Agent Tomatilla Bygone ran along the shoulder of an unknown road just outside Goofy Ridge, Illinois. Her legs burned at first, then they went numb, but she kept moving as fast she could to generate as much heat as possible.
She had never before questioned Rapunzel Archback's judgment, but this seemed to her a hare-brained notion, one with unclear objectives and puzzling contingencies. Missions like this were typical of government work, of any kind of work, but Chief Archback had heretofore brought a kind of ruthless, narrow efficiency to espionage. Now she was pursuing the nebulous, the hypothetical. Granted, the case offered intrigue but Agent Bygone had never known intrigue alone to hook someone as cold and clinical as her superior. Perhaps Rapunzel Archback had grown sentimental, or maybe she didn't want to uncover too much, think too much, for fear of falling victim to TH. Agent Bygone also worried about tangible hubris, especially since she seemed to be investigating a disposal method for TH, but such risks came with the territory.
Only four cars had passed her, three of which had been headed in the wrong direction. The fourth blazed by too quickly for her to get in front of. At last, a late model sedan slowed alongside her and an elderly, brown-faced man lowered his window to address her.
"Need a ride, young lady?"
"If you're going to Goofy Ridge, I do."
"Not my final destination, as they say, but I'll be passing through," he said.
"Works for me," she said, abandoning immediately the notion of commandeering this kindly old man's car.
"What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?" he asked Agent Bygone as she climbed into the passenger side.
"It's a long story," she said, "Let's just say I'm in law enforcement."
The old brown man, whose race she could not quite determine, laughed.
"I remember a time when a woman as young and pretty as you couldn't be in law enforcement. More's the pity. We could have used your type as police officers."
Agent Bygone nodded politely. In spite of his age, the man seemed quick of both mind and body. He accelerated the car smoothly and drew up to eighty miles an hour, all the while appearing relaxed and in complete control.
"Were you a police officer?" she asked.
"I was a special investigator for the state of Missouri," he said, proudly, "First one who wasn't white, so they told me, though I never knew if that was officially true."
"Fascinating. When was this?"
"I started in Kansas City doing administration work for the police department. That was 1949, and about seven or eight years later I was doing fraud investigations. I retired in 1990."
"Sounds like a long, illustrious career," said Agent Bygone, and she meant it.
"I did good work," he agreed, "but nothing special or notable, nothing big. I miss it sometimes, cracking the case, you know."
"You said you weren't white, which I could kind of tell. I'm not quite white either, half Puerto Rican. What about you?"
"Oh, where do I start? Father was black and Cherokee, mother was Mexican and Irish and something else, so I guess that makes me a mutt like everyone else. Except in the old days, I wasn't the kind of mutt people wanted to associate with. Ain't so bad anymore, you know."
"No, not like it used to be."
She thought for a moment.
"What's your name, sir?"
"Nathanial Wildacre," he said, softly.
"Well, Mr. Wildacre, your abilities may help me quite a lot, if you're willing to share them. What do you know about the Monolithic Chemical Company?"
The man glanced toward her with a knowing grin and something in his eyes that could only be described as a gleam.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Nine: The Bipedal Canine
Tottchell offered to enter the office building first, although his overall mood toward the proceedings seemed apathetic. Jim and Elmer had convinced themselves they would behold a bloodbath from wild experiments on how to dispose of tangible hubris and Nichelle tacitly confessed this idea had crossed her own mind.
But the building contained no chamber of horrors yet, only an empty and clinical foyer, with white walls and a cream ceiling with a modest skylight. An abstract painting hung above a plain grey desk on which a single black object lay. Nichelle approached the desk as the men spread in different directions throughout the disturbingly innocuous room. The object turned out to be a keyboard unattached to anything resembling a terminal or computer. She slid out the top drawer to find pens and pencils, a nearly spent pad of yellow adhesive notes, and an old fashioned wooden ruler.
"It's like a ghost town," said Tott, his voice echoing.
Jim stood at a wide picture window that offered a panoramic view of the lake. Elmer moped around, hovering near the front door and displaying a reluctance to look at anything.
"There's a door here," observed Tott.
They had all seen it already shortly after entering the room, a standard-sized bright blue door with a knob in the upper middle rather than on one side. It was a peculiar place for a door, a strange color, and a curious knob placement. Nichelle walked toward Tott, who stood nearest the door. As she drew close, she noticed she was striding across a throw rug the same color as the floor, a light brown somewhat reminiscent of hardwood, but without the grain. Instinctively, she stepped off the rug and approached the door from one side. Tott stood on the opposite side while Jim attempted to persuade Elmer to join the other two at the enigmatic blue door.
"What's with the knob?" asked Jim as he drew nearer, with Elmer trailing a step behind him.
Tott shook his head. Nichelle put her fingers on the door, half-expected some kind of booby trap.
"There's no hinges," Tott noted.
Sure enough, there were no hinges on either side of the door. But with the knob in the upper center, where would the hinges go? Everyone looked down to see three fine, small hinges mortised into the door along the bottom. So it opened out and down.
"Kind of awkward, isn't it?" Jim asked.
"It looks it," Nichelle agreed.
Elmer screwed up his face, evidently pained that no one had noticed yet.
"The throw rug," he said, pointing. "Move it out of the way."
Jim kicked the throw rug away from the door and its absence revealed a round hold bored into the floor precisely where the doorknob would land.
"You're a genius, Elmdog," said Tott.
"Please don't say that," he cringed, as though being called a genius frightened him more than death itself.
Jim gazed at Nichelle, then glanced quickly around at the others.
"Are we going to open the door or aren't we?"
Without awaiting further discussion, Tott grasped the knob and stepped away from the door, allowing it to fall into place. It did so gently and beyond it lay a winding, badly lit corridor. A moment later, all four of them heard the unmistakable sound of a dog barking not so much viciously as ominously. Tott knelt down and lifted the door halfway up and continued to look down the corridor. The others did likewise and they waited to see what would emerge from the dark recesses of the hallway.
The sight that followed might have been comic were it not so grotesque. From around a corner, a two-legged dog walking nearly erect ambled up the hallway. The creature stood perhaps three feet high and moved in a measured, inquisitive manner as though it wished not to mangle or maul but to question, to interrogate.
"Okay," said Jim, not breezily at all but that was how he hoped it would sound, "I'm taking suggestions on what we should do here."
After a long moment that permitted the dog to come within fifteen feet of the door, Nichelle, who after all was the unspoken leader, offered instructions.
"Let's leave it open and just back away from the door, see exactly what we're dealing with here. Does anyone have a weapon?"
"A weapon," cried Elmer, "I'd have brought one if I'd known we'd be going up against bipedal dogs."
Jim brandished a tire iron from the deep pockets of his cargo pants.
"Good man, Jim," Elmer said, "Way to think on your feet."
As a unit, they moved back toward the lone desk and waited for the bizarre, but apparently not bellicose, animal to come through the open doorway.
But the building contained no chamber of horrors yet, only an empty and clinical foyer, with white walls and a cream ceiling with a modest skylight. An abstract painting hung above a plain grey desk on which a single black object lay. Nichelle approached the desk as the men spread in different directions throughout the disturbingly innocuous room. The object turned out to be a keyboard unattached to anything resembling a terminal or computer. She slid out the top drawer to find pens and pencils, a nearly spent pad of yellow adhesive notes, and an old fashioned wooden ruler.
"It's like a ghost town," said Tott, his voice echoing.
Jim stood at a wide picture window that offered a panoramic view of the lake. Elmer moped around, hovering near the front door and displaying a reluctance to look at anything.
"There's a door here," observed Tott.
They had all seen it already shortly after entering the room, a standard-sized bright blue door with a knob in the upper middle rather than on one side. It was a peculiar place for a door, a strange color, and a curious knob placement. Nichelle walked toward Tott, who stood nearest the door. As she drew close, she noticed she was striding across a throw rug the same color as the floor, a light brown somewhat reminiscent of hardwood, but without the grain. Instinctively, she stepped off the rug and approached the door from one side. Tott stood on the opposite side while Jim attempted to persuade Elmer to join the other two at the enigmatic blue door.
"What's with the knob?" asked Jim as he drew nearer, with Elmer trailing a step behind him.
Tott shook his head. Nichelle put her fingers on the door, half-expected some kind of booby trap.
"There's no hinges," Tott noted.
Sure enough, there were no hinges on either side of the door. But with the knob in the upper center, where would the hinges go? Everyone looked down to see three fine, small hinges mortised into the door along the bottom. So it opened out and down.
"Kind of awkward, isn't it?" Jim asked.
"It looks it," Nichelle agreed.
Elmer screwed up his face, evidently pained that no one had noticed yet.
"The throw rug," he said, pointing. "Move it out of the way."
Jim kicked the throw rug away from the door and its absence revealed a round hold bored into the floor precisely where the doorknob would land.
"You're a genius, Elmdog," said Tott.
"Please don't say that," he cringed, as though being called a genius frightened him more than death itself.
Jim gazed at Nichelle, then glanced quickly around at the others.
"Are we going to open the door or aren't we?"
Without awaiting further discussion, Tott grasped the knob and stepped away from the door, allowing it to fall into place. It did so gently and beyond it lay a winding, badly lit corridor. A moment later, all four of them heard the unmistakable sound of a dog barking not so much viciously as ominously. Tott knelt down and lifted the door halfway up and continued to look down the corridor. The others did likewise and they waited to see what would emerge from the dark recesses of the hallway.
The sight that followed might have been comic were it not so grotesque. From around a corner, a two-legged dog walking nearly erect ambled up the hallway. The creature stood perhaps three feet high and moved in a measured, inquisitive manner as though it wished not to mangle or maul but to question, to interrogate.
"Okay," said Jim, not breezily at all but that was how he hoped it would sound, "I'm taking suggestions on what we should do here."
After a long moment that permitted the dog to come within fifteen feet of the door, Nichelle, who after all was the unspoken leader, offered instructions.
"Let's leave it open and just back away from the door, see exactly what we're dealing with here. Does anyone have a weapon?"
"A weapon," cried Elmer, "I'd have brought one if I'd known we'd be going up against bipedal dogs."
Jim brandished a tire iron from the deep pockets of his cargo pants.
"Good man, Jim," Elmer said, "Way to think on your feet."
As a unit, they moved back toward the lone desk and waited for the bizarre, but apparently not bellicose, animal to come through the open doorway.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Eight: Chi-Town Operative
"Person of Interest One: Trudery, Nichelle Oleanda, 36 years of age, biracial; no criminal history but smarter than her own good.
Person of Interest Two: Treedweller, Elmer Cecil, 41 years of age, Caucasian; one misdemeanor conviction for unauthorized possession of cough medicine, former television personality, moderate risk for TH
Person of Interest Three: Misanthrope, James Aboveboard, 37 years of age, African-American; no criminal convictions, but was once accused of inciting a food fight
Person of Interest Four: Zizzzard, Tottchell Z (initial only), 35 years of age, predominantly Caucasian; one misdemeanor conviction for reckless driving in reverse
This represents all extant information on persons of interest at this time."
Once the laconic female voice ceased, Tomatilla Bygone's PDA beeped soothingly. The helicopter hovered briefly above Peoria as the pilot called out a question, which turned out to involve where one could land a helicopter in the vicinity of Goofy Ridge, Illinois. Agent Bygone had no idea and the two settled on the soybean field nearest the town. But what was she supposed to do then? She called Rapunzel Archback to voice precisely this inquiry.
"Well, I don't know, rent a car," she suggested.
"This hasn't been thought through all the way, has it?" Agent Bygone asked. "You wanted me here as soon as possible, which was understandable, but now I'm stuck."
"Not quite," said Rapunzel Archback, "Just walk to the road and commandeer a car. But make it a nice ride, not some bucket of bolts like the POIs are driving."
"So you're authorizing me to take a car from a random driver like in the movies. I've never done that before. Will SpyCo compensate the motorist for his loss?"
"Of course, we have plenty of money."
"We have?"
"As far as this random motorist knows, sure."
Rapunzel Archback hung up. The pilot found an open field about two miles east of Goofy Ridge and started to descend. Agent Bygone scanned the desolate, snow-leaden terrain and wondered how a land that seemed so dead at the moment could become so fecund only three months from now. Even though she knew it to be true, she would not have believed it possible if this were her first time seeing such a place.
"Are you gonna be warm enough?" shouted the pilot. "I've got an extra coat if you need it."
"No, I think being cold will motivate me to work faster," she said.
"Will it motivate cars that aren't coming to arrive on the scene faster?"
This was such a good question that Agent Bygone refused to dignify it with an answer. She thanked the pilot and waited for contact with the ground. Then she leapt from the helicopter and hit the frozen surface running, loping toward the thoroughfare about two hundred yards away.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Seven: Puzzling Arrival
The elderly Electra had an 8-track tape deck that played at varying speeds, sometimes too fast, other times too slow, occasionally just right. In the morning, as Nichelle started the car to warm it, she noticed one 8-track relic lying on the console and picked it up.
"Goose Creek Symphony," she said aloud, though very quietly, " 'Do Your Thing But Don't Touch Mine'."
She had never heard of this band, but decided to play the tape once everyone was in the car. Elmer had gotten up before her, but Jim and Tott had been difficult to wake. She understood why in Jim's case; he had stayed up with her throughout the drive and always had trouble falling asleep.
"How you feeling, Tott," she asked when he clambered out of the pod.
"Tired," he rasped, "It's skunky cold in there."
Nichelle rolled her eyes and corralled the three men into the immense vehicle. Jim was trying not to be cranky and Elmer was not trying not to harangue him. Nichelle loved Elmer and loved Jim, but they could be impossible together. They had known each other before Nichelle met either of them and she often felt mystified that a relationship so contentious could last as long as it obviously had.
For several years, Elmer and Jim worked at the same local television station. Elmer served as a news anchor and also hosted a high school knowledge competition for local high schools called "The Kumquat Show." Jim had been an all-purpose sort, a writer, production assistant, occasional camera operator. Just before the tangible hubris outbreak, Elmer had been fired and Jim had quit in protest. The latter never made a big deal about this, not even saying at first why he quit. Considering what happened to people associated with news shortly thereafter, it was possible the sacking of Elmer Treedweller had, in fact, saved his life. It was all very difficult for him, the resentment over his dismissal combined with something akin to survivor's guilt.
Since then, Elmer, who denied he was forty which meant he had to be, and Jim, who admitted he was in his late 30s, had reverted to college age mentalities, not quite as obnoxious, but irresponsible, idle, and cavalier. Nichelle knew that most adults, men in particular, still battled daily with an immature lunatic residing behind the facade of propriety, but these two had let the lunatic out. Though slightly younger than both, she had acted as a kind of mother hen and caretaker for some time. Tottchell Zizzzard's story was slightly different, but it always was.
They arrived at Goofy Ridge late in the morning. Though it was late in another desolate Midwestern winter, the town was in quite an attractive and bucolic spot, right off the shores of two sizable lakes. The Monolithic Chemical Company's headquarters sat at the intersection of Goose Lake and Buzzville Roads along Lake Chautauqua. Two smokestacks towered above, though neither of them produced any smoke. Three structures, by all appearances an office, a warehouse, and a cylindrical structure that might have been mistaken for a lighthouse, loomed before them but something didn't seem right. Despite the absence of any obvious disrepair or neglect, the place seemed abandoned, with a lone automobile lurking in a vast parking lot.
As Nichelle and her troop doubled the number of cars in the parking lot, they shared words on how strange the situation appeared to be. It was neither a weekend nor a holiday and there had been no indications the Monolithic Chemical Company had shut its doors.
"I realize there's not much news circulating these days," Nichelle said, "but there's still the Internet and word of mouth."
"Two impeccable sources," sneered Elmer.
"Oh, shut up," she snapped, "There's been nothing about this company at all. Obviously, a rumor mill can produce inaccuracies, but in this instance there's been no information whatsoever."
"So what do we do?" asked Jim, hollowly.
Nichelle shrugged. Tott's face was gaunt and questioning, Elmer's looked defiant, and Jim's eyes withheld a followup question.
"We go inside," she said at last.
"Goose Creek Symphony," she said aloud, though very quietly, " 'Do Your Thing But Don't Touch Mine'."
She had never heard of this band, but decided to play the tape once everyone was in the car. Elmer had gotten up before her, but Jim and Tott had been difficult to wake. She understood why in Jim's case; he had stayed up with her throughout the drive and always had trouble falling asleep.
"How you feeling, Tott," she asked when he clambered out of the pod.
"Tired," he rasped, "It's skunky cold in there."
Nichelle rolled her eyes and corralled the three men into the immense vehicle. Jim was trying not to be cranky and Elmer was not trying not to harangue him. Nichelle loved Elmer and loved Jim, but they could be impossible together. They had known each other before Nichelle met either of them and she often felt mystified that a relationship so contentious could last as long as it obviously had.
For several years, Elmer and Jim worked at the same local television station. Elmer served as a news anchor and also hosted a high school knowledge competition for local high schools called "The Kumquat Show." Jim had been an all-purpose sort, a writer, production assistant, occasional camera operator. Just before the tangible hubris outbreak, Elmer had been fired and Jim had quit in protest. The latter never made a big deal about this, not even saying at first why he quit. Considering what happened to people associated with news shortly thereafter, it was possible the sacking of Elmer Treedweller had, in fact, saved his life. It was all very difficult for him, the resentment over his dismissal combined with something akin to survivor's guilt.
Since then, Elmer, who denied he was forty which meant he had to be, and Jim, who admitted he was in his late 30s, had reverted to college age mentalities, not quite as obnoxious, but irresponsible, idle, and cavalier. Nichelle knew that most adults, men in particular, still battled daily with an immature lunatic residing behind the facade of propriety, but these two had let the lunatic out. Though slightly younger than both, she had acted as a kind of mother hen and caretaker for some time. Tottchell Zizzzard's story was slightly different, but it always was.
They arrived at Goofy Ridge late in the morning. Though it was late in another desolate Midwestern winter, the town was in quite an attractive and bucolic spot, right off the shores of two sizable lakes. The Monolithic Chemical Company's headquarters sat at the intersection of Goose Lake and Buzzville Roads along Lake Chautauqua. Two smokestacks towered above, though neither of them produced any smoke. Three structures, by all appearances an office, a warehouse, and a cylindrical structure that might have been mistaken for a lighthouse, loomed before them but something didn't seem right. Despite the absence of any obvious disrepair or neglect, the place seemed abandoned, with a lone automobile lurking in a vast parking lot.
As Nichelle and her troop doubled the number of cars in the parking lot, they shared words on how strange the situation appeared to be. It was neither a weekend nor a holiday and there had been no indications the Monolithic Chemical Company had shut its doors.
"I realize there's not much news circulating these days," Nichelle said, "but there's still the Internet and word of mouth."
"Two impeccable sources," sneered Elmer.
"Oh, shut up," she snapped, "There's been nothing about this company at all. Obviously, a rumor mill can produce inaccuracies, but in this instance there's been no information whatsoever."
"So what do we do?" asked Jim, hollowly.
Nichelle shrugged. Tott's face was gaunt and questioning, Elmer's looked defiant, and Jim's eyes withheld a followup question.
"We go inside," she said at last.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Six: SpyCo and Rapunzel Archback
When tangible hubris and other related phenomena began to occur, lots of people suspected some type of government conspiracy. After television news and print media all but collapsed, there was virtually no one left to blame the government, except behind closed doors or in lowered voices. As usual, the chief problem with the government was the inability to get out of its own way. Because people were so inclined to disbelieve, the government benefited greatly from no longer appearing on television to deny conspiracy allegations. The more they denied, the more people assumed they were lying. These days, at the very least it seemed incomplete and oversimplified to assume government alone had caused all the problems.
Just the same, some government agencies carried on the kind of scrutiny and surveillance of which they had frequently been accused. One, however, was not quite a government agency. In Two Thousand Something, the government formed a partnership with a private corporation consisting mostly of former operatives; the venture had been named SpyCo. SpyCo was not altogether evil or wholly good and the organization sometimes worked in the government's interests and sometimes against them. Its newest leader, Rapunzel Archback, seemed as dichotomous as the institution itself.
Just the same, some government agencies carried on the kind of scrutiny and surveillance of which they had frequently been accused. One, however, was not quite a government agency. In Two Thousand Something, the government formed a partnership with a private corporation consisting mostly of former operatives; the venture had been named SpyCo. SpyCo was not altogether evil or wholly good and the organization sometimes worked in the government's interests and sometimes against them. Its newest leader, Rapunzel Archback, seemed as dichotomous as the institution itself.
SpyCo had recently learned of a plan by an Indianapolis woman to find out how to dispose of the world's most recent scourge, tangible hubris and related substances. Unfortunately, a certain level of self-importance was often required for such an undertaking and the personnel at SpyCo surmised this woman would suffer from hubris before stopping it. Rapunzel Archback entered the main conference room for a briefing with the agents who had made the discovery.
"She and three men are on their way to Goofy Ridge, Illinois to find a disposal method for the tangible hubris muck," said a small blond agent who looked like a little girl and received approximately that level of respect from her colleagues.
"This has been done before," said Rapunzel Archback, "Wasn't it a few years ago that someone tried that?"
"One of our operatives tried it two years ago," said a grey-haired man who had been working for the government in some capacity for his entire adult life.
"And what happened?"
"Never heard from again, presumed dead," intoned the baby-faced blond.
"So not only do we not know if they'll be successful, we don't even know if the answers they need are there."
"That's correct," said the venerable man.
Rapunzel Archback hated it when agents spoke in turns.
"This isn't a bloody movie," she said, "Agent Towers, you talk. "
The venerable man continued and the youthful blond looked chagrined. After a few moments, Archback stopped Towers in mid-sentence.
"I don't want to say this story is uninteresting," she said, "but my main concern here is your recommendation. What do you think we should do about this?"
Agent Towers shrugged.
"And how about you, Ms. Longweed?"
"Clearly, we need this information," she said, tentatively, "but Agent Towers and I torn about this case. What we'd really like to do is beat them to this if there really is anything to be learned at Goofy Ridge. But that appears unlikely as they're so close and we don't have an agent any closer than Chicago. So the dilemma is, do we help them get this essential information, do we hinder them in the hopes of getting it ourselves, or do we do nothing?"
"The last option is out," said Archback. "Get an agent from Chicago to Goofy Ridge as soon as possible. I don't see it as intrinsically harmful if this woman obtains crucial information, but if she does, we need to know too. We'll monitor them for the time being, see what, if anything, we can learn."
It seemed like such a simple and obvious decision to Rapunzel Archback, yet neither Towers nor Longweed seemed confident enough to make it. That must have been why they kept her around.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Five: Pod Stop
The Zizzzard family Electra 225 got abysmal mileage but it did have a massive fuel tank so Nichelle didn't stop at a filling station until just outside Champaign, Illinois. She collected cash from everyone but Tottchell, who could not be awakened and whose wallet could not be located. Nichelle and Jim agreed that Tott and the now awake but slightly groggy Elmer could probably be induced to drive the rest of the way while they took their turn at resting, but Elmer struggled to see after dark and nobody trusted Tott's navigational abilities.
"We may have to settle for a pod somewhere," Nichelle said, "If we can afford four of them."
"Elmer's got money," said Jim. "The trick is to get him to part with it. I've got about seventy dollars myself."
"I think I have a hundred and some. I halfway planned this."
"Four pods should be easy for tonight. We just have to be conscious of the fact that the longer we're gone, the bigger concern money will be."
Pods functioned as low cost alternatives to hotel. They were not particularly warm or comfortable, but for a few dollars an hour, an individual could squeeze into a tube with an air mattress and a plastic cushion and get some much-needed sleep. Customers had to pay upfront to a mechanized cashier, which spat out an access card for the pod.
Early nightfall made it seem later than it was. They had only been on the road four and a half hours, almost half that time spent during the traffic delay that occurred when Tott was driving, but Nichelle felt she had been driving for days. She exited Interstate 74 and made a beeline for Goofy Ridge on Highway 136. There was no point in driving another hour to the oddly monikered hamlet since nothing would be happening there this time of night. She stopped at a unit of pods in Heyworth, another small community on the Illinois prairie. She roused her male companions, including Jim, who had finally succumbed to fatigue a few minutes earlier, and advised them of her plan.
"I hate pods," said Tott, "You guys know that."
"Nobody loves pods," said Elmer, "but it's the cheapest way to get some sleep on the road."
"They're too cold," Tott complained.
"Colder than sleeping in the car?" Nichelle demanded.
Nichelle understood Tott's bad grace and was surprised neither Jim nor Elmer had renewed their own sour spirits. She had been the only one truly interested in undertaking the journey and had coerced the others through obligation and guilt. Still, Jim now appeared engaged in the endeavor and Elmer seemed, at the very least, resigned to it. But unlike Tott, nothing important to them was at stake. The car was an old heap, but it belonged to Tott's father and Nichelle had not considered the sacrifices her friends had to make. She had rationalized this by insisting to herself how important this mission was, a way to dispose of the tangible hubris. Which would result in what? Sure, it would be preferable to seeing the stuff lying around everywhere, but a bigger trick than discarding it was preventing it from killing people in the first place. And that would require far more than a road trip to Goofy Ridge.
All four got out and Jim and Nichelle combined their financial resources to purchase pods for each of them, asking nothing of Elmer or Tott. Elmer, though, would be expected to pony up eventually and in such a way that would probably make him wish he had sprung for the pods.
"We may have to settle for a pod somewhere," Nichelle said, "If we can afford four of them."
"Elmer's got money," said Jim. "The trick is to get him to part with it. I've got about seventy dollars myself."
"I think I have a hundred and some. I halfway planned this."
"Four pods should be easy for tonight. We just have to be conscious of the fact that the longer we're gone, the bigger concern money will be."
Pods functioned as low cost alternatives to hotel. They were not particularly warm or comfortable, but for a few dollars an hour, an individual could squeeze into a tube with an air mattress and a plastic cushion and get some much-needed sleep. Customers had to pay upfront to a mechanized cashier, which spat out an access card for the pod.
Early nightfall made it seem later than it was. They had only been on the road four and a half hours, almost half that time spent during the traffic delay that occurred when Tott was driving, but Nichelle felt she had been driving for days. She exited Interstate 74 and made a beeline for Goofy Ridge on Highway 136. There was no point in driving another hour to the oddly monikered hamlet since nothing would be happening there this time of night. She stopped at a unit of pods in Heyworth, another small community on the Illinois prairie. She roused her male companions, including Jim, who had finally succumbed to fatigue a few minutes earlier, and advised them of her plan.
"I hate pods," said Tott, "You guys know that."
"Nobody loves pods," said Elmer, "but it's the cheapest way to get some sleep on the road."
"They're too cold," Tott complained.
"Colder than sleeping in the car?" Nichelle demanded.
Nichelle understood Tott's bad grace and was surprised neither Jim nor Elmer had renewed their own sour spirits. She had been the only one truly interested in undertaking the journey and had coerced the others through obligation and guilt. Still, Jim now appeared engaged in the endeavor and Elmer seemed, at the very least, resigned to it. But unlike Tott, nothing important to them was at stake. The car was an old heap, but it belonged to Tott's father and Nichelle had not considered the sacrifices her friends had to make. She had rationalized this by insisting to herself how important this mission was, a way to dispose of the tangible hubris. Which would result in what? Sure, it would be preferable to seeing the stuff lying around everywhere, but a bigger trick than discarding it was preventing it from killing people in the first place. And that would require far more than a road trip to Goofy Ridge.
All four got out and Jim and Nichelle combined their financial resources to purchase pods for each of them, asking nothing of Elmer or Tott. Elmer, though, would be expected to pony up eventually and in such a way that would probably make him wish he had sprung for the pods.
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