Sunday, July 31, 2005

Blame the Docs

Thanks to AppleTron for stopping by again. And, thanks, Mr. Walker, for the update. I haven’t checked the Unfiction forums yet, as I’m still a bit tired from what I’ve been through. It’s been quite an interesting week.

I must apologize for the silence – I had a minor medical condition come up. Everything’s fine now, but the Doc wouldn’t allow me to use a computer in the recovery room.

The Robbins watched Roxie, and she had a dandy ol’ time with Mulligan. I also had USC find me my new assistant. Her name’s Penelope and I gave her the login and password for the blog (but not my email – I gotta have SOMEthing secure, right?), so she can log in and keep the blog going in case… well, in case I get indisposed again like this past week.

I went into the hospital on Wednesday, a day after I had a meeting with my potential buyer. I’m going to call him Mr. A. Mr. A. has been apparently keeping an eye on me, and brought me in to discuss my last post. I told him before he went any further that, for my own protection, I was going to write about this meeting. Mr. A. was fine with it, as long as I never mentioned his name. So here we go.

I sat in his red-walled waiting room. Eerily quiet for 9am. His secretary smiled at me and I could tell she was aware this wasn’t a pleasant meeting. I get the feeling he schedules all his unpleasant confrontations early in the morning to get his day started with a bang.

He sat me down, acting real calm. This guy never gets worked up. He took a seat behind his desk, and in silence, called up this here internet site. He spun around his laptop and showed me his computer screen. There it was, good ol’ “Perplexed in L.A.” He just looked at me. I looked at him. He then scrolled down, revealing all the lovely entries I’ve put in here. He then looked at me again. I looked at him.

“You like it?” I asked.

He smiled. He closed the website and spun his laptop back around. He closed the lid of his laptop.

“You don’t like money, Jimmy?”

“I love money,” I said, or something smart like that. I knew what Mr. A. was getting at, but I wanted to hear it from his mouth. I had no contract with him, no down payment, nothing - just a promise and (I’m starting to assume dubious) info from Mr. A. so far.

“You clearly don’t want my money, Jimmy,” he said.

So I told him. I told him how it was preposterous to convince me to think this Cube was in L.A. There’s a piece of information he wasn’t giving me.

“The Cube is in L.A., Jimmy, why would I lie?”

“You’re not lying, buddy,” I said. “You just don’t even know what the hell you’re looking for, just like the rest of us.”

He nodded. He got up out of his chair, then walked to the window. Looking out, he was trying to be dramatic and imposing, but I’m 61, dammit – these theatrics don’t work on me anymore.

He said, “I’ve seen the forums, the boards… you’ve not only drawn attention to yourself, and subsequently me, but you’ve made it appear as though you want to work with these others, these… fools… to help find this thing. You always give away money like this?”

“Why, you giving the reward to others, too?” I said. At this point, I was getting upset.

“No, Jimmy, if I was doing that, I surely wouldn’t have picked you.” Mr. A. turned back around and faced me.

“I want to make something very clear, Jimmy. You are on this case because of me. You will find this Cube. When you do, you will never have to worry about Medicare or Social Security, you got that? I hired you because you are the only person I think that can retrieve this for me.”

“Or, is it because you think I’m a dupe.”

He laughed really hard. I may have sworn there instead of dupe, but I don’t remember every word I said. Next time I’ll bring a tape recorder and have Penny transcribe it word-for-word.

“The choice is yours, Jimmy.”

“What’s it do?” I asked him.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said.

“Yes, it does. Do you even know?”

“Are you still working for me?”

I paused. This was my time for dramatics.

I stood up, slowly of course, and started to walk out. I stopped and turned towards him and, boy this was good, I said, “We’ll see.”

He laughed some more as I walked out.

Next day, I’m in the hospital. I guess the joke’s on me after all.

Have some catching up to do, and I still haven’t made it up to Berkeley yet. Once Penny gets settled here, I’ll have her order from the internet for me. Knowin’ me, I’d send some hacker my credit card.

All’s well, now it’s time for bed.

Goodnight, E.

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