the tolerance wars - 30
sound of the morning
every week
until it’s done
begin at the beginning—chapter 1
the tolerance wars
30.
sound of the morning
first thing when a tomorrow starts is a lousy time to get lost in yesterday.
i must’ve slept. there was a waking up involved. though it wasn’t going well. been like that for a while. nothing specific in my mind. just that somebody died. and i felt responsible. i tumbled out of bed and made it to the other room. hit the switch on the rig, solid beep and rising whirr of the fan said that some things were alright in the world. i watched the boot up. no particular reason. count the good memory. note to self. scan for bad sectors. none found. yeah now do me. then it didn’t happen. i must’ve blinked once it was all up and running i went looking. didn’t find it. puzzled, i left a note for my man and went to figure out coffee.
last night’s dishes sorted, a wipe around the kitchen to remind myself someone still lives here, and a moment in the morning sunlight through the window, eyes closed and still, to remind me that this also exists. there is a here and now. and the sun is warm.
puttering done, or good enough, coffee made, and the first taste. okay the day shows promise.
the phone rang. without having intended to hover i found i was standing right beside it. the wallphone was the only one i hadn’t disconnected the ringer. picked up before the second ring. didn’t have time for hello.
“you know we could be doing this online?”
my fingers ached at the thought. “so much typing.”
“man, you send audio down the line for a living. trivial to setup a mic and headphones. almost as trivial to make the audio two-way.”
“i play guitar for a living. sending things down a line i do because i’m amazed it works. and i have a buck rogers moment. every time. what keeps me in the game. childish delight.”
“if the headphones are too weird i could rig you up a bat phone.”
“okay, kinda cool. and less weird. because at least it’s still a phone.”
“change happens slowly.”
“this is not why you called me.”
“yeah, got your message. been scanning your rig while we’ve been talking. you’re right. there’s nothing there.”
“huh. and you didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“you said leave it. i left it. right where it ain’t.”
“and nothing else in its place?”
“you’re clean. apparently no longer of interest.”
“should i be offended?”
“you should be relieved. and maybe cautious. in case it happens again.”
“i am cautiously relieved.”
“nice. so, yeah, bug’s gone. anything else i can do for you?”
“i’ll think about the bat phone.”
“do that.” sounded like goodbye. then, “and hey, congratulations on the new tunes.”
“tunes?”
“man, they’re all over the boards.”
“what?”
“makin’ a sound. for real.” there’s a pause. “you knew that. right?”
“uh…”
“the one you put out before hit hard. people were primed for more. solid timing. it’s goin’ off. nice job.”
“i didn’t…” i’d quick-mastered a few things. sketches really. just to get an idea of where we might be headed. and sent them off to a couple people. get a bit of response, see if we’re goin’ someplace useful.
my man picked it up right away. “you sent out a few privates. turns out it’s hot stuff. and somebody wanted to be the first to drop it. scoop city. so their blog’s the hottest thing. for a few minutes anyway. though right now it’s all over everywhere. and everybody’s claiming bragging rights on who found it first.”
“oh man.”
“it’s out there.” i could hear his big-ass smile down the line. “now what ‘chu gonna do?”
“i am not ready for this.”
“then my work here is done. let me know about the bat rig. until then, expect the unexpected.” and he was gone. click. i was staring off into space when the dial tone hit. i hung up. still staring. yeah, not ready at all.
i wondered if a shower would help. nope. figured it might be good to get out. walk among people. people who don’t have problems. not like this anyway. down the stairs, locked the door. and turned to face a classic blue-bright early fall day. sun burning away the last of any morning chill. sidewalk already storing up the heat. i found myself heading for the club, instinct responding to the fact that i hadn’t had breakfast, before it occurred to me as an actual thought. sometimes when i’m lost automatic takes over.
“two eggs over easy, bacon crisp, white toast, please.”
“coffee?”
“am i breathing?”
“can’t tell from here. respecting personal space. got a best guess?”
“i only got as far as a pulse. let’s assume that’s a yes. though i’d welcome a second opinion.”
“okay. you’re also funny looking.”
“all my instincts are telling me that’s a joke.”
“technically it’s a punch line. but you’re the professional. i am merely a serviste. coffee coming up.” she turned and went inside, leaving me alone with my half-formed thoughts. which included do not appear to sass jo when she’s in a mood. rookie error. somewhere in the distance a redwing blackbird trilled his disappointment in me. i agreed. and resolved to do better. when i finished waking up. one thing at a time. i closed my eyes and let the glorious sun warm my thoughts. one of the advantages of a morning sidewalk table. with no one else around. and so little traffic that i could hear footsteps on the sidewalk a few doors down. heading this way. i kept my eyes closed and let the sun work a little more of its magic.
“you mind some company or you need silence to pick out the alien transmissions?” the voice of sparechange. i twitched a smile. kept my eyes closed.
“at the moment i am a lizard on a rock. basking. feel free to join me, friend. the weather’s fine.” i heard the sound of metal chair dragging a few inches over concrete sidewalk. a sitting. a breathing out that almost made a sigh. then quiet. the door scraped open. two steps. the tack of a mug placed in front of me at a respectful distance. another at the other side of the table. two steps. the door again. quiet again. the redwing trilled again. the wrong season, but still hopeful. couldn’t agree more.
“naptime’s over boys. help is here.” jo put a plate in front of me. and another for my friend. scrambled, brown toast, sauce the same. clearly phoned ahead. my friends are so wise. we tucked in. wordless. still warming in the sun. maybe the best breakfast ever.
when it was done jo magically appeared to clear the plates. i smiled both in thanks and apology for my earlier small foolishness. she nodded while crinkling her nose slightly in the absolution given to regulars who sometimes wobble along the path of righteousness. it felt good to be forgiven. i resolved to pass it on sometime. looked over at buddy. who was staring off into the middle distance.
“y’alright then?”
another almost sigh. quarter of a smile. not quite a nod. but no longer staring. “been worse.” took a hit of coffee and finished re-entry. “you?”
“my life is complex. and i don’t know what to do with it.”
“same old?”
“nah, fresh hell.”
“ah?”
“had words with my guru first thing. my rig is clean. tracker’s gone.”
“this is bad?”
“this is fine. but just before he hung up he congratulated me. apparently tony’s new tunes are making quite the noise.”
“this is bad?”
“this is unexpected. we didn’t release any tunes.”
a slow nod of understanding. “so now what?”
“i have no idea. this is all new ground for me. normal plan would be to sell discs. some touring to support sales. rinse and repeat. nobody makes money off music online. so how does this change the plan? this game’s always been long odds at the best of times. is this gonna somehow help sister pay the rent? or did i just trash the momentum of my friend’s big reveal because who’s gonna pay for something when they can get it for free?”
“that’s a lot of questions.”
“lots more. but yeah, all i got’s questions.”
we sat quiet for a while. let the sun do its thing. neither of us were in a hurry to fill the silence. and buddy wasn’t frantically trying to fix the unfixable. two of my favourite things about our friendship. we just sat there taking in the newness of it all. i did anyway.
finally he said, “man, fear’s a lousy teacher.”
tasted of armagnac. “all i got right now.” which tasted of panic. so he wasn’t wrong.
“gonna let it lead?”
“nah. just need a minute to take it all in.” which was about as far as i’d got in terms of a plan. then a thought struck me, “you are talkin’ about me?”
“not just. but yeah.” the smallest of shrugs. “lousy teacher.”
buddy had competences. and what was it marcus had called him? prince of thieves. with a whole bunch of friends. also with competences. i wondered what someone like that would fear. no idea. but then there was a lot i didn’t know about my friend. heck, i hadn’t known his actual name until recently. though he’d reminded me that we can have different names, for the same person, in different settings. which i’d somehow forgotten. good to be reminded. maybe friendship’s a better teacher. maybe it’s good to remember there’s other choices. of teacher. one of those useless words came to mind. useless because you’ll never use it in polite company. wasn’t sure i remembered how to pronounce it. i tried anyway. “pedagophobia.”
“phobia. so, a fear of…?”
“teachers.”
“you’re not just makin’ this up?”
“for real. sometimes when we’re bored tony and i go and spend time at the library, looking for cool words. on long drives we try and think of something we don’t know the word for. then we make up the word. see if we can work up a complete dictionary-style definition. might include stuff like its history, maybe when it was first written down, and by who, sometimes the language of the root word. it passes the time. good clean non-sophophobic fun.”
“sopho… phobia?”
“uh huh. pathological fear of learning. turns out that one’s good to know. though sometimes i forget which are the words we made up. so i can be suspect as a source. but that one’s real. and useful. and it reminds me that fear of learning is different from fear of teachers. i figure even if i forget the words, it’s maybe useful to know there’s a difference. which gets me to whether or not i know something if i don’t have the word for it. i think maybe i do. dunno.”
“i get the concept. english is not my first language. frustrates me allatime.”
“man, words are not my first language. frustrates me same.”
i saw some kinda shadow fall over buddy’s face. “i gotta go. settle up for me? i’ll getcha back.” i tried to figure what i’d said wrong. he was gone before i could ask. i was still watching him head off down the block like he had somewhere to be, when i caught a motion out of the corner of my eye and heard a chair scrape. the sound of the morning.
rachel. sat herself down. eyes also following buddy the length of the block until he made it to the corner and turned out of sight. she kept looking. as if he might reappear. he didn’t.
“i thought you guys were friends again.”
“it’s a work in progress.” she was still looking. “he’s angry.”
“at you?”
a small shake of the head. still looking. “himself.”
the door scraped open. two steps. coffee. tack. and toasted plain bagel, buttered. i began to wonder if i was the only one who didn’t phone ahead. i excused myself and followed jo inside to settle up. for all three of us. i could manage a bagel. and made a phone call. when i got back outside and sat down rachel was avoiding looking at the far end of the block, tearing small pieces from her bagel, and dipping them in her coffee. something i’d never seen before. though it did explain the lack of cream cheese.
i wondered if i should change the topic. but what fell out of my mouth was, “so he’s avoiding you?”
a small shrug. “he knows i’ll call him on it.” another piece of bagel.
“what’s he angry about?”
you can hear when somebody’s choosing their words. means different things in different times. but you can hear when it’s goin’ on. “he made a promise.”
“to…?”
“to not.” she said. looked like she was gonna say something. but instead i heard, “ever again.”
“more than enough blame to go around. including me.”
she was finished her bagel. and making a point of not looking at the far end of the block. i wondered something. “you’re angry?” apparently out loud.
she looked at me. defiant. then softened. a little. again the choosing of words. “it didn’t have to happen like that.” then she did look down the block. for a while. finally, “i knew it would rip him up.”
“what could you have done differently?” she just looked at me. then i remembered. competences. never mind. dumb question.
she seemed to agree, instead of answering my question she said, “this doesn’t happen.”
“you mean… you guys?”
“doesn’t happen.”
“never?”
rachel looked back down the block. then, “once.”
“ever?”
“it’s not what we do.” still looking.
i nodded in the same direction. “he have something to do with it?”
“years ago.” again the choosing of words. “one of the guys that disappeared people like his mother. we had proof. we found him.” more choosing. “although convictions were rare. there was always the possibility. he got off.” a final choosing. “then bragged about it.”
i made a guess, “to…?”
“jomi,” she nodded. “to his face.”
“that sounds like a poor choice.”
“the man was a piece of work. doesn’t mean it’s right. the charges against jomi were serious. someone decided there wasn’t enough evidence to convict. charges were dropped. maybe poetic justice. but word got out what happened. the guy had friends who’d also done bad things. it didn’t make sense to stick around. so he came here.” she let that all sink in. then, “some of us came with him.”
“i thought he grew up here.” i tried to remember something. “a variety store?”
“he had family here. spent most of his summers here. a lot of it hanging around the store. but he lived back home.”
“until he couldn’t.”
“until it made sense to come here. so he did.”
“and you?”
she nodded. “around the same time. some people though my art was political. i didn’t. but they knew better. we had a show cancelled. i was threatened. it was time to go.”
“is that when you joined up with marcus?”
“something like that.” rachel smiled at me in a way that didn’t deny or confirm it. “these have always been my friends. this has always been my family. we keep one another safe.” she looked down the block again. “as best we can.”
“sometimes it works.”
“mostly it works.” she gave me a different look, not quite a smile.
“sometimes good things take longer than we’d like. might be a law of physics. i’m not a scientist.”
“you might be right. though me neither.”
“you did make a hat.”
“i had a map.” she shook her head. “i’m an artist. i don’t bang the rocks together to make fire. i do it to see what else happens.”
“though there might be science involved.”
“there’s almost always science involved. it’s pretty much everywhere.”
“i’m beginning to understand.”
“how are you guys?”
i blanked. “guys?”
she just held my look. then, “science. it’s everywhere.”
ah. “i’m not sure we’re guys.”
“if you don’t i will.”
“noted. she’s got things to sort out. she says.”
“we all have things.”
“maybe i should respect.”
“she’s entitled to change her mind.”
which somehow hadn’t occurred to me.
NEXT