(This is part of a short story. It is written as a script in case I talk someone into making this into a TV special.)
To catch up click here or here or here or here…or maybe here…OR...you can go to the page which has the whole story in one place. ..and now on with the show:
By SJ Otto
It was a few days after my date with Hilda that I got a real surprise. I was walking down the street from my house on my way to my car when two men walked up from behind me. They walked up to my side. The two men were wearing suits and ties, not much different from the grey and dreary suits of the 20th and 21st centuries. They both had thin black ties and grey shirts. They were both tall. One had a slight beard the other was clean shaven. Both had very short hair. Suddenly when there was one on each side, one pulled a gun out and aimed it at my gut. The other man grabbed my arm. Then one of them flipped out his wallet.
OFFICER REEDNICK: We’re police! Keep moving. (We all walked to an unmarked hoover car.) Get in!
He pointed to the door. I opened it and I got in. A few minutes later and about two miles down the road I was being whisked to an office down a set of steps, in an old ornate municipal building. They dragged me down some steps. Next they dragged me into an office. There were three blue-plastic chairs, a large plastic desk and we seemed to be in a sound proof room, painted all yellow inside.
OFFICER REEDNICK: I’m Officer Reednick. (We all sit down.) Let’s talk about your girl-friend Hilda. (He moved in close to me. The other man took my hand and slammed it on the desk as hard as he could. I felt some serious pain.)
HARLEY: OW! What is the deal here? So I went out a few times with a chicken? So what? (The two cops pulled me up, one on each side, and walked me to the wall. Then one grabbed my head and one arm. The other grabbed my other arm. My head was slammed against the wall, with my face being slammed flat. They did this twice until blood was streaming from my face. Then they took me back to the chair and sat me down.)
OFFICER REEDNICK: We take your relationship with her very seriously. You took her to a metal bar. We don’t like it when people like you do things like that.
HARLEY: Are you charging me with something?
OFFICER REEDNICK: This is an office of the secret police. We don’t charge anyone with anything. We just take action.
HARLEY: What laws have I broken?
OFFICER REEDNICK: None.
HARLEY: Then what am I doing here?
OFFICER REEDNICK: Every once in a while we have to straighten a few of you metal fuckers out. You think you can do anything you want. So you date a chicken. You’re messing with our meet supply you idiot!
HARLEY: I demand a lawyer!
OFFICER REEDNICK: (He looked at the other man.) He wants a lawyer, Hasbrow! He thinks he is in a regular police station. (They both smile and start to chuckle. Hasbrow punches me in the stomach while Officer Reednick smacks me across the face.) I don’t know if you realize it, but if you murdered your wife, sister, girl-friend, you would get a lawyer and a fair trial. That’s because no one really cares if you kill a relative, except a few friends and relatives. Most of our society really don’t care if you kill a close relative or friend. But you are messing with our meat supply. THAT...AIN'T...GOOD! People in all walks of life depend on our supply of meat. When chickens and metal people start hanging out together bad things can happen. Metals start to feel sorry for chickens. They try and help the chickens get out of their intended destiny. You get what I’m saying?!
HARLEY: Waite a minute. Chickens never escape. Metal people never help them escape.
OFFICER REEDNICK: And that is because of people like us.
HARLEY: I'm beginning to understand why Hilda likes those Marxist books so well.
OFFICER REEDNICK: Those stupid books Hilda has….
HARLEY: But they are about revolution. There hasn’t been a revolution in over 300 years.
OFFICER REEDNICK: And that is because people like us work day and night to make sure such things never happen. Someday Hilda will die or grow tired of those books she has. No matter what happens to her, we will be waiting to make sure no chicken outside of her family ever sees those books. No one will ever see them. And no one thinks of rebelling against the system. We make sure of that. (Officer Reednick smacks Harley again across the face and Hasbrow smacks him again, the same way, almost simultaneous.) There is no privacy anymore. You may think when you go in your home and close all the windows and draw all the drapes that you are along...you're not. Not EVER!!! We know all about you and that girl. We know everything you do. There is no part of your affair we don’t know about. You need to think carefully about this.
HASBROW: We are trained to inflict severe pain without leaving any visible traces. We can beat you senseless and the next day there are no marks. You need to break this thing with Hilda off and soon.
When I looked into Hasbrow's eyes it looked like the dead sea. He resembled an attack animal that had no feelings or remorse about anything he had done nor would ever do.
OFFICER REEDNICK: So after we are done taking you will go back to your car. You will say nothing to no one about our little talk.
HASBROW: I inflict real pain. REAL PAIN! Remember that!
OFFICER REEDNICK: And that is because people like us work day and night to make sure bad things never happen. Someday Hilda will die or grow tired of those books she has. No matter what happens to her, we will be waiting to make sure a chicken inside nor outside of her family never sees those books. No one will ever see them. And no one thinks of rebelling against the system. We make sure of that. (Officer Reednick smacks Harley again across the face and Hasbrow smacks him again, almost simultaneous.) We know all about you and that girl. We know everything you do. There is no part of your affair we don’t know about. You need to think carefully about this.
HASBROW: You need to break this thing with Hilda off and soon.
I drove immediately over to Hilda's house. I walked up and knocked on the door. Hilda answered.
HILDA: Come in. We are drinking grand drivers.
I walked in. When I got to the table, I noticed something odd. There was already a bottle of Vodka. There was also some Fissy Foam. Fissy Foam is a main ingredient to a grand driver.
HARLEY: You already have a bottle of Vodka.
HARLEY: Usually you have me get you some.
HILDA: I have other sources than you.
(she said almost defensively. I also noticed there was more than one glass on the table.)
HARLEY: Did you have some friends over. I see more than one glass.
HILDA: Yes. I had a little party earlier. You need a drink. (She fixed me a drink and then handed it to me. I took several big gulps of the drink.)
HARLEY: You'll never guess where I was a few minutes ago.
HILDA: Where were you?
HARLEY: The police station. (She didn't seem as surprised as I thought she would.)
HARLEY: They were interested in our relationship.
HILDA: Really?! What did they say?
HARLEY: They said they know everything. They said they don't allow relationships as ours.
HILDA: Did you believe them? (I suddenly got very drunk and very sleepy.)
HARLEY: Why would I not believe them? (And that is the last thing I remember at all.)
So a few minutes later I wake up. I was drugged. I was out for I don't know how long. But my wallet was missing. Many of my rings and metal parts were missing. I got up and looked around. A lot of Hilda's things were gone. Not everything. But a lot of things were gone. I looked by the door and her books were gone.
What had happened? On the table I saw a note. It read:
I'm sorry to rob you like this, but it was the only way I could get an ID card and some of the other things I will need to establish a new identity. I have a friend who has the equipment to alter ID cards. So with that fake ID, the arm rings you gave me and the fresh illegal tattoos I just got from an underground artist I can leave and pass myself off as a metal woman in anther state.
With all of this I can pass by my execution date which is scheduled some time in my late 30s. I think I have what it takes to set myself up as a real metal women, complete with a phony past. You do realize the police still do that for people who want to rat out organized criminals.
I wish I could take you with me. I really enjoyed our time together. But that just won't work. You would be an accessory to the crime and they could punish you with death.
Anyway this was not really about robbery. I left you your money. And if you see Reednick and Hasbrow again say goodbye for me.
PS- I changed my mind about your money. I'm going to need all the cash I can get.
And that was it. That was the last I ever heard from her. I didn't get mad. I was glad she got away. I was going to miss her. But she deserved to live past 40. She was right about the ID card. I could easily replace it. Although the government keeps coming up with new ways to prevent IDs from being tampered with, criminals keep finding new technology to tamper with them anyway.
That was years ago. I have never heard from her again. I hope she got away. Sometimes I still dream of making love to her.
The one thing she did leave me was one of her Marxist books. I knew she liked me because she would rather die than part with just one of those books. I found it next to her letter. Strangely enough it was her book on Pol Pot.
So the only thing left I have to remember her by is the book and the letter. And that was it.