The Tolerance Wars - 12
at some point you gotta trust somebody
upper and lowercase
begin at the beginning—Chapter 1
The Tolerance Wars
12.
at some point you gotta trust somebody
“You mean like the secret service?”
“nNo man, that’s the states. We don’t have a secret service. That’d be csis. And no, not like that. Don’t you know nothin’? You been watchin’ too much tv. We don’t have Amanda rights neither.”
“That’s Miranda rights.”
“I rest my case.”
We were waiting to meet the dude. I was waiting. Archer had convinced me that she should stay behind. “There will be things he won’t want to say if I’m there.” I had been stunned. Absolutely no idea what she meant, but nothing I could say would change her mind. I even pointed out that I’d be happier if I knew more about what was going on. Like she obviously did. “Please,” she said. And just looked at me like she meant it, and she cared, and she wanted to say more but really couldn’t. So I let it go. I am such a fool.
So that was me sitting on a bench in the park watching the roadway on the other side of the trees and trying to believe buddy wasn’t spinning me a bunch of lines.
“You’re telling me you work for the government? Sorry, that’s just a little too weird.”
“No man, it’s a crown corporation. Way different. Arms length, y’know.”
“Meaning lousy stinking politicians can’t mess with it, but what about lousy stinking bureaucrats who don’t answer to anybody but one another? That’s a racket and you know it.” I’d been audited once, like they didn’t have anything better to do than shake me down for nickels. I’d had the nerve to mention I’d been doing the best I could, which included visits to the local food bank. Dude and dudette sitting at my kitchen table immediately responded that ‘canadians want this to be fair’. I’m afraid I told ‘em that every single canadian I spoke to was horrified that they were spending any time on the likes of me. No exceptions. Not one. I hadn’t raised my voice, but dudette in the chic business suit looked like I’d slapped her, and dude in the expensive leather jacket actually spluttered, “Now wait a minute!” Oh yeah, and the price went up. No, nobody keeps these creeps under control. Frankly I’d rather have the scummy politicians. At least they might just get voted out. Maybe. Call me an optimist.
“Look, man, they ain’t all bad guys.”
“Hard times, friend. You said it yourself. Nobody gets nothin’. And what suddenly made you go all alice in wonderland anyway?”
He shrugged. “At some point you gotta trust somebody, man.”
“I do. My friends. And people I see doing nice things for no reason. People runnin’ away from dead guys I trust less. People whacking other people for no good reason too, for that matter. People bein’ paid to whack other people especially.”
At least he had the decency to flinch. “Look man, I said I was sorry.” But I was in no mood. So we sat in silence for a while. Which was probably better. My head hurt.
Finally a dark blue car rolls up smelling like money. Window rolls down. I look at sparechange, he nods. So I take a breath, get up and walk past the trees to the street. Yeah, it’s him. Suddenly i feel secure. Man, how do I get myself into these things? “Get in.”
Blondie drove around the park once and then in the general direction of downtown. All in silence. Finally he spoke. “You are in danger of becoming a pain in the ass.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. “Oh?” Yeah, I know, great start.
Quiet again while he circled downtown, then up the hill to the university. “Do you have any idea what you are wandering into?”
“Absolutely none. I’m just trynna help a friend.”
He snorted, kept driving, watching his mirrors. “She’s a smart woman.” Somehow that grabbed me, hard. Didn’t know what to say. So I didn’t. He didn’t care. “Some of her associates,” he shook his head, “not so smart.”
“No?”
He turned onto the ring road around the campus. “You know what she’s up to?”
“Not really.” I shrugged. “Something about how the brain works.” May as well play it straight. “Something she can’t talk about without getting into some kind of trouble.”
“That’s how business works. Hire all the people you can, and swear them all to secrecy. Destroy their careers if they talk. One nasty example, the rest get in line.”
“Nasty?” Sometimes I think too much, too fast. Like now.
He pulled into a parking lot, made for one of the empty spaces in the far corner and backed in. Even once we’d stopped his eyes moved around as if he was still checking his mirrors. Maybe he was. “Spend your whole life working on one tiny little slice of knowledge. You land one of a handful of jobs in your field in the entire world. Then someone in your department develops an attitude. But they’re important. And you can be replaced. And you know that if you’re out you can’t work with a competitor, that’s part of your agreement. So you won’t be working in your field any more.”
“Finally makin’ a decent buck, be hard to go back to flipping burgers.”
He nodded. “A hint that your job is on the line. A suggestion that your work isn’t up to scratch. Or you’re not a team player. Or your part of the project is going to be wound down. Nothing specific, but things start to look pretty serious. Pretty scary. Pretty bleak.”
He was quiet for a minute. “So one day you go home, pull down the blinds, lock the door, unplug the phone. And blow your brains out.” He shook his head. “Your replacement is on-site within days. And your colleague,” he stopped checking his mirrors and looked straight at me, “the one with the attitude? Straightens up right away.” Back to the checking.
“Neat trick.”
“Almost always works.”
I thought about that for a minute. “Almost?”
“Some people don’t get the message.”
“Then what?”
He shrugged. “Whole new game.”
“So what’s this got to do with me?”
He considers the question for a moment, then looks at me like i'm one of his blind spots, and he's checking. “Your friend didn’t get the message.”
“So…” I felt myself getting out of my depth again.
“Whole new game.”
“Okay…” Way out of my depth. “What kind of game?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“What she’s working on. What she knows. Who cares.” He looked at me again. “Who else cares.”
“You mean who else aside from somebody in the business of making money.”
Dude went back to checking his other blind spots. “You believe in anything?”
“You know, I been asked that question a few times lately. Yhe answer depends a lot on who’s askin’.”
“So what if there was some serious talk about you having found the god button?”
“The what? It sounds pretty freaky, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He took a breath and considered something for a moment. Then, “What if I could wave a magic wand and make you feel as if you were in the same room as god?”
“I’d say that’s a pretty neat trick. But that’s what magic wands do. Tricks.”
“So what if it wasn’t a wand, but a treatment of some kind? Push a button, introduce an electro-chemical something. Perform a simple, reproducible..." He looks for a word. "...modification.” He looked at me again. “In you.”
“Oh come on. That’s not possible.”
“But what if it was? Or at least what if you thought it was?” He's still looking right at me.
“Depends on what kind of person you are. I guess. It’s kinda not important to me.”
“Well, it’s important to some people.”
“Yeah, some business people, that’s obvious.”
He shook his head. “Other people.”
“Like who?”
Dude snorted and went back to checking his blind spots. “Hard times, guy. I am not drawing you a map, you’re gonna have to work for it.”
“So why are you even giving me this much?"
“Your friend's feeling bad."
sparechange? “He should. Knocked me out cold. Not something friends usually do for friends." I thought about it for a second. “Assuming he's actually my friend."
“I was in a hurry. I heard that I was being followed. I didn't know it was you. I asked your friend to slow down my tail. How he did that was up to him. I’d say it's a good thing he's your friend."
“He didn't know it was me until I was already down. It didn't make the whacking any less firm."
“He stuck around to make sure you were okay." Dude started up the car. “Cut him some slack." He scanned the empty spaces one more time. And then we were moving. “He's new at this." At the parking lot entrance, just before turning onto the street, he flicks me a look one more time. “And yes, he is actually your friend."
Whatever that was worth. Dude was pitching it like he's one of the good guys. But what do I know? Apparently nothing. I thought about sparechange. How much we talked. And how little I guess I actually knew about him. About anybody for that matter. Not secrets. Just how things unfold. Of course he had family. He'd had an uncle. Superman. “He had family in the business. Your business?"
He shrugged. “Something like that." We were heading back towards my part of town. “So now I’m doing him a favour." I guess the interview was over. We rounded the long corner to downtown. “Yes, he really is working for me." He stopped at the lights. “And yes, it's part of my job to understand what trouble someone like your friend the scientist might get into." He checked the cross traffic, then turned. “And hopefully help her steer through the rough parts as safely as I can." He made the next intersection and stopped at the light. “And so now I’m doing you a favour." The light changes and he goes straight, then pulls over, still a few blocks from my place. “Try not to be a pain in the ass."
“We're done?"
“There's not much more I can tell you. Talk to your friends. Live your life."
“And try not to be a pain in the ass. You know these are words to live by?"
“I’m doing you a favour."
I leaned towards the door to pull the handle. “I will talk to my friends. I will live my life. And hopefully you won't think I’m a pain in the ass."
He looks at me like I’m the dumbest thing he's had to deal with in forever. “It's not me I’m talking about."
My door unlocked automagically. I took the hint. Well, one of 'em anyway. The interview was definitely over. I got out of the car and stood on the curb as he pulled away. Talk to my friends. Live my life. Shouldn't take too much to get that right.
Try not to be a pain in the ass.
Not to mister secure. But to people who may be okay with blowing things up. And with shooting people. Don't be a pain in the ass for them.
Alright. Message received. I’ll take that as good advice. Same as it always is.
I started to walk the couple of blocks to my place. By the time I got to my front door I’d sort of managed to put the whole thing into some kind of perspective. Marked 'a little extra freaky', but I’d had a few of those in my life. Nothing I can't handle.
Although sparechange working for the man. Well, a man. Yeah that's gonna take some getting used to.
I was all the way upstairs, and been sat on the couch looking out the window and watching the people go by for a few beats before I remembered.
I was gonna ask the dude who he'd been chasing on the stairs.
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