Chapter 18: THE DIARY

Their only lust is for power. Plugging their little prongs into juicy electrical outlets.

“Load up the cars, girls. We’re burning daylight. I need to drop this off at City Hall, on our way out of town.”

Uncle Warren and two goons, already left earlier in a taxi. Linda sent them on some mysterious private mission.

“What’s in the envelope, Erik?”

“A sealed bid.”

“For what?”

“For that.” I point across the road, at the derelict hulk rusting away alongside our old canted over dilapidated pier.

“What ever for, would you want to buy that?”

“For shitz and giggles.” A ripple of teen daughter giggles is my just reward.

“What’s your plans for the pier, Erik?” Repair it of course. Linda smiles at me, a doting parent’s tolerant smile at a child’s enthusiasm for playing in a mud puddle.

“Would you permit me to fix it? An excellent opportunity for me, to demonstrate the futuristic resources I command.”

“By all means, please yourself. But not all frilled up. Just fix it, like the way it was, the day I finished painting it years ago.”

Linda said something private to one of the remaining two goons. A fog began to coalesce around the length of the pier, including the wreck.

After several anxious minutes, the fog dissipated, and the pier reappeared, brightly painted and perfect as new. And a brand new looking, antique design fireboat, floats alongside.

With no lines to secure it! I’m running to the pier to correct that situation, before the fireboat drifts away. No lines on board, and none on the pier either. I run back to the house to swipe and re-purpose the garden hose.

“Can you make an emergency trip to the hardware? I need you to buy rope, plenty of ropes, hundred feet or more, as thick as my thumb, or better. Ask for half inch, five eighths, or three quarters inch thick.”

Back on the pier again, I lace the fire boat to the pier with fifty feet of garden hose. A very temporary, insufficient moor.

The goon chauffeur opens the limo trunk. Two 150 ft spools of one inch diameter, braided Dacron line are inside. I swear I saw that trunk was empty after all the flowers were removed.

The two goons assist me securing the fire boat. One is rapidly splicing eyes in the rope ends. The other lassoing bits, and hitching lines fast. All soon secured. One goon perfectly coils up the garden hose and hands it to me. I want these dudes for my ship’s crew!

“Whew, that was incredible. The pier and fire boat look incredible. And the City will be incredible of my bid, if they see it like this. I only planned to bid a hundred bucks.”

The fog returns, and after a moment, the fireboat re-appears unloved and rusted again, but afloat, properly tied to the pier.

“Stick around Linda. I have no idea how I can even begin to entice you to stay, or reward your efforts if you do, but I have a slew of potential projects, I could sure use your help with!”

“Would you love me, if I stayed?”

“I don’t know what my capacity for love is, or if I even have any. But I will love you to the best of my ability, for whatever that’s worth.”

I owe it to her to be honest, and in addition, it’s unwise to disappoint or be caught in a lie, by someone wielding such powers as Linda exhibits.

“I’ll stay awhile then, to see if there’s any potential for a feasible loving working relationship.”

“How can you do such magic?” I’m awed.

“I don’t trust anyone with my diary, but, I’ll read aloud to you, certain excepts, once we’re on the road. Maybe, it will satisfy your curiosity, and maybe not. If not, you’re shit out of luck. I have no other explanations, than what’s recorded in the diary from the future.”

“I’m anxious to hear about it. Shall we go? Ladies?”

I hold the doors for them. Sammy gets in the front passenger seat, to monitor the chauffeurs driving, and to navigate. The car has what looks like a miniature TV in the middle of the dash, something called GPS. It doesn’t work, whatever it’s intended to do. Linda says it navigates, but is missing the external technology to feed it the data. Makes zero sense.

As soon as we start backing, the GPS starts working. It’s some sort of rear view periscope. Idiot technology, over complicating the simple task a rear view mirror performs.

A mirror is low tech, cheap, and does the same job. Technology for the sake of technology is stupid. Like Nasa investing millions in developing a ballpoint pen to write in zero gravity. Russians issued Cosmonauts, common, two for a nickel pencils to write with in outer space. Technion-idiots! US, I mean, not the Russians.