Reboot

“Are you trying to hit every pothole in the course?” William was hitting the roof of the car with the top of his head repeatedly.

“Just testing the suspension.”

“How can you test it when it’s lying behind you in the street? William was screaming to be heard over the noise of the car, holding on to anything he could.

“Whiner. Woops, missed one. You can tell Rudy that the changes he made to the steering are noticeable. It’s better now.”

“O-OK. You-you know the reason for all this is to go fast right?”

“I’m pacing myself,” I said, -screamed-.

Damn, I thought I was really going fast too. Whizzing around the track at what I thought was the tipping point. Any faster and the car would flip.

“The turtle never actually won.”

“Sure it did. Eventually. What’s that sound I keep hearing?” I asked.

“The engine,” he said.

“Ah. No, there’s a tick.”

“A tick?”

“Yes. A tick, tick.. You don’t hear it?”

“I’ll ask Rudy.”

So I hear him screaming in his microphone: “Robert says there’s a ticking sound, wonders what it is!” Then I just hear mumbling at the other end..

“What did he say?” I asked.

“He says it’s the engine.”

I smiled. I really didn’t have to know anything about the car. As long as it kept going in the general direction I was pointing it in, I was fine. We did this for many weeks, until I felt like the car was part of me.

One day, while I was practicing hard, Tony and Dutch happened to come back. They hijacked the radio and started singing. I’m trying to go as fast as possible on a dangerous dirt track and suddenly I hear two bozos oozing “I’m siiiiiiiingin in the rain… over the radio. For a few minutes, I felt like an advert for a surreal action movie, driving full blast, bouncing around, with that song being tortured in the background. It was hilarious, but distracting. Wasn’t my best run. I headed back to the garage to join my friends.

As I pulled in, I was overjoyed to see them. I jumped out and hugged them all at once. “Well, I’ll be damned, it’s actually good to see you again. I guess it’s true what they say.”

“What do they say”? Asked Dutch.

“I don’t know. Something about mold… Or was it syphilis. Something that’s hard to get rid of and keeps coming back?

“Acne?”

“No, but good guess Tony. I like your enthusiasm.”

“I had a rash once that just kept…” started Dutch.

“You hungry? Let’s go eat. We brought picnic stuff,” interrupted William.

“Perfect.”

And we walked to a large tree nearby and sat on the ground. Dutch came up with a bag full of delicacies they’d been collecting on their trip. All handmade by people they’d met. Jams, honey, sausages, paté, candy, bread, cookies, various spreads made from vegetables and fruits, cheeses, cakes and wine.

“Wine”?

“Yep. This lady in Veneta makes it out of weeds. She says hello to you Robert.”

“To me?” I said doubtfully.

“Yes. She said it takes guts to do what you’re doing and to keep at it.”

“Ok. So people know that you know me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s dangerous. Not sure I agree with that.” I told them about Colby.

“He seemed like he might be reasonable, but it’s hard to tell for sure.”

“I know Robert, but this was never going to be anything but dangerous.”

I nodded sadly. He was right. And it would get worse, certainly. I was putting a lot of people in harm’s way. We organized everything on a bed sheet that William had taken out, and we stared at it for a little while just enjoying the view.

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Thanks guys, this is really impressive,” said William.

“Dig in,” added Dutch.

And so we did. The food was delicious. As usual, we ate garden fare. Salads. Veggie dishes made with creative insight. Meat was available, but rare. Most feed animals were still being replenished.

“So tell us. What was it like? How was your trip?” asked William.

“Great fun. We had a ball didn’t we Tony?”

“Yes. They’re wonderful people. Very friendly, generous, happy. All they talk about is the radio message. We didn’t need to butt in and ask questions, all we had to do was to wander into any conversation.”

“What did they say?”

“Many are worried. They don’t want more trouble. They’ve had enough. But most are

horrified that they share some measure of responsibility for the war, and they want justice. I don’t think they will fight. The fight is simply gone from these people, understandably. But they’ll support us in other ways.”

“Like how?”

“Supplies. Contacts. I think it’ll turn out like the resistance in the big wars. They’ll be there, behind the scenes. Very useful in a bind I think. But if there’s a fight, we’ll have to round up other people. A different kind of people than these. They’ve been, um, civilized?”

“Well let’s hope we can avoid fighting.”

“Of course,” said William with a frown. He didn’t believe it was possible to avoid a fight.

“We stick with the plan and try to get a vote going. This is a democracy last I heard,” said Rudy.

“We don’t even know what the leadership structure looks like yet. I think that’s the first thing to do. And how do we do that?”

“We could start with Colby,” I said.

“Tell us more about this guy,” said Dutch.

“He’s the new government rep here. They call ’em Marshalls.”

“What’s his, um, purview?” He’d said that looking proud because he found the word.

“Not sure yet. I don’t even think he knows. But I’ve been thinking about it and it seems like he’s there so that people get a first feel for our new politics. I suppose they want Americans to get used to seeing this first hint of authority around them. Later on, they’ll add police and other forces, nice and slow you understand, and next thing you know, we’ll be controlled,” I said. “Again.”

“Jesus,” said Rudy.

“So we have to plan this very well, to try and avoid as much trouble as possible. This is not just about revenge, or justice, it’s about survival. I think Mooney is insane and he will do anything to get the control he wants. People will rebel whether we’re involved or not and they will get killed. So it’s our job to protect them.”

Everybody was silent for a while.

“So when we leave to go East, it’s more to take the fight away from the people here?” Asked Dutch.

“Yes, and to give us time to get organized.”

“How do we start?” Asked Dutch looking at me.

“Colby”.

“Colby?”

“Colby.”