Friday, March 11, 2016

The Alarm Clock at the End of the World


Part 53:  Late That Afternoon.

We pass quietly into Metro City through the east, navigating a maze of tunnels, highways, exits and underpasses to dropping us where cramped Broad Street splits around the courthouse. Mephis continues past the high-rising edifices, past South Street. Huge black and grey monuments are on either side, thinning out farther out until we leave Central MC behind us.

We pull into an Alternatron across the street from a MKDonalds. The nights are still warm for outdoor play in vacant lots, even with the occasional snow cover, but there is a chill that sneaks into your bones and won’t shake out. Low-riding cars roll by blasting rap music, hopping with each beat. A morbidly obese homeless man snores loudly, asleep atop a shopping cart filled with cans. There is a Triple R logo sewn onto his hoodie.

“Where do your people live,” Nep asks, leading the way into the Alternatron. I hastily follow.

Mephis slaps the counter with both hands. At the speed of light, a short, fat brunette speed-wattles to the counter and puts on the red bandana that marks the ‘first day girls.’ The dimples on her vacu-cheeks suck in and her eyes glaze over as the program kicks in. “Hello, sir, welcome to Alternatron Boutique and Fast Food Cuisine, how may I help you?”

“We want a seat near a fire exit,” Mephis snarls. “There’s a hundred dollar bill in it for you if no one talks to us but our waitress.”

The hostess’s bobble head bounces around. “Yes sir, that’s fine!” She grabs three menus from the rack by the counter and turns to lead us away. The remainder of the patrons are oblivious to the predatory looks Mephis casts at them, nose waving side to side like a shark scenting blood. “Tell the waitress that if she asks us anything besides what we want to eat, I will shoot her to death right then and there, in front of everyone. Capisch?”

Nepotism reprimands, “Dude!”

“You’ve got it, sir!” the girl bubbles. “I’ll be sure to let her know.”

“Dude!” Nepotism cries. “That’s not cool!”

“And I don’t want to see any cops,” Mephis moves on, unabated. “If a cop walks in, you are to come let me know right away.” He gives a vague nod of approval as she brings us into the empty back room. “If you don’t tell me about it, I’ll shoot you right in front of him. You understand?”

“And the same if the officer is female?” she chirps.

Mephis doesn’t answer.

“Come on! Don’t take advantage of this,” Nepotism orders. “Just get our table and be done with it.”

“Yeah,” I protest. “What the fuck are you doing? Don’t tell her this shit! We’ll have some Homeland Security Einsatzgruppen down on us if you don’t shut the fuck up!”

“No,” Nepotism moans, disappointed. “This girl doesn’t cognitively understand a word we’re saying.” He shakes his head sadly at the hostess as she lays down three menus in a corner booth by the rear fire exit. “Employees are hypnotized and programmed to accommodate it whatever they are asked.”

The waitress is oblivious.

Go to Part 54

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