Mad Worlds Collide (7 page)

"You idiot
—
I just swallowed a gas pill!"

"Well, I guess you won’t get any gas on this flight."

"It’s specially designed for large dogs!" A memory flash of the Chinese herb doctor saying "No gas, we stop gas—give horse two, big dog one,"popped into Susan’s mind
.

Susan put both hands on her face in distress. "Robert, could you please go into my travel bag and get me a Valium, please."

"Are you sure it’s OK to mix pills?"

Another memory flash came: The Chinese herb doctor was now smiling with stained and bad looking teeth:

"No gas, we stop gas—give horse two, big dog one."

Susan grabbed her head, "Get me a Valium or I am going to get off this plane!" screamed Susan

Robert went back into the overhead and found the purse, and pulled out another, smaller, brown pill bottle. He passed the bottle onto Susan. "Is this the right bottle?"

"Yes." Susan opened the bottle and took one and one-half Valiums---a little extra to compensate for the gas pill. She swallowed the pills and started to feel better.

The intercom spoke: "Please make sure your seats are upright and all personal belongings are stored in the upper storage cabins. We will be taking off shortly."

Susan looked out the window as the 747 rolled out of the gate. The Valium started to relax her. Her stomach felt a little tighter, but not bad for eating an unknown Chinese herb designed to stop diarrhea and gas problems for horses and other large animals.

The engines hummed louder. Wing flags moved down into the takeoff position. The brakes let go and the plane moved smoothly across the runway, picking up speed. They lifted into a partially clouded sky; little fluffy cotton balls passed Susan’s window. Susan sipped her tonic water. The cotton balls were soft and relaxing. Susan looked into the distance and saw a Penguin sitting on cotton ball. He sipped a beer and waved toward her. Susan waved back. He disappeared.

"Saying goodbye to the US honey?" asked Robert.

"Oh yes, just a little tired. Think I’ll take a little nap."

"Fine, the seat belt lights are out. I’m gonna see Lisa and Jimmy."

"Please," said Susan as she reclined and closed her sleepy eyes.

Robert walked to the back of the 747. This was one of the 800 series: a sleek and smart plane that used three onboard computers similar to the new space shuttle computers. Two human backup pilots were there to fix the computers in the event of a small problem. Big problems required the pilots to actually fly the plane. Most of the time the pilots played computer simulation games in the cockpit. Anyone watching thought they were flying the plane, but Robert knew better. MicroIntel wrote the software for the 747-800 series; it was a watered down version of a popular MicroIntel flight simulator game.

At the back of the plane’s business class section Robert’s seventeen year-old son Jimmy was smoking a Lucky Strike with about 15 Japanese men. The 747-800 smoking section fans sucked up the bluish smoke.  Jimmy spotted his Dad, and greeted him.

"Hi Dad."

Robert looked out the window. "Son, I really wish you would stop that bad habit."

"Oh Dad
,
I’m seventeen years old, and I’m in college. It’s my body."

"Yeah, well I paid to feed and clothe that body for seventeen years. I want my money back."

"How much do I owe you?"

"Let’s see---last I recall, including tax and subtracting your scholarships, it’s about $547,000."

"No problem Dad.  I’ll have the money paid back within two years after I’m out of college."

"How do you intend to do that?"

"I’m going to write a book about my Mom and Dad, and either you’ll wash away the $547,000 or I’ll get rich selling the book."  Jimmy put out his cigarette and smiled.

"Son,  I hate you but I guess I’m out $547,000.  Are you sure the book would sell?"

"Sure Dad---you’re a big guy at MicroIntel and you screwed up our lives in the process.  People love that shit."

Robert hugged his son. "I love you son, but promise me you’ll move out someday."

"You got my word Dad."

Back at her seat Susan awoke from an air pocket bounce. A stewardess asked, "Would you like a drink Ms. Davichi?"

"Yes, a gin and tonic please."  The gas pill made Susan hungry.  Things were happening inside her stomach.

The stewardess passed Susan a gin and tonic with a twist of lemon. Susan took a sip and opened up the WebTele. She searched through news about Japan. After the news she logged into her VeryHotMail e-mail account.  She had 3 messages. The first two were good-byes from Ellen and her friend Mary. The last e-mail was only listed as "Your Friend Eddy".

Susan opened the e-mail:

Hi Susan,

Sorry to bother you but I wanted to tell you that your husband and MicroIntel are working on turning the planet over to the Net Police. They are blind to the truth. The new software in Japan is worse than rotten Limburger cheese washed down with a flat Pepsi. What are you doing in Japan?

Susan nodded her head and then stopped reading to receive her steak teriyaki dinner from a stewardess. Maybe the food would calm her stomach, which was now making intermittent hissing noises.

           
Japan was a bad idea—Paris was the place to go. She continued reading while eating her steak.

What is Robert doing in Japan? I’ll tell you---he is setting up some screwed software that will control all of Japan’s computer systems. The software will make the Japanese people worse that they already are. Do you know how the Japanese people live?

Susan coughed on a piece of bread but washed it down with some tonic. Her stomach was feeling better.

Susan coughed again and swallowed her whole gin and tonic.  The letter was making sense to her.

I am your only friend---but please don’t tell your husband. I am going to help you but I can’t if you say anything to him. I work for a very important secret agency and I need your special help. I’ll tell you more at later time. Please keep me a secret.

I’ll write later,

DEFENDING…DEFENDING…DEFENDING…

********END OF MESSAGE

Susan felt good about knowing something that her husband didn’t know. She now had a friend—it was exhilarating.

At the back of the plane Robert sat in front of Jimmy and Lisa sipping a beer. A loud and somewhat drunk Australian wearing a cowboy hat was sitting next to Robert. He was speaking to an Indian gentleman to his left.           

"Like I sez, mate…the Japanese is beautiful people…especially the women."

"My name is Patel, nice to meet you. I’ve never been to Japan" replied the Indian man.

"Name’s Logan, lived in Japan for ten years, best place in the world, mate" The Aussie lit his cigarette and took in a long drag. He blew out smoke out into a circular ring. It was a practiced exhale.

"Are you married?" asked Patel.

"Sure am—on my second—the first was a bag lunch—Heh!" Logan slapped Robert’s leg and laughed to himself.

"What do you mean by bag lunch? Is that like a lovemarriage or fixed?" asked Patel.

The Aussie turned and looked at Robert as if they were old friends. "The guy wants to know what I mean by bag lunch." The Aussie chuckled again.

"Yeah the first was both-- fixed love I guess.   I knocked her up and her Dad said that if I didn’t marry ‘er he’d shoot me dead. Funny how love of your own ass can move a man’s heart.  Are you married lad?"

Patel shook his head, "No, not yet. "

"Good thing because taking a woman from the US to Japan is like taking a brown bag lunch to a five star smorgasbord. Who needs the bag lunch? Heh!" Robert cringed in anticipation of a slap but it didn’t come.

"The woman are pretty in Japan?" asked Patel.

The Aussie looked at Robert. "Are these guys from India for real? You know what I’m talking about---don’t’ ya?" Robert nodded his head to avoid the discussion.

"I knew you did."

Logan looked back at Patel. "Hey, Patel, listen to me.  Japan is a man’s world—it’s the only one left. I had a forty-year-old baggy ass, pain in the ass, nagging wife that I kept around for eighteen years before I got to Japan.  She drove me nuts for the eighteen years we were married. Then she left me for a lawyer. Found this pretty and nice little twenty-eight year-old who treats me like a king. Been married to my second now for eight happy years. I’ll be forty-eight next month."

"Well I am glad to see you are happy that you had a lovemarriage"

"Happy? Hell yeah. Who wouldn’t" The Aussie smiled to himself took another puff from his cigarette.

Robert finished his drink and turned back to Jimmy and Lisa. "I’m gonna go up front with Mom.  Stay out of trouble guys."

Robert thought about Susan and the things that had changed in the last five years. He closed his eyes and went to sleep rather than speak to Logan or anyone else.

Date:            
A few years back, in 2015 …

Place:             Earth

Location:        Paris

"A raccoon tangled with a 26,000 volt line today. The results blacked out Narita Airport, 1,400 homes and, of course, one raccoon."

–
Narita Airport News
-
Japan

Soon after the JiJi Legion for Peace bombed the Statue of Liberty with a hijacked 747, the US Defense Department put in a policy that all US transcontinental airliners had to use MicroIntel’s Assisted Security System software. The measures put into place after the World Trade Center’s meltdown were deemed ineffective against maniacs turning planes into missiles. MicroIntel Assisted Security Software came at the right time but the marketing became hell after a disgruntled employee named Judd shortened the name to "MI-ASS". Judd worked for ChipTucker, Director of Marketing for MicroIntel.  Judd rushed Chip into signing the memo approving the name as the director hurried from the office, running late for a flight to Paris. Chip, who tried to hide the fact that he was gay, soon realized the mistake but it was too late. Making the best of a bad situation, Chip invented themarketing campaign slogan:  "Using MI-ASS will save
your
ASS."

Gill heard about the campaign in Europe at a dinner meeting with AirBusLockeedMartin (ABLM). Gill knew Chip was gay,but didn’t care.   Chip was the best marketing guy money could buy. Chipalways came out with a winning ad campaign, but this particular campaign concerned Gill.

Gill had Gerard Blutoire his trusted President of MicroIntel European Operations by his side. Across the table sat the ABLM General Manager, Plutz Berger. The restaurant, "Chez Antoine", was owned by a New York wiseguy named Tony who now went by "Antoine" for reasons Tony could never really explain. Tony was a friend of Gerard, and he had set them up in a private dining room. Gill needed government approval in Europe. Governments were a problem, but problems had solutions and John Plutz could fix things; Plutz had contacts with most airlines in Europe.

"So Gill, how will MI-ASS help ABLM?" asked Plutz.

Gill wiped his face with a white napkin. "Excuse me Plutz??"

"My ass, goddamn it!!  What kind of fucking name is that for software?"  Plutz demanded. 

"It’s not a great name but it’s getting a lot of publicity …ah…that’s how the acronym worked out," Gill answered.

Gerard buttered his bread and looked over to Gill and then at Plutz. He knew Plutz was pissed. They were in marketing hell because of the name. Everyone was making jokes. One commercial used a double of Ex-President Schmidt, the first Jew to become President.  He was also the first Jew to get impeached for sleeping with the Defense Secretary’s wife on Air Force One. The non-profit organization, "Friendly United Catholic Kingdom" (known by some as FUCK), created the Schmidt ad. FUCK had Schmidt’s double say: "We used MI-ASS on Air Force One.  It can save your ass.  T take it from me, even if you’re President, if you don’t have safe sex, you can kiss your ass goodbye.."

President Schmidt was suing the organization. The New York Postheadlined the story:

President suing FUCK for slander---What the FUCK is going on?

The terrible jokes continued.

Plutz continued: "Well, at least the technical guys say it’s a great piece of software, but they have one concern."

"What’s that? " asked Gill.

Gill knew the product was the most tested piece of software in history. It would fly all new commercial airplanes, and if there were signs of a plane flying off-course, or had a terrorist onboard, its controls could be overridden from the ground. The pilots only had to monitor the software.  A twelve-year-old could learn it in two hours -- one if he played Nintendo.

John eyed Gill. "What do we do if a terrorist gets control from the ground? That would defeat the whole purpose, wouldn’t it? "

Gill and Gerard both knew this was the biggest concern. MicroIntel had spent millions to calm that fear. The MI-ASS system used the toughest encryption in the US. The software was semi-intelligent. One would need to reprogram it to crash rather than land. Even the ground controllers couldn’t send the plane into a crash pattern. This had been tested and verified hundreds of times. Gill still did not like the question.

"John, we’ve gone over this a million times. The chances are almost nil; there is a higher chance for a plane to get hit by a meteorite."

Plutz shook his head. "Gill, I want some type of insurance policy.  If the software ever gets hacked, ever,I want your word, signedin blood that you will give us the source code.   I want MicroIntel to pay for any and all terrorist damages, litigation, everything -- including any work to repair the software."

Gill looked over toward Plutz. "That could lose us billions in an accident."