my point? You're just property if that's how you're viewed by the world."
"I don't think it's really so bad as you're making it out to be, man. I mean, I know you had some bad parents growing up, and I feel for you, but you're making the whole concept of parents and kids being a corrupt dictatorship or something. Like, if you had a baby growing inside you for almost a whole year, you'd feel pretty attached to your kid, too."
"Of course you are. That's called hormones and chemistry. That's your body telling you that shit, not you. It's an incentive to make you care about the kid and treat them well, which sounds good on paper, but, in reality, it just leads to you trying to make a clone out of your own offspring."
"A 'clone'?"
"What's the entire purpose of a species to have any offspring in the first place? To carry on its genetic lineage. To preserve it and make it carry on at all costs. But human beings also carry down memetic lineage. We carry on memes as well as genes."
"You mean those stupid pictures that people post on the internet? What the fuck does that have to do with anything?"
"Showing your age with the boomer talk, are we? No, I don't mean internet memes, Otto. By 'memes', I mean units of information. Ideologies, philosophies, politics, religion, etc., things that people think and believe in."
"Oh. So, like, how's that bad that you want to share your ideas with people? I mean, people do that all the time, right? You're kinda doing that with me now."
"From one adult to another, yes. I'm having a conversation with you to try to convince you over to my side. But a child doesn't understand that in the same way you and I do. They're taught that what their parents believe are real no matter what as an axiomatic truth, and they don't think outside of that. Anytime they do, they're shut down with 'discipline' or other arguments to guilt-trip you back in line. Anytime you try to expose yourself to new thoughts and ideologies, they act like they lost their child, because, to them, they lost the information rat race. They lost the game. In a sense, that's all parents really care about when they have a kid. They're not interested in actually having another human being in their lives. They're interested in having a pet for the first few years, then a copy of themselves for the rest of their lives. It's exactly like a corrupt dictatorship, as you so finely put it."
"Eh... I don't know, man, I still don't really buy the whole thing. You want me to be totally blunt honest?"
"Absolutely."
"Sounds to me like you're just trying to cling to someone else with this whole setup because you didn't have the right kind of parents taking care of you. I really am sorry you went through that shit, but I can't agree with you on this. Sounds like you're just selling out."
"I didn't 'sell out', Otto. I cashed in."
The specific sentence and its wording rung an instantaneous reminiscence of Otto's last conversation with his father, recalling that exact phrasing said to him in response to the arguments he presented regarding his lifestyle. Hearing the same argument made a second time, the resistance he put up to the ideas of Dax soon diminished, turning to further acceptance and contemplation.
"Like I said, if you already know how the game is played, then you can play the game for your own ends. Do I actually believe I'm getting some kind of parental substitute out of this gig? No. Do I believe I'm getting some fun out of it? Absolutely. I'm just smart enough to not let it become my whole life, allow myself some room to plan for the future." Dax said.
"Yeah? Like college or something? You're a real smart motherfucker, I'm surprised you didn't go to college already." Otto said.
"Nah, I'm just a guy who reads too much in his downtime. I'm no super-genius or anything like that. I just read the writing on the wall."
"Will you two just quit talking so much already? You talk too much. We're supposed to be relaxing before work, not wearing ourselves out." Wes said.
"Heh. Sorry, babe. Just trying to make a point to Otto. Tell you what, why don't you grab yourself another drink, and bring us a couple? Otto, what do you want?"
"Uh... I'll take whatever beer you got." Otto said.
"You heard the man, go ahead and grab us some."
Dax gave Wes a teasing slap on his behind as he got up, making him giggle in response.
"Oh, naughty you." Wes laughed.
As Wes departed, Otto let out a laugh of his own at the scene, with Dax smiling in enjoyment as well.
"You know, Otto, you're a smart guy yourself. You shouldn't sell yourself short." Dax said.
"Me? Oh, c'mon, man. I barely read at all. I'm not that smart a guy, I just know how to skate and play sports." Otto said.
"No, no, don't be so modest, it doesn't suit you. I think you catch on better than you realize, and agree with me more than you think. Didn't you tell me how much you hated your dad and wished he would die?"
"Yeah, well... I was just pissed off when I said that. I didn't really mean that. I say a lot of stupid shit when I'm mad, a lot of people do."
"We don't say stupid shit like that because of nothing, Otto. It all comes from somewhere, and gives a reason why we think that way. What's eating you?"
Wes returned with a bottle of beer and Yahoo Soda, giving the former to Otto and the latter to Dax.
"Enjoy, boys." Wes said.
"Thank you, Wes. Now, Otto, I believe you were just telling me where all this anger about your father's coming from?" Dax asked.
"Aw, no, it's nothing, man. Really. I mean it." Otto said.
Several more beers later, Otto's intoxicated state led him to a less-than-pleased emotional state, holding himself over his hands and crying. Spilling all the beans of having yet another failed relationship in his life, as well as a broken relationship with his father, Otto began to start breaking down, shaking his hands violently and stomping his feet anxiously.
"My dad's no fucking help at all. He really think's that I'm a fucking loser and I can't get anything right. Clio thought that shit, too. She was the last one I had. I don't get it, man, I really don't get it. I try and I try and I try, but I can't get any of my relationships right. I don't know what I'm doing wrong, I try to make time for other people, as hard as it is, but I really try, I don't-" Otto ranted.
Before Otto could continue his rant any further, Dax gave him hearty pat on the back, trying to comfort his new friend as best as he could.
"Hey, man, don't sweat it that much. Maybe she wasn't the one for you. Hell, maybe you don't have a 'one'." Dax said.
"So, what? I'm just supposed to be alone forever? All around me, people were getting girls, moving out, living good lives, all happy and shit, but I couldn't get any of that. I mean, I love my sports, but it doesn't support me at all." Otto asked.
"You won't be alone forever, man. You got friends. Hell, you're right here, you're not alone right now, are you?"
"Well... no."
"Not everybody has to have that one person that makes 'em happy. Sure, some people have one; but some people have a few, some have a lot, and some don't have any at all. Look at me, I don't have anybody that takes me to where I need to be emotionally."
"What about Wes? Your boyfriend?"
Dax and Wes looked at each other while holding hands, attempting to think of a clearer explanation to their relationship.
"Well... He's definitely my best friend, and we've done it plenty of times, but I don't think I'd call him my boyfriend. He agrees with me on my ideology, and we both live free, and do spend most of our time together, but neither of us like any real labels like that." Dax said.
"That... and Dax is a great fuck when we do it." Wes added.
"Like I said, I never care about romance, and barely sex. I only care to live my life on the edge. That's what makes me happy, in the same kind of 'happy' that some people are together."
"But what about me, man? I don't know what to do. I don't know where I'm going, or how to even have a lot of fun anymore." Otto said.
Getting an idea to help life his spirits, Dax got up off the couch, he began to help Otto up as well..
"Tell you what, come on with me. I've got an idea that'll cheer you right up." Dax said.
"Come on, man. I wanted to skate, but I'm drunk right now. I'd rather just-" Otto tried to say.
"No, no, no, I'm not taking 'no' for an answer. You need this, trust me. Besides, I've done this drunk at least 3 times. Hey, Rippers! Jumping time!"
Upon hearing the announcement of 'jumping time', the rest of the Rippers, more than eager to join Dax on the excursion, all began dropping their activities and began suiting up to join him. Wes shared the excitement as well, hopping out of his seat and joining Dax, but still voicing his concerns regarding Otto's state of mind.
"Babe, you sure he's up for this? He's pretty drunk right now." Wes said.
"Ah, that's nothing. I've done crazier than this while sleep-deprived and did it better than most people. But, of course, it's all up to Otto whether or not he's feeling up to this. Otto, you in or are you out?" Dax asked.
Once again faced with a challenge, Otto accepted it with prejudice, standing up straight from his depressed mood to prove himself.
"I'm in. Just tell me, what's going on? What are we, going to outer space?" Otto asked.
"Next best thing. Trust me, you're going to love this." Dax said.