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Chapter 30: Summer Break
 By Jim Caple |
Previously at 24 College Avenue: Terror charges against the residents have been dropped when the Big Brother surveillance program not only brings up incriminating evidence against them, but against the authorities as well. The College World development plan has also been scrapped, but unfortunately, not in time to stop the bulldozers from destroying half the house. . . .
With the house in shambles, the residents went to the only refuge on which they could depend, the Blue Moon Pub. Walking down the steps to the historic tavern in the basement of the State College Inn always lifted a student’s spirits, and the Blue Moon (and its beer) worked its magic again. Within half an hour, the housemates had forgotten the destruction to their home and were instead celebrating their new freedom. All of them, that is, except for Josh, who sat miserably at the bar, watching the Red Devils AUSC World Series game on the bar’s black and white Philco.
“Hey,’’ Steve said. He and Fairhaven grabbed stools next to Josh. “What’s the matter? Everybody else is playing ‘Sink the Titanic’ in the back. What are you doing here?’’
“Thinking’’
“Don’t think,’’ Fairhaven said. “It can only hurt the ballclub.’’ (1)
Josh ignored Fairhaven and turned toward Steve. “You know how there are tribes in remote regions of the Amazon rain forest and Pacific islands who believe photographs steal their soul?’ Josh asked. “We all laugh and call them primitive but what if they’re right?’’
“Oh, please.’’
“No, I mean it.’’
“That a camera steals a person’s soul? What are you smoking, dude?’’
“No, really, think about it.’’
Steve finished his beer and signaled the bartender for another. “I think you’ve had too much to drink. Or not enough. Anyway, I think you first would have to have a soul – which I’m not convinced of – and then you’d have to have a really, really big lens.’’
“Hear me out. Think of the people who get photographed all the time. Movie stars. Celebrities. Athletes. Politicians – oh, God, politicians. They all start out nice and normal but then their pictures are in the paper and on the magazine covers and all over the web and something changes. They all become jaded, egomaniac, insincere, superficial, amoral assholes who turn their back on everything they once considered important. They seal themselves in their luxury SUVs and gated communities and private clubs and never come in contact with the common man. And how do we describe them? As soulless, nan. Soul-Less.’’
Steve, who began listening with a grin on his face, turned silent and serious as Josh continued.
“But it’s not just them – it’s all of us. It isn’t just that we’re constantly in the lens of some intrusive security camera, it’s how every aspect of our culture is obsessed with video of ourselves. Look at the way we wave and go ape&*%$ whenever we’re shown on the scoreboard video. Look at the private crap we place on websites. We’re like monkeys discovering a mirror. We even need to photograph ourselves with our phones – how whacked is that?
“And think about what we all just went through. If all those ‘security’ monitors aren’t stealing our souls and turning us into a bunch of sheep, I don’t what is.’’
Steve had no response to this. Nor did Fairhaven, who for once could not think of an appropriate movie line to quote. The three just sat at the bar, sipping their beer and thinking it over.
“Why the long faces, my brothers?’’
It was Marcus, as bright and cheerful as ever. He slapped Josh on the back and squeezed in to order a Guinness. “Whenever I’m sprung from jail, it’s always cause for celebration. In fact, the celebration has often been cause for going back to jail.’’
He laughed but no one joined in.
“Oh, come on, brothers. It can’t be that bad, can it?’’
“Well,’’ Josh began, “other than the fact that our house is destroyed and we don’t have a place to live and there are cameras recording everything we do and stealing our soul; no, I guess it isn’t that bad.’’
“I wouldn’t worry, brother,’’ Marcus said. “My sources tell me the city and college have promised to repair the house by the next school year. As for being spied on, what can you do? As that Blood and Muscle professor said, the Big Brother program just relies on what’s already out there. If you didn’t worry about it before, why worry now?’’
“Because,’’ Josh said, “I didn’t know about it before.’’
Marcus drained his pint and slammed the glass on the bar. “Ah, I wouldn’t worry, brother. Just remember -- I have a copy of the Big Brother disk in case anyone tries to pull anything funny again. And in the meantime, I have something that should help you forget all your worries.’’ He stepped the side and reached out his left hand. “Come on, beautiful. Maybe you can cheer up this pathetic soul.’’
Josh felt his heart flutter when he saw whose hand Marcus was holding. “Magdalena,’’ he said, in barely more than a whisper. “Oh my God, is it really you?’’
“Yes, it is me,’’ the blonde tour guide from Prague said, rushing forward to kiss him on the mouth. “But maybe you should check closer, yes?’’
The two kissed passionately, Josh wrapping his arms around her as if clutching third base after sliding in with a triple just ahead of the throw. Marcus nodded to Steve and smiled. Fairhaven stared. “Since the invention of the kiss there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure,’’ he said. “This one left them all behind.’’ (2)
When Josh finally came up for air, he asked, “But what are you doing here? Why didn’t you message me?’’
Magdalena smiled the smile that could melt dry ice from across the room. “Is surprise, you big stupid,’’ she said. “I got job as tour guide for ‘America in an SUV.’ It is sister program for ‘Europe in a Backpack’ travel company, yes? We drive tourists all over United States, to your most important national sites – White House, Grand Canyon, Graceland and the Wrigley Stadium.’’
“ ‘America in an SUV?’ That’s where I’m working this summer!’’
Magdalena looked at Marcus, rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Don’t look at me, gorgeous,’’ Marcus said. “I warned you he could be clueless. And I always say you should marry me instead.’’
“Yes, Josh, I know is where you work,’’ Magdalena said, kissing him again. “Is why I got same job. We lead tours together! I drive, you navigate!’’
“We’re on our way to California in the morning,’’ Fairhaven said. “Big vacation, whole family. WallyWorld.’’ (3)
# # #
The smell of incense and brimstone filled the old State College fallout shelter that served as the torch-lighted headquarters for Blood and Muscle. The board of directors sat glumly at the massive oak table that had been in the secret campus society since before the Revolutionary War. The robed members drank slowly from their wine goblets as they mulled over the latest defeat of a plan to assure a Red Devils dynasty.
“So,’’ said Milton Winthrop, Blood and Muscle’s Grand Imperial Knight of the Crimson Sepulcher. “Big Brother is dead?”’
“Yes, unfortunately,’’ replied Prof. Ken Moore. “The program, I’m afraid, worked too well. It gathered compromising evidence on everyone, including ourselves. Everyone, it seems, has got something to hide, including me and my monkey. Plus, our security has been compromised. A European lowlife managed to obtain a copy of the program.’’
Winthrop frowned. He did not like bad news. “And we cannot run the program with our own copy?’’
“It’s too risky,’’ Moore said. “With the other disk out there, we can’t chance someone blackmailing us. Better that we sit tight with it for now; rely on it for defensive purposes in case someone tries to use information against us.’’
“I see,’ Winthrop said, not pleased. State College had not won a national championship in several years, despite Blood and Muscle’s efforts. First, the cloned athlete project failed. [Editor’s note: See the original 24 College Avenue series] Now this. He stared hard at Moore and considered various punishments for fouling up so badly. Perhaps he would have the professor assigned to teach composition to ESL students. Or better yet, engineering students.
Moore, feeling the intensity of Moore’s gaze, swallowed and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. “But don’t worry. Our next operation is moving forward splendidly. We have just selected a candidate.’’
“Exellent,’’ Winthrop said. “Refresh my memory. Which project is this again?’’
“Operation Enduring Muscle.’’
# # #
The Tudor-style State College Inn was more hostel than inn but when your home is half buried under rubble, you don’t complain about a lack of air conditioning or a shared bath down the hall. Besides, Josh wasn’t interested in how many stars the inn had been awarded (two); he just wanted a bed.
He began peeling off Magdalena’s t-shirt before the door to room 24 even closed behind them. Josh kicked off his shoes and unzipped his fly, then began pulling Magdalena to the bed. He stopped abruptly. “Oh crap,’’ he said. “I don’t have a condom. They were all in my room in the house and the bulldozers –”
“We do not need condoms, I am prepared,’’ Magdalena said, pulling off Josh’s pants, and leading him to the bed. “Come. If your Big Brother is watching, let us give him something worth seeing, yes?’’ She stripped off her own jeans and underwear and reclined back naked on the bed, her arms and legs welcoming Josh.
Josh lay on Magdalena and kissed her. “I just hope they get me from my good angle,’’ he said.
“I like all your sides,’’ Magdalena said. “But especially this one.’’ She dug her fingers into Josh’s cheeks, then moaned softly.
“Smile for the cameras,’’ Josh whispered.
(This ends the storyline to “24 College Avenue: Big Brother.’’ The next series will start after a brief hiatus.)
Here are the movies Paul Fairhaven referenced in this chapter:
(1) Crash in “Bull Durham’’
(2) Grandpa in “The Princess Bride’’
(3) Clark Griswold in “Vacation’’
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