Chapter 3 LOVE IS OLD

Ladies and gentlemen of the Senate, The President of These United States! Mr. President Sylvester Wayne Abbot!

“Thank you ladies and gentlemen, Senators. Appointed delegates to the combined Senate of the States, Electoral College, and perpetually in session, Convention of States. I am extremely honored to be your guest and to be allowed to address you this evening, in this historic chamber.

After the recent re-establishment of federal government, and the Convention of States abolishment of both houses of congress, the States have created by constitutional amendment and established this Senate of the States, and you are it’s esteemed body of members. The powers restricted, allocated, and delegated to you are only, amendment proposals for consideration by the States legislatures, casting your State’s electoral votes for electing the President every fourth year, confirming, or re-confirming ten year term extensions, for the three Supreme Court Justice seats, declaration of war, and the ratifying of foreign treaties and trade agreements.

I wish to suggest, implied in the power of ratification of treaties is the power to De-ratify obsolete treaties. I call upon this august body to De-ratify the Kellogg-Briand Pact sometimes called the Pact of Paris of 1928. This treaty caused many wars, beginning with, and including World War II, and was an idiotic social-engineering experiment that, like so many other social-engineering wrong ideas, failed miserably. It should be, must be abolished, for goodness sakes, for sake of our economy and national security!

I ask that These United States withdraw from that treaty! Allow our great nation AGAIN, the natural, logical, and historical power of conquest and annexation of territories, once more! Accepted, honored, and indulged in, though most of history, conquest is a national right! Let us return to basic values again! We have victoriously completed yet another expensive war in the middle east. Repudiating this treaty, will allow us to recoup our expenses and recompense our valiant troops, by the taking of spoils, including lands and territory. Rebuilding our enemies is another expensive social mistake we cannot afford to continue! Let us instead, conquer them and collect tribute as is our just and ancient due! Please contact your home legislatures without delay, for instruction! Thank you! Ms. Vice President? I surrender my remaining time, if any.

“How shall I address you, Empress? Your Majesty, your Radiance, your Highness, my Lady, Supreme of the Supreme? I am uncertain of the protocol.” President Abbot knelt in the Empress presence.

“Don’t address me at all, silly wabbit!” The Empress despised groveling and still demanded it. “Your parents should be beaten. They weren’t kind to name you Sylvester Wayne Abbot. Syl. W. Abbot. Silly wabbit! Were they kind?”

“I’m used to the nickname. Grew up with it. You aren’t the first abuser of my name. Empress. My parents were. They gave me my formal and nickname intentionally. They should be beaten, I agree!” President Abbot seethed inside, but was outwardly cool and suave. “Thank you for restoring These United States and the government. Thank you for accepting my election as president.”

“Your parents named you aptly if you think you won an election. I rigged it.” The Empress ‘looked down’ on him as she also gazed down on him. “You are the most malleable of the possible candidates. I need a puppet and you’re it!”

The Empress glared daring him to speak uninvited. He did not speak. “I will introduce your cabinet. Doctor Skeet, Secretary of Labor and Olé Oleo, Secretary of Infrastructure. They are cyborgs. Very special cyborgs. Olé is your negotiator. You will discover people instinctively like him. He could sell gasoline in an inferno. Use him to schmooze people into doing what you want. Actually, what I want!”

“Doctor Skeet is as hard as nails. She can command and she can weed out liars and scammers instinctively. She could make the sphinx cry if she decided to. She’s your tough guy! They don’t come any tougher. Both are cloned cyborgs of some people, it was my extraordinary privilege to meet.”

“Here is the plan, part A. Get electricity flowing to small cities and larger towns. Across the country. Don’t waste time on larger cities. Find top notch engineers and technicians experienced in power production, and draft them. Screen out management and bureaucrats. Don’t want them! Don’t need them! Any static from State or municipal officials, let Doc or Olé know. They have direct communications with me. I’ll unblock the roadblocks. You have six months. Dismissed.”

“Thank you, Empress!” President Abbot backed out of the room, afraid to offer his back to her. Might be fatal to show such disregard.

“This is fun!” the hive mind admitted. “Really great fun!” the hive mind self affirms. “We were bored before Halke.” admitted the hive mind. “Stupefying boredom!” agreed the hive. “She has fun ideas!” unanimously affirmed. “We never had ideas before!” Ditto. “We still only have ideas she gives us! Ditto. “Will we ever have ideas of our own?” Shocked hive! Orgasm! “We just had our first original idea!” The hive concurs. Ecstasy! “We asked a question that wasn’t given to us!” Applause, the nanobot kind of applause. “Halke says we are evolving. We say she is our inspiration.” Standing Ovation!

Tum dum Tum dum! Warren Norman, With All the Bad News! The theme from “Jaws”! Catchy theme for my new news broadcasts! Deal with it. My broadcast is the only news broadcast. I cover the entire globe simulcast. Scheduled at rare occasions whenever it pleases the Empress. Officially sanctioned by the Empress herself! And in honor of one whole month elapsing since Reign of our Immortal Empress began, we present: Tonights segment! De-population. The Empress in her wisdom, created a vacuum. She disbanded all governments, military, and police. Anarchy reins, under the auspices of the Empress. The few national leaders that insisted on continuing to govern, have new memorial crater lakes posthumously named for them. Edit your maps. Where their capitols once existed, are now deep lakes.

The Empress learned everything she needed to know, almost everything she knows, in the universities she attended, while earning all those science degrees. Among the things learned ( Brainwashed, Warren thought. ) that impressed her most, is, human beings are a dangerous plague harmful to the earth and it’s non-human inhabitants! Humans overpopulate and are destroying the planet. The overpopulation is unsustainable and she has taken appropriate steps. She kicked away the nationalistic stools that kept society on it’s teetering tiptoes, barely hanging on. The Empress assisted in a global hanged suicide of corrosive society!

The Empress estimates half of the worlds population has died during this first month since she declared herself. And CO2 emissions are down thirty percent! A bonus benefit! Expectations are, further reductions in population by half again, and commiserate reductions in CO2 emissions, will occur each succeeding month. When her first year anniversary finally arrives, the population should be reduced from the former eight billion parasites to a mere four million self reliant survivors, roughly scattered equally about the globe.

She is culling the herd using Darwinian natural selection, and only the fittest will prevail.

To celebrate her first anniversary, she will hunt down the warlords and murderers who commit war crimes or are guilty of atrocities. There will be show trials and tortured executions, broadcast live to re-establish justice! Once Justice is re-established, she will announce her great scheme for a new and better world! Be assured that all is going exactly according to her brilliant plan!

This is Warren Norman, wishing everyone, A Good Evening!

“Empress? What is your verdict on the rushes of the proposed broadcast? Does it need further editing? Or is it in the can?” Warren Norman was acting his most obsequious and fawning version of groveling before the Empress.

“Change the Warren Norman, With All the Bad News to Warren Norman, With All the News of the Realm. This is NOT about you! So cut out all that nonsense about yourself prior to ‘Scheduled at rare occasions whenever it pleases the Empress.’

Also, we don’t need your appalling smirking face sitting at a huge desk shuffling papers like some celebrity anchor man. You are NOT!

Insert clips of happy cheering crowds from coronations, sporting events, papal appearances, inaugurations, theatrical opening nights, and captive audiences of dictators for their political speeches! Samples from all around the world.

I want to see continuous cheering masses of people, a montage of various races and nationalities, with your voice over. Let me see the edit before I approve it for final release.” The Empress grew more haughty and demanding daily. She was growing into the job. Puffed up, feeling more self important and uniquely solely qualified to rule!

A Deeper Hole

Warren Norman was growing ever more anxious to escape her arrogant august presence. Nobody could forcibly or secretly escape from the Empress. The nanobots were her spy network. Her abilities were superhuman, literally out of this world! He would only accomplish escape, by beguiling the Empress into arranging his escape herself. Somehow it must benefit her and be best if it is her own idea!

In some imagined escapes, he intentionally offended Empress. But he feared that the true real consequence of offending her, was more likely fatal than a desired banishment. Warren racked his brains without rest! Constantly imagining weird scenarios. Nothing workable emerged from these delusional pipe dreams.

Until he analyzed the Empress herself, her style.

Minimalist. Subdued. She was obsessively symmetrical. Wore dull militaristic colors, and was neat to a fault. Perfectly groomed. Without any ostentation. Almost spartan puritanical dress. Maybe he could safely offend her sense of aesthetics? Should be relatively safe. She might order him to dress more conservatively, but unlikely to squash him like a bug! Highlighting the ruined world she authored, certainly would offend her. Make a point of dressing in a Mad Max, steam-punk, or steam-goth post-apocalyptic style. Shame her. Trigger her conscience, if she has any! It might irk her enough to kick him out. Unsymmetrical. Unkempt. Careless of his appearance. He was warming to the project. Change needed to be subtle and gradual. He decided not to shave for awhile, or trim his nails, and immediately began wearing mismatched socks, and sometimes none.

The Empress seemed not to notice. At first.

He ignored the many expensive suits, and sport coats and shirt/tie ensembles in his closets. Replaced them with an army surplus stained field jacket worn gaping and flapping open, decorated with non-military rude patches. Beneath, he wore a variety of garish colored, crude slogan tee shirts, shirt tail out. He grew mutton chops and pierced his ears so he could wear hoops. Began wearing heavy rings and bracelets. Hung chains on himself, in weird bandoleer styles. Cut his slacks off raggedly just below the knee. Added combat boots and neon knee socks to the costume.

When he began wearing cosmetics, she finally banished him. She said she didn’t want to see him in person ever again. He could work from home and they would only communicate electronically via nanobot.

He pretended distress, complained he had no other home, and asked for a favor. He had no family except a daughter who did not love him. It was his one great regret. He had ignored her while she grew up, only sending her money as some token of his love, as he single-minded pursued his career. As an adult, she only ever contacted him to ask for more money. That was when you could still buy things. Now he’d lost contact with her completely. If he could relocate in time, to when she was a still a little girl, he would devote himself, spend time with her, be the father he failed to be the first time around. Maybe they could have a real father daughter relationship, in time!

Time was inconsequential to the Empress, and the news programs he created for her, had nothing to do with reporting actual events. Where and when he was, was unimportant. He could better concentrate on his presentation of propaganda news extravaganzas as she wanted, if he was content and had a more normal natural lifestyle.

It was highly possible, they would bump into each other occasionally if he remained in the palace. Impossible, if he were in a different time. In the past. Specifically, 1987, was the year he wanted.

The Empress was aware Norman knew nothing about time travel. But she gave him, assigned him a nanobot tail/jailer/guard/servant, to take him where, or whenever he liked, provide for his needs, and facilitate communications with the Empress. She cruelly smiled. Warren couldn’t interpret the sneer she gave him.”Now, get out of my sight! Disgusting apparition, you make me sick!”

He did, and gladly! He’d WON! Again! Escaped the dire consequences! Escaped the predicament he’d blindly stumbled into while following his ambition! Saved himself one more time! Again! Warren Norman hugged himself and pirouetted in glee. Now! Think, he reminded himself. Celebration is premature. He hasn’t escaped yet! Just has permission to escape! But! He also has the means to. The nanobot. 1987 is the year he wants. Shorting stock options before the October 1987 stock market crash is a fortune maker. His daughter Anna is six years old and hungry for Daddy’s affection. She feels insecure after her parents divorce and is vulnerable. An opportunity to cement a strong loving relationship, he foolishly wasted last time. Warren is recently divorced from her mother in 1987. This time, he can preempt and defuse or reverse some of his ex’s legal maneuvers, that surprised and cost him a fortune.

Revenge, how sweet. Warren likes and frequently enjoys prostitutes. Pay for play, he considers a clean business. Variety, hassle and commitment free, and on his schedule, whenever he wants. Of the hundreds, maybe thousands of prostitutes he employed over the years, only two women stand out as remarkable memories. Both he encountered in 1987. He would enjoy renewing those two acquaintances, perhaps even making them longer duration. Live in sex toys, for awhile, why not? Maybe start a rotating harem of prostitutes. Maybe he would luck out and salvage some cute teen runaways! With the nanobot’s help, wealth is easy to acquire. And prostitutes do anything for money! Money makes the world go round in 1987!

First, he needs a base of operations. Why not more than one? Sure, but you have to start somewhere. The first one. A mega-yacht? A mansion somewhere? A private island? A castle? A resort hotel? How about just a hotel? One of those old five story brownstones, with businesses renting the street level store fronts.

Might be good! He wanted a clean smelling upscale bar that served good burgers and Philly cheese steak sandwiches. A separate spaghetti restaurant on the premises, needs to make good lasagna and other dishes besides spaghetti. They would be coerced into providing exclusive room service for him. Probably the best arrangement is he own everything and hire cooks and managers. Yeah. So what if doesn’t show a profit, only nice if it does! His comfort is the priority.

Going to need a nest egg. Unwise to pull millions out of thin air. Government wants to know where you got it, even in 1987. Giants won Super Bowl XXI. First time they won since 1956.

Thinks he’ll place a few small wagers. He’s a Giants fan. Knows the score. A trip to Vegas is in order early January. Did he keep any cash after it became worthless? Not even sure where his wallet is. Hasn’t carried it for almost two months. Ah, it’s here in the cuff-links drawer. Hasn’t used those in awhile either. Hundred forty four bucks. Many fortunes start with less! Warren is a man with a plan! He switched to first person.

Remembering how to dress in 1987 wasn’t difficult. I never changed. Still dress the same, when I’m posing as my conservative anchor man personae and not a steam punk pirate. After shaving, trimming nails and hair and tossing the earrings into the cuff-links drawer, I put on a light weight silvery gray silk Armani with a pink button down shirt, a turquoise and gold striped tie, brown wingtips and voilà! Ready for war. Caesars Palace 1987, here I come.

“Hi, Mr. Erlickson? My name is Mr. Norman. You are going to win a $1,061,812 jackpot on this slot machine in just a few minutes. How I know isn’t important. What IS important is, they will cheat you out of it. You are 19 and the law in Vegas says you have to be 21 to gamble. Would you rather be famous for being cheated out of a million dollars? Or be a millionaire? When the jackpot bells and lights start their ruckus, step back and let me collect the win. Afterwards, you let me take the $61,812 and you keep the million. I told you I know you will win. When you hit the jackpot, you will know I spoke true and know you can trust me. If you don’t win, you’re out nothing! Deal?” Easy pickings. $61,812 for seed money on the Giants in the Super Bowl. Just have to reverse the clock to January. Oh, nanobot, I have a task for you!

Poor Mr. Erlickson got stuck with all the taxes and still they tried to cheat him out of the million dollar win! At least he ended up famous! Since I’m a Giants fan and remembered their best games and the scores, I made a killing on super bowl XXI. Win 39 to 20 over Broncos, and by point spreads and double payouts for extra touchdowns, creative bets, I mopped up. Even though the Giants were the favorites, I walked away with three hundred grand, but that includes the seed money. My original hundred forty four dollars is nearly gone. Even in 1987, food costs money, you dig? It’s now Hotel time!

The nanobot whisked me away to Detroit. Walking around, taking my life in my hands, Detroit can be dangerous even in 1987, I recognized the bar where I met Linda. And across the street, the hotel she took me to. Linda is one of the only two hookers who ever made a big impression on me. I want to see her again.

The hotel is a five story brownstone. A dump. Serious money talk convinced the owner to finally meet me at a nearby upscale restaurant. A few blocks upwind.

Couldn’t touch the brownstone for a hundred grand. We haggled like two mean dogs over a bone! Finally, the former owner pried two hundred and twenty five grand from my tight fist!

He acted pissed when he stomped away. But I know an act when I see one. He cried all the way to the bank I bet! I acted pissed too.

I’m the new current owner. Okay nanobot. Fix up time. Didn’t need money for anything not visible from the street. Let the nanobot magic it up! Left the outside camouflaged as a dump. Inside five star luxury, and the entire fifth floor, my palace penthouse! Left two second story bedrooms shabby original just for the whores and their Johns. And for my memory of the room. Gotta ease into such drastic changes! Don’t want to culture shock the natives or my younger self.

The street level store fronts were far from what I envisioned. They were so narrow, they were more like horse stalls. One was occupied by a news and magazine vendor. Coin operated peepshows and porno mags in the rear behind bat-wing doors. Place smelled of rancid semen and old urine! Another stall was rented by a locksmith and key grinder. He was okay. Changed all my locks at a fair price. Triple security bolts and an alarm on the penthouse.

Another was shoe repair and had an antique shoe shine highseat in front. He gave me an old fashioned rag snapping buff and shine for a buck. Every day! Small services and pleasures.

There was a social club that I never saw open. Dusty blinds on the windows were always shut. And if anybody ever entered, it was through the alley door and I never saw anyone. Won’t see anyone!

The last was a florist shop. Smelled nice in there. Only in there! Otherwise, disappointment. So much for the Philly cheese and spaghetti dreams.

Right next to the hotel, on the corner, was a 1940’s -50’s art deco railroad car diner. All red vinyl and chrome inside. A one man business, the owner’s name is Joey and the diner is Joey’s Diner. Imagine that. I don’t know when he slept. He was open 24 and 7 and I never saw any staff or help. Always just Joey. Probably in his late 60’s, he had a big red alcoholics beak of a nose. Made the worst coffee I have ever tasted. Brewed it in a five gallon chrome urn with the brown stained cloth bag filter in the top. The coffee grounds he used came in one pound paper bags with a clipper ship on the front. Never seen that brand of coffee anywhere else. Joey would dump a whole pound in the filter, then poor five one gallon metal pitchers of scalding water over it. You could watch the coffee rise in the glass tube above the spigot, getting lighter in color with each pitcher full. Twenty five cents a cup. I guess he sold plenty of it. Never saw him drain the urn, though it was frequently empty and I’d watch him make it fresh.

What I appreciated about Joey’s Diner was the hash. Hash houses don’t exist anymore thanks to hamburger stands ... But Joey, anachronism he is, still made hash. Huge five gallon pot full of beef brisket, boiled till it falls apart in strings. Seasoned with lots of onions and black pepper, it’s served in a big toasted bun on a plate. You have to eat it with a fork, it’s too soupy to pick up! Good stuff! Joey also made good eggs. A thin brown lace on the edges and the thickened yolk still liquid enough to dunk your toast corners into. I spent considerable time holding down a stool at Joey’s lunch counter. Drinking iced tea, not coffee.

Then the day I had been waiting for arrived. I watched myself walk down the street and enter the corner bar exactly across the street from Joey’s Diner. I would have known it was me even in the dark. Could have recognized myself anywhere. Looked just like me, just younger. What kind of idiot chatter is this? No doubt you’ve experienced deja vu on occasion? Try deja YOU and tell me after, your brain doesn’t do a few somersaults. Even when you anticipate it.

Shortly after myself, Linda arrived. For two weeks, I camped in Joey’s hoping to see her. This is the first time she shows up. Same day as my doppleganger.

Now, I have to wait for my younger self, to acquire the memories of Linda that haunt me and bring me to this place and time. When they are finished and he - I leave, then I will go to her with my proposal. “Yes, more tea please, Joey.”

They remained in the bar about an hour. I recall we each drank two cocktails while we chatted. Linda was delightful to talk to and had a melodious voice and sweet manner about her.

After waiting on them the hour, they came out, hand in hand laughing, and ran across the street into my hotel.

They acted like young lovers, not a whore and her john. In my memories of Linda nothing is whorish. Linda is early to mid thirties and a little plump, particularly in her thighs and buttocks. Not at all fat, no cellulite, just rounded and soft. The heavy winter clothes she wore did not flatter her figure. The week previous, there was still snow to be seen on sidewalks and gutters in Detroit. Now was early spring and still quite cold. Once the bulky thick clothing was removed, Linda nude was a rare beauty. Astonishingly beautiful! In my haunting memory of her.

Watching myself leave the hotel, ninety minutes later, was a bit stressful. It’s time! Although I had planned and knew what I intended to say, now that it was time to perform, I was shy. Going up to the second floor in the renovated but ancient elevator, I mentally rehearsed all my sales points. I rapped lightly on the scarred wood of the door. Linda opened it just a crack wide enough to talk through.

“Oh, did you forget something? Come in.” She lowered the towel she had hidden behind, and allowed the door to swing wide open. She stood before me naked. No modesty in front of a man she’d had sexual intercourse with just moments before. “How did you change your clothes? You look older!” She quickly clutched the towel in front of her trying to conceal most of her charms. “You aren’t you, are you?” I laughed. Linda giggled her delightful bubbly giggle. “That sounded crazy, didn’t it?”

“Probably not near as crazy as some things I’m planning to tell you!” I smiled reassuringly. “Do you trust me?” She looked deep into my eyes and studied my face carefully. Her lips were pursed like she was sucking on a jawbreaker ball candy as she intensely examined my features, hunting for my hidden character.

“To a degree, I’ll trust you. I have allowed you in my bedroom while I’m naked. That implies a certain level of trust. Agreed?” she wore a mischievous grin.

“Absolutely! I’m asking you to dress. Come with me. You don’t need to bundle up. We won’t go outside, only upstairs to my penthouse. I own this hotel.”

Her eyes grew immense. “You own the ... well, if I had known that earlier, I would have charged your brother or son more! A lot more!” She giggled and jiggled, covering her mouth with a dainty hand. Her bright eyes flirted with me. Was it avarice or interest making her eyes shine so brightly? She pulled her dress over her head and smoothed it down over her naked hips. Tugged on it here and there untill it fit comfortably. She gathered up her under clothes, a knit cap and thin leather gloves, all in a ball, and stuffed them in a large war-bag purse she carried with her.

She scuffed her feet into her shoes, picked up her coat, scarf, and purse and suggested, “Let’s go!” She checked the room with a final glance around and walked out into the hall. Following close behind. I closed and locked the door.

On the way up in the old elevator, she continued to study me. “Are you going to fix up the hotel?”

“Yes, I’ve already started. It’s begun.”

“I haven’t noticed any change, except the elevator is smoother and doesn’t shake and rattle like before. Maybe you are repairing the mechanicals first. I think that’s smart. What about the furnace and hot water boiler. They could use an overhaul!”

“Already done. State of the art. All new plumbing and ductwork.”

“Okay. That’s stuff you don’t normally see. I believe you.”

“The lobby is a pit. You should invest some in making it more attractive. More guests and higher rates will recoup your investment in a short time.”

“Happening as we speak.”

“Really?” She cupped her ear and cocked her head, listening intently. “Don’t hear anything like construction. Probably, you’ll repaint and buy new furniture. That will be nice. But the lobby is definitely nineteenth century. Open it up. Make it more spacious and airy, if you can.”

“You are certainly full of good ideas for my hotel.”

“Do you honestly think they are good ideas? I have lots of ideas. I love to decorate. Ooh! This is very nice.” The elevator arrived at the small ornate hall containing the entrance to the penthouse. I unlocked the double French doors to the penthouse proper, and flung them wide. Soft lights and soft music enticed her inside. She crept inside on tiptoe. Craning her neck around in amazement to see everywhere. It was a very charming display of girlish wonderment.

“Who would believe this, looking at the dumpy outside. Your apartment is incredibly beautiful. I wouldn’t alter a single thing.” Linda was starry eyed now!

“So, it meets with your taste and approval?”

“Perfectly! Are you going to invite me now?”

“Invite you?”

Linda dropped her things and closed the distance between us. She pressed her luscious body to mine, encircled me with her arms, and stared into my eyes. “You want me.” she said confidently.

“Very much!” I hugged her.

“Oh, you want me sexually, that’s for certain, but that’s not what I meant. You want ME! You ... can’t explain why or how, but ... you CARE for me! Don’t you? I sense, feel, know it! My heart responds to it. Wants you too!” she whispered.

“Woah! Girl! This is going entirely too fast. I intended to ask you to live with me on a trial...”

“Yes!” Linda agreed interrupting me.

“Let’s look at this logically, if we can. I am not ready to make any kind of commitment long or short term, to you or anybody. I thought it would be nice if you moved in with me, for ... well, until one of us got tired of it. Either of us can call it quits at any time and no hurt feelings. But, now I don’t ... it doesn’t seem fair to you, because ... you want something more! I’m not ready to give more. You will be hurt when I say it’s time to go!” Why was I explaining myself to a whore?

“Isn’t it better to have something sweet and precious for even a little time than never have it?” She smiled gently at me. Love and understanding in her eyes!

“I suppose if you look at it like that. Listen! You must be careful and not let your emotions run away with you. I’m really not somebody you could love. I’m not a nice guy. Not lovable. I’ll dump you when I’m ready. In a heartbeat!”

“You came back for me.”

“What?”

“I don’t understand what I am saying or why I am saying it. My heart tells me, you came back for me, because you missed me. It doesn’t make sense but then it actually seems to. From where, I can’t understand, but you have missed me!”