joegoda | Terminal Limits

Second Session:

Now, I'm not a politician by any means, and I quite possibly know less than anyone around me about the ins and outs of how the government works. Just like everyone else, however, I do notice when it doesn't work. A lot of the stuff I may talk about as if I know what I'm talking about will just be so much smoke blown. What I do know is that something unusual happened in the middle of the term for John Carter, the 45^th and last elected President of the United States.

I know this because, just like most of the unwashed masses, I use the internet. And like quite a few of the unwashed masses, I occasionally glance at the conspiracy theories and even click on some of the links to find out more information. Never know. Some might even turn out to be true.

Unlike the Great Predicted Destruction of 2012, which never happened, or that the twin towers in New York were actually part of a government conspiracy, which it wasn't, there was one tiny blip on the Internet website Conspirnet.net that did come true. The link text read:

End of elections. No more free ride for politicians.

I read this in the summer of 2018, and ignored it until the fall of 2018 when the advertisements that would normally start to pop up on all the possible forms of media simply didn't. I, like most Americans, didn't notice this at all. I was too busy paying taxes, paying bills, working for a living, avoiding ex-wives and law suits.

One day, in November of 2018, I got a chat from someone going by the nick of Michigan. I didn't know anyone with the handle Michigan, and I knew of only one person who lived in Michigan and I hadn't talked with her in over 30 years.

I raised my eyebrows when the chat window popped up and I typed:

Do I know you?

The response took a very long time in coming. In fact, I had already closed the chat window figuring that it had been a mistake. Somebody clicked on my name by accident, realized it and decided that if they ignored me, I'd go away. They were right. I was deep into another episode of mind-numbing angry birds when the chat window popped up again.

No. But I know U. U need to know the truth. Conspirnet is right. No more Elections. U need to know. They are coming for U.

There were two things odd about this. Well, okay, there were a lot of things odd about this, but consider: I had closed the chat window. I had ended the entire session and the web page that it ran under. The chat shouldn't have reopened. The second was that 'Michigan' told me that they, whoever they were are coming for me. So I raised my eyebrows again and typed:

Who the hell are you? Who is coming for me?

The answer was quick and it was short.

Ugrnd is me. Conspirnet is me. Bd gys is thm. U btr run. I wl fnd u.

Okay. So some bad guys are coming for me. This guy, 'Michigan', is part of the Underground? And he's Conspirnet?

I sighed, clicked into the window to explain to this bozo that I don't believe in conspiracy theories, that I've got nothing that 'bd gys' would want, and he should take a flying leap at a rolling donut. Before I could type the first letter, the chat window bleeped at me, loudly and said "Bring your laptop. Run!" and then my entire system shut down.

I got up, lifted the little laptop from my table and was checking the connections. I figured I had just gotten hacked seriously, which I had, and maybe if I unplug everything, I can avoid a nasty virus. Stupid of me, now that I'm looking back on it. There wasn't a virus.

There were, however, sounds of heavy boots coming up the stairs in the hall. I live on the fifth floor of an apartment building where the elevators don't work. Lucky me. Makes it harder to sneak up to my door and gives me enough time to exit through the fire escape, which runs right below my bedroom window. Lucky me again.

With my laptop still in my hand, I had the bedroom window opened before the first knock came to my door. I was stepping through it when a deep, ominous voice said "Mister Bremin? We're from the U.S. Government. We need to speak with you. Please open the door."

Fat chance.

I was sliding down the rusted metal ladder when I heard the door being forced open. I once watched a special on cable about sound effects in movies. It really does sound like bamboo and balsa when a door frame tears apart. I could hear Missus Hannigan, my land lady complaining loudly that somebody was going to be paying for that and it wasn't going to be her.

Down into the alley I went, dropping the short distance from the last run of the ladder to the cracked asphalt. I skinned the palm of my left hand because my right hand was holding onto the laptop. Didn't matter. I needed out, quick. Pain and stuff like that can wait. As Michigan said, bd gys were coming for me. Government or not, if I don't know them and they break down my door, they are bd gys for sure.

Barely big enough to let the trash trucks through, and littered with the remains of what we all toss out, the alley was the access point between 7^th street and 8^thAvenue, if you didn't want to deal with traffic and crowds. There were dark green dumpsters placed every 20 or so feet; big ominous, making me think of the places where bodies disappear.

I didn't hang around for much thinking right then. I picked a direction, toward 7^th and headed that way at a stumbling run.

I'm not an athlete. I'm a worker bee with a higher than average intelligence. At that point, I had no idea why the Government would be looking for me, what my part was in all this and how I was going to avoid being caught.

As I shambled down the alley, I heard that deep, ominous voice again. "Bremin! We just want to talk to you! Stop!"

I didn't answer. I didn't look back. Answering takes breath, and all of mine was being used at the moment. I didn't look back because looking back in an alley only leads to trouble. There are a hunred thousand things that can go wrong in an alley, and all of them involve not looking where you're going.

I was almost to the halfway point to 7^th when I head a squawk on Ominous' radio and a dark black governmental stereotypically black Government Issue sedan pulled up, blocking my exit. Not a good thing, so I immediately turned around, looking at my other option.

Mr. Ominous Government had also slid down the fire escape. He was a tall, bald, black man, muscular and wearing what had to be a very expensive blue suit. He was smiling. His dark eyes flashed when he smiled and for some reason I had the thought, "I'll bet you get all the girls. What the hell?"

The last was because of a heavy grinding noise at the 7th street entrance to the alley. By reflex, I turned my head that direction to see what the noise was.

You know those monster trucks with tires large enough for a grown man to stand in the shadow of? There was one sitting on the roof of the Government Issue sedan. I don't know what happened to the Government Issue driver, and I didn't care. What I did care about was the door that swung open and an electronically filtered voice coming from inside the truck saying, "Come with me, if you want to live." Best Schwarzenegger I ever heard.

Mister Ominous was just dropping to the street and yelling "Bremin, stop!" when I went full bore down the alley, climbed over the smushed vehicle and reached my arm up to the truck's open door.

"Laptop first", Arnold said.

Muttering "Really?", I chucked the laptop into the dark interior of the monster truck, and clumsily followed it. "Really? Laptop before humans?"

"Hold on," Arnold said, and ground gears until one was found that leapt us off the roof of the sedan. The door of the truck slammed loudly as we landed on 7^th street.

I looked through the rear view mirror to see Ominous Government standing on the sidewalk next to his wrecked car. His hands were on his hips and he looked pissed, to say the least.

I looked over to my savior. Not exactly tall, and in fact, was rather short. Shorter than my five six, even. Arnold was sitting on a phone book and there were blocks on the clutch, accelerator and brake pedals of the truck. Dressed entirely in black, including a black hoodie and black biker boots, I was being chauffeured by a mini Darth Vader.

"You're Michigan?" I asked, incredulous. It's not every day you see a monster truck driven by an evil munchkin.

The face didn't turn toward me. "Nope. I'm Arnold Schwarzenegger."

"Um. Sure." Mamma always said, never argue with a crazy mind. At least the voice matched. "Thanks for the rescue, Arnold. Really."

"Wasn't for you." Arnold made a quick left at Cawley Street. A monster truck looks like it would be fun, but they aren't built for speed or agility, so when I say a quick left, I meant a painfully slow left. "We need to ditch this bitch. They'll catch up in no time."

So, faster than you can say "No Duh," Arnold drove the truck into a blind alley off of Cawley and exited through the driver's side door. "Come on. They'll be here any moment."

I climbed out of the truck and followed the swiftly moving figure of Arnold to the end of the alley. His hands made some swift movements on the brick wall and hey presto, some of them slid backward with a push.

I hesitated for a second, unsure about entering a tiny magic door in a blind alley when Arnold said, "You have three seconds, then I'm closing shop. One. Two."

I made it before the end of three and the brick doorway ground to a close behind me.