Saturday, July 31, 2010

The Mover - Part 7b

I decided to talk to the woman who had yelled at the old man. She was watching me as was everyone else around us. Not with hostility, just wary curiosity. I started walking towards her. I smiled. Hopefully it was a disarming one. She didn't return it.  Instead she told me "If you're a Mormon or selling something just keep on going."

"No. Not a Mormon." I laughed. "And I'm sure not selling anything" I decided right then to slip into low class English with maybe a hint of a drawl. The talk of the people kind of thing. 

She laughed "That's good because I don't have any. Anyways them Mormon boys travel in twos." She had her hands on her hip and was appraising me as I approached. I was pretty sure she liked what she saw. She had been good looking once. She needed to lose a few pounds and lose the hungry stressed out look and she would be all right. She might pencil out as mid-level cougar material then. Maybe. She would have to lose the kid which was running between the cars laughing and chasing someone else's kid.

"So what are you looking for stranger?"  She brushed a wisp of hair out of he face.  "You saving souls?"

'No. I'm looking for some Americans that want to help change things. To make America a place where the workers get paid a decent wage and the bankers are kept in their place." I was just getting started when she interrupted me "How do you plan on keeping the bankers in their place?" A couple of people had walked over and were standing on the edge of the conversation. I liked it. I was drawing a crowd. 

"We burn them."

The woman frowned "Like at the stake?"

One of the two people on the edge of the conversation, a middle aged White male, laughed and said "Hell Yes!"

"No. Tho that isn't a bad idea. No! We need to shut them down. We need to go back to where we actually made things in this country. Efficiency has become a religion. A religion that only benefits the rich. They have used it to strip us of our dignity, our jobs,and now they want our homes.  The only alternative they can offer is a lifetime as debt slaves. Forever begging for shit jobs to make the payments on crap that has already broken, worn out, or been flushed down the toilet after clogging our arteries."

The Mover - Part 7a

I hit the Car People lot and it was weird. Very weird. I had expected them to be up and moving. Some were. Some weren't. I was getting flashbacks to third world villages I had passed thru. The smell was almost right. It didn't have the animal stink and cluck. It did have the dogs but even those weren't right.  They didn't have that beaten, mangy, one step from the stew pot look.  They looked happy and fluffy.  Not much meat on their bones tho. Probably a decent chicken dinner. If anything they looked happier than the kids which was understandable.

As I walked up some woman was yelling at an old man "God Damnit! Go piss out by the pines! My kid plays over there!" He was pissing on a flowerbed about ten steps from a Ford Taurus. The drivers side mirror had been duct taped in place and there was a faded University of Virginia sticker on the bumper. He grinned in her direction sheepishly and finished up.  I decided to talk to him first. Get warmed up on him before I talked to someone who might be of real use.

I greeted him with a "Hey there!" and moved to intercept him before he could get back in his car. He looked taken aback by my greeting and wary of my approach.  I caught up to him and I said "Hey" again and stopped. He responded politely "Can I help you?"  He didn't offer to shake hands an neither did I for the same reason I never ate bar finger food. 

"So what's up? I thought you all had to move because of security?" I waved my hand to indicate the parking lot in general.

"No. They gave up last week. No more people coming to work here so why bother."  He spat on the asphalt and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand when he was done.

" what did you do before you ended up here?"

He looked at me. Looked around the lot and then back at me and said "Fuck you."  Then he walked away.

"Well, that went well." I thought.

Friday, July 30, 2010

The Mover - Part 7

I left early in the morning from the new house. I took a day pack with a couple bottles of water an a apple.  Before I left I did my stretching exercises. I had spent a lot of time studying the martial arts at one point but I had been slacking off for awhile now.  Awhile, much to my surprise, when I thought about it was over two years.  I was also putting on weight.  Something I had been trying to deny was happening.  As I stretched I realized I didn't feel any pre-mission emotions.  Probably because there was no danger involved. It was literally going to be a hot, sweaty walk in the park. The only thing that it had in common with an actual "Op" was the heat and the people. Both of which met third world standards.  Also in the back of mind was the womens shelter. It was in the same area so I planned if time permitted to take a look at it. I had brought a pair of binoculars just in case I needed to observe the area. 

I forgot how much walking sucked.  I was going to have to look into getting a bike.  At this rate I would never get anywhere. We would need to get a few old bikes for the house.  Just to have around for those who didn't have cars or couldn't afford to drive them much.  Gas prices were absurd now. One month they would shoot up and then would drop 30% the next month.  I had never thought of it before but it occurred to me that must make it a bitch to plan and budget a paycheck. I mentally shrugged and thought "Not my problem."

The neighborhood had gone down hill more than I had expected in the span of a year.  We had driven it a bit when we looked at the place. There was a big difference in driving past and walking past a house.  You had time to see the aluminum siding that was coming loose.  The window that was broken.  The house with a mowed front yard and a jungle for a back yard.   There were plenty of people living there.  A surprising number of houses had windows open in this heat.  They weren't empty ones either. I could hear the television or music playing as I passed them. Once I heard a dog barking. from the sound of his Woof! Woof! he must have been the size of a small pony.

My first stop was going to be an office campus that was about two miles from the house.  I had cruised it once in my car and was surprised at how many people actually lived in their cars.  The number had to have doubled in the last six months at least.  My guess was the proximity to the shelter helped.  The men would keep the car and stay close while the woman and kids could stay in the shelter and be able to eat and shower.  While I walked I tried to come up with what I was going to say. Nothing I could think of sounded right let alone convincing.  If I didn't buy it I knew they wouldn't. So I decided to wing it.  I told my self "No pressure. It works or it doesn't."  It wasn't like I had no other choices.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

The Mover - Part 6d

While we were waiting to close on the house I somewhat reluctantly began planning my search for followers. Especially after BIC announced he was going to California to organize and promote a burning there.  He was talking Windsong with him.  I was surprised when he told us his travel plans.  I asked him "Let me get this straight.  You're going to fly out to California, do a speech, have a band play, then go burn down the local banks?"

He grinned. "It's in LA."

"Yes. That is in California. That doesn't answer the question BIC."

"Well, we are going to burn a Banker in effigy. I was told there are a number of bank branches near where we are doing the show so if things get out of hand..." He shrugged an added "Shit happens."   

He was high just from the idea of being invited. I'd never heard of the band but that didn't mean anything.  I was probably the most ignorant person in the room when it came to music.  What I did realize was that I needed to produce and soon.

I left early the next morning to begin spreading the word of Burner.  At the very least it would give me an idea of what the area around the new house was like and a feel for what people were  thinking.  Hell, it had occurred to me this might be just a lot of stoner bullshit and I was a fool for thinking it would ever go anywhere.

At the last minute I decided to bring my Glock.  I didn't have a concealed carry license but I didn't think I would need it.  I was never a weapons freak like a lot of the people I had worked with at the State Department were.  They were just tools to me. I had never fired a weapon in anger either. My feeling was if you had to point a gun and pull a trigger your Op was already fucked up beyond belief. Mine were always clean and well planned ones. Yeah sure. There had been gunfire a couple times but that was by people who were doing their job.  I had expected it and planned for it.  The only reason I decided to carry it was the realization that the people I was going to be running into might be a little crazy.  I didn't like crazy people. They were unpredictable.

The Mover - Part 6c

We had a couple things working in our favor when it came to recruiting. The wave of discontent that had made the bank burning virus go viral was still out there and growing.  I thought of it as a huge shapeless invisible blob of of ill will, anger, and resentment that was gradually filling every nook and cranny of the country.  In just the last few years it had gone from a barely perceptible smoke that occasionally collected in pockets to a mass that was gaining in substance with every passing day.

Why? I wasn't a historian. My guess, one I was betting my future on, was that the great mass of people were angry, feeling like they had been had, and scared. Very scared. They feared that life was about to kick their collective ass off the side of a cliff. What made them angry was they didn't understand how they got there and why not everyone was going over the side with them.

The reality was yet another administration was in charge now in DC.  They wanted to cut the deficit and one of the ways they did it was no longer paying unemployment to people who had been out of work more than three years.  Three years was a compromise too. They really wanted to make it a year but there was no way that would have passed. The three year limitation was already biting deeply into to the number of unemployed.  The numbers of unemployed were dropping and that was seen as a triumph for the current administrations policy.  The numbers were dropping all right. Right off the side of a cliff.

The ones who hadn't gone over the edge had a good idea what was waiting for them. They had seen people they knew, or knew enough about people that had who reminded them of themselves.  They would run into an acquaintance from work in front of the grocery store as they exit asking for food or money to buy it.  A friend tells you about how a friend who tried to live in her car was raped.  People tell you they need to find another place to live and you never hear from them again. 

You go home. Walking up to the front door a couple of young men you had never seen before walk past and stare at you like hungry lions.  Inside your brother-in-law is asleep on the couch as usual. His, and your daughters kids are in the backyard playing. You had forgotten how much food kids eat.  The inventory you do in your head of food in the cabinets doesn't match how fast you are going through it and when the next check hits the bank account.  What makes it worse is you have a job still. You don't even want to think about what it would be like if you didn't.  Meanwhile the rich seem to get richer and the world around you is dirtier, more dangerous, and in far too many places the earth itself is dying in order to make these rich people richer.  You feel like punching a wall but instead you bite the head off of the first person that greets you.  You don't know whats wrong with you. Why am I so angry? Why do I just want to sit down, cry, and scream to everyone "It's not fair!"

These were the people who were going to fill my ranks. After they had fallen off the cliff I was sure they would do anything to claw their way back to any semblance of the world they had left. I was going to channel that anger and they would love and respect me for doing it.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

The Mover - Part 6b

We found a nice house in Fairfax. It was a custom build on a fill in site in a neighborhood that had seen better days not all that long ago. The better days hadn't lasted long enough for most of the people living there.  I knew neighborhoods like that and had even moved a couple from a house a couple blocks over. That was an easy job. A Central American couple. I explained that if they didn't leave in 24 hours an anonymous tip would lead the police to some illegal narcotics that would be traced back to them. They understood. They left. I got paid.

Fire was very good at organizing and money. We bought the house with relatively little difficulty.  I set up a S Corporation to buy the house. I probably could have created a non-profit and had that buy it but I wanted to keep the non-profit from being tainted. I wanted that as separate stand alone entity that we could move that around with us. After all, I planned on burning the place down eventually.

My job was to find us some followers. BIC wanted us to pass out flyers at job fairs. Rather he wanted Windsong and Fire to pass them out. "Show some cleavage" was how he put it.  We ended up arguing about it and I lost.  I wanted to vet everyone of them if I was going to responsible for them so we ended up compromising an agreeing to meet anyone interested in a public area before bringing them into the house. As far as I was concerned it was my region. I was going to run it.

So I decided to start hitting the areas where the Car People were  known to congregate.  The problem was I didn't know how to do it. Fire suggested talking to them.  "Just go up and say hello. Bring some canned food to distribute. Or pass out flyers and see who wants to talk to you about them. Use the same ones BIC is writing for the job fairs."  She was being sensible and level headed. It still pissed me off but I couldn't tell her why. The reason being I thought most people were assholes and I didn't want to talk to them, I just wanted them to do as I told them didn't have that revolutionary ring to it. I wished we could just hire them but make them pay for the privilege. Kind of like have our own job fair.

I was also pissed because she told me we were not going to be sharing the same bedroom in the new house. I asked her why and got "Well. We're not having sex, we are not a couple. Plus I might be able to recruit and train more males if they knew I was unattached."  I shrugged an agreed. The problem was our little encounter in the car had awakened something inside of me that I had been careful to keep sealed off and shut down. Images of Slut, and she was that, bound and gagged kept popping up disturbing my focus.  I wasn't sure if she was the one or just filling a space in my head until I figured out who the one was.  I knew there was a womens shelter not far away. Those were good hunting grounds I figured. Disposable women who were desperate. What could go wrong?

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

The Mover - Part 6a

When I knocked on Fires door the next day it was like nothing had ever happened. Well, her face might take a while to heal up. I watched her to see if there was any change and if anything she was more affectionate with me than before.   She settled down on the couch, tried to give me a bright smile, winced a little, and said "So tell me. What's the plan?"

"First off we need a place. A big house. We will need to build bunk beds to fit everyone in. It will need to have classroom space, a meditation room, a gym, and a private office area for us.  Probably a garden in back.  Somewhere close in that people can get places without a car. Near a bike path would be very good."

She was nodding her head. She said "I like the idea of a garden. I could grow herbs and flowers." She paused and asked "But how are we going to afford this?"

I sighed and thought we were just starting to talk about planning a revolution and she had already gone off the rails about flowers and payment plans.  So I told her "We're going to buy it."

"Buy it?"

"Yes Fire. We're going to buy it. We'll make 3 payments and then stop paying. It will take the bank at least a year to get around to foreclosing. When they do we'll burn the place to the ground and move to another house. Fuck the banks."

She laughed, clapped her hands, and said "I like it. Tell me more!"

I told her what I thought about. Almost all it had come to me as I laid in bed stoned and staring at the ceiling last night. I wanted to recruit from the fresh homeless. Preferably people living in their cars. They would be saner, have transportation, yet desperate enough to be amenable to programming.  The part about being "amenable to programming" I didn't mention.  I also skipped that it would make it harder for the feds to infiltrate us.  Not much harder. They could and probably would squeeze someone through outstanding paper or payments.  I told her about how I wanted no computers, cell phones, or Apple products in the house. That kind of stunned her. She asked me "Nothing?" 

"Nothing." So I told her how a cell phone could be used to track you. How the speaker phone could be turned on so conversations could be monitored. That all of the devices were just electronic tethers and distraction machines.  She knew most of it. I didn't even bother to go into how PC's were monitored and how sending an unencrypted email was the same as a postcard. That printers, especially color ones, had secret registration numbers know to the government. She knew most of the cell phone stuff. If she knew that then she knew about PC's.

Then she told me about her dreams. How the world would learn to conserve energy. How she wanted to make cheap solar panels available to the poor and train them in installing them. How she wanted to start community gardens in our area and give the surplus to the poor. That if we could bring down the banks and force an economic reboot it would be better and fairer for all. I watched her talk, saw animated she became, how the color flooded into her face and her eyes came alive.  She really believed what she was saying.  Part of me wanted too. The problem was I knew how the feds would come down like a hammer eventually.  Hopefully I would be able to sidestep that and come out of this with enough money to be set for years. Besides, I hated all that electronic crap anyways.

The Mover - Part 6

We headed back to her place. We made good time.  I may have driven a little bit faster than usual the last few miles. When we got to her place she hesitated at getting out an asked me if I was going to come up.  I told her her "No. I have things to do. I'll be by tomorrow morning." I smiled and told her  "We got plans to make an a revolution to start."   She liked that. Her face brightened momentarily then dimmed as she realized I really wasn't coming up.  I got out, tossed her the car keys, and began walking.  As soon as I did I heard her call out "You know you never have told me where you live."  I didn't answer. I just kept walking.

I decided to spend the night at my room in the stoners basement.  I didn't feel like being close to Fire. A block was too close the way I felt now.  I felt good. Empty.  I took the bus down Route 7. There were less people on it than usual lately. The ones that were on it were a lot more sullen and tired looking. The increase in bus fare had thinned some of them out. There were a lot less Mexicans too lately. No jobs anymore so they must have gone back home. Probably driving a new Ford F-150 across the border too. "Good for them" I thought. Fuck the car companies and the banks that made the loans.

As I walked up to the house I saw the stoner male was out in the front yard puttering around his herb garden by the front door.  He saw me coming, raised a hand, and yelled out "Just the man I wanted to see!"  I changed direction so I could find out what he wanted.  I was hoping he was going to invite me to dinner.  I was hungry.

Instead he told me "Hey! Your looking good." He laughed like he knew something.  He was always trying to find out about my sex life when stoner woman wasn't around. The man had young pussy on his mind 24/7 and loved talking about the days when he actually could get some. That was a long time ago.

I told him "Yeah. Everything is groovy." I always said that when I was around them. Him and stoner woman always cracked up when I did.  He laughed. "Yeah. Look... I got some bad news for you.  We got a problem." He was looking down at a sprig of Thyme he had in his hand. He had bruised it and the smell floated between us.  "My son, from my first marriage, well, he got laid off a while ago.  His wife, she got laid off from the County a couple of months ago.  Anyways..." He paused. I knew where this was going but I waited. "Well, they need a place to stay and they got four kids, two from her prior marriage...anyway they need a place to stay and..."  I finished it for him "So when do you want me out?"

"Yeah. That's pretty much it." He looked up at me, "The end of the month. If you got problems finding a place right away I am sure we could work something out..."

"Naw. I'm good." I slapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it."  He actually looked kind of depressed that I was going.   It was probably the lack of income or he was thinking about life wife four kids was going to be like."  He perked up "Hey I got some primo weed in.  Let me turn you on to some as a going away present." 

"Hell. Let's try it out." I told him. He was already stoned but he had no problem with getting more stoned.

The Mover - Part 5d

As soon as we left and got into Fires car, I mean as soon as I had the key in the ignition, I heard "So when were you planning on telling me these ideas of yours?" There was no mistaking the scorn, anger, and sarcasm behind that question either. I shut off the engine and turned in my seat to look at her her. She was staring straight ahead, her face set in an ugly mask of anger.

I punched upside the head as hard as I could which wasn't anywhere near as hard as I wanted to due to the shitty angle and lack of space.  It was still hard enough to bounce her head off the glass of the passenger side window. It didn't crack the glass but it shattered her mask. She was lucky it did. I would have kept hitting her until it was gone.

I hissed "Don't. Ever. Get. An. Attitude. With. Me. Ever." She was moaning and rubbing the side of her face. I stared at her. Waiting for a response. She mumbled "Sorry" and then even softer mumbled something I couldn't hear.

"What did you say?" I kept my voice light and calm. I smiled at her.

She yelled "You fucking asshole!"

I hit her again. She may have been expecting it but she wasn't fast enough. I listened to her moan "Oh Jesus..." I waited to see if she had anything else to say. She didn't.  So I asked her "Do you understand where I'm coming from now?"

She nodded her head.  Her nose was bleeding. 

I didn't hear you."

"Yes...I'm sorry."

I laughed, made a Happy Face, turned the key and pulled out on to the road. I told her "I know you are." Then I took her hand and put it on the bulge in my pants. "Take care of that for me will 'ya."

Monday, July 26, 2010

The Mover - Part 5c

I wanted to catch him and Windsong while they were feeling elated an in control.  So before he could get a chance to disappear back into his bedroom I cut in the conversation with "I like the idea. Don't get me wrong but we are going to need some seed money." Yeah. That definitely got his attention. Especially as Windsong had been boasting up all the money pouring in now just a few minutes before.  BIC lost that happy face and guardedly replied, not before shooting Windsong a quick look I noticed, "So what are you saying Mover?"

Afterward I looked back on this as a pivotal moment for myself and what came after.  I always got a Happy Face feeling from it to. Why? Because I made it all up as I went along.  I don't like doing that as a rule. I like a solid well thought out plan instead just bouncing around with decisions based on intuition. The Burners ended up with a reputation  for "Listening to the Spirit." That was bullshit -- an opinion I kept to myself.

"This is what I have in mind.  A school, actually a monastery, organized along those lines for people to learn a new way of life.  The curriculum will be based around you and Windsongs writings." I paused to gauge their reaction. Yeah. They loved it. Just to make sure I looked at Windsong and said "I would really like your help on putting this part together." She hit that like a hungry large mouth bass would a night crawler. Yep. This was a done deal except for the details.   I continued "I want to get it religious status in the eyes of the IRS. It will help with taxes and make the fed's back off a bit if they become interested in us.  I doubted that but it sounded good.  I added  "We can also recruit from them the people we need for ops"

"So how much do you think you will need." Windsong asked. 

I had no idea really. I just went with a number based on what my guess was in the bank account now. "Ten thousand dollars should be fine for us. I think we can be self sufficent in three months and tithing 10% back to you in a year. " I told her. She liked that.

BIC asked me before she could answer "Whose this 'We?'" 

"Me and Fire. Maybe Eye if we need video least until we find someone." 

He looked at me, opened his mouth to "What about..." and then closed it. I knew who he was going to say and I know why he changed his mind. BIC liked having followers. Especially one who helped him out once in awhile when Windsong wasn't around with his stress levels.  He nodded, then told me "Sounds good."

Windsong added "The best we can do is 7k. BIC and I are planning on opening a headquarters."

"Really! Outstanding idea." Actually I could care less but one has to be a team player. " The 7k should work for us." I told them. 

BIC had something else he wanted to say "You know I like the curriculum idea a lot." He laughed an added "My new book can be the bible."  He was trying to pass it off as a joke but I knew he was dead serious. 

"Sure. Why not?" I replied. 

Sunday, July 25, 2010

The Mover - Part 5b

We talked about BIC's new ideas.  The way Windsong was preening, gloating, and generally making me want to smack her repeatedly about the head let me know where the idea had come from.  BIC told us "It's not enough to burn the bankers. We have to kill the machines." I wanted to interrupt an ask him "Whats this? So far we've only killed machines. Well, charred a few ATM's." Instead I bit my tongue. I was going to be hitting him up for operating money very shortly and why piss him and Windsong off. So I let him roll with what he had to say.

"We need to starve the banker beast...bleed the banker beast...make it die a death of a thousand cuts. Make life hell for the moneyed class who supports it through their labor. I want to break the electronic chains that tie and tether them to it.  Only when they are free of their electronic blinders can they see the world as it truly is and we will be there to lead them to their birthright!"

"Yeah!" Yelled Anna.

Suck, that dirty little slut joined in with her. Not before giving me the eye. I knew what she wanted and I had plans for her. I let my mind linger on those plans and lost the next part of what BIC was saying.  When I regained my focus I heard "...Sabotage them. Take down the cell towers. Burn the banker buildings and data centers. Shut down the spider web!"  He was on his feet by then and spraying spittle everywhere. Everyone, except for me was yelling back at him and then he abruptly stopped.  He looked at us, blinked, gave us an embarrassed smile and sat back down. 

All three of the women were on him then. He could have stood up, pointed at his bedroom, and they would have all gone without looking back.  I looked over at Eye. He was totally in to it. Staring at BIC with total love an adoration.  A couple of things went through my head. The first was "Damn. He is actually good."  The second thought was envy. I wanted that kind of power. I needed that kind of power.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

The Mover - Part 5a

The meeting ended up happening but it didn't follow my script. Events changed it by moving far faster than I expected.  Within the next three days four Burner videos hit the 'Net. The third one wasn't a happy ending one. They had a crowd. It was a local burn. Probably not more than 5 miles from us in Arlington. Apparently they had let everyone except us know the where and when.The local cops rolled up on them before they could toss the Molotov. Something went wrong. The Molotov guy probably panicked. He burned spectacularly.

Glen Beck was hating on us and Fox News had its stars shouting how it was just a stupid craze and didn't reflect of the mood of the country.  Hell, they had their own band of fruit cups who knew the correct agenda. I actually watched a few shows with Fire. The rest of the media couldn't figure out what side to come down on at first. It would have been a slam dunk for them if they had shown the American flag and the women had kept their clothes on.  Yet the populist appeal was unmistakable. So they buried it. Or tried to.

We finally had the meeting right after this. BIC was excited.  Big money was starting to coming in.  Well, big by BIC and Windsongs standards. Anna told me Windsong used to have an orgasm when $20 showed in her account via Paypal. I didn't even get a chance to run my agenda. BIC set a new one.  He wanted us to start the local chapter.

"So what are we going to call ourselves?" I asked him. "Burners Anonymous?"

 He didn't think that was funny. Instead he went on how we had the chance to create change...yada yada."

I wanted to ask him if he had voted for Obama but I decided to nod and smile.  Inside I was excited. Away from BIC I could run things my way.  He wanted fire and bankers burning.  I was going to give it to him.  If I played it right I  realized I could have fun and if worse came to worse I could give him up.

The Mover - Part 5

I convinced Fire that we needed a meeting. All of us.  She wasn't hard to convince. She liked meetings. BIC hated them unless they were about him and he got to do all the talking.  I also drew Windsong aside and told her the same thing. Between the two of them it was more  likely to actually happen as they both had BIC's ear at this point. I told them I wanted to talk about security and ops.  I actually wanted to talk about a lot more.  I kept it vague because everyone was flying high from the success of the video. What I had to say was going to put a bit of a damper on it. 

The other problem with us all getting together is some of us actually worked. Fire was still working at the chicken place. Eye worked for Microcenter as an aisle wander.  He wandered the aisles and helped customers figure out what piece of hardware they needed to buy.  He told me he wasn't sure how long he was going to be employed. I asked him "Why?"

"Because we have more employees on the floor than we do buyers. It's actually getting kind of boring. No hotties anymore. Just fat old unemployed White dudes trying to buy equipment for their new companies."

"Who the hell is starting companies these days?" I was really surprised.  He looked at me puzzled, then laughed "No. Not real companies. I'm not sure as these guys like to talk shit but I think they are all working out of their basements. Doing 'Consulting' or some such shit. Hell, half of them give me their business cards just for selling them some cables."

"Start saving them." I told him.  "They might come in handy for certain jobs."

He laughed "Mover, I can do it cheaper and faster."

"Yeah but I don't want to see you get busted."

He looked at me. I watched the light bulb go off. "Ah..."

"Exactly."  I told him.  I walked away from him knowing he now thought I was looking out for him.  I wasn't.  I was looking out for me.

BIC was writing constantly now. No one saw much of him. He stayed in his "Office" and didn't want to be disturbed.   That was easy enough. We were the only people interested in seeing him physically. Every one else only wanted a virtual piece of him.  Supposedly he was working on a book but he was also posting like a maniac on his blog.  Eye had got him a domain and space on a server using BIC's Mom's credit card after the blog crashed do to our sudden fame  I didn't find out about until it was a done deal. I was beginning to wonder how far I wanted to ride this wave before it hit the beach.  I didn't really expect the ride to last that long. The sharks would arrive before that.  I was just going to have to time my departure right. 

I was surprised that BIC's writing actually resonated with me.  His latest posts were about how the economy was the environment and the environment was the economy. Capitalism was a cancer. The environment was the mirror that reflected the damage that was actually happening.  He kept it simple and stayed on point.  The only change was how he wrapped the main point in current events.  Windsong wrote the "Green" parts. She was a mystic on the web and a realist in person. All money, such as it was, went through her.  Paypal contributions being the main source of funding then. Her personal account was where they were sent.  That and BIC's Mom was it.

The Mover - Part 4d

My view of the Internet and all the various voices using the media available to make their voices heard using it was of a huge arena packed with clamoring voices screaming at various levels of volume on the sand.  All of them looking in different directions, few of them talking to each other, all trying to make contact with the humanity in the stands who had come to be amused, titillated, or in hopes of finding a voice that would speak directly to fears, hopes, and desires.We had managed all of the above.

Our little group was excited to say the least. Even I was I have to admit.  Our video had pulled us out of the pit and turned the eyes of the arena towards us. That was definitely exciting. What no one else in our group noticed yet was it had also attracted the attention of the box seat holders. Here, the predators sat and waited for the pit to produce product and data for them. Data for which way the masses were trending. The product was their merchandising of it.

I was also aware of the boxes with the darkened windows.  Here sat those whose job was to make sure that if what came out of the pit couldn't be merchandised, co-opted, and diffused it was destroyed.  Threats could be tolerated because in the end they always took a seat in one of the boxes when it was offered.  True movements that couldn't be controlled were handled by killing the heads of it. We were long past the days of lining the roads with the crucified bodies of the foot soldiers of change.   We had even moved past assassinations. Now it was surgical strikes with flying robotic machines for the first tier leaders and renditions to trial and official burial in a cell to underline the point being made to the followers. BIC didn't know it but the clock had just started running for how long he had to live.

Friday, July 23, 2010

The Mover - Part 4c

Everyone was on time. That was amazing.  BIC arrived with Windsong. That was not surprising.  Also what was not surprising was everyone but me an Anna had arrived dressed in black.  It was kind of funny actually. They looked like a troop of mimes.  I was wearing a blue shirt with dark gray pants. Anna was wearing a red dress because I had suggested it. Red works as camo at night and it fit with the theme.  She liked it because it set off her hair and it was a revolutionary color. Revolutionary yes, the right century? That I wasn't too sure about.

 What was also funny was Windsongs face when she saw Fire in the red dress.  She was pissed and kicking herself for not thinking about it.  You couldn't tell it by how she an Anna greeted each other tho.  I went to greet Suck who arrived alone.  It wasn't hard to recgognize her car out as it was covered with bumper stickers that proclaimed how enlightened and radical she was.  What did surprise me an everyone else is she had driven here topless.

She was grinning an announced loudly "Nobodies on the road and I wanted to get into the mood!"  Then dhe cupped the twins, danced a jig, and then took the support away and let them move on their own.  Eye had arrived, dressed in black, and I noticed he was quick to get the cam up and get her on it's hard drive. She was obviously high.  BIC was passing out joints and told everyone he had beer on ice in the backseat of his car.  I smiled at Fire and said "Lets get the party started."

Suck gave me a big hug when I greeted her.  No silicone in the twins. They pancaked.  "I asked her "Did you bring the spray paint?"

"Yes I did. Should I get it?"

"Yeah. We need to get moving."

She had actually brought it.  I was amazed.  I went over to the wall and visualized the slogan and where the fire should burn.  I was also watching Windsong and Fire out of the corner of my eye stand around trying to be nonchalant about being half naked and pulling it off rather well. Both had stripped to nothing but their butt floss panties.  Both I noticed had managed wore red ones. 

Suck walked up to me shaking the spray paint can. "I was thinking Gothic script. What do you think?"  I looked at her. She wasn't kidding.  "No. Too hard to read for the older viewers. Just go with the standard."

She smiled a huge smile at me.  "This so exciting!"

"Yeah. Well do your thing so I can do mine" Then I slapped her ass hard and walked away with her delighted squeal echoing across the parking lot.  I noticed the old man had moved his car closer to us. Yeah. He wasn't dead and the show was already pretty good.

I got the Molotov out of the car and when I came back BIC was waiting for me.  He handed me a beer, looked at the Molotov and asked me "Need any help?"

"Yeah. Actually I do." I took a long pull on the beer and set it down away from my feet.  I handed him a book of kitchen matches and told him "I'll hold it. I want you to stand behind me and light it."

We both admired what Suck had painted. "BANKERS MUST BURN!" in red of course.

 BIC asked me "Sooo. You going for the ATM?"

"No. Off the side just a little.  I want them to see it as the fire burns."

"Cool." He stepped behind me and said "Ready."

I held it back behind me and heard a kitchen match strike followed by "Shit. Hold on."  Another match was struck and he yelled "Go!"

I tossed it overhand. It arced perfectly and exploded against the brick wall.  It was beautiful.  Suck had  turned on her car stereo and the music was pumping out through her open windows.  The bass was bone deep and coming from the trunk.  It was perfect.

BIC stood next to me and we watched as the girls began dancing, shaking and laughing.  "So what do you think Mover?"

"I think we should get them to rub down with baby oil first.  That would look nice against the fire."

He nodded his head. "Yeah. I think you're right.  I also think we are all going to get laid tonight."

I laughed and let that stand as an answer.

"So what do you think Mover." He wasn't looking at me. "Who's got the best tits?"

The reality was Moonsong did but I knew better than to say that. BIC would be whispering that to her within 15 minutes of us all leaving. She would then find some way to let Anna know. Then I would have her pissed off at me.

"Got to be Fire."

He grinned "Smart man.  What do you think? We got a hit on our hands?"

I watched them. The fire was already burning out.  I was going to have to go with jellied gas next time.  "BIC. I think we are going worldwide."

Eye had the video on the NET an hour later. He blocked the women's faces out.  An hour and twenty minutes later BIC's blog host server went down due to the traffic spike. We watched the hit count rise on YouTube like it was the national debt.  We were worldwide.  It became known as the Burner video.


Thursday, July 22, 2010

The Mover - Part 4b

Anna and I pulled into the parking lot at 02:30 and parked.  The bank was a branch of Wells Fargo. While they not the evilest bank in the universe they did have a lot of bad home loans.  A lot. That meant foreclosures an unhappy Americans.  Angry Americans.  Our audience.  We were going to have to make sure we got their logo in the opening shot. Eye was running the video. I was tossing the Molotov. The women would dance.  BIC was going to join us. He would help me watch the women dance. 

Driving over here Anna had asked me "Do you think I should do, oh like a choreographed routine or something?"

I had no clue what she was talking about so I replied "Huh?"

 "For the fire. You know."

I got it. "No. I would be spontaneous.  Just shake them and skip around the place. Imagine a 16 year old watching you in his bedroom with the door shut."

She laughed. "Yeah. I think I can actually picture that. Yeah. I got it."

I got there early because I wanted to see if there were any possible problems in the parking lot. I was driving Anna's car. A Toyota Corolla that was 12 years old and after a quick check I agreed with her that it was good for another 10 years. I didn't think she would still be driving it then but I didn't really want to go there.  Why bother? She was excited and  happy. Me telling her that her future probably included a Supermax, probably the Florence Colorado, would just be rain on her parade. I had turned off the house lights inside the car. Anna had watched me an asked what I was doing. I told her "We don't want a light to go on when we open the car door."  Pretty much common sense but she was surprised. 

There was nothing in the lot to worry about. A couple of abandoned cars was it.  Off to the far end of the lot was a car that an older white male was living in.  I saw him about the same time he saw me. He had his windows down and the passenger seat almost completely laid back for his bed. The back seat was full except for where he had made space for the seat to drop down. He didn't move. He spoke to me through the open window "Whatcha doing?"

I stopped, looked at him, and said "Looking for cops or wingnuts."

"No cops here. Sometimes around six in the morning you might see one cruise through. Plenty of wingnuts in the woods tho."

"Okay. Thanks." I was moving on when he caught me up with "Why you worried about cops?"

"Because we're going to burn down the bank over there."

"Okay. Sounds good to me. Bankers are assholes." I nodded and walked away.  Behind me I heard him mutter "Fucking bankers. Serves them right." Then he wheezed a smokers laugh.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

The Mover - Part 4a

I noticed that when I mentioned the topless part Windsong and Anna didn't flinch.  They just checked each others rack to see how they stacked up.  "Jesus" I thought "Women too?"   Oh well.  Tina got all pissed because I forgot to mention her name. She got up, yanked up her shirt, and let the twins loose. "What's a matter with these?" I apologized and added her to the dancers.  Hell, we could cover the Chubby Chaser demographic too.

The other thing we decided on was our new names. Anna thought we should all have "Comrade" names. She didn't put it that way but that was how I translated it.  She was right. When I was doing renditions for the State Department all the big boys had nicknames.  I didn't mention they were earned and not given.  Anna's  point was if we were going to be big time revolutionaries then we didn't want to use our real names.  It was the way it was done. Left unsaid be me was the feds probably already knew them. At least it would help Gene's Mom from finding out what mischief her boy had been up to. At least until Homeland Security came knocking on her door.

I choose "The Mover."  Now I would be moving bankers instead of deadbeats.  Gene AKA Eugene Wasserman wanted to be called "The Thrill."  When we stopped laughing and he stopped sulking about it he suggested "Eye."  We were okay with that. Windsong stayed with Windsong.  Not a surprise there.  Anna went with "Fire."  That pissed Windsong off but there wasn't much she could say without looking like an ass. Tina, the fat girl, choose "Suck."  Yeah. She had some issues.  Everybody was beaming and calling each other by their names. Of course Gene had fun with Tina's choice.  I was getting ready to smack him upside the head if he pointed at her one more time and said "You Suck."  Instead she did. He shut up.

Then we planned our "Op."  I think they loved that word as much as their new names.  They sure as hell worked into the conversation enough.  The planning was pretty simple. I already knew the banks location.  I told them I would bring the Molotov. Eye would handle the video.  The girls would dance. I told Suck she would be doing the spray painting of the graffiti.  She liked that and quit glaring at me.  I told them we would meet in the parking lot at 0300 tomorrow. Then I had to explain what time was and "Yes. That was really tonight."  They were taken aback by that.  I ignored it.  I just said "The time for talk is over. If you can't handle it then don't be there."  Then Anna and I left. 

The Mover - Part 4

I wanted our first action to be something small but visual.  Safe in reality but on the playback would look like we were storming the Fed. That was actually suggested by Gene.  We were back in the basement  kicking around ideas.  I already had a plan but I wanted to listen to their ideas, belittle them, and then present mine which would then be adopted for use. 

Gene was busting to tell us his plan. "Let's hold a demonstration at the Fed. Get the people psyched up and charge the main doors!"  He had more to say but I cut him off. "Gene. You going to lead this charge?" I asked him casually.

"Ah...well..."  He actually looked pissed that I asked and put him on the spot. I knew why. In his mind it would be me leading the charge.  Gene would probably be looking on from afar.  Lending support of course. After all I was the "violence" guy. 

"You do know that the Fed probably has as good as security as the FUCKING WHITE HOUSE!" Yes I yelled the last three words.  "First off, right now I doubt if more than 20 people would show up for it. Second of all at least half of that 20 would be employees of Homeland Security. Third. Your lily White ass would be in DC Jail by the end of the day.  DC Jail does not have air conditioning. It is not a motel. You would have roommates. You would not like that.  He shut up and sat back.

Every one else had the same kind of plans. All of them involved burning something.  All of them were to happen in front of high profile and symbolic buildings in the area.  All of them were pretty fucking stupid. 
So I explained to them the difference between hard and soft targets.  I emphasized we wanted propaganda only. We didn't want to kill anyone. We didn't want to get killed or arrested.  We just wanted a nice video that might go viral.  I had already explained this to Anna who was disappointed at first but realized there would be bigger and better further down the road. The rest seemed relieved.  I was not surprised. 

My plan was to find a bank, a standalone in a strip shopping center that was mostly vacant.  Toss a Molotov against the ATM after spray painting the wall with something like "BANKERS MUST BURN!"  I was going to let the group figure what should be sprayed on the wall.  That way everyone would feel like they had a piece of the plan.  Then add a soundtrack.  I was thinking off having Windsong an Anna dance topless around the fire screaming.  That would about guarantee it going viral. 

The Mover - Part 3f

BIC was a lucky man in a lot of ways.  Sure, he was smart.  Yet he didn't hesitate to cut and paste other peoples writing, then rearrange it a bit and post it as his own.  He got called on a few times but he and everyone else shrugged it off. The people calling him on it didn't understand how many of his readers had done the same thing at some point in their lives. With them it was the thought that counted.  One of the little gems he stole that resonated with me was this one:

"From whatever angle you approach it, the present offers no way out. This is not the least of its virtues. From those who seek hope above all, it tears away every firm ground. Those who claim to have solutions are contradicted almost immediately. Everyone agrees that things can only get worse. “The future has no future” is the wisdom of an age that, for all its appearance of perfect normalcy...
There will be no social solution to the present situation. First, because the vague aggregate of social milieus, institutions, and individualized bubbles that is called ...“society,” has no consistency. Second, because there’s no longer any language for common experience. And we cannot share wealth if we do not share a language. 

...The questions of “pensions,” of “job security,” of “young people” and their “violence” can only be held in suspense while the situation these words serve to cover up is continually policed for signs of further unrest. Nothing can make it an attractive prospect to wipe the asses of pensioners for minimum wage.  Those who have found less humiliation and more advantage in a life of crime than in sweeping floors will not turn in their weapons, and prison won’t teach them to love society... And finally, no guaranteed income granted the day after a quasi-uprising will be able to lay the foundation of a new New Deal, a new pact, a new peace. The social feeling has already evaporated too much for that."
He rewrote it of course. Way too many big words in it for his average reader.  Hell, I had to read it twice. I liked the original better.

BIC caught the wave.  I knew there was a wave coming. I just hadn't figured out what I was going to do about. BIC had. Well, he had some ideas.  What happened was the economy went down the freaking toilet.  Every increase in the unemployment rate got him more eyeballs.  We were still in the first inning or two when I met him and I don't think anyone had an idea about how bad it was really going to get.  Nor how long it was going to take to get there.  The doomers expected an instantaneous crash. They wanted the economy to bake and then explode like a burrito left to long in a 7-11 microwave.  Instead it slow cooked. Real slow. That was fine. We needed the time. I needed the time.

source for the above quote

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

The Mover - Part 3e

I hadn't made a conscious to hook up with them until then. As I told them what I brought to the table I realized I had.  Anna sealed it by saying "Yes!" loudly and pumping her fist. She added "Now thats what I'm talking about." I looked over at her. She was sitting next to me on the other ratty sofa in the room. Her eyes were shining and her headlights were on.  "Well well" I thought "Maybe I had just found a soul mate."  Shit I had nothing else happening. Now I could move bankers on. Same line of work -- just further up the food chain.

BIC wanted to talk targets. Gene wanted to kiss my ass. The fat girl, Tina was her name, when she saw Anna wasn't looking licked her lips. Windsong just studied me.  I studied all of them back and said the minimum necessary to keep the conversational wheels turning. Now that I made my decision I was evaluating them differently.  Each had their potential uses.  People are tools. Especially when you want to form the kind of team I had in mind. I didn't need four hammers. I was the hammer. The rest of them, well, time would tell.

I also wondered if Homeland Security had physically infiltrated an informer into the group. I doubted it. They would eventually.  Someone new would show up or one of the people here would be compromised. That was a given.  Electronically I was sure BIC was being monitored. At a minimum his IP was compromised and some basic information on him existed in a file somewhere.  That was fine. People like him were a dime a dozen on the Net. If I was filtering for possible candidates for late night door removal he wouldn't show up based on what I had heard and seen so far.  That also would change. 

I had a feeling I had an idea what model he was thinking about. I had noticed a book case filled with books by the door that probably led to his bedroom.  I was going to need to take a look at them.  Someones book collection was a window into their mind. Just having them had raised my opinion of him considerably.  People who wanted to do what he had in mind were not dumb asses. This wasn't South America or the Middle East though. They were able to disappear because they weren't anomalies. They were the voice and face of a significant minority of the people  around them.  Gangs were a better model than the SLA or Waco.  Yeah me the BIC were going to need to talk. Before that happened I was going to need to generate some credibility. The sooner the better.

The Mover - Part 3d

The meeting was interesting. BIC was telling everyone "Look. It's time to take it to the next level.  I need something to put on the blog other than the same old rants they can read elsewhere. I need podcast content that is hot." He grinned and added "Burning hot." 

The serious looking guy, his name was Gene, answered him "Look BIC. Everyone talks shit. Getting them to do shit in real time is proving to be next to impossible.  If they could riot using their keyboard this country would be toast by now." Plaintively he added "How the hell did they get them into the street in the 60's?" 

"By doing god damn it!" BIC roared.

 "I got a podcast coming for you..." This was from the redhead who didn't get to finish her sentence. BIC, instead of yelling, quietly told her "The Wicca stuff is fine but it doesn't get the kind of play we need." I knew from the tone he used that he was doing her.  I decided to jump in. "You all got it wrong" I told them.  "You want to know how they got people in the streets? They made it fun. The had good looking women and that pulls a crowd everytime. They had music. They had drugs. What do you got to offer other than jail time? We're talking White boys here right?" I didn't bother to let him answer. "Most of them don't want to meet Bubba. They want to do Windspring over here."

Windspring was the redhead. She corrected me. "It's Windsong."

"Yeah. Whatever.  You want the big time? You need to bring an illusion of good times for some. Ideology to justify it. Then you need to bring the violence to make it legit."

There was a moment of silence. BIC stared at me, his eyes narrowed, and he said "What do you bring?"


The Mover - Part 3c

Meetings are not that big of deal for me. Unlike most men I am not evaluating all the females for possible future liaisons.  Well, maybe. There was a redhead there who was pretty hot.  Her and BIC were arguing when we walked in about her hair.  The redhead was telling BIC "I did it for symbolic reasons. Valid ones. We need symbols that can be adopted by the masses!"

BIC wasn't liking it. "No! I have told you this before and written it enough god damn times.  No symbols! They will just co-opt them and drain the meaning from them.  I don't want our ideas turned into merchandise that you can buy in the god damn mall!

Then what about your BIC logo!"  I could tell she thought it was a killer riposte. 

He smiled "That's different. That was before we got big."

I looked around and thought "This was big? Jesus. Who did he meet with before? His cat?"

He had seen me by now and walked away from the redhead leaving her fuming.  He hugged Anna, I was to find they hugged each other hello, good-bye, and for the hell of it if they were attractive.  He hugged me too. Then we did the introductions.  The other two were in their early twenties, one a White female who needed to lose weight, had pink hair streaks and tat's.  The other one was a skinny White male who looked liked he had no sense of humor and reminded me of attorneys I had known. Only he didn't look successful or confident enough. 

We started the meeting with an invocation of the goddess by the redhead.  Then they recited the Burner statement of existence.  "When faced with the destruction of the planet and the impoverishment of the many by the few then the only option is to destroy them before they destroy us.  Burn the bankers!"  It wasn't up there with what Thomas Jefferson and his friends had written but the "Burn the Bankers!" part turned out to have legs.

The Mover - Part 3b

I met her friends the next afternoon at the house of a financial supporter, actually the only support, of the guy whose idea it was to burn or destroy all tech and bring  back to the good old days.  He lived in his Mom's basement then.  That part was glossed over later I noticed.

There were six of us of at the meeting. There were also probably a couple hundred people in the area who supported his ideas, left comments on his blog, and were basically full of shit. There were more elsewhere using the ideas he was pushing out on his blog then. Some of them had blogs, one had a website, others just posted the ideas at the core of the "Change," or their interpretation of it wherever they felt like it. It was a pretty loose organization to say the least.

Our leader used the name "BIC" online.  He also expected to be addressed as BIC in the real world.  Supposedly it was because he used a BIC lighter as a logo on his blog. It took me awhile to figure that out.  I thought BIC meant "Burner in Charge" at first.  I had never read his blog or heard of him before this.  I very rarely read his blog later.  His philosophy wasn't exactly deep. Once you got the rudiments it was pretty easy to guess what BIC would say or do in any given ideological situation. 

BIC was not impressive in person physically. He was overweight by at least 20 lbs, white, he had bad skin, and greasy hair that he wore long.  He did have white teeth and eyes that managed to be piercing online and in reality.  He could talk too. I mean complete sentences and paragraphs that led to conclusions that you knew were right.  He could be charming when he wanted to be and he had an amazing memory.  He was also totally fucking nuts.  I recognized that right away but very few else did.  Perhaps me being somewhat off of center helped in seeing that. The rest were a mixed bag.  In time I would end up knowing them all.  At this point I was content to sit back.

Monday, July 19, 2010

The Mover - Part 3a

I was standing in the bathroom shaving when I stopped midway, the razor suspended in air, and looked at myself in the mirror. Who and what the hell was I and why did I bother? Because you are what you are my man is all I had for an answer but it was good enough. I dressed without any sense of apprehension or excitement.  I expected nothing other than the fact that I would more than likely be moving on soon.

Anna met me smiling at the door. She was nervous and looked great. She was apologizing for the spareness of her furnishings while telling me she was afraid I wouldn't come. I went into low key reassurance mode.  She had a cat. I hate cats. The cat wouldn't leave me alone.  The cat knew. The little furry fuckers always did. I wanted to twist his head off.

We ate. It was good. It was organic. The wine was not bad.  We put a little smoke into the air. It went the way I expected including the rehearsed speech about wanting to thank me for coming to her rescued.  She had always thought I was attractive but she didn't want to blow up the money coming in. Actually she didn't say the last part but I heard it. I understood too. If we had ended up here early on I would have expected her to answer the phone for free.  Which reminded me -- she was going to need to dump the phone.  I thought I would wait awhile before mentioning that tho.

We ended up where I thought we would and where she had planned for us to. About thirty minutes later we were both laying there in silence and she asked what I knew she would "Is it me?"

The last time I had played this differently.  Maybe it was the dinner. Maybe it was the weed which was very good. Maybe it was her.  Maybe I was getting older.  So I told her the truth. "No. it's not you Anna." I stroked her thigh.  "It's me." I felt the bed shift and knew she had moved so she could look directly at me. She surprised me then. I was expecting "They have pills for this you know."  Or a polite "Well...thanks for dropping by..." Instead I heard "What happened?" That simple statement, delivered quietly was a door opener. 

I laughed. I didn't move. I didn't want to make eye contact. Instead I told her the truth "I'm damaged goods.  Always have been since I can remember.  Sometimes..." Now It was going to get interesting. "Sometimes it will work but I have to hate you. It has been...well, not good for those who were with me when it worked."

There was silence. I rolled over to look at her. She returned my gaze.  She was neither fearful, repulsed, or interested. She was just there.  I continued "So now I don't have sex. It's easier that way. Instead I channel it into other things." She nodded her head. A minute move barely perceptible in the half light of the candles she had lit. She asked "Why me? Why now?"

I sighed. "I don't know Anna. Because I thought it might work. Because sometimes I hope that it has gone away. Because I like you and think you're beautiful." 

I looked away first.

After a bit she said "I understand."

The startling thing was I knew she did. I knew it. It was a hell of a feeling.

We lay there for a bit. I don't know how long.  Then she told me "You can stay if you want. I have to see some friends tomorrow and I want you to meet them."


She knew I meant the friends. "Because they want to change the world by burning it down."

"Okay." Then I rolled over and went to sleep.

The Mover - Part 3

I had gone by Enrico's a couple of days later.  They were empty which was not surprising. I usually ate lunch around 14:00 to avoid the lunch crowd.  Anna was happy to see me and her Stepfather came out to say "Hello" too. When she brought out my lunch she told me with a big smile "It's on the house and will be as long as there is a house."

Then she did something unusual. She slid in the booth across from me and smiled again. This time with a little less self assurance.  I looked at her then went back to chewing.  She didn't say anything so I asked her the question as I had a pretty good idea what this was about. "So the meat still in the freezer?"   She looked startled then laughed. I liked her laugh. I had never heard it before.  When she stopped laughing she told me "No. Stepfather took care of it." She arched an eyebrow an added "Stepfather knows how to use a cleaver."  I couldn't help it. I looked down at my chicken.  She saw it and laughed again.  "No. No. It's taken care of. That's all I know and want to know." Then she blurted out "I want to cook you dinner tomorrow night. You can come by my place." She paused, then added "I don't eat meat."

"Okay. Fine. What time and where?"

She pulled out her order pad, wrote rapidly, and then handed it to me.  I looked at it, she lived in the same apartment complex I did behind the restaurant. She was just one block over. "No problem" I told her. Then I went back to work on the french fries.  She sat there for a couple minutes, got the hint, and got up.  She paused after she stood up and told me "I'm looking forward to it." I nodded and kept eating.  I watched her walk away and wondered if I was up to this.  It had been five years since the last time I had been with a woman.  "Yeah" I thought "I might as well. Who knows?"

Saturday, July 17, 2010

The Mover - Part 2f

I decided to skip returning to the apartment and headed instead to the bus stop by the discount clothes store at the end of the shopping center.  The 27A to Tysons Corner bus should be by in about ten minutes. I liked riding the bus.  It got me where I was going. I was never bothered. Best of all I didn't have to mess with the traffic on Route 7 which was becoming lighter over the past couple years. Noticeably lighter.  Not surprising since the Great Recession was turning out to be like a cold I picked up in Poland four or five years ago.  It really sucked to be me for a couple weeks and then it eased off and I began to rejoice. That was a mistake because it came back with a vengeance. Every time I sneezed I caught part of my lung in my hand for at least three weeks after that.

The bus dropped me off at the stop by the fast food fish place.  It was a franchise of some sort but I never saw any others like it anywhere.  One of these days I was going to google it just to satisfy my curiosity. No way it was a one of a kind family business. It was just too cheesy an corporate looking inside an out.  Yeah, I had tried it. The fried clams, once you got past the batter, well, I blew boogers out of my nose that were bigger.

From there I walked a mile down a bike and jogging path that connected up to the bike paths that ran all the way to DC.  That put me at my other place.  I rented the basement from an old stoner couple on a cash basis. They loved that.  I loved the fact that they were stoners.  Everything was cool with them including the fact that I was rarely there.

I bought a Jimi Hendrix poster and taped it on the wall for decoration and because I knew they would do a walk through when I was out. Along with the poster I left a couple books out on Socialism and environmental activism. The next time I ran into them they were a lot more friendly.  We got high and I talked some shit. Now when I was in and they knew it I would find an envelope slid under my door with a couple joints in it. Good shit too.

 I decided to to hang out for the next couple days here.  Maybe go upstairs later when I smelled dinner being cooked. The old stoner lady could cook.  Have a few beers with them and listen to whatever they were playing which was usually something recorded before I was born and relax.  Life was good.

Friday, July 16, 2010

The Mover - Part 2e

He tried replying out of the side of his mouth back. He wasn't very good at it. "So where are they?" We were almost to his car. I told him "Pop the trunk. Let's go around and pretend we are looking at something inside of it. The open trunk will deflect any surveillance devices."

He popped the trunk remotely along with the doors and we walked around to the back. We stood their with it up and he whispered "So what do we do now?" I adjusted my stance and punched him in the middle of the back driving him forward and then shoving him so he fell forward into the trunk. I looked casually around and saw no one. Life is good sometimes. Then I slammed the trunk on him.  Not once but three times in quick succession. I knew that hurt. He told me so.

The nice thing about using this particular method was the trunk muffled his screams. Especially when I closed it. I let the lid pop open and looked in on him. He was sobbing.  Not crying. Sobbing.  He was trying to tell me something but he wasn't enunciating clearly.   It wasn't important anyway. I reached in and took his keys from where they had fallen.  I straightened up to the sound of high heels clicking towards us.

It was the Blond. She stiffened and her stride changed, then she semi relaxed as she recognized me.  That changed when she saw Tony's feet hanging out and heard the sobbing.  Her eyes widened a bit and she changed course with out a seconds hesitation. She had her cell phone in her hand. She wasn't stupid. She saw me glance at it and then her and she said "I don't care. I don't care." Then the staccato click of heels accelerated.  "Fine" I thought. I dangled the keys in the air and told her departing back "I was just helping him find these."  She just kept going. I watched her for a couple of beats and thought "Nice ass." Then I slammed the trunk lid down on him again and laughed.

She flew out of the parking lot. I was sure I saw her on the cellphone.  Not a surprise there.  I wasn't worried. After the last budget cut Fairfax County Police had publicly stated that their response time to minor offenses would be taking a hit. They might roll on the call...they might not.  I opened the trunk and said "Hey Tony. Can you hear me?" He quit whimpering enough to mutter/mumble something that sounded a lot like "Motherfucker." I didn't take offense.  Pain makes everyone grouchy.

"Just nod if you can hear me." I waited patiently a couple of beats and then added "Or I slam the trunk lid."  He nodded. So I told him "I find out those people were forced out because of you then I am going to come find you and you won't like that."

He replied with something that sounded a lot like "Oh Jesus...awshit...." trailing off to a keening moan.

I sighed. "Okay. I'm glad we understand each other." Then I grabbed his legs and tossed them in the truck with the rest of him. That got the loudest scream yet. I slammed the trunk shut and hit the locks.  I knew he would probably find his way out. Failing that somebody would let him out.  I walked away and about five minutes later tossed the keys down a sewer. I realized as I walked that I needed to find another way of making off the books cash. Or find a hobby.

The Mover - Part 2d

He was talking to me but I wasn't listening. Instead I was looking at him. Not looking in the way we usually do as we go through our daily interactions with the people that cross our paths.  This was seeing. As if I had dropped in from another country.  I had done this before. I had too. It was part of my job.  But I had never done it in America.  I mean evaluate the person in front of me as a representative of the people in the country that my assignment took me to. I didn't like what I was seeing.

Why? I knew that some people were assholes. Some days I was one. Hell, everybody has their moments.  What I had missed was a significant portion of the people who lived in my country had become full time assholes.  Pricks. Cold hearted, shallow at best, hollow where their heart should be, and petty. This all went through my head quickly. Probably because it was just the crystallization of what had been lurking below the surface the past few years.

I tuned back in to hear "...if you can get them out of there as fast as you advertise then we can put the house on the market this week."  I held up my hand to silence him.  Then I stared at him. He cocked his head an looked at me amused. A move that had probably been devastating on the right person twenty years ago.It wasn't anymore. 

I told him "Let me guess. You want to pay me $1000.00 to get these people to move?"

He nodded his head.

I continued "Then you probably have someone in the bank. You're going to buy the house through a straw buyer and then resell it for oh....300k profit maybe?"

He cocked his head again and said "So what are you telling me? You want more money? Is that it?"  The "Is that it?" was delivered with more than a hint of anger. God forbid I fuck with his profit margins.  I shook my head, smiled at him, and modulated my reply so it came out nice and soft "No. Not at all. Just like to know what I'm getting into." He liked that. He liked the tone. Guys like him always thought speaking softly was a sign of weakness. 

"So we all set?"  He asked me.

"Yes. I contact you as planned when the job is done." We shook hands again and he headed for his car.  I fell in step with him.  That startled him a bit so I told him "I think we are going the same way plus I want to make sure we are not being watched."  That spooked him. He was twisting his head off looking around the parking lot. I whispered out of the side of my mouth "Be cool."  I watched out of the corner of my eye as his posture changed, He probably wasn't even aware that it had.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

The Mover - Part 2b

I walked through the parking lot.  I like doing that. If it was a public place that I had never been to I always made a point of doing a parking lot walk through. I would check the models and makes, look to see what was left out on the seats which was usually nothing of value, and just pick up a mental picture of the owners. Then I would project that to who I would see inside and do matches to the cars. Then later, if I had the time, and the inclination, I would stand around in front and see how well I had scored.

The problem lately was I wasn't doing as well as I had before.  The dying economy was messing my model up.  To many people in their heads were BMW drivers, and probably had been not that long ago, were driving cheap iron. They still hadn't shed the BMW aura and probably wouldn't. It's hard to stop being a total asshole.

My client was a BMW driver. A leased BMW of course.  An asshole most certainly. I spotted his ride. He needed to have it detailed but with his cash flow problems it was understandable why it had been awhile. God forbid he get his ass out on the asphalt and do it himself.  I did a quick Happy Face. No sense in getting tense and ripping his face off as soon as he opened his mouth.

I spotted him right away. He was in the cafe area of Barnes and Noble and sitting two tables down from a woman half his but totally in his class. He was on his cell, of course, and talking louder than he needed to. Of course he was really talking to two people. I circled around and thumbed through the bargain books and listened in.

Client. "Yes. That's what I said. I believe we can capitalize on the synergy of this merger and make some major bank."

A bit of a frown. He pulls the phone back from his ear and catches the blondes eye. He smiles a wry "Can you believe this?" smile.  She smiles back and then looks quickly down at the magazine she has spread out on the table. 

Client. "Look. Don't fuck this up. We're talking total market penetration here. I love to hear them squeal when we're done."  He snapped the phone shut and looked over again at the blonde.  He was going to make his move.  It was time for me to make mine.

The Mover - Part 2a

My meeting was across Route 50 at an ancient mall that was probably as old as the apartments I lived in.  Supposedly it was once a high end, high dollar shopping mall.  Now it was discount clothes, a Barnes and Noble, which amazingly to me continued to hang in there, and a Home Depot. The rest of the stores were either empty or going to be soon. 

An excellent example was the Cupcake place.  What possessed someone to open a franchised cupcake shop that sold their product at $4.95 apiece was beyond me.  Especially in this area. A taco stand would have a tough time making it here. A shitty tasting cupcake vendor was insane.  I figured who ever it was who financed it, probably with equity from their house, was going to be sticking their head in their cupcake oven soon.

When I say across Route 50 it makes it seem like a simple enough walk.  Cross four lanes of traffic, cut across a parking lot and I would be at Barnes and Noble where my client was supposed to meet me.  No. Not around here.  There was, at least until lately, so many people fresh off the boat living here who didn't understand American traffic patterns and how to cross a road and live to make it to the other side that the County had chain fenced almost a mile of road. Then they had built a foot bridge across the highway and the fence supposedly channeled everyone onto the bridge.  Nice theory. A million dollars was probably spent to save villagers who were probably chasing chickens down dirt roads two weeks ago. 

Then Jose who was an expert in getting through fences took a pair of wire cutters to it. "Why walk that far when I can make my own shortcut?" was the reasoning.  So Jose and his family continued to get flattened by soccer moms driving SUV's and chatting on their cell phones. The bridge was never used and the area looked like a minimum security prison from all the fencing.

I took the long way. I liked the exercise and it made it tough for me to be followed.  I didn't expect to be but life isn't about expectations and dreams.  Life is a bitch that delights in blindsiding you.  That was how I ended up walking across a pedestrian bridge to meet what was surely going to be another asshole.  I once had a job with a government agency assisting in "renditions." Things happened and I was offered an 80% disability on mental health grounds.  I took it.  The alternative that was presented was not very appealing.  The government was happy. I no longer had any credibility should I desire to talk about the "incident."  If I did then they knew they could jerk the pension, smear me, and life would continue on. Or I would just disappear.  I figured the odds were pretty good that it would be both. 

The client knew nothing about me other than I came highly recommended.  I knew everything I needed to know about the client including what he or she looked like.  It wasn't hard.  The basics were public domain.  The numbers, balances, and how much of their life was front was cheaper than a good meal for two.  The rest I would know in the first five minutes of our meeting.  Depending on if I decided to take the job or not the next step would be the third part of doing my background discovery.  If I took the job I would have the Internet and cell phone usage of the target run.  I ran the first two on a potential client because it was easy and cheap.  It also usually let me know what was driving them to call someone like me.  The third report, and a little more digging always gave me the answer on how to do my job. 

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

The Mover - Part 2

They had a walk in freezer.  It was almost empty which I thought of as a "good thing - bad thing."  Good because there was room for the lads. Bad because I knew business at Enrico's was slow but but I hadn't realized how slow.  If they went out of business my dining choices would become severely diminished in this area. As in zero.

There was still a McDonald's open across the street but I wasn't a McDonald's type of guy. Not because it was corporate slop that had been packaged as food and was slightly more healthy than eating roadkill off the highway in August.  I didn't eat it because it made me constipated.  Otherwise, if I was short of money and hungry I would eat there. There is a big difference between being some kind of foodie elitist who would eat owl shit if it was certified organic but would never touch a Big Mac and me. I would eat roadkill if it was my only choice in a heartbeat. Hell, I would eat a foodie if I had too. You did what you had to do and looked for payback when you got a chance.

I left Stepfather staring at the freezer in the kitchen and went out to see if Anna had finished policing the area.  She had and was sitting in the next booth over looking a little stunned and rubbing her back.  I checked the booth and carpeting around it. It was clean. These kind of incidents rarely are.  Once you rupture the human container you end up with an amazing amount of fluids all over the place.  I looked myself over. A spot of chicken grease on my shirt was it.  Yep. Not bad at all.

"You okay Anna?" I asked her.

She looked up at me. The thick black hair that she usually wore pinned back had come loose and she brushed it out of her face.  "Yeah. I'm fine." She hesitated for a couple beats , then added "That was different."

I laughed and told her "Hell. The ways things are going that is the new normal." I had noticed  that she had set the handgun on the table with the badge next to it.  I picked it up, popped the magazine, racked the slide and caught the round that ejected as it arced through air.  I took a quick look at the gun. It was clean and had been taken care. A Ruger SR9. It had probably came from who ever had carried the badge.  I palmed the badge, inserted the round back into the magazine, and reloaded.  I safed it and handed it to her.  "Put this someplace like your purse. I'll be back in a couple days." She held the Ruger like it was an interesting archeological find from another planet. "We'll talk." I told her. Then I was gone.

Monday, July 12, 2010

The Mover - Part 1f

I was going to be hungry anyways.  Anna bought them their food. I watched her. She was stiff backed and trying to keep her distance. All her body language screamed rigidity and fear.  They were talking to her. A lot quieter now but it wasn't anything good. Watching pinheads face told me that. He was talking shit and probably getting a hard on doing it.  Thats when I saw the other one go for the grope. Anna jerked back, called him a faggot in Spanish, and hit him.

He came up and out of the booth like a rocket and punched her in the chest. That knocked her back and into the tables running down the center of the restaurant floor. I heard her cry of pain and saw the other pinhead grin. I looked at my watch and saw I had time to kill before my meeting with my client. I ate another fry, wiped my mouth, and stood up.

The pinhead who hit her was standing up and was in her face screaming bad shit.  I really don't like it when people scream. Especially when it's bad shit like that. I got up out of my booth with my spoon and fork in hand. I slipped the fork into my back pocket and kept the spoon in my left hand.

They saw me coming.  About this time stepfather came running out of the kitchen with his big chicken chopping cleaver.  The pinhead who was facing me hadn't moved. He was just sitting, grinning, an eating chicken. As far as he was concerned it was show time.  He twisted around a bit and told stepfather "Get your ass back in the kitchen you illegal fuck." Then he flashed a badge.  That froze stepfather in place.  I kept coming. As I did I tapped the spoon on each booth as I passed it and then flipped it up in the air and caught it.

The pinhead who was in Anna's face dug under his shirt and came up with a semi automatic handgun. No surprise there. I grinned at him and kept walking. He yelled at me "Sit your fucking ass back down."  I shook my head and told him "You going to fuck her? Because if you don't I will."  I was almost to him. Two taps and three flips and we would be face to face.  What I said jammed his mind. I ignored what I saw pass over Anna's face out of the corner of my eye.  I kept coming an ignored the weapon. Instead I looked into pinheads eyes and watched as he smiled. He thought we were kin.  We weren't.

The last step to him was a spoon flip. It went a little higher than the other flips. He looked up to watch it. I caught it a little higher up than the others. It was a bit of a reach.  Not to much. I'm tall and have long arms.  I caught it by the spoon part with the handle extended from my hand. I drove that downward into his eye.  Deep. Then I shoved him hard with my right hand and let the left hand which had held the spoon continue down into the arm that was holding the gun extended. He dropped the gun. Not as much because of the force of forearm hitting. Rather it was the desire to pluck the spoon out of his eye. Perfectly understandable I suppose.  The scream was too.

He went down. I watched as he fell backwards out of the corner of my eye. Unfortunately it wasn't face first. The other pinhead was looking up at me. I liked the surprise I saw appear in his eyes.  I was going to like the pain even better. Stepfather decided his moment had arrived.  He came charging up screaming bad shit too. At least his was in Spanish which made it more tolerable for me. Then he buried the chicken cleaver in our remaining diners head. That done he stepped back, looked down at pinhead spasm and jerk, and then whispered "Oh shit." 

"Nah. It's cool." I told him. I pulled the fork from my back pocket and drove it into neck. "See." I told him. "He's done."

Nobody got the punch line. I figured it was a cultural thing.  I picked the badge he had flashed off the tabletop and showed it to Anna. "It's a Special Security badge. These guys aren't cops." Both of them were just staring at me.  I sighed and told Anna "You might want to go lock the front door and put out the closed sign." While she walked towards the door  I helped myself to some of the fries an asked stepfather "You wouldn't have a walk-in freezer would you?"

The Mover - Part 1e

I had a feeling that my lunch was going to be interrupted by these pinheads. Anna had brought me my silverware wrapped up in a napkin along with my Dr. Pepper.  I set the silverware wrapped in a napkin in the center of the table and played Spin the Silverware.  That got boring really quick so I decided to consult the gods and goddesses. I set the silverware in front of me again and said to myself "Oh great god and goddess of cutlery please point up for yes and down for no.  Am I going to have to hurt these pinheads?"  I spun it and got a "Yes."  "Hmmmm" I thought "About what I expected but who can trust just one spin? I mean it could have been a fluke or maybe they had some other pinheads in mind. Deep are the mysteries of the universe.  So I spun them again.  Then again. Three "Yes's."  Well hard to argue with that. I thought "Maybe I should ask for her to box it up to go." The decision was made for me.

Anna came back out of the kitchen with my lunch. She made sure she kept the row of tables going down the center between her and the pinheads.  I watched her approach. She was smiling but she wasn't fooling me. The pinheads were upset and voicing it.  I heard "Hey What the fuck is up with that? We were here first!" They were staring at us while she set my plate down. She gave me a quick tight lipped smile and muttered "I'll be back after I feed these assholes."

I reached out and touched her quickly and then pulled my hand away just as quickly when I saw her reaction.  I told her "It's okay. Don't worry."  She just shook her head and headed back to the kitchen. The pinhead with his back to me yelled after her "You're hot mami!  The one facing me yelled "You got a problem?" I shook my head "No" and ripped into my chicken.  Anna had remembered to bring extra of the hot green jalapeno and mayo sauce that I loved.  I ate fast.  I figured the pinheads had maybe five minutes to live and I wanted to send them on their way and not have to feel hungry thirty minutes later.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

The Mover - Part 1d

Anna came rushing out of the kitchen about a minute after the two began pounding on the table, laughing, and yelling "Service! Service!"  The TV was set to the news and CNN was doing a special on "The Dying Ocean."  Fortunately from what I could read off the close captioning it wasn't dead everywhere yet and new technology may soon even be able to reclaim the cesspool of toxins and death that was the Gulf of Mexico. "That's a relief" I thought. "Thank god for the concern an ingenuity of the chemical companies." Yes, I snarked myself. There wasn't anyone else I could share my humor with.

Apparently the Mediterranean was also dying along with a few other bodies of water I had never heard of including some lake in Africa.  I knew the Africans were screwed unless they found oil nearby sometime soon.  In America nobody gave a shit about Africa. Hell, most Americans couldn't even find Mississippi on a state map including half the people who lived there.  I figured I better start eating seafood more often before it disappeared.

Anna had seen me and shot me a quick smile while she tended to the two clowns. They were giving her shit and checking out her tits at the same time. Anna was well endowed.  Actually she was damn near beautiful.  They were keeping their hands to themselves so far and her stepfather had come out of the kitchen to glower at them.  They had noticed and laughed even harder.  She took their order and came by my table.

"Hey Dalton. What you going to have?" Then she laughed.  She laughed because I ordered the same thing each time. Fries, a quarter chicken, an a Dr. Pepper. Why change if you found something good was how I saw it. Not everybody thought that way.

"Hi Anna. The usual." I never asked her if I had messages. She either told me or didn't.  "Everything all right?" I didn't mean with the cell phone and she knew it.

"Ah Poppy. Don't worry. It's nothing." She smiled at me again and added "I'll be back."

She headed back towards the kitchen and as she passed the clowns, the one with his back to me stuck his hand out as she passed and groped some air. They thought that was pretty funny. Anna pretended not to notice and kept going.  "Smart girl" I thought.

The one facing me checked my reaction and I stone faced him. He said something to the one who had his back to me. He thought he was whispering. He wasn't. He told him "I don't think he liked that."  I saw the other one look over the booth seat at me. Like a gopher he popped up quick and then disappeared. I didn't hear what he told his partner in reply but I could make a guess after the quick burst of laughter that followed it.  The one watching me said "Maybe he wants some too!"  They were cracking themselves up over there.

The Mover - Part 1c

I lived in Arlington in the older part. Most of Arlington was old. A lot of the housing was built at least 50 years ago. I lived in an apartment building that was older than that. It was built of red brick, the universal brick color in this part of the world, and dated back to World War II.  Supposedly it had been military housing back then.  Now days the tenants were a mix of the leftover change from our adventures overseas, immigrants who made their women wear the abaya and Indians who should have made their women wear the abaya. There was the occasional Hispanic type but they had been fading along with the other minorities.

Replacing them were actual White people. It may have been 40 years since this many White people had lived in these apartments. That meant it was going to be time for me to go soon. White people, in my opinion, brought the cops and noise. You want quiet -- find an apartment complex full of illegals.  Especially if anyone in authority came by. Your illegal type knew how to shut up and forget they ever knew English. The downside was they couldn't drive worth shit.

My cell phone was dead. It had been since I bought it. I used as a prop. So were my plastic badges. I hated cell phones just on general principle. I also had no one to call and I didn't want a number that could be tracked. Cell phone users might as well have a chip embedded in their body when it came to information collection and tracking.  No thank you.

My clients when they wanted to reach me called a cell number. They got Anna the waitress.  I gave her the money and she bought a Virgin Mobile cellphone. When it needed topping up I gave her money. When it rang she took a message. When I came by to eat which was every couple days she gave me the message.  I gave her $40.00 a month to be my answering service.  It worked out.  She thought I was crazy but I also tipped well and paid on time so she overlooked it. 

We would talk if she wasn't busy which was usually the case. Her Mom and stepfather ran the place. They were Honduran while Anna was the second child of five to be born in the United States. They thought I was crazy too but her Mom always made sure my plate was full when it came out of the kitchen. Anna had told me her Mom thought I was too skinny.

The restaurant was down the street from me. It was a chicken joint and was in between a Radio shack and an a empty storefront in the strip shopping center that faced Rt 50.  Someone had rehabbed the outside five or six years ago and made it shiny and modern.  The shiny was wearing off but it was still modern because it was mostly empty stores. 

I walked in the door of the restaurant, "Enrico's Pollo." I had asked Anna but she had no idea who Enrico was, and headed for my usual booth which was as far away from the television as I could get.  My booth was empty. Enrico's wasn't.  Enrico's was set up with red vinyl covered booths back to back running the length of the wall that sat four people, two in each booth facing each other. The walls were paneled half way to the ceiling in dark brown wood. Between the booths were a row of tables that ran down the center of the restaurant with aisles on each side of them. I was pretty sure it had been an Italian place once upon a time.

In the booth closer to the kitchen right below the TV were two white guys.  I didn't like them as soon as I saw them.  Tattoo's, shaved heads, and metal in their faces an ears.  That wasn't a big deal in itself but really pissed me off was that they were loud. I really hate loud people.  Their table was empty of drinks and silverware which meant they must have just come in.  I settled into my booth and watched them out of the corner of my eye while I pretended to watch the TV and waited for Anna to show up.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

The Mover - Part 1b

Today I have a potential client who wants discuss my services.  We had arranged a meeting place and time a few days ago.  Most of my clients like meetings.  It's what they do for a living. Plus they get to size me up.  You know, use their vaunted managerial ability to measure a fellow human being and determine their suitability for the task on hand.  Assholes.

Sometimes I get someone who only wants to deal with me electronically.  I don't roll that way homie. I want to be able to see them, sniff them, read their eyes and body language. Plus it helps keep them honest.  It makes it more personal, especially if they decide not to pay. 

One of the ways "They" have been able to get away with what they have done is denying accountability by buffering their evil with machines, their virtual walls, and telephone trees that sent you spinning over the line to people who can't understand you if you deviate from the script.

Our leaders who talked social engineering jargon to us and thought they were sharing the love. Their fiends feed us bullshit illusions over the wire in HD. Assholes all. Smug fuckers who had more in common with the desk jockeys of the German killing machine of the previous century. Number crunchers and planet destroyers.

I took a deep breath. This was not where I wanted to go mentally. At least not right now.  I relaxed my hands from the fists they had curled into and mentally stood down. I sat in my chair and practiced smiling. Happy smile on. Happy smile off. Happy smile on. Happy smile off.  The others who were my first "They" had taught me that.

After five minutes of practicing Happy Face I was in a better place.  I was hungry and decided to eat before the meet. I liked how that rhymed and said it over an over to myself as I got ready to go out into the world beyond my apartment door.  I lived in a couple places. Actually I stayed in them. I didn't live in them. I didn't live anywhere because I didn't have a life. I didn't want one. If asked, which I never had been, I could of come up with some romantic, lone wolf of suburbia story that would sound good and maybe even tug at the targets heart and panty strings.

The truth was owning anything of value scared the hell out of me.  Having a non portable home scared me. You owned to much stuff and you couldn't move. If you couldn't move then "They" could get to you.  That wasn't going to happen.Not while I was alive.