Frisco 2297, page 10
A crowbar soon appeared and was swung and jabbed at the metal keg. The first swing missed and clobbered a bystander who keeled over with a crushed skull. A rabble-rouser next to him fingered the man’s coat and took his handle device. The drunk-turned-thief smiled and slinked away.
There was no doubt that the mob was now out of control. The security force guards ran for their lives and left the Wild Zone unattended. An empty bottle of kale beer was rigged like a Molotov cocktail and thrown through the casino window. The cheap furnishings inside erupted in flames and toxic smoke suffocated some of the gambling patrons, who died with their hands on the one-arm bandits. The Hereditary Council’s idea of a fire escape plan was caveat emptor.
Outside the gates, the keg was emptied in a frenzy. It was then the crowbar reappeared. Guns and knives were brandished, and the mob flowed down the street like a tidal wave. They were angry; they were mad; they were heading toward the exclusive hereditary zone at Union Square.
Union Square was the trendiest shopping and restaurant section in the city. It also was off-limits to all non-hereditary citizens. If you didn’t have a Roman name and weren’t born with distinction, you had no business in Union Square. A working stiff with a meager personal consumption unit horde in his account was more than out of place there.
Dinner for two on the terrace of Caesar's Steakhouse would put you back 250 PCUs, and that was if you skipped dessert and tipped exactly 12%. 250 PCUs was a king’s ransom for the lower masses.
Jake and Julio were off duty, but that didn’t mean they were enjoying the night. Instead, they both were working the outer perimeter gate to Union Square. They hung out by a tiny guard shack made of stone and wooden timbers. The shack was quaint and belonged in an alpine postcard.
Few if any of the hereditary members used that entrance. Most the well-heeled hereditary members were escorted into Union Square in their fancy limousines, driven by attendants wearing black suits and sporting phony foreign accents.
Julio and Jake heard the ruckus at the Wild Zone, but they weren’t concerned. Not in the least. Unusual sounds often emanated from that place. After two hours on the boring job that paid just okay, they had bigger problems, which started when Julio complained that he wasn’t feeling very well. “Hey, Jake.”
Jake could see the faint glow of flames coming from the Wild Zone. He didn’t think it was a fire but maybe a celebration of some sort. “What?”
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Walk behind the shack.”
“No, I have to go, you know.”
“Why didn’t do it before we came here?”
“Who are you, my old man? I didn’t have to go then. It’s not my fault I’m gluten-sensitive.”
“Great.”
“You think I can use the bathroom inside Union Square?”
“We’re not allowed in there, and the hereditary members will have a fit if you use their toilet paper. Toilet paper is a luxury, not a right.”
Julio’s face had the look of a man who was in real discomfort. “Jake.”
“Come on.”
They entered Union Square and closed the gate behind them. The well-manicured lawns and soft music that filled the air gave the impression of a different world. Hereditary members ambled from store to store with ease and laugher. The pain and struggles of those outside the exclusive area were forgotten, and that was only if they were thought of in the first place.
The first shop they came across was named The Boutique Cottage. The chic store was a beautiful example of old English architecture. A sloping roof nearly touched the ground on one side. Jake and Julio went inside. A woman dressed in an exquisite dress greeted them at the entrance. “Good evening.”
Jake responded, “Hi.”
“Can I help you?”
Jake could see Julio’s eyes darting around for the restroom. Jake had never been in such a store filled with such expensive and perhaps strange objects. He didn’t know why but he picked up a gold-leafed fountain pen displayed on a counter. Jake carefully brought it up to his eyes and examined it. The light flickered off it and across his face. “Wow.”
The sales lady studied Jake. He wasn’t the typical male patron. He had wide shoulders and his biceps flexed ever so slightly as he moved his arms. She moved closer to him and reached for the pen. When her hand brushed up against his, she felt a streak of magnetism shoot through her body.
Julio had seen it all too often. Women, all kinds of women, were attracted to Jake. It was some kind of animal attraction. He momentarily forgot that he had to go to the bathroom. She took the pen from Jake. “This is pure gold. There isn’t another one like it in Union Square.”
Julio asked, “How much is it?”
She smirked. “If you have to ask, then perhaps you can’t afford it.”
Julio was taken back. You bitch. One of these days, my brown ass is going to unload on the upper class. “I was just inquiring.”
“Two thousand PCUs.” The discomfort reappeared on Julio’s face. Time was running short. The Boutique Cottage was in trouble if Julio didn’t get to a restroom.
“Do you have a five-year layaway plan?”
She put her hands on her hips and looked at them with a bit of disdain. “Are you hereditary members? If not, I’ll be forced to call security.”
Jake answered, “We are security at the south gate.”
She said directly, “Then you better get back to you post. You aren’t allowed to mingle with hereditary members.”
Julio whispered to himself, “Jake doesn’t mingle with Mrs. Censoria, he brings her full circle.”
“Did you say something?”
Julio’s face turned beet red. Jake came to his rescue. “My partner needs to use your restroom. Is that okay?”
Julio smiled as she looked right through him. “I can’t allow that.”
The urge was coming over Julio again. “Let’s put it this way, miss. If you don’t point out where the restroom is, I’m going to unload right here. Good luck getting two thousand PCUs for that.”
A disgusted look came across her face as she pointed to the rear of the store. “It’s back there, and do tidy up after yourself.”
Jake and the sales lady stood there as a couple entered the store. The couple was smartly dressed, and they held their chins high. The man said, “Yes, now, I was looking for something special for my son Claudius. He graduated cum laude from the university. Most impressive, don’t you think?”
Jake took the pen from the hand of the sales lady. “He might like this. There isn’t another one like it the entire city. It’s sleek, quaint, and performs cursive at the whip of a hand.”
“Where is it from?”
“Asia Minor.”
“Really? How much is it?”
Jake answered, “Three thousand PCUs, and that price is going up soon.”
“Well, that’s a bargain. I’ll take it”
The sales lady was impressed. She got face to face with Jake. “I was wrong about you. What’s your name?”
“Jake Forest.”
“You need a roman name one befitting you. Sextus Mostus. I could use a man like you, but the short guy, well, that’s a different story.”
Jake was about to respond when everyone turned toward the south gate. A noise grew from the boulevard. Moments later, a mob of drunken non-hereditary citizens from the Wild Zone filled the street. The horde ran toward Union Square. Some had lit torches; still others wielded whatever they found in the streets: rocks, pipes, and pieces of wood.
Julio sauntered out of the restroom and showed his hands to the sales lady. “Clean as a whistle.” Julio looked through the window and saw the mob coming toward Union Square. “Oh shit!”
“Come on,” yelled Jake.
“What are we going to do?”
“Stop them.”
The sales lady urged them on, “Hurry!” Jake and Julio ran toward the south gate. The sales lady held out her hand to the man. “Three thousand PCUs.”
The south gate was two lanes wide. The stout concrete wall around Union Square would no doubt keep the mob out, but the gate would not. The mass of humanity was less than a half-mile away. Something had to be done, and quick. Julio yelled to Jake, “Let’s hit the road.”
“We have to stop them.”
“I’m not killing anybody, and for what? Look behind you, to save that? A bunch of rich pricks who don’t care about me, you or my son.”
“I’m not going to kill anybody.” A three hundred thousand PCU, eco-friendly convertible was in the valet lot next to the gate. Jake grabbed the keys from the valet board and went over to the fancy car. “Let’s give them a car or two. Hurry pick a car.”
“Can I keep one?” The noise of the mob was growing by the second. “Forget it.” They got into separate cars.
Jake fired up the car and drove it toward the mob. He spun it around in a tight stop. Jake got out of the car and threw the keys in front of the mob. Julio also skidded to a stop and did the same thing. They ran back to the south gate and hoped for the best.
The mob fought over the keys and then paused by the two high-tech and very expensive cars. Julio swallowed, wondering what was going to happen next. The mob ripped the cars apart and continued on toward the gate.
Julio closed the gate, but didn’t lock it. “We’re screwed.”
From the alleyways on both sides of the boulevard, canisters streaked into the crowd. Within seconds, the boulevard was full of eye-watering, throat-scratching tear gas. The mob stopped in its tracks. When the smoke cleared, two columns of semi-soldiers wearing black combat gear descended on them.
They were the rumored but apparently very real Talon Brigade under the command of Commander Titus Bullus. Jake, Julio, and the other obedience officers on the force had heard through the grapevine that there was something going on in the basement of the SWAT team building, but they thought it was just another unfounded rumor. They were wrong.
The Talon Brigade swept in from both sides of the street, and the mob turned and ran for the friendly confines of the Wild Zone. A dozen or so were clubbed by the testosterone freaks of the Talon Brigade.
When it was over, Titus reached down and picked up a set of keys to the fancy car that Jake had spun into the intersection. Titus walked to the south gate with Butch who, as usual, was at his side. Julio saw Butch walking next to Titus and whispered to Jake, “Those guys give me the creeps. You think they’re a couple? I mean, I don’t care, but I bet they’re a couple. Who do you think is the aggressive male?”
“Both, now shut up before we get into any more trouble.”
To Jake’s surprise, Titus recognized them. The mob was in full retreat and the boulevard was rapidly returning to normal. Titus took off his command helmet and wiped the sweat from his head. “Did you think those cars were going to stop them?”
“I was trying to buy us some more time. Besides, I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”
A few of the hurt non-hereditary members were roughly loaded into waiting ambulances. A careless attendant dropped the stretcher of an injured person, and he moaned after bouncing on the pavement. “That’s the only thing some of these beasts understand. Isn’t that right, Butch?”
“Yeah.”
“Still, it took some street smarts and guts to do what you did. Those cars were worth a fortune.”
Julio became alarmed. “The force will take care of it. Won’t they?”
Butch laughed, “I hope you have a million PCUs in your account.”
Julio saw that Titus was smirking and decided they were bluffing. He zeroed in on Butch. “I hope you have some sandpaper to fix your face.”
“You little twerp.”
“Hispanic twerp, and don’t you forget it.”
Titus held Butch back. “Jake, trouble seems to find you and your partner. Why is that?”
“I don’t know; maybe I’m lucky.”
“Where’s your big ass illegal gun?”
“Home.”
“Yeah, well, maybe next time you should bring it. Go on. Get out of here.”
Jake and Julio left the scene. Butch adjusted his black padded gloves. “I’m going to kill that little bastard.”
Titus elbowed Butch in the face, and he sprawled onto the pavement. “You’ll do what I say and nothing else.”
Butch wiped a trickle of blood from his nose. “When?”
“When the time is right.”
Tossing and Turning
That night, Jake opened the sliding glass door to his apartment. He poured himself a drink and lay back on the couch. He tried to go to sleep, but was too keyed up from the action at Union Square. Jake wondered if Julio and he would have been trampled to death if Titus and his Talon Brigade hadn’t shown up in the nick of time.
And for exactly what? He wasn’t sure. What would happen to Pablo if Julio had been killed? It was awful to think about. Below him, the buzz of the city was still in full swing. Jake turned on the television and sat back. The one and only channel Camila Regilla and the communications and enlightenment division provided filled the room. Jake got the beginning of an infomercial titled, “Handle Ranking Boot Camp.”
The hard sell began with an attractive blonde dressed in a professional business suit. “Are you disappointed with your low handle ranking? Is that number of yours under seventy, sixty, or even fifty? Do you want the better things out of life? Do you want the finer things in life that a higher handle ranking can provide: better shopping, priority for fuel, and a bigger house, maybe one with two bedrooms? And what about making yourself more attractive to the opposite sex? It all can be yours for a low Personal Consumption Unit fee when you attend the Handle Ranking Boot Camp.
“And if you call now, you will be guaranteed a spot in our next cycle. Why do I have to attend? Isn’t one’s handle ranking up to the vagaries of the algorithm computer? I’m not going to lie here. Many things can’t be changed, but our course reveals the secrets that can make a real difference. Did you know that if you speak a second language, your handle ranking will go up overnight while you’re sleeping? What could be better than waking up in the morning to a five or even seven-point increase? And that is just one of the hints provided for you in this course.”
Jake called Julio on his handle device. “Hey, Julio, are you asleep?”
“If I was, I wouldn’t be talking to you.”
“Are you watching this?”
“You think she’d go for a guy like me?” Julio asked.
“You’d have to tone it down. How’s Pablo?”
“He’s sleeping. He’s doing good, now.”
“At least something has worked out in this messed-up world.”
“Why are you so down? You only came close to getting trampled by a thousand drunken losers. Until Titus and Butch, that weird looking dude, saved your ass.”
Jake turned down the volume on the television. “Our asses.”
“Yeah, Union Square is safe and sound because of us.” Julio wondered why they’d bothered.
“Right.” Jake’s sarcasm was dripping from the word.
“I’m serious. We saved the hereditary members from the clutches of the lower masses.”
“How come you’re always a wiseass?” Jake’s Hispanic friend was frustrating him.
“It’s in my DNA. What do you think about the Handle Boot Camp? You think it could help?”
Jake didn’t hesitate. “Just another scam.”
Julio laughed. “Boy, you’re still a half-full cup guy.”
Jake shook his head. “Knock it off.”
“Jake, why did you really call?”
“I felt out of place tonight.” Jake worried.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. It’s like I have one foot in each part of society.”
“You need some sleep or a roll in the hay with Mrs. Censoria.” Julio had to mention her. Julio added, “I’m serious. Forget about it. Things will look better in the morning. That’s what I tell myself every night.”
“Does it work?” Jake wondered.
“Sometimes.”
The television infomercial droned on, “Sign up now and be included at our next seminar, but wait! If you call right now, you can bring a second person of your choice for free. Call now!”
Jake quickly said, “Don’t even think about it.”
The Ferry Building
The long abandoned Ferry Building of the Autonomous City of San Francisco was no longer an iconic landmark. Instead, the structure’s exterior had been updated with two-foot, solid concrete walls that were painted black. It was now a windowless affair with only tube skylights providing any outside light. The Ferry Building was now the headquarters for Titus Bullus and his insurgency/SWAT team.
Inside, it was dark and had all the ambiance of a dungeon. Titus ran the SWAT building with an iron fist. No one really knew what went on inside the recesses of it. It had two floors and one of those was a gigantic basement complex.
For now, Titus was in his office working under a dim light. The door opened and the person he had been expecting walked in. It was Caeso Neptius. The young and full of himself recent college graduate, who was the newly hired auditor of the Hereditary Council, couldn’t see a thing in the dim light. “Yes.” Titus looked up.
“It’s Caeso Neptius. Is that you, Captain Bullus?”
“Come in and close the door.”
“But how do you see in here?” Caeso wondered aloud.
“Your eyes will adjust. The darkness isn’t a permanent thing. A man’s world only goes dark at the end. Then, of course, there is no turning back or wishing you had chosen a different path.”
Caeso ignored the comment. “You’re right; I can see better. I’d like to begin the audit. I need to see your books and take a stroll through the complex.”
“Really. Whose idea was that?” Titus gruffly asked.
“Quitus Axius, the head of the Hereditary Council,” the young auditor stated with confidence.
“So, you feel empowered to do what you want?”
