Remember Me (34 page)

Tom still had the smile glued on his face. I had become very adept at reading the true emotions lurking behind his eyes. He was mad, very mad. His eyes never left mine as he waited for me to say something. It was his play at gaining superiority, trying to reestablish himself as no less than an equal at the table.

Stebben broke the silence, “Tom, I was trying to get a feel from Peter on what avenue to pursue first for production. I know you and he have pretty much set out the roadmap, but I wanted to be more clear on potential conflicts and make sure we are protected on the backend from competitors and spies.”

Tom finally let his gaze fall, and he turned toward Stebben.

“The chip is going to be the ticket, everything else revolves around it. We always have to stay one step ahead of the

competition…”

Stebben interrupted, “That’s exactly what I said not ten minutes ago.”

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Tom looked agitated by being cutoff. I added my own two

thoughts worth, “I know many other companies are working on their own chips. We need to market our first one and make sure it is at least two-steps ahead of anything they are working on. The biggest score for E.M.J. is locking-in a highly preferred customer, a major player in the technology boom. Then it will be all about surviving the onslaught of buy-out attempts and copycats.”

“You believe there will be spies and espionage, just like

“Mission Impossible?” Stebben asked.

“I’m counting on it,” I said with a smirk. “The best publicity in the world is the news that someone is trying to copy you.

I plan on using everything to our best advantage. Next to the development of our product line, marketing is right up there.”

The waitress set down three large ales, one by each of us,

“The mushrooms will be out in a couple of minutes. Anything else I can get you gentleman?” she asked us, but her attention was clearly directed at Tom.

“Not at the moment,” I responded. As she slipped away, I noticed that she let her arm brush Tom’s shoulder. He watched her walk away, back towards the bar. The blood was heading to my face as my internal anger escalated. I grabbed my beer and downed half of it in one long swallow in an attempt to put out the fire.

“Thirsty?” Tom asked.

“More than I care to admit,” I said. I was betting that Tom had read the expression on my face. He didn’t respond, and after holding my gaze for an instant he looked away. He was the type of guy who was always going to get “hit on” by the women. I could only do so much. I drank the rest of my beer and willed the bad thoughts away.

The rest of the evening ended up being pretty constructive. The three of us brainstormed ideas and ate two more S 255 S

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plates of mushrooms. I quit after the second beer. Tom and Stebben were each on their third beer when I finally called it a night. After excusing myself and telling them I’d see them in the morning, I made a quick stop at the restroom before paying the current tab at the cash register. I left the two of them alone to solve the remaining issues for world conquest.

Glancing back at the table, I watched Tom ogling the waitress.

“What a creep,” ran through my head as I slipped out into the cold night air.

The big breakthrough happened on November twenty-fourth at two-fifteen in the afternoon. I was present, as was Tom, Mark and Samuel, when Stebben plugged my phone into the new charger. The phone was off, but it made the familiar chirping sound, signaling it was now in charging mode.

Stebben looked at my face and recognized the smile I wore,

“Good to go,” he said.

“Good to go!” I responded.

I had made it clear in the contracts that each of them had signed when hired: there would never be any discussion on where the phone came from, or how I came to have it in my possession. I saw the question, continually in their eyes and on the tip of their tongues. I’m pretty sure they had many interesting discussions about it behind my back. They would never ask me directly. Their fate would be the loss of their job.

Each one of them understood the greater benefits of not asking. They would get to work with cutting-edge technology and be a part of something intriguing.

It was two days before Thanksgiving, and there was one

phone call I desperately wished I could make with my fully charged phone. I wanted to call my Amy and tell her how

much I loved her.

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Say: “I do.”

July 16th 1988

Sometimes I believe
God has a patronizing sense of humor.

I could picture him sitting on a throne, like a wise-old grandfather, trying to explain to his grandchildren the inner-workings of the world. He would do the best he could to use words the little ones could understand, but most of it would still go over their heads as they continued to ask, “Why?” It was exactly how I felt when I was scrunched between Tom, Stebben, Mark and Samuel as they debated the semantics of micro-processors, extraction techniques and the complex circuitry nature of my phone.

As far as I was concerned, I was still a product of the next century. I relied on the phone to make my life easier. I didn’t really care how it did what it did as long as it did it. And when it didn’t, I would toss it away and get a new one. I’d long moved past the time when I needed to understand the basic workings of a computer and the language they ran on. Turn it on and use it—that was what I knew, and it was much the same for the others that lived in that future with me.

Last November, after the power adapter had charged my

phone, I looked at all the excited faces waiting for me to turn it on. For Stebben and his crew, it was Christmas come early.

To be safe, I removed my Sans Disc Card so they couldn’t see all of my pictures on the phone. I did let them listen to several of the MP3 songs, only to get an idea of the formatting S 257 S

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of the card and the sound capabilities of the phone, and only songs from my collection of oldies. My oldies and their hits of today—I nearly laughed out loud at the thought.

“Sixteen gigabytes…un…totally…believable,” Samuel

spat across the table to Mark as each of them in turn handled the mini-memory card from my phone.

The phone itself had storage space of one gigabyte, and I couldn’t help smiling as they ooed and ahed over the memory disc. I thought Stebben was going to lose it when Mark touched the screen and one of my games loaded, complete

with obnoxious sound effects. It was exactly at that moment that I had a huge revelation. I knew where we could expand to capture the perfect market share and cement an unstoppable future. The gaming world could be ours to conquer!

My distrust in Tom grew by the day. The last time I’d seen Amy, she’d seemed really somber. Nearly three weeks had

passed between her visits to E.M.J. I wondered if she was seeing the same changes in Tom that I had been noticing. I once felt I was doing her a favor, now I realized it had been pure selfishness on my part. In my world it had taken Tom years to gain prestige and prominence within his company. For all my grand plans, I’d put him on the fast-lane to success. That night when he had charged into the bar, he’d tried getting Stebben drunk after I left so he’d spill what he knew; only the tables had been reversed. Stebben had a higher tolerance to alcohol than even Tom did. To Stebben, Tom had been quite condescending about me and also disrespectful to Amy. Stebben shared with me most of their conversation. When he told me about some of the comments Tom had made about Amy, he put a hand

on my arm and said, “Let it go, he’s mostly a braggart.” Even Stebben could tell how much I cared about Amy. I was grateful for his friendship. I was going to have to watch my back more than ever. It would be wise to be extremely careful with what S 258 S

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I did and what I said. I had to protect Amy any way I could.

Stacy was more than the perfect lawyer; she was the gracious sister she never was when I was the younger brother. I trusted no one like I did her. Together we had connived and hatched many plans. She had already begun the process of establishing multiple trusts and accounts worldwide, even before I felt that I should. I had never been one that needed much money in my life. To me, the simple things were reward enough. To have multi-millions spread across the world caused me to shake my head in utter disbelief. I couldn’t have written a novel with anymore intrigue woven in to it than what my life had turned out to be like. My gut told me that E.M.J. would be very successful. It also told me that I would someday lose it.

All would come to pass; it was just a matter of time.

Tom was always on the watch for a chance to get close to any private conversation. There were many times I swore he would follow me to my front doorstep. Like Judas, he was going to betray me. I was more certain than ever he would still do it to Amy, regardless of all that I had tried to accomplish.

Money is a powerful motivator. Tom’s eyes would sparkle with dollar signs every time one of the crew messed around with my phone. Stebben had installed hidden security cameras and backdoor monitoring programs on our “state of the art” computer systems. I laughed when he would talk about software monitoring codes. “Hackerdom,” was already beginning in

this time. With the proliferation of the internet about to explode, the world would most certainly change—and not for the better.

I thought about all that would transpire over the next

twenty years. Trust was only what the highest bidder could afford to pay. Corporate scandals, terrorist threats, and lack of personal privacy were going to become the norm. Only

one person ever got to hear my prognostications, and that was S 259 S

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Stacy. She’d convinced me to start writing a diary of sorts.

Anytime something from the future would cross my mind,

I’d jot it down and keep it locked in the safe with the phone.

Stacy, Stebben, and I were the only ones with the combination.

Stacy had to know as much as I could tell her in case…in case I didn’t make it.

The only time I’d ever seen her cry was at my wedding

to Amy. It didn’t happen at Tami’s and mine—only with Amy.

What she had told me that day, as she hugged me, always stayed with me, “I’ve never seen you look so happy!” It made me cry too. I understood what she meant. I’d seen the same look on so many other people’s faces during my life. I always wanted what they had and never quite understood what it was that was missing from mine. If you asked me, I would have always said I was happy. Happy is still a long way from contented—being at peace with one’s own place in the world. Contented people knew where they belonged and not only accepted it, they embraced it. Amy brought that feeling of contentment out in me.

Christmas was happy and lonely. I gave so much and tried to be a “Good Samaritan” in any way I could. I doled out nearly a million dollars to local charities—completely anonymous.

Remembering special events in my time, like the donor who put American Eagle Gold coins in the Salvation Army’s red kettles, I tried to make life interesting and special for others.

On Christmas Eve day I had a surprise. Amy stopped by my apartment in West Des Moines. She had a beautiful Border collie puppy with her. I asked her if it was a gift from Tom, and she laughed at me.

“It’s for you, stupid,” she humorously sang at me. “I believe it’s time you dump the current digs and find a house to live in. You’re going to need lots of space, and maybe a couple of sheep to keep Emma here happy.”

I felt like a brick truck had just unloaded on me. Emma

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was the nickname we called Emily. It had been christened as such by her older sister and eventually picked-up by the whole family. Only Emma wasn’t anymore she had become Carter,

who I knew very little of. Only moments before Amy had arrived, I’d been gazing at the family picture in my wallet. It was the last picture taken, when all of us had been together for the Fourth of July, the year before I disappeared. Before Amy had arrived, I was already well on my way to a Christmas stupor.

I just hadn’t gotten out the booze yet, but I was already deep into my regrets.

“Pete, are you alright?” Amy asked as quiet as a church

mouse.

I felt sick to my stomach, and I’m sure my face was just as green, “Don’t…feel…so good. Excuse me,” I said. I turned and half-sprinted to the bathroom. I closed the door, splashed cold water on my face and sat down on the edge of the tub.

After a few deep breaths I began to regain my composure.

Amy gently knocked on the door, “Should I take Emma

away and leave,” she sounded disappointed and distraught as she asked.

“No, just give me a minute or two,” I called out, doing my best to sound somewhat more cheerful. “Something didn’t set right with me, must have been the peppers I had in my omelet this morning.”

“Are you sure? I can always come back later.” Her voice

was once again more cheerful.

“Positive, I’ll be right out.”

“Okay.”

I sat for another minute on the cold ceramic surface of the tub. I pushed thoughts of Emily aside and tried to concentrate on the moment. Rising up, I opened the door. Amy was down on her hands and knees in the living room. The dog was on her back and soaking up all the attention Amy was giving her.

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Her tongue was lolling out one side of her mouth, and her tail flipped joyously from side-to-side as Amy rubbed her tummy. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling, and I got down on the floor with the both of them. What Amy took for tears of happiness on my face were in reality the tears of pain and loss as I held tightly to the memories of what once was.

“It’s okay,” she said as she hugged me tight. “I’m so glad you like Emma.”

Though my voice was choked and it came out more in a

mumble, I told her the truth, “I love her!”

Not only had Amy brought me the dog, which I wouldn’t