Chapter 12: Conversation
I had criss-crossed the neighborhood streets about a dozen times. Each time I acted relaxed, as if I was on my way to somewhere. Once I figured where the cameras were, I walked so that I avoided their field of vision. The only drone in sight was floating slowly down the opposite side of the street, following a group of kids. One of them tossed a small stone. The drone easily avoided it and flashed red. The kids laughed and played a game of cat and mouse, which the drone seemed eager to join. As they disappeared down the street, I turned quickly into an alleyway and walked towards a flight of stairs.
I climbed up two stories and entered an average apartment building, nothing fancy but clean and well-maintained. I walked down the hallway and stopped in front of a scanner. I waited several seconds so the occupant could view my image and decide to let me in. Seconds later, the door speaker squeaked.
“I’m sorry. Do I know you?” A man’s face appeared on the monitor. He looked so much older than I remembered. Lou had been convicted for ten years for stealing. Instead of living in a prison for that time, prisoners were aged with drugs and machines according to their sentence. It saved a lot of money, and criminals were punished immediately. My dad had told me that the part of their memories relating to the crime were wiped, as well as the part of the brain that initiated the ‘criminal activity’. People were never the same after the aging process, and anyone they might blame for their capture was immediately wiped from memory. All in the name of the safety of society.
“I’m Pene. I used to buy stuff from you.”
“Well, dear, I’m not selling anything right now. It may be a few weeks before I return to the Marks.” The monitor went black.
“Wait! I was wondering if you have a few minutes to just talk?” The screen remained black, as if Lou was considering my request. Seconds later, the door swung open.
“You’re taking a risk, dear. After all, I just finished my sentence. You really don’t want to be seen with a criminal.” He walked inside with his back to me.
“I’ll take my chances.” I followed him. If my dad caught me here, I would be grounded for life. As I stepped into his home, I was reminded of his business. Piled in the living rooms were boxes of items. Metal objects spilled out of crates, obscure books were stacked to the ceiling and wooden artifacts hung on the walls. Lou sat down on his couch. His clothes looked ill-fitting, as if he had lost weight as well as gained years. He looked me over, still with the aura of a salesman.
“So what kind of things did I sell you? Nothing illegal?” His question was genuine; he didn’t remember me.
“Never,” I answered a bit too strongly. “You always found items for me from outside of the city, from places far away.” He studied me as he pulled something from one of the boxes.
“You want to leave the city. I used to want to travel when I was younger. Thinking about life on the road. So many opportunities here, though. The trading kept me close to the Marks. Although look where that got me.” He stared into the window at his own reflection. He weighed a wooden object in his hands. “Was I good at finding things for you?”
“The best. Although sometimes I had to work to get a good deal.”
“Ha! Sounds like something I would do.” He looked straight at me. “Are you looking for something now? Probably can’t help you.” He pulled another box towards him and started to sort it.
“I’m hoping you can tell me where you got this?” I pulled out the glass piece that I had bargained with on that fateful day. He reached over and took it. He pulled out a magnifying monocle and examined it closer.
“Pretty unique — not manufactured in the city. It would have a serial number and the city insignia. I must have gotten it from an outsider.”
“Outsider? Who do you mean?”
“Ah, someone from outside of the city. Probably picked up along their travels. But you’re wasting your time. I don’t remember anything I’ve bought. I can’t even remember what I did to get convicted.”
“You were tried for stealing.” Silently, I chastised myself for volunteering the information. Lou probably didn’t want to be reminded of his crime.
“I know that from the lawyer. They said I stole some money. I just don’t remember why…” He scratched his chin as if trying to retrieve a memory that no longer existed.
It pained me. I could reassure that it wasn’t him. That he was innocent. Maybe it might make him feel better. But it wouldn’t make any difference. I had no proof, and even if I did, I would be endangering him. Better to let him believe the lie and move on with his life.
“You know, my short-term memories are spotty at best but I do remember things better long-term. There were a few guys I used to buy from. I guess you would call them unsavory. But they did bring in some unique items. There was one guy, a mountain climber, a bit of a Wildman, used to come in with the craziest things. Some of it was garbage but some of it was worth buying.” He screwed up his eye while looking at computerized snow globe that fit in the palm of his hand.
“Wildman?”
“Yeah — he must have been coming to me for years because I have no problem remembering him. He’s big like me, or at least the way I used to be. I don’t think he’s shaved in his entire life — long beard, unkempt hair, crazy eyes.”
“Now you’re just trying to scare me,” I laughed. “How does one have crazy eyes?” I rolled mine.
“Well,” he pondered my question and raised his hands, “picture this. Have you looked at someone and they looked right back at you, only they didn’t really see you? It’s almost like they are thinking of somewhere else and not really seeing you.” Lou’s comment hit home and I released a deep sign. My dad had accused me of that on more than one occasion. Except he had called it my far-off eyes. I was always somewhere else than right there with him.
“Okay, where does this Wildman live?”
“That I don’t remember. And the funny thing is that sometimes I wouldn’t see him for months at a time. Or was it years? But he’d always carrying some strange objects and have a story or two about trekking through the woods outside the city walls. Probably brought some things that weren’t entirely legal.” He paused for a second as if trying to remember something. Then he shook his head and gave up. “Your best bet is to look for him at the Marks. Not too many guys look like him, always carrying a backpack full of camping gear.” He paused and looked at me as if he had a question.
“Listen, Pene. I’m having a tough time adjusting to what’s happened to me. I’ve lost ten years of my life for a crime I can’t remember. I have to assume that our justice system is right and I deserve what happened to me. But what I’m having the hardest time with, and it’s making me want to hide here in this apartment is…” Tears ran down his face. His grief was immense and I could feel my eyes starting to well up also. He stared at me.
“What do you want to know?”
“Was I bad person?” he asked. I reached over, gave him a big hug and then sat next to him.
“No, Lou. You are many things. Loud, sometimes obnoxious, a bit self-serving, a hard negotiator,..”
“Kid, anytime with a compliment.”
“But you are always a man of your word. I always knew I could trust you, and I still do.” I smiled and he returned the expression.
“Well, I can’t let you leave without me giving you something. Take a look around. See anything you like?” He pointed around the room. I hadn’t expected this gesture and decided to take some time to explore his belongings. I looked through a box of sparring weapons, probably from a martial arts studio. Underneath it was a box of army fatigues, hats, shorts, pants and belts. I was never a big fan of camouflage.
“What do you think of this?” I turned and almost hit my head on a big eyeball. It was blinking at me at the end of the spyglass. “Bit of an antique, not as visually accurate as a pair of digital binoculars but still in great shape.
“I love it! I’ll take it.” I slipped in my bag, gave him a hug and started to leave.
“Hey, wait a second. I remember some of my past. Care to make me offer?”
I smiled and tried not to bargain him too low a price.