They meet in a taxi cab. It wasn’t jacob’s idea – jacob didn’t like spy films. All jacob knew was he supposed to call down a cab at 7:52 am from the corner of wills and halsted. That was it. Where they were taking him, who he would meet, what they were doing, why they wanted to see jacob, those were left out. The when was all he got. So the when was what he went with.
So we’re picking up jacob at 7:52 am as he got picked up by an obnoxiously orange cab.
“Where to?”
“I was hoping you would know.”
“Good answer.”
With that, and only that, the driver turned around and stared straight into jacob’s eyes. The driver’s static grey eyes, only moving to twitch as if reading, focused intensely on jacob’s. The stare down lasted not nearly long enough for jacob to figure out what was going on. When jacob settled from the shock, the cab driver had already turned around and pulled down the brim of his grey driving cap to shadow his eyes. At least, he had held landers’ gaze.
landers of course was the cab driver – jacob knew this instantly (how could he not?). landers was behind everything or at least far enough behind everything that he would at least knew who was really behind everything. Or at least that’s what jacob hoped. landers was a newcomer on the nilbmahian political scene. He had been able to rise, quite quickly, through the hierarchy, as an advisor of sorts to anyone who was anyone. Apparently landers had given enough people such profitable advice that rumor had it that he was even whispering council to the prime minister. jacob had spent the last month researching, or trying to research, jimithy landers and he spent the latter half of the month trying to arrange a meeting with landers. Today was jacob’s lucky day. Maybe.
“I don’t believe we have ever meet formally and I’d shake your hand but I’m driving. I’m mr. landers.”
“My pleasure, mr. landers. I’m jacob martin.”
“Oh no, mr. martin, believe me, the pleasure’s all mine.”
The entirely dry exchange occurred through the mediation of the rear-view mirror. jacob could hardly see lander’s eyes lurking below his cap, but he stared at them all the same.
Without dropping his eyes from the mirror, even during a right hand turn, landers explained, “I’ll cut to the chase, mr. martin. I was very impressed with your work with the resistance. With all their underground magazines, non-violent protests and public sway they were … annoying. And without your, information, it would have taken much more effort to uproot it. Quite frankly, I’m still amazed at how well they blurred the lines of their chain of command. We got the people you turned in to confess but even so things are still sketchy. But thing was made clear: that winster winfry was the mastermind behind all of it. Clever bastard. Anyways, we wouldn’t even know that for sure without you, mr. martin. So I’d like to repay the favor. I’ve been looking for someone in the press who can assist me.”
“So you’re repaying a favor by asking one?”
“Yes.” landers didn’t even chuckle, but neither did jacob.
“So why is this good for me?” jacob knew perfectly well why this would be good – that was the whole point of their meeting – but landers needed not to know that.
landers only lowered his eyes to check his blind spot and stop for old ladies. “That’s what everyone wants to know mr. martin.”
The next five minutes went by in silence. jacob was quiet to maintain the sense of submissivity and landers only knows why landers was quiet. jacob let his eyes wander around the shop signs they passed but landers, when he wasn’t checking for stop signs, continued his sentinel gaze from beneath the brim of his hat.
“It’s going to be a brave new world mr. martin and you’d best be sure you’re on the cutting edge. If you linger behind with the status quo you will find yourself nearing extinction. As I’m sure you’re well aware, nilbmah is changing, all of coralende is changing and you, mr. martin, have the chance to ride the rising tide to the top of the modern world. All you need to do is choose your friends wisely.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t exactly follow. How is anything from nilbmah going to change the rest of coralende? That sounds pretty ambitious.”
“Yes. It is ambitious. But it will make more sense once you see the whole picture. Unfortunately I cannot show you the whole picture until you’ve proved yourself to the magistrate. All neophytes must be cleared through him first. Unfortunately the magistrate is part of the whole picture so you will have to wait till you meet him to figure out what he does but don’t worry, that meeting will be soon if you continue to show such good faith. I can, however, explain the role I have planned for you mr. martin. As you and the rest of nilbmah have noticed the government has effectively taken a firm hold on society, but we aren’t satisfied with that. The government’s hand is much too obvious. That’s where you come in. The government can censor, issue propaganda and decree ludicrous laws all it wants, but there will always be resistance to external pressure. A truly successful nation guides with an invisible hand. You, mr. martin, with your newspaper, hold the keys to the invisible hand. With the mask of the freedom of speech and multiply perspectives, your company, mr. martin, can determine public opinion and sway social action. All you need to do mr. martin is agree to comply with a few requests that you will learn about in the upcoming weeks and your assistance will not be forgotten when the new era reigns in coralende… Any questions?”
“So I just wait for a message and we go from there?”
“Exactly. And mr. martin, don’t forget you briefcase in the trunk.”
landers had conveniently ended up the conversation outside jacob’s apartment. So jacob got out, thanked mr. landers for his time and collected the briefcase that certainly wasn’t his. When he opened it inside his apartment he found the rights and lease to the publishing plant that he had spent the last four years trying to buy from a spurned lover and rival editor from his youth – but that’s another story…
Not even giving himself time to smile, jacob martin picked up the phone and made a call. “ms. jennings? … Yes, it’s back on. Yes. Call mr. fieldswell; we’re rebuilding.”
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Friday, June 4, 2010
The Nematomorpha
Felix Sombrero didn’t say anything. Challenging a superior in front of others was practically castration and challenging a superior in front of prisoners was castration. So he waited until after taking the pair to the cell to speak his mind.
“What the…” While Felix and Lithuania had a very comfortable working relationship, Felix knew how far he could stretch it, so he recomposed himself. “I’m sure you have your reasons for locking them up and it would a great weight off my shoulders if you would share your thoughts with your second in command every once and a while.”
“They were lying Felix. Well at least hiding something, which is as good as lying. And… there’s something special about these two Felix; you can feel it. And how else were they able to survive so long in the woods? They weren’t even armed… And, yes, I do think they are well intentioned, but considering the circumstances we can’t take any risks. If they fess up, I’ll be happy to release them. Will you be able to sleep tonight now?”
Felix smiled and dismissed himself.
For being a prison cell, it was quite comfortable; for being guests, it was inhospitable; for being inside with thick concrete walls between them and the pandemonium of the woods, it was luxurious. In any case, winfry was upset.
“This is ridiculous! How can they do this to us? What did we do to them? What could we possibly do to them? It’s her – it has to be her – and she puts us in prison! How are we supposed to do anything now? This is ridiculous!”
winfry was pacing the room like hornet trapped in a cup. isa was a bit taken a back; this might even be worse than when he would flip out in the woods. “winfry, calm down. If it’s her, then everything will work out.”
“No it won’t! Nothing has worked out the way that damn book says! It’s just played us into this whole dramatic irony. How can we trust it. Why on Coralende did we trust it! All it’s done is pull our strings for show. It’s using us isa. It’s absurd. We shouldn’t be here at all. It doesn’t make any sense! Nothing is working!”
isa tried again to pacify winfry’s pacing. “But it does make sense. How can she trust us. We’re”
“terrible liars. I know that. I know it’s wise for her to put us here, I know that, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating. We almost die or worse doing what that blasted book told us and then we finally found who it told us to look for and we end up in prison? That’s heinous. Even if it’s logical, it’s still absurdly aggravating. That book is pulling our strings! It’s laughing at us right now. Bugger that blasted book!”
“Come on now winfry. Just because you’re not in complete control doesn’t mean the book is malicious. Everything is going to be ok.”
“I don’t want to hear it isa. I know the reasons just as well as you but they don’t make me feel any better. Don’t dead people have feelings?”
“Sometimes I wish they didn’t.” She said it quick but quiet looking winfry straight in the eyes and then she turned away. “And I like to think that I’m just as alive as anyone else if that’s alright with you.”
winfry knew he didn’t want to say that but he felt it so he said it. He also felt full-force isa’s cold shoulder chill him to the bones as she turned to face the wall to hide her tears. And he knew he would apologize, eventually, but he felt like fuming in the corner.
What was happening to him? Since when was he so ruled by his emotions? This time he didn’t even have the excuse of the quilaire; he knew it wasn’t doing anything. It’s just that, it’s just that all this librem business was all so sudden. Yeah that might be it. winfry was bright but he needed time to fullly absorb things before he was comfortable with them. It had hardly been two weeks after he received the book when they were forced to flee nilbmah which was a whole nother can of worms he was dealing with too. Before their exile, the book had left a stream of predictions about their departure and the need to search the woods for someone, all of course signed uncannily from winfry winster himself. He had tried writing in it himself but no writing utensil would leave a mark on the book. All his efforts got him were sarcastic comments from the book about being tickled. Yes that first week was when the frustration started to seep into him. After being told, for at least the fifty-second time, “When you are uprooted, the woods would be the place to root yourself,” he threw the book against the wall cursing its puns.
But before his frustration could really take over, he made a break through. It happened that when, all those years ago, winfry first set about to write a myth to save his country, he took up his father’s pen. It was an almost elegant fountain pen made from a pale wood with gold finishings and an unadorned nib. But winfry soon abandoned the pen after all the ink got spent on infertile ideas destined for the trash. He rediscovered the pen when searching his desk for writing utensils to try on the librem. But at this point, fountain pens were so out of date and fashion in nilbmah, winfry hardly knew where to buy more ink for it. So there it sat on his desk, with only a few remnants of the fingerprint-stains from its former vitality, dryer than a recently run dryer and winfry’s frustration continued to rise high tide.
Then it happened. winfry was at his desk wagging his passive aggressive battle with the librem, when the book shot out some sarcastic comment that winfry simply could not resist responding to and the first thing he got his hand on was the fountain pen. It all came out of nowhere soaking down through the pages. It was a complete rush. Afterwards he had to go to the bathroom to clean himself up.
But figuring out how to write in the librem only complicated the issue. Some things would go on the page, other things wouldn’t; some things he wrote down altered reality – he made things out of then air, he prevented himself from being hungery for a day and half and once he even got isa to change her mind about which café they went to but maybe she was only pulling his leg, but most things only elicited the book’s mockery. So there was even more that he didn’t know and his frustration sprouted wings and started unstrapping his inhibitions.
That was it really. Not knowing. Not being in control. winfry needed to be in control – especially when he was stressed. So that was the hair worm that had slimed under his skin. That was his wide-awake nightmare. That was lighting his fuse. That was tipping him off the edge. That was scaring him pale.
But knowing what was running him wild didn’t make him feel any better.
That’s probably what winfry was thinking or at least that’s what I would have been thinking if I were him.
But I’m not. winfry that is.
…
“isa, I’m sorry”
“I know you are,” she didn’t even look up, “but it doesn’t make me feel any better… Don’t men have feelings?”
“What the…” While Felix and Lithuania had a very comfortable working relationship, Felix knew how far he could stretch it, so he recomposed himself. “I’m sure you have your reasons for locking them up and it would a great weight off my shoulders if you would share your thoughts with your second in command every once and a while.”
“They were lying Felix. Well at least hiding something, which is as good as lying. And… there’s something special about these two Felix; you can feel it. And how else were they able to survive so long in the woods? They weren’t even armed… And, yes, I do think they are well intentioned, but considering the circumstances we can’t take any risks. If they fess up, I’ll be happy to release them. Will you be able to sleep tonight now?”
Felix smiled and dismissed himself.
For being a prison cell, it was quite comfortable; for being guests, it was inhospitable; for being inside with thick concrete walls between them and the pandemonium of the woods, it was luxurious. In any case, winfry was upset.
“This is ridiculous! How can they do this to us? What did we do to them? What could we possibly do to them? It’s her – it has to be her – and she puts us in prison! How are we supposed to do anything now? This is ridiculous!”
winfry was pacing the room like hornet trapped in a cup. isa was a bit taken a back; this might even be worse than when he would flip out in the woods. “winfry, calm down. If it’s her, then everything will work out.”
“No it won’t! Nothing has worked out the way that damn book says! It’s just played us into this whole dramatic irony. How can we trust it. Why on Coralende did we trust it! All it’s done is pull our strings for show. It’s using us isa. It’s absurd. We shouldn’t be here at all. It doesn’t make any sense! Nothing is working!”
isa tried again to pacify winfry’s pacing. “But it does make sense. How can she trust us. We’re”
“terrible liars. I know that. I know it’s wise for her to put us here, I know that, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating. We almost die or worse doing what that blasted book told us and then we finally found who it told us to look for and we end up in prison? That’s heinous. Even if it’s logical, it’s still absurdly aggravating. That book is pulling our strings! It’s laughing at us right now. Bugger that blasted book!”
“Come on now winfry. Just because you’re not in complete control doesn’t mean the book is malicious. Everything is going to be ok.”
“I don’t want to hear it isa. I know the reasons just as well as you but they don’t make me feel any better. Don’t dead people have feelings?”
“Sometimes I wish they didn’t.” She said it quick but quiet looking winfry straight in the eyes and then she turned away. “And I like to think that I’m just as alive as anyone else if that’s alright with you.”
winfry knew he didn’t want to say that but he felt it so he said it. He also felt full-force isa’s cold shoulder chill him to the bones as she turned to face the wall to hide her tears. And he knew he would apologize, eventually, but he felt like fuming in the corner.
What was happening to him? Since when was he so ruled by his emotions? This time he didn’t even have the excuse of the quilaire; he knew it wasn’t doing anything. It’s just that, it’s just that all this librem business was all so sudden. Yeah that might be it. winfry was bright but he needed time to fullly absorb things before he was comfortable with them. It had hardly been two weeks after he received the book when they were forced to flee nilbmah which was a whole nother can of worms he was dealing with too. Before their exile, the book had left a stream of predictions about their departure and the need to search the woods for someone, all of course signed uncannily from winfry winster himself. He had tried writing in it himself but no writing utensil would leave a mark on the book. All his efforts got him were sarcastic comments from the book about being tickled. Yes that first week was when the frustration started to seep into him. After being told, for at least the fifty-second time, “When you are uprooted, the woods would be the place to root yourself,” he threw the book against the wall cursing its puns.
But before his frustration could really take over, he made a break through. It happened that when, all those years ago, winfry first set about to write a myth to save his country, he took up his father’s pen. It was an almost elegant fountain pen made from a pale wood with gold finishings and an unadorned nib. But winfry soon abandoned the pen after all the ink got spent on infertile ideas destined for the trash. He rediscovered the pen when searching his desk for writing utensils to try on the librem. But at this point, fountain pens were so out of date and fashion in nilbmah, winfry hardly knew where to buy more ink for it. So there it sat on his desk, with only a few remnants of the fingerprint-stains from its former vitality, dryer than a recently run dryer and winfry’s frustration continued to rise high tide.
Then it happened. winfry was at his desk wagging his passive aggressive battle with the librem, when the book shot out some sarcastic comment that winfry simply could not resist responding to and the first thing he got his hand on was the fountain pen. It all came out of nowhere soaking down through the pages. It was a complete rush. Afterwards he had to go to the bathroom to clean himself up.
But figuring out how to write in the librem only complicated the issue. Some things would go on the page, other things wouldn’t; some things he wrote down altered reality – he made things out of then air, he prevented himself from being hungery for a day and half and once he even got isa to change her mind about which café they went to but maybe she was only pulling his leg, but most things only elicited the book’s mockery. So there was even more that he didn’t know and his frustration sprouted wings and started unstrapping his inhibitions.
That was it really. Not knowing. Not being in control. winfry needed to be in control – especially when he was stressed. So that was the hair worm that had slimed under his skin. That was his wide-awake nightmare. That was lighting his fuse. That was tipping him off the edge. That was scaring him pale.
But knowing what was running him wild didn’t make him feel any better.
That’s probably what winfry was thinking or at least that’s what I would have been thinking if I were him.
But I’m not. winfry that is.
…
“isa, I’m sorry”
“I know you are,” she didn’t even look up, “but it doesn’t make me feel any better… Don’t men have feelings?”
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