Mike's Writings

Jim Chow’s ancient station wagon lumbered down the road just as it had done innumerable times before. The windows were down. Jim enjoyed the breeze created as he drove along. Little scraps of paper and debris were caught in miniature, invisible eddies inside the vehicle, dancing. While the air was not cool, even at this near dawn hour, it was not stifling either. Soon it would be. The heat no longer sneaked up, gradually appearing like the smile of the Cheshire cat. These days it advanced loudly, an approaching army. Most motorists simply left their windows up all the time, slaves to the air conditioning.

For many years Jim had passed another commuter almost every morning on his way to work, another open airer. Like Jim, the man had retained his gasoline powered car in favor of the government issued solar transporter. He had looked a bit older than Jim, a head of silver as opposed to Jim’s just emerging salt-and-pepper. While Jim knew very little about cars, that had been Jessica’s forte’, he could appreciate Silver Hair’s chromed-out showpiece. It had been either a Lincoln or a Cadillac, Jim was no longer sure.

The two would exchange waves in passing. Jim never learned who the man was.

Jim’s head was now as white as the fabled snow, and he had not seen Silver Hair in…how long? Fifteen years? Twenty? Undoubtedly the man had died. That, or perhaps his gasser had finally broken down and the man went solar. Parts for old cars like his were rare and expensive. Solars were more reliable, comfortable, and damn near free with the government subsidies.

A significant part of Jim’s income was spent keeping the wheels turning on his old Volvo. He didn’t mind. Really, his expenses were minimal. His wife had been the only child of a rather well-to-do family, and when she had passed Jim had inherited everything. They had never been able to have children, much to their sadness. The closest they had ever come was a puppy they had bought when first married. Jim’s weathered,lined face threatened to smile at the memory. It had been a stray they had rescued from the pound. Jokingly they had named him ‘Lucky’. Many of the photos in his home featured him, Jessica, and that dog. The old rascal had lived nearly twenty years.

When Lucky finally passed in his sleep, though, times had changed. Dogs, cats, birds, all going extinct. There weren’t even animal shelters anymore. The environment had become so toxic that an animal, left on it’s own, wouldn’t survive a month.

They had looked into purchasing another pet from a breeder. The prices even for a no-account mongrel had been astronomical. They tried a robo-dog, but it wasn’t the same. Visually, you couldn’t tell the difference. It yapped, scratched, chased it’s tail. Some models even shed.

But it had no soul. Jim would look into it’s eyes and only see himself staring back. Jessica had felt the same way, and eventually they donated it to a children’s home. The artificial dog had not cared about the change in masters.

Was that computerized canine still jumping and frolicking even to this day, Jim wondered?

Probably not. All things were disposable in this day and age. Buy, use, dispose, recycle. That was the way of the world these days.

‘And so it is with this place,’ Jim thought to himself as he pulled into the library’s parking lot. He drove extra slow, conscious of the construction workers finishing up their shift. Nocturnal worker ants, each eager to get home after a hard night’s work. Jim remembered when construction work was done in the day. To anyone not born in those times the idea would seem ludicrous.

As always Jim parked in the far end of the parking lot, in the section designated for ‘Gasoline Vehicles’. The gas parking rows had shrunk over the years. At one time nearly half the parking lot was set aside for them. As solars became more and more prevalent that section had been cut in half, half again, and now just four spaces remained. Jim took two, a gesture that would have been seen as rude when he was a child. Really, he could have parked in the middle and taken all four. His was the only gasser that had used these spots in well over a decade.

He shut the car off, not bothering to take the key out of the ignition, and slowly got out with the aid of his cane. To his left at maybe twenty paces a young man in a hard hat looked quizzically at Jim and his mechanized piece of history, then returned to the job of placing a steel pole in the ground. The pole was maybe five feet long, had flashing sensors running up it, and was topped off by an orb the size of a bowling ball. An identical pole was already in the ground a good hundred feet away and Jim had noticed two more in front of the library as he drove in. Together the four poles would create a square around the building.

Looking at his watch Jim realized he had ten minutes before opening up the library. In a slow but steady gait he approached the young man. Jim himself had employed the expression countless times in his decades at the library and did not begrudge being the recipient of it.

“’Morning, Sir,” said the construction worker. He turned his attention back to the flashing pole. By the look on his face it was not flashing in the desired fashion. Dials were turned and levers depressed. Finally the lights seemed to harmonize into a pattern Jim could almost discern. The young man stepped back to admire his handwork.

“Good morning,” replied Jim. “Long night?”

The man turned to face Jim. “Long project,” he said with a chuckle. “Be glad when this one is done.”

“Should be about through, eh?” Asked Jim.

“Yeah, one more night.” The man took off his safety helmet and wiped off some sweat with a bandana. He turned again to the pole, carefully monitoring the flashes.

Jim scanned the parking lot to see if Dean’s solar had arrived yet. Dean was a good kid in Jim’s eyes, and would make a fine Head Librarian once Jim was gone. He didn’t share Jim’s early-bird work ethic, though. While Dean was rarely late, he considered arriving one minute till opening time acceptable.

“Sir, want to do me a favor?” Asked the young worker.

“If I can.” Responded Jim.

“I just need to check out these Sound Dampeners. Could you stand on the other side of it?” he asked, motioning to the pole.

Jim obliged.

The young man hit a switch on the pole and the black orb on top began to radiate a neon blue from it’s core. The construction worker said something to Jim, not five feet away, but to Jim heard nothing.

Jim made a negative motion with his hands and pointed to his ears.

The young man smiled. He put some plugs in his ears then pulled an air horn out from his safety vest’s pocket. He started a countdown with his fingers.

3…2…1…

Jim plainly saw the air horn button pressed, but all he heard was a far off honk, as if the man opposite him was a mile away instead of an arm span.

Jim shrugged and gave him a ‘I hear nothing’ look.

The other man smiled and put away the air horn. With the flick of a switch the blue=black ball was solid black again.

“That ought to do it, then!” Said the worker.

“Miller time, eh?” Asked Jim.

The man looked at him strangely, not comprehending.

“Never mind, old saying.” Said Jim wryly. “Means ‘quitting time’.”

“Oh!” Said the youth with a slightly condescending smile. “Yep. Thanks for your help.”

“So…you’re tearing her down tonight, then?” Asked Jim.

The young man nodded. “Yeah, think around midnight. Got to get the Sonics lifted over here, they’re on some job in New Orleans right now. But come morning,” the man waved his hand to encompass the library,”this will all be gone. Like it was never here.”

“Never here.” Replied Jim.

“Yeah.” Perhaps noting some sadness in Jim’s voice, he added “But the new building will be up in no time. I imagine it’s already built, they just have to hover it here and get it connected.”

Jim nodded. From the corner of his eye he saw Dean’s solar pull in.

“Well young man, been fine talking to you. Stay out of the heat.”

“You too.” Replied the worker.

Jim began his customary slow shuffle to the library entrance.

‘Courteous young man’ thought Jim. Courtesy seemed to be going extinct along with the animals. ‘I should get his name, call up his boss and give him a compliment.’

Jim turned but the young man had run off, even now jumping into an eight man solar.

‘Places to go, things to do.’ Thought Jim wistfully.

Dean had already unlocked the doors and was turning on the lights. Jim walked in, the air conditioning wrapping itself around his small, wizened frame. It made him realize how hot it must actually be outside, even at this early hour.

“Morning Mr. Chow,” Dean yelled from somewhere in the stacks.

Jim frowned. One never yells in a library, even if no patrons are present. He had reprimanded Dean about this before, but considering the circumstances he could understand if Dean felt the rules didn’t apply today.

Approaching his desk, Jim saw that Dean had brought him a Koffee. Steam was escaping out of the sipping spout. Jim sat in his chair, wincing as muscle and bone protested even this slight gesture.

Dean strode towards Jim from wherever it was he had been.

“Got you a Koffee!” Said Dean with his typical chirpy tone.

“I may be old, Dean, but my powers of observation are still quite keen.” Said Jim, nodding towards the cup.

“I will take that as a ‘thank you’!” Said Dean with warm sarcasm. In his hand was an identical Koffee cup. He took a sip from it.

“Dean, have you ever had real coffee? And I don’t mean in the virtual world.”

Dean laughed. “Little before my time, Mr. Chow.”

Jim nodded.

“Real coffee. It was…” Jim began.

Dean cut him off. “Ambrosia! The drink of the Gods!” Said Dean flamboyantly. He mimicked an old man’s voice: “Why, in my day we had coffee that came from beans, and meat that came from cows, and we didn’t have cranial jacks for the internet, we had to look at a screen!”

“And we read books.” Jim replied with mock disdain.

Dean stopped his act and looked down at Jim with concern. “Yes, you read books.”

“Real books, Dean. Not these electronic abominations.”

Dean nodded. He pulled up a chair and sat.

“I know this has to be a hard day for you, Mr. Chow.”

Jim took a sip from his Koffee. Ugh. People like Dean didn’t know what they were missing, which was for the best he assumed.

He leveled eyes with Dean.

“Very hard, yes.” Replied Jim.

From his desk he surveyed his soon to be demolished kingdom. Thousands of books still lined the shelves. For months the library had been trying to give them away, mostly at Jim’s behest, but few people wanted the clunky items anymore.

Everything was electronic these days. Libraries were antiquated. Useless. If someone wanted a book, they just downloaded it to their E-Reader or jacked into the net and read it online. If they even bothered to read it. Most kids these days simply watched a movie about the book and discussed it in a virtual classroom.

The books, his precious books, would be destroyed tonight along with everything around them.

It saddened Jim. People called it progress. He saw it as anything but. The world was dumbing down. Would people even know how to read in a few centuries? Was that, too, becoming obsolete?

Dean said something, breaking Jim’s digression.

“Pardon?” Asked Jim.

“I said, why don’t I take you out to dinner tonight? I know this old building, and what it stands for, is important to you. Why don’t we go do something fun, catch a play?”

Jim shook his head. “That’s very kind of you, Dean, but I’m sure you have better things to do than run around town with a man old enough to be your grandfather. Besides, have you ever even seen a play?”

“Well, no….” admitted Dean. “But I know it’s something people of your…generation…enjoy.”

“How laboriously tactful of you, Dean. I have better things to do than run around town with a man young enough to be my grandson, though.” Said Jim with mirthful sternness.

Dean’s eyebrows raised. “Oh la la. Mr. Chow, you little devil. Got a lady friend do we?”

“Yes, and she won’t appreciate me being late.”

Dean smirked. “OK, another time, then.” Standing up he took another sip of his drink and walked away. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” he said playfully.

Jim shook his head again. ‘The folly of youth.’

Jim had not expected any patrons on this day, and he was correct. The regional director stopped by. She didn’t have to, it was a formal courtesy. The new building was to be a multi media center. It would still be called a Library, but the only books in the building would be in a display case. Jim would be remaining on staff ‘For as long as you want’ the director had said, touching his arm for added empathy. Jim had heard the meaning behind the words quite clearly, though: ‘You’re an old man, you’re useless, and we really wish you’d move on.’

Problem was, there was no where to move on to.

Some men came in talking about servers and jacking stations and other technical gobbly gook. Jim curtly dismissed them, letting Dean discuss the whys and hows of the new building and it’s amazing baubles and gizmos.

For a bit, Jim sat at his desk and read from his favorite book, ‘Watership Down’. It was a rare first edition, actually signed by Richard Adams. Jim imagined it was worth a small sum of money at one point. These days it might be used as kindling.

As the sun rose and light streamed through the heavily tinted library windows, Jim felt himself getting sleepy as he was wont to do at this hour. Taking off his glasses he leaned back in his leather chair and closed his eyes.

He dreamed of Jessica. Lucky was with them. It was a pleasant dream. They were at a park filled with trees. On one level Jim knew he must be dreaming. Forests like this one didn’t exist anymore. But his beloved Jessica was there, and moments like these were the ones that made life bearable. So he dismissed the sharpened pin of knowledge that threatened his fantasy balloon and sank deeper into the arms of Morpheus.

He and Jessica ran hand in hand, his legs young and strong again, back pain still a concern for the future. Lucky chased after them, barking and prancing. Once more he saw creatures now long extinct or living only in zoos: rabbits, squirrels, birds, butterflies.

The dream changed and they were by a stream, a picnic blanket laid out. They ate sandwiches, fed each other strawberries. Lucky lounged in the sun, looking happy and relaxed as only a dog who has found true contentment can. Fish jumped in the stream.

Slowly the dream began changing again. The clouds grew darker. An ominous wind began to scatter dead leaves through the air.

Jim looked over at Lucky, but he was no longer there. A robo-dog had taken his place. It was staring at him with dead, metallic eyes.

“Have a drink, dear.” Said Jessica, only it wasn’t Jessica’s voice. In her stead sat a robot, a cruel, lifeless imitation of his beloved. She opened her mouth and he could see electric bolts shooting to and fro in the maw that was supposed to be a mouth.

“Try the Koffee, Jim. It’s not as good but it’s good enough don’t you think in any event it’s progress…”

Jessica was getting closer and closer to him, and he found he couldn’t move,”…and progress is a good thing it’s always a good thing Jimmy.”

A cold metal hand shot out and grabbed the back of his head as the robot pressed the Koffee Kup to his mouth, forcing it’s contents down his throat. Jim struggled but couldn’t escape. The hand began to violently shake his head.

“Get every last drop, Jim.” Commanded robot Jessica in a harsh, computerized imitation of the voice he had loved for so much of his life. “Can’t waste a drop, Jim. Can’t waste anything anymore those days are over….

The shaking continued, growing more tangible till he opened his eyes. Dean had him by shoulder, a smile on his face.

“Sorry to wake you, Mr. Chow, seemed you were really out.”

Jim checked his chin for drool with one hand while putting his glasses back on with another.

“Just cat napping.” He mumbled sheepishly.

“If cats napped like that I can’t imagine what good they were as pets.” Replied Dean teasingly.

“They caught mice.” Stated Jim, straightening out his clothes.

“Well, I guess cats would be doubly useless now, huh?”

#

Jim let Dean go early. The new building wouldn’t be up and running for at least three days. “Go do whatever it is you kids do these days.” Stated Jim. Dean again mentioned dinner, and Jim again declined.

For the first time ever in his long span at the Library, Jim closed early. Nearly a full half hour so. It felt a bit scandalous, and he liked it. Upon arriving home he fixed himself a sensible dinner and fell asleep in his recliner to the music of Bach, he and Jessica’s favorite classical musician.

The house alarm woke him as instructed at ten in the evening. He showered, put on his best suit, and called a cab.

#

Dean had had a fun night. The holo show hadn’t been the best action flick he’d ever seen, but it was still entertaining. Whoever the neural technician had been on the movie had done especially commendable work with the love scenes, leaving Dean and his friends glowing for hours. Afterward they had splurged at dinner, going for the full cyber plug in. While what they actually ate was rather bland and formless, but of course nutritious, in virtuality they dined on steak with shrimp. Or at least what they were told steak and shrimp tasted like, there was no real way for them to be sure.

They had chosen to eat the meal in one of the historic settings offered by the restaurant, in this case a steamboat traveling down the Mississippi river. For the most part the illusion was seamless, though one of the dancing ladies had seemed to loop every so often. But it was a minor detail. In all ways that mattered to them his party had been able to see what a real river looked, sounded and smelled like in the days before the world crumbled.

Later they slummed it a bit at a downtown dive and took some inebriation pills. Someone had gotten hold of an actual cigarette off the black market and they had taken turns puffing on it. Dean had coughed but enjoyed the unusual sensation. When he found out how much it had cost, though, he decided against repeating the experience on his own no matter how indulgent it felt.

The designated driver took a sobering pill and dropped everyone off at their homes. Dean was just about to fall asleep on his couch when his cell phone rang.

Still intoxicated and mildly annoyed now, Dean looked at the clock. Almost midnight. Who could be calling at this hour? Without looking at the caller ID he opened the phone.

“Hello?” He immediately recognized the voice on the other end. “Hello Dean, sorry if I woke you.”

“No, no it’s OK Mr. Chow. Is everything all right?” Asked Dean, rubbing his eyes.

A slight pause followed.

“Dean, everything is about as right as it should be.”

Dean pressed his ear closer to the phone. There was some background noise wherever Mr. Chow was at that was making it difficult to hear him clearly.
“I just wanted to tell you how much you’ve meant to me all these years, Dean. I’ve lived a very long life, God knows why, but I have. In some regards that is a blessing, but in others a curse. My wife is long dead, my friends as well.”

“Mr. Chow…”Dean began.

“Listen, Dean,” Jim interrupted. “I don’t have much time and I have something very important to tell you.”

“Where…”the background noise was getting louder.

“I wanted to tell you I’m sorry, Dean. On behalf of my generation to yours, I’m sorry. We left the world a much poorer place than we found it. You,and those who come after you, deserved better. It makes me ashamed, to be quite frank with you, Dean. Try and do better than we did.”

“Mr. Chow, it just is what it is.” Dean said. Obviously the old man was seriously down. He should have pressed harder to take him to dinner, spend some time with him.

“Why don’t we go catch a movie tomorrow? I know you’re not plugged in, but there is an old time movie theater in Biloxi that just shows them on a screen like in the old days. I’ll drive. I think they’re playing ‘A.T’. or ‘E.T’ or something…”

“That’s kind of you, Dean.” Replied Mr. Chow. “You’re a good kid. Take care of yourself. Do me a favor and actually read a book now and then. You’ll find plenty in my house, which I’ve left to you in my will.”

“Will?” Asked Dean, sobering up with rapid speed. “You’re not going anywhere, Mr. Chow. What is that noise I keep hearing? Where are you? I’ll come pick you up.”

“I’m at the library, Dean.” Jim said flatly. “That noise you hear is the sonics. I imagine they’re revving up the engines now. At least that’s my guess, can’t say I know much about demolition equipment.”

The situation became starkly clear to Dean. “Mr. Chow you got to get out of there!” Dean cried. “Get off the damn phone and go to the door, let them know you’re inside!”

On the other end, Jim issued a sad chuckle. “I think not, Dean. This is no longer my world. It’s time for me to make my exit.”

The noise from the sonics was now so loud Dean could barely make out Mr. Chow’s voice.

“Goodbye, Dean.” Said Jim, hanging up the phone. Already the plaster was falling from the ceilings. Book shelves began to topple over, spilling their contents onto the marble floor. A chandelier dropped, but Jim couldn’t even hear the impact now.

The tiny lit candle on his desk was beginning to tremble. By it’s diminutive fire he could just barely make out the picture which had sat at his desk all these many decades. It was of him and Jessica, newly married and standing on a dock, fishing. Lucky was sitting beside them, staring at the huge fish Jessica had caught.

Snuffing the flame with his thumb and finger, Jim Chow took the photo, held it close to his chest, and leaned back for a nap.

THE END