Biomedical self engineer.., p.2
Biomedical Self-Engineering : Book 2, page 2
Chapter 4
“You differ from a great man in only one respect: the great man was once a very little man, but he developed one important quality: he recognized the smallness and narrowness of his thoughts and actions. Under the pressure of some task that meant a great deal to him, he learned to see how his smallness, his pettiness endangered his happiness. In other words, a great man knows when and in what way he is a little man. A little man does not know he is little and is afraid to know. He hides his pettiness and narrowness behind illusions of strength and greatness, someone else’s strength and greatness. He’s proud of his great generals but not of himself. He admires an idea he has not had, not one he has had. The less he understands something, the more firmly he believes in it. And the better he understands an idea, the less he believes in it.”
— Wilhelm Reich, Listen, Little Man!
His answering machine was blinking to get his attention when he got home. Even worse, the milk he had just bought had turned warm and he could only hope it didn’t spoil.
The first message was from Randy.
“Carl, this is Randy. Just checking in if you’ve purchased the building yet. I know some owners are excited for you to get things fixed up around here. A few are already asking about what you’ll be charging for the apartments on the second floor. Call me back.”
Carl shook his head in mild disappointment. He’d asked Randy to keep his plans quiet, but something in the gold seller’s brain had gone haywire when it came to the building. He didn’t know the man’s past. Maybe he had moved around a lot or, even worse, been evicted from the family home when he was young. He hoped not, but it would explain a few things.
The next message was from Rebecca.
“Carl, I have a preliminary report from the engineers regarding the building you’re wishing to purchase. They have highlighted several areas of concern, a few serious. I’m heading out shortly, so call me tomorrow to discuss. I’ve emailed the report for you to review tonight. Bye.”
He put two frozen burritos in the oven and set the timer to twenty-five minutes so he wouldn’t forget about them. Then he sat down, turned on the TV, and scanned the channels.
It was all news at the moment, and the old movies weren’t showing anything that interested him. The Wild Bunch was too violent for his tastes.
Before he did anything else, he wanted to check his points.
New DNA acquired: 12
Points for new DNA acquired: 200
Unused DNA Remaining: 2
He closed the notification. It was a start, but two hundred points would only increase his imputed age by two years, which wasn’t close to enough. He needed around five thousand points to get his imputed age up to forty-nine. There was nothing to do about it except hope that tomorrow worked out the way he thought it would.
While he waited for his burritos to warm-up, he opened his laptop, finding the email from Rebecca moments later. The report was in a PDF file, which he opened and started scanning.
She had broken the problems into different groupings, from structural, electrical, and plumbing to an estimated maximum occupancy after redesign and some sketches of ways to enhance the current layout. While it would be difficult to change anything on the street level, on the second floor it seemed a lot was possible, from having four extensive suites to five small apartments. Estimates on revenue from both the existing leases or the renovated apartments still needed to be calculated, which meant he would need Rebecca or Charles to reach out to a realtor to gather those.
Before he forgot, he forwarded the email to Charles. The simple act warmed him on the inside, as he wouldn’t have been capable of doing so less than six months ago. He added a brief note about forecasting revenue streams depending on the apartment configurations and added a comment about Vancouver Life Insurance and the buildings in Vancouver.
No sooner had the email gone out than a reply came back, promising that he would look into it.
Carl smiled to himself. He liked people who took action.
The buzzer went off on the oven, and he got his burritos out. He’d never been one for working at night, but given his condition and lacking anything else to do, it appeared he’d be pulling the swing shift this evening.
* * *
He closed his laptop at 9:30pm, having read through the report three times. He had myriad follow-up questions to ask the engineers, but overall, he liked the building. The price was right, and if the revenue projections worked out, he thought it was a financially sound investment. And it would help Randy feel better about things. He didn’t know what price to assign to that, but it had to be greater than zero.
Not feeling tired, he changed clothes and put on some sweats to go for a run. It was dark out, and as long as he kept the hood over his head, he would go unseen. He grabbed the spade before locking the door and heading out.
The night was cool, the stars twinkling above as he warmed up. He started out at a fast walk before jogging. He started sniffing for coins when he was seven blocks away, just in case he stumbled into something.
He passed a few people, not recognizing a single one. The exercise felt wonderful, stretching his muscles after the disaster of earlier this morning. Along the way he picked up small scents of silver coins, but he didn’t feel like stopping to dig them up. Better to leave them for the next person to find.
He didn’t get home until after 11pm, the front of his sweatshirt soaked and his hair damp. He felt good, so to finish the workout, he did some stretches.
“Carl, is that you over there?”
He fell into a crouch, his neighbor calling from her porch. The light above her made her features stark as she peered around the hedge to find him.
“If you’re a thief, I’m calling 911 right now!” The words screeched out of her mouth, her voice escalating.
Carl had two choices: fess up or continue to hide and hope she didn’t call the police. He fessed up.
He stood up, walking until he was in clear view. “Hi, Martha, it’s me. Carl Thompson. I thought I heard a raccoon in the backyard, so I checked it out.”
There was no response for a split second. “Without a flashlight?”
He stayed put, because showing himself without a flashlight would put paid to his lie. “The batteries died. Anyway, I don’t think it was a raccoon. Everything’s fine, Martha. I’m heading to bed right now.”
Martha wasn’t ready to let it go, however. “How do I know it’s you, Carl?”
Carl sighed. He’d been having such a good night. “You know my voice, Martha. And I knew your name. Who do you think I might be?”
“I don’t know, but I’m not taking any chances. Bob Andrews just two blocks over had his house broken into. They stole his stereo and his old watches. Is that what you’re planning to do to me, thief?”
Carl could only shake his head. Instead of responding, he went into his house and dialed Martha’s number. His ex-wife had been friends with her, so she’d left the number written next to the phone in his ex’s fluid cursive.
“Hello?”
“Martha, this is Carl.”
“Carl! There’s a thief outside. Lock your doors and call the police.”
He did his best to explain. “That was me, Martha. Now I’m inside the house, so you know it’s me. Would a thief call you on the phone?”
She paused. “Well, no.”
Carl couldn’t hold back a smile. This was progress. “That’s right. Don’t worry about anything. You’re safe and I’m safe. I’m going to bed now, and I hope you will too, Martha.”
“Okay. Bye.” Martha hung up the phone.
Carl took a quick shower before hitting the sack. Tomorrow would be a big day.
Chapter 5
“To fill the young of the species with knowledge and awaken their intelligence... Nothing could be further from the truth. The aim... is simply to reduce as many individuals as possible to the same level, to breed and train a standardized citizenry, to put down dissent and originality. That is its aim in the United States... and that is its aim everywhere else.”
— H. L. Mencken (writing of public education in the April 1924 The American Mercury)
“Please write your name on this sticker, then place it where it is visible.” The volunteer handed him a sticker along with a three-page foldout pamphlet filled with talking points about the bond issue. He glanced through them. They made sense, although some of them lacked facts to substantiate the claims. Still, this wasn’t his fight. He’d help the cause to get the DNA he needed, then escape. Bing-bang-boom.
An amplifier squealed as he filed into the same nondescript building he’d scouted yesterday. The turnout so far was decent, with roughly forty or fifty people here to help support the cause. Most of the volunteers were women, with a few men scattered in the crowd. Nearly everyone had a cup of coffee in their hand.
“Sorry about that. Okay, listen up, people. My name is Tamara Gollard, and I’m the assistant to the school superintendent for Vancouver public schools. We’re genuinely happy that you’re here today to help us get the vote out.”
A mild cheer went up, and Tamara smiled. “Great. Before we get started, we need to cover a few things. First, we have restroom facilities in the back if you need them. Volunteers will provide light refreshments at noon, and you’re free to go after that. We’ll do this again on Sunday for those of you who want to volunteer a second time. Once you’ve volunteered three times, you’ll get these nifty bond vote T-shirts.” She modeled the one she was wearing for a moment. “Or you can buy them for only twenty-five dollars, and all the proceeds go to the cause.”
The room was quiet, but Tamara remained unfazed. “Good. Now, how we will do this is pair up with another person and then you’ll be assigned anywhere from ten to twenty blocks to canvas for support. The areas are sizeable because we expect a number of people will be at work, but that’s okay! We’ll get them this weekend.”
Carl was itching to get going. Before he could turn around to look for a partner, two women approached him from different vectors. He took a step back, but it was too late. They had too much momentum on him.
He missed being old.
The woman on his right stepped in front of the brunette, cutting off her approach. The other woman tried to come around the other way, but it was no use: her attack had failed.
The blonde asked, “Are you looking for a partner?” She gave him a smile full of overly white teeth, and her blouse seemed to have lost the top button during the race to him. The other woman chummed the surrounding waters, but it was no use. She’d lost.
Carl nodded. “I would.”
The blond woman took his arm. “Wonderful. My name is Jenny. I have a son in fourth grade.”
It was at that moment Carl realized his mistake. All these people either were or had been parents of children attending Vancouver School District schools, with one exception: him.
He swallowed. “My name’s Carl. My son just graduated and was accepted at Georgetown University.” Some of that was true. His younger son really had gone to Georgetown, but he was obviously much older now.
The woman’s grip tightened around his arm. “That’s wonderful. You must be so proud.”
Tamara broke in with an announcement, but Carl didn’t hear it. The only thing he could say was that he now had new DNA, a clingy woman on his arm, and twenty more points toward changing his situation.
Extricating his arm, he headed to the front to get his assignment. Over half the group were already heading to the door, but he missed the announcement on what to do because of Jenny. He didn’t hold it against her, but it was an aggravation he didn’t need.
Thankfully, an older woman was still handing out locations. He approached and was handed a laminated map, outlining an area on the other side of I5. It looked to be a pleasant location with a golf course based on what he was seeing, but it also meant something else: Jenny was sure to want to ride with him on the way over.
Jenny pulled the map from his grasp, immediately recognizing the location. “Thank God. We got a good one, and not downtown. Let’s go.”
She dragged him to her car, a newer model Lexus. It seemed he wouldn’t be driving even if he wanted to.
As soon as he was inside and strapped in, the Lexus was moving faster than he remembered driving in a very, very long time.
She flipped her hair behind her as she leaned in his direction. “So, Carl. Where do you live?”
Carl almost said Portland. It was such an innocuous question that he almost gave himself away. And he could admit to himself that he was off his game. “Camas.”
Camas was a compact town east of Vancouver, and he knew part of it was still in Vancouver School District territory. Jenny glanced at him, her eyes narrowing, and he quickly amended, “Not on the river. I live in a small three bedroom built in the 1930s.” Which was all true.
She rubbed her hand along Carl’s forearm. “Ooh, I always loved Camas. I think small towns have more charm.” She moved forward, resting her hand on his now, and he resisted pulling away. He only had three hours to go before this fiasco was over. Hopefully, forever.
Some dreams just weren’t meant to be.
* * *
The next three hours passed quicker than he would have believed, especially after he convinced her they needed to split up to cover more territory. He could tell she didn’t like it, but it was a tough argument to refute.
He was less than ten minutes in when he saw a blue dot in his eye. Not opening it, he continued on, not breaking to get a drink of water or a bite to eat or just to sit and talk, all of which Jenny proposed on multiple occasions. He powered onward, knocking on doors as he collected points.
Although he was here for ulterior reasons, about halfway through he decided he was in favor of the bond issue. Whether he talked to people who had kids or grandkids, most of the people he spoke with were in favor. A few closed the door on him, but rarely before he shook their hand.
Noon came and went, and Jenny was nowhere in sight. He hadn’t seen her in over an hour, when the road they solicited on split into different cul-de-sacs. He was so focused on the bond issue and gaining points that he’d forgotten all about her for a wonderful hour or so.
Backtracking, he went down the road he’d last seen her on. When he didn’t find her there, he tried each of the neighboring cul-de-sacs with no luck.
Tired of being on his feet in the heat, and more than a little hungry and thirsty, he walked back to where she’d parked her car.
Despite checking all around, and walking down a handful of streets, it was gone.
He’d left his flip phone at home and had no way to get back to the downtown area. He walked out to the main drive, hoping to see a taxi drive by, but after waiting for fifteen minutes he could admit it was unlikely to happen.
With no options left, he walked across the street and started canvassing for votes again. He was waiting until he stumbled upon a single man, but that took just shy of an hour before a man in his 60s answered the door. A glimpse through the open door and seeing the mess beyond made it obvious the man was single.
Carl went through his spiel, and the man agreed once he understood why Carl was at his door. Once the explanation was over, Carl said, “This is embarrassing, and I apologize for the imposition, but the woman I was working with drove off without me. Could I trouble you for a drive to the downtown area where I left my car?” Before the man would answer, he added, “I’d be more than happy to compensate you for your gas and time.”
At the sound of that, the old man smiled. “Forty bucks and we can leave right now.”
It was steep, but Carl didn’t care. He wanted to get back home to check his notifications. The nightmare of being young was close to being over.
He paid the man, who promptly pulled an old AMC Eagle out of his garage. Within minutes, he was on his way back.
* * *
After being dropped off and saying goodbye, he walked back into the building to hand in his materials and report back on his success. He hadn’t kept track of how many people said yes or no, but he had marked off which streets he’d gone down so the next person didn’t repeat it.
Jenny wasn’t in the building, but a few other people remained as they mingled and talked. He dutifully handed everything in, grabbing a few Hydrox cookies until he could eat a proper meal. He washed them down with a paper cup filled with lukewarm water.
His job done, he walked back to his car and drove south on I5 into Portland. It was time to get to work.
Chapter 6
“The conscious and intelligent manipulation of the organized habits and opinions of the masses is an important element in democratic society. Those who manipulate this unseen mechanism of society constitute an invisible government, which is the true ruling power of our country. ...We are governed, our minds are molded, our tastes formed, our ideas suggested, largely by men we have never heard of. This is a logical result of the way in which our democratic society is organized. Vast numbers of human beings must cooperate in this manner if they are to live together as a smoothly functioning society. ...In almost every act of our daily lives, whether in the sphere of politics or business, in our social conduct or our ethical thinking, we are dominated by the relatively small number of persons...who understand the mental processes and social patterns of the masses. It is they who pull the wires which control the public mind.”
— Edward Bernays, Propaganda
He turned off I5, catching sight of a silver Lexus just a car behind him. A car that looked too similar to Jenny’s Lexus to be an accident.
Although he didn’t have a sense to confirm it, he felt a shiver go down his spine. He’d seen movies where women like this stalked their prey, getting crazier and crazier the longer the chase went on.
Talking a quick left, he dashed down an alley, only to take another left that took him away from his house. He needed to build up a lead so he could get his garage door open and the car inside before she spotted him.
