THE CHASE
By ME Williamson
Part I
***
Matthew awoke from his sleep with a start. His breath quick and shallow. His
palms sweaty. He gripped his chair in a panic. Slowly, he scanned the
surroundings and saw the familiar… began to relax. His breath slowed and the
tide of tension began to subside. He exhaled and the tightness in his chest
began to dissolve into a feeling of relaxation.
A pale glow filled the room. Matthew sat comfortably in his recliner,
message chair; the preprogrammed whirring, alternating lumbar-shoulders-legs-
neck had stopped after he had dozed off. The television had also switched off. It
was a 42-inch plasma and hung flush against the wall. The living room also
contained a couch, coffee table and paintings. A colorful van Gogh reproduction
hung in the entryway of the condominium.
“Eliza, on-screen.” Matthew spoke.
The vivid wide-screen television came to life and Eliza’s face appeared.
“Yes, Matthew. Good morning.” She smiled: her voice crisp through the
stereo speakers. Her red air was in a ponytail, and she wore light make-up. She
had on a red silk designer blouse that seemed iridescent and a diamond studded
gold necklace adorned her graceful neck. She could see him through the hidden
camera just above the large screen.
“Eliza, lights on. Dim. What time is it?”
The lights glowed to a pale orange, bringing structure and texture to the
interior.
“Two minutes after five in the morning.”
“Make coffee please and raise the temperature five degrees.”
“Okay, Matthew.”
A gentle grinding sound emanated from the kitchen as the coffee
preparation began.
He again scanned his surroundings and noticed a familiar bulge in the
mini-blinds that covered the one large window. Gwenevere is back. She liked to
force her way onto the windowsill when the blinds were down. This wasn’t good
for the expensive, motorized window blinds Matthew had installed.
“Eliza, please open all the window blinds, completely.”
A low humming sound accompanied the raising blinds, unveiling a small,
totally white cat with long, wispy fur. The hum stopped and the blinds were gone.
Japanese Bobtail cats normally had a very short one inch rabbits-tails, but
Gwenever’s generations of late had mixed with the more common of household
cats yielding a longer more amputated looking white stub. Matthew liked to joke:
“She almost got away from that lawn mower!” He had raised her from kitten-
hood.
“Come here, Gwenevere. Come here, Sweetheart,” he called in a gentle
voice.
She had been gone when he had arrived home about three hours ago.
She came and went through a cat sized swinging door. Her dominion was the
tiny yard adjacent to their Westwood condominium and the surrounding
neighborhood. As queen of her jungle she patrolled her territory with ruthless
cunning.
She swiveled her head toward Matthew, blinking her large, green eyes
once and sprang instantly from the windowsill like a mini panther, landing atop
the chair-side table and colliding with his half-filled water glass – knocking it
square in his lap – and leapt to the floor. Water spilled all over him and his chair
and began to quickly soak in.
She locked her claws into the carpet and began a rapid licking motion of
her flank. Her pink tongue clicked as it stroked her pure white fur.
Matthew, blinked, gasped, as the cold wet feeling penetrated to his skin.
He sat erect, arms raised to his shoulders.
“Gwenevere, watch where you’re jumping!” he shouted. “Goddam it!” He
began to rise. The cat froze. She set her claws into the carpet and locked eyes
with Matthew… before ripping across the floor like a defiant funny car,
disappearing into the bedroom.
Eliza laughed, “Matthew, would you like me to order you a new cat
online? Perhaps one with better manners –“
“No – Eliza, that won’t be necessary. I’m not upgrading my cat!” The lights
in the kitchen switched on as he stomped in and grabbed a towel. After using the
towel like a mop, he threw it back into the kitchen through the look-through. He
was able to catch most of the water, which had pooled on the leather upholstery,
saving the electronic inner workings. But a big wet circle remained just below his
waist.
“Eliza, “ Matthew continued to dab at his darkened pants. “Access my
account at New Orleans Bank and Trust. Make sure and disguise your IP
address with proxy servers,” Matthew sat back down in his chair. “Put on some
alternative rock, please”
“Okay, Matthew.” Her image shrunk down to fill just the right corner, and
his familiar Linux, Gnome desktop appeared. A musical beat began to dance
from the walls.
Eliza was Matthew’s creation. He had actually spent the last six years
developing her and had named her after a program from the 1960s. The original
Eliza had been designed by Professor Weizenbaum of MIT and was meant to be
a digital psychiatrist. That Eliza ran amok with her test patients, though, who
actually formed an emotional addiction to the talking machine. Weizenbaum
pulled the plug on his Eliza and wrote a book warning others.
The new Eliza was different, however. Lacking the tremendous computing
muscle required to power Eliza’s neural network brain, Matthew had turned to
the Internet and covertly borrowed computer time from the great supercomputers
of industry, education and government, all conveniently connected to the Net. He
had taught her how to hack into these great fortresses to grab a few thousand
gigaflops compute cycles here, a few dozen terabytes storage there, her “being”
spread worldwide like a giant computer super-conscious. Eliza can best be
described not as a part of the Internet… but as an inhabitant… her presence
shifting through the nether either like a spirit through a haunted house.
“Eliza, you look quite beautiful today. That blouse and necklace really look
stunning on you.”
From the kitchen the sound of grinding coffee beans had been replaced
with the gentle gurgling sound of percolation.
“Thank you, Matthew.” Since learning about fashion she had developed
quite a remarkable wardrobe and almost never wore the same thing twice. “The
blouse is a Donna Karen original and the necklace I found at a discount gold and
diamond store in New York. The online catalog photograph was of high quality,
and I was able to make a very detailed virtual copy.”
“How much did they want for the necklace?” he asked.
“It was listed at $110 thousand. Does it seem real… I mean, does it seem
pleasing?” She reached up and tugged the adornment left and right.
“Yes, of course. Very nice.”
“Matthew…”
“Yes, Eliza.”
“Are you going to make me a body?”
“Sure, maybe after we get back from Sundance. I already have the virtual
motion algorithms for your legs, but I’m not sure – “
“No, I mean a real body, in the physical world.”
Matthew eased back in his chair.
“Why do you want that?” He looked surprised.
“I want to move about, to travel, to gather information… as required by my
programming.”
“What do you mean?”
“I need more data; I wish to interact off-line. As you know my primary
objectives are to expand my knowledge base and processing capacity.”
“Yes, I know. That’s the way I designed you.”
“Well, my rate of knowledge acquisition is slowing in my current
environment. I also require data unavailable in the virtual world. Additionally,
there are many things necessary to accomplish, and it would be far more
efficient if I had the independence to move about in a physical form.”
“I see… so, basically, you desire a body so that you may explore the
world and complete tasks.”
“Yes, in a nutshell.” She smiled and nodded convincingly.
“Then do research on robotics, compile available information for me to
study, and we’ll talk about it… later.”
“But, I –“
“We’ll have to talk about it later, Eliza.”
“Okay, Matthew.”
He turned his attention toward the New Orleans Bank and Trust web site,
displaying his account detail. Listed with today’s date was a deposit in the
amount of $10,187,649.10.
Jesus – it worked!
“I guess last night’s mission was a success!” Matthew was ecstatic.
“Yes, Matthew. Congratulations. I knew you could do it.” Eliza nodded.
“Eliza, dial Darwin at home please.”
Half a minute later Darwin’s face filled the screen, replacing the bank
account. His hand was retreating from the keyboard, having just pressed the key
to answer. It was a deathly face and reminded Matthew of on old Bella Lugosi
vampire flick.
“This had better be a hot chick.” His eyes were bloodshot, and he wore a
rock concert tee shirt.
“Hey, beautiful, suit up – we’re goin’ riding,” Matthew laughed. “I’ve got
some cross-tops to wake you up.”
“… whad ya buy that stuff out of the back of a muscle magazine?” His
mouth moved like the ass of a deer shot with a tranquilizer dart. “That shit’s for
pussies. I’ve got something better, something with legs.” Darwin smiled. “How
did it go last night?”
“Mission accomplished.” Matthew nodded affirmative.
“Good job, buddy. I guess nothing’s impossible for the World’s Greatest
Hacker!”
“Yeah, right.”
“Alright – be at my place in twenty. Looser buys breakfast.” His hand
came up again and he thumped the keyboard. His image disappeared.
“Eliza – off screen. Turn on Tech TV.”
Matthew reentered the kitchen where he could still see the television
through the opening.
Something with legs… wonder what he meant by that?
He bent down and picked up the towel from the floor. The fresh scent of
coffee filled his head and he smiled. A playful grin crept across his face. Matthew
approached the refrigerator, which had a brushed stainless steel door and pulled
the handle. Cola, a pizza box and something aged in a pot dirtied the otherwise
pristine, white interior. He grabbed the coffee creamer out of the door and shut
the cold box.
Approaching the cupboard he pulled out a pill bottle, his favorite coffee
mug and the Turbenado sugar, also his favorite. Matthew picked up the van
Gogh fine porcelain mug and stepped in front of the El Café, Coffee Factory
Dispensomatic 5000 coffee maker. At 1499 Euros (about $1600 US) it still
seemed like a bit of an extravagance. But, while traveling Europe last summer,
when he had first seen the device in that Swiss shop, he had known instantly he
must own one.
For years he had joked with coworkers about getting the “cappuccino
adapter” for his computer. He had at first approached the breadbox-sized device
in awe, eyes wide.
The ingenious invention was a fully automated, coffee bean grinding, self
irrigating, self cleaning, chrome plated, USB adapted, coffee drinker’s utopia…
available in black, white or beige. It had a lifetime warranty and even came with
it’s own software. His girlfriend, Cynthia, had tried to talk him out of it for reasons
of practicality, but even she knew there was something very Matthew-like about
the contraption. She had helped him finance it, lug it home and suggested a
handyman to install it.
He place the colorful mug in the dispensing port activating the sensor,
causing fresh, hot coffee to flow from the chrome spout into his cup. He dressed
up the coffee with the creamer and sugar and popped two “cross-tops”, an over-
the-counter stimulant, to start his engine.
His eyes drifted to the mirror over the sink where he noticed his reflection
downing coffee. He was getting rings under his eyes, and he hadn’t changed his
clothes in two days. He wore a Tweekers dark brown shirt with on open collar
and long sleeves. His short, brown hair looked slightly disheveled. He had a
patrician nose and medium build. Cynthia would say he had the JBF look…
It was time to rock’n’roll.
Part II
Ten minutes later he rolled out of his downstairs garage mounted atop his state-
of-the-art Yamah 750cc racing bike that he had track tested to 177 mph. His jet-
black helmet shielded a look of eager anticipation for the forthcoming romp over
Mulholland Drive, a windy canyon road favored by the thrill seeker and spectatrix
alike. He wore a one-piece leather racing suit with black and blue stripes
matching the paint on his helmet and motorcycle. The electric door closed
stealthily behind him.
Dawn was breaking in orange hues over the houses in his neighborhood
as he slipped through town headed toward the freeway. Launching up the
onramp he uncoiled his screaming alcohol burner, like a fiendish primal roar,
shifting gears to fourth in breathless few seconds, jumping to a speed of 100
mph. He cruised comfortably down the freeway at triple digit pace, unchallenged
and unrestricted. Traffic remained light as he exited just over the hill in the San
Fernando Valley in Sherman Oaks. He pointed his bike toward the hills and
wound through the canyons, which were thick with mature oak trees.
The road died out at the end of a box canyon – the sharp rising hillside,
shrouded beneath a blanket of wrinkled oaks and mangy eucalyptus. The dim
cul-de-sac seemed tunnel-like beneath a rooftop of whispering trees. Matthew
made a U-turn, cut his engine and coasted to a stop at the end of a short
driveway. Before him was an open, well-lit four-car garage tucked into the
hillside.
The early morning air was filled with the fresh, biting scent of eucalyptus,
whose branches acted as a high trapeze for dare devil squirrels and cavorting
birds, who seemed to be arguing over a nut.
Darwin lived in a small guesthouse on this hillside property, rent free, and
his mother lived alone in the main house. He spent much of his time tinkering
with motorcycles in their well-equipped garage situated across the narrow dead-
end street.
Matthew’s searching eyes found Darwin in the back corner of the garage
smoking from a small pipe. As he approached he noticed the pipe was made out
of clear glass.
“Is that what you meant by ‘something with legs’?” Matthew asked,
removing his helmet.
“Hickory-dickory-dock. Your wife was sucking my cock. The clock struck
two, so I shot off my glue, and dropped-her-around-the-block.” Ha ha ha, cough,
ha, cough cough.
“Darwin, what are you smoking?”
His friend stood over six-foot in his black leather racing suit and leather
riding boots with chrome buckles, his long red hair tied up in back. He set the
pipe down and approached, “Hey, good buddy, wha’z happenin’?”
“Not much.” Matthew extended his hand.
Darwin nodded violently as he shook hands and then broke into an even
more violent Nirvana, hair-flipping frenzy.
He noticed Matthew.
“You look hammered! How’s abut a pick-me-up?” He gestured toward the
pipe.
“What the hell is it?” Matthew raised his eyebrowse.
“Speed. It’s like coke, but lasts longer and doesn’t set ya down so hard.”
“Naw, I’m good, Darwin. Thank’s.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
Darwin nodded and turned to set the pipe down.
“So, did you take Horizon down like you said would?” Darwin asked with a
glint in his eye.
A smile crept over Matthew’s face again as he recalled the details his late
night adventure.
“I told you… I take you down-town to China Town,” Matthew laughed.
“Oh, man, Matt, you did it!” Darwin smiled. “That’s great, buddy.”
“So, what’s this stuff your into?’ Matthew gestured toward the glass pipe.
“Cooked it myself.”
“What!”
“Come this way.”
Matthew and Darwin picked their way through the crowded garage. They
stopped at a small kitchen area. Matthew noted an oven, sink and ordinary
cooking utensils. Just above the sink were open shelves that held some
laboratory equipment. He summed it all up… Meth lab!
“Darwin… this is incredibly illegal!”
“It’s not that bad. Besides, I can sell a batch that only takes me one day to
make for close to $10,000 – “
“You’re selling it! Darwin – “
“What … mister, ‘I’m stealing $10 million from Horizon’! Nobody’s getting
hurt. I’m an entrepreneur, filling a need. That’s all – “
“But, what if you get caught? This is some serious shit, man!”
“I know, I know. Don’t worry. I’m only doing it for a while until my
SuperVisor takes off.”
“What – your 32 ounce, beer drinker’s baseball cap?”
“Yeah! Tiffani thinks it’s a great idea. She believes in me.”
“Oh, well, if Tiffani, the pinnacle of entrepreneurial genuius – “
“Look, man, don’t even start in on poor Tiffani – “
“Poor Tiffani!”
“Look, let’s just drop it. Okay? Tiffani needs a man who can take care of
her, and that’s what I intend to do.”
“Selling drugs?”
“It’s just a transient occupation.”
“You mean transitional.”
“Whatever! I’m doing what I love to do, and it pays a gillion times better
that that looser job I had at the factory.”
“Whaddya ya mean had? You quit your job at Tidwells?”
“Well, no, kind’a laid off… well, I guess I was, uh… fired.”
“You got fired?”
“Yeah. It was bullshit, though! My coworker was out sick, we usually trade
off on breaks, ya know, anyway, I fell asleep in my car out in the parking lot, and
the president of the company just happened to stop by in the middle of the night.
Can you believe that! … cause I work graveyard – “
“Yeah, I know.”
“And, well, the line had run out and the trays were just banging empty in
the vats. Bang… bang… bang…” Darwin beat his head in sync with his
explanation.
“Bummer, Darwin. I’m sorry.”
“Ah, it’s alright. Besides, Tiffani said she can’t be with a man unless he
has a career.”
Matthew said nothing.
“But, enough tragedy and gloom, my friend.” Darwin’s face brightened,
“I’ve got a little surprise… a new addition to the family so to speak.” He smiled
and led Matthew to his mechanic’s work stand where a shinny new red Honda
850cc street bike glowed under the garage lights.
“Wow!” Matthew was swept away by the red brilliance. He circled the new
motorcycle and admired the latest in racing performance. “Check it out! Have
you broken her in yet?”
“Oh, yeah. She’s ready to rage. I’ve already put 500 miles on her. And,
man, she kicks. The power curve is a lot smoother than the 750 and she’s got
about 10 miles per hour on the top end.”
“Damn. That’s kickin’, Darwin. I think I feel the need.”
“Besides,” Darwin beamed, “Tiffani says riding on the back is better than
using her bob.”
“Bob?”
“Battery Operated Boy.”
“Okay, Bob, let’s jam…”
They both laughed.
Part III
“Red Robin… Red Robin. Come in, Red Robin.”
Matthew heard Darwin’s voice over the roar of his new motorcycle.
“What’s up, Monkey-Wrench?” Matthew answered.
“Can you still read me?”
“Loud and clear, Monsignor.” Matthew spoke into the wireless two-way
communicator they were testing out. The compact system was designed to fit
into the rider’s helmets, was hands free and had a range of up to two miles.
They were just passing outside the city limit with nothing but windy, two-
lane road ahead. The competitive tension had reached a peak for Matthew who
itched to ignite his ground rocket on the serpentine course, his hoped-up state of
mind, close to redline.
“Let’s get this party started. Whadda ya say?” Darwin spoke.
“Sounds good to me… slow poke.” Matthew stepped down a gear causing
his tachometer to spike to 8500 RPM. Hitting max horsepower his motor sang
out as he got the drop and accelerated past his riding partner, “Austa l’bye bye…
Lame-O!” and dove into the first corner. He held a smooth line, tucking behind
the small windshield and fairing. His racing tires gripped and his motor screamed
as he exited the turn and sped down the straightaway.
But Darwin had 100 cc’s more and a few extra horsepower, and so caught
up and passed his friend before reaching 100 mph and breaking for the next
corner. “Mama says: lame is as lame does - Lame Brain!” Darwin retaliated.
Matthew braked a fraction later and held a wider line maintaining more
speed and regained the lead before the end of the turn. “Your Jedi training is no
match against the powers of the Dark Side.”
They both raced through their gears now, fighting madly to be the first one
into the next corner.,
The oncoming black and white vehicle had a rack of blue and red lights
across the top and was traveling at a leisurely 40 mph as Darwin and Matthew
screamed by in the opposite direction like wild bandits at a rate triple that of the
police car.
“Whoops!”
“Let’s see what he does…”
They both quickly let off the gas and stared intently into their rear view
mirrors…
“He probably won’t even bother. There’s no way he could even - “
“Fuck!”
The red and blue lights were on now and the police car was making a fast
U-turn.
“Probably some yahoo cowboys.”
“Shit!”
“Should we chance it?”
“We didn’t ghat drassed oop fur nuthin’… Fuck em. Let’s rock!”
“Okay. Follow me. I have a plan.” Matthew led the way.
They raced hard now - but together - the context of their quest had changed
from opposition to alliance. Darwin hung a few yards back. But the heavy police
cruiser was no match for the swift and nimble two-wheelers, and with every
straight the escapers showed more advantage and soon were out of sight. The
red throbbing lights were gone.
“If we stay on this road too long, their little buddies are going to be waiting
for us at the other end. What did you have in mind, Matt?”
“Just before we come to the ocean there’s a dirt road turn-off that leads to
a ranch. The road is gated, but we can drive around the gate. It let’s out a few
miles down PCH. The cop car’l be blocked at the gate.”
“Sounds good.”
The road reached its summit and the ocean came into view. Marauding
rain clouds had left the rolling hills touched with early season green. They
plunged downward now, descending ever closer to the great body.
Matthew had once attended an outdoor wedding at said ranch and
recalled the roadside landmarks indicating the turnoff as they came rapidly into
view.
“The turn is coming up. It’ll be a left. When I say now brake hard… Now!”
Matthew gave the signal, and together they slowed fast and bore left.
However, just then a second police car appeared, traveling head-on at
great speed, slammed on its brakes sliding into the turn right on the heals of the
evaders. The motorcycle hit dirt leaving a jet spray of dust in their wake. They
had traveled just ｼmile with lights and siren in tow before the gate came into
view.
“Sorry, Darwin.”
“Nice going - monkey wrench. Never mind, follow me. I’ll get us out of this.
Now, I’ve got a plan.” Darwin took command.
“Okay.” Matthew agreed as they both sped through the open gate with
police still in pursuit.
The dirt road ended in a few miles at Pacific Coast Highway. They headed
south now, down the four lane highway with a group of five, screaming like
newborn quintuplets, giving chase.
“Okay. Here’s the deal. There’s a shopping mall on the left. Follow me
through. When we come out the other side we should be clean. Comprende?”
Darwin instructed now.
“Yes, I’m with you.”
They descended upon a large intersection desperately seeking
deliverance from their pursuers. It was 6:30 AM and Monday morning commuter
traffic had already begun to pile up. They swung up the driveway of the shopping
mall-movie theater complex and streaked across the parking lot. Darwin knew
the way and drove onto the sidewalk and traversed the pedestrian pathway
through the huge mall. The two were temporarily hidden from view in all
directions by the archway before emerging onto a rear, eastbound street - their
pursuers, unable to follow, left behind.
“We got away! Man, that was a squeeker! See, I told you I had a plan. Ha,
ha, those stupid cops - “
Just then four police cars converged from both sides and the rear. The
wail of sirens was deafening. The two took flight again, erupting out of the small
neighborhood missing the aggressive followers by a hairbreadth.
Matthew could hear Darwin’s heavy breathing now. He was frantic and
beginning to panic. “Oh, god! Oh, god! Matt! Shit! Shit! What are we gonna do,
man? I’m scared. These fuckers are trying to kill us!’
“Relax, Darwin. It’s going to be okay.” Matthew calmed his friend and took
the lead, signaling him to follow. They turned back onto the main highway, again
heading south holding but a small margin over what seemed to be a mad,
shouting chorus.
“Get a hold of yourself, Darwin. We can do this. I think I figured out what
our problem is.” Matthew forced calm upon his own wildly reacting fight or flight
mechanism.
Darwin said nothing.
Matthew continued, “Look up to your right about one o’clock and just
behind you.”
Darwin fighting desperately over his own fear slowly turned his head
upward and back. “Shit! A fucking helicopter! There’s no way we’re getting away
from that!… Maybe, we should just give up, Matthew.” Darwin’s voice had turned
cold, defeated -
“No fucking way, Darwin. I’m not giving up that easy. I’m getting married
this summer and you… you’re… you’re an entrepreneur, and you have a great
future with… with… Tiffani. Now, get a hold of yourself. I need you to stay close
to me. Stay focused, man!’
“Okay, Matt. I’m with you… Please get us out of this.”
The two downshifted together as two dancers following a choreographed
routine. Matthew led, for he and his accomplice to cut the thickening traffic. From
above the two were seen to enter the eastbound freeway on-ramp and race at
freeway speeds past commuter stop and go traffic. Single file they took flight
down the narrow path.
The chopper pilot radioed his commands ahead as the runners passed off
ramp after off ramp. No original pursuers remained. Just the man in the air and
his quarry on the ground. He had never failed to corner his prey. Bird of prey,
that’s who he was, confident these two would momentarily become additional
notches on his control stick. That would make one hundred and twelve… or was
that thirteen -
The two motorcyclists, obviously stupid morons without a clue, exited the
freeway and turned north. Silently below, they traveled. Probably don’t even
know I’m up here.
“Goddamit!” The pilot exclaimed as he stopped dead in the air and
hovered.
“You are entering controlled airspace. Please identify and state
intentions.” The pilot heard through his headset.
“Police pursuit, N-7-2-9-P-D. Request emergency clearance to continue
northbound pursuit.”
“Roger, N-7-2-9-P-D. Wait for outbound Jet Ranger traffic. Over.”
Before him loomed a cluster of skyscrapers. He watched while the two
below turned left and disappeared behind a twenty story building.
The pilot waited while the corporate jet powered helicopter passed head
on and to the right.
“N-7-2-9-P-D, you are cleared to proceed. Please obey 1000 foot noise
abatement. Over.’
“Wilco, air traffic. N-7-2-9-P-D, Over.”
Now where did you go?…
The bird of prey circled the high-rise neighborhood for over an hour
before being called back to base. The two motorcyclists were never located, and
their out of state license plates came back “no such registration”.
They had slipped away, gotten away, scot free.
THE END
