Mad Worlds Collide (15 page)

"Please don’t curse in the company car. You know, son, I was born and grew up in Michigan. It’s kind of like keeping track of your roots.  Plus I really like the weatherman Norton.  He’s almost always right, and the MicroIntel F-Caster software sure doesn’t hurt business."  Robert was proud of the F-caster.  It was one of his first projects at MicroIntel. The F-Caster connected into two hundred worldwide satellites. The satellites tracked temperature, wind speed, air pressure and even microscopic amounts of water vapor miles away to give the most accurate 3-D picture of the global weather system. Big Blue did the massive calculations. For short-term weather, the F-Caster could predict snow within inches. Longer predictions were good but the chaos theory was something MicroIntel couldn’t beat, at least not yet. Chaos theory says the flap of a butterfly's wings can alter the long-term weather, saying there is an inherent limit to the atmosphere's predictability, as even the slightest inaccuracy in measuring the initial state causes forecast errors to eventually mushroom.

But the satellites were great for short-term weather.

Jimmy watched his father with contempt. All MicroIntel code was trouble. It tracked everyone’s movements, e-mail, web sites, movie sites, shopping and especially online gaming. He knew his father knew all the time he logged on his WebTele, but Jimmy used a hacker’s tool to counter the snooping. His Dad was smart, but Jimmy had a few tricks too, especially since a guy named Eddy had become a pen pal.

The Michigan News anchor Amanda Fletcher finished the evening news and introduced the weather. "And now we go to the weather with Bob Norton."

Robert smiled. He liked the rough, woodsy, bearded Michigan weatherman Bob Norton, dressed daily in different goofy looking clothes. He also liked how this irritated Amanda, the highly paid NY newscaster who moved to Michigan. She was prim and proper and tried to hide the fact that she hated Norton’s news style, (and Norton himself).

"Thanks Amanda," said Norton ringing a jingle bell and smiling toward Amanda. Amanda pretended to ignore Norton and nervously shuffled some papers on her desk.

Meanwhile Jimmy typed a message to his new friend Eddy.  Eddy wanted to keep his pen pal relationship secret and Jimmy obliged. Jimmy mentioned that they were watching the Michigan News. Eddy and Jimmy corresponded as below:

Eddy>
Jim, want to see me fuck up the weather in Michigan?

Jim>
              That’d be slick, how will you do that? Fcaster’s never been wrong—plus my Dad wrote the shit.

Eddy>
            Will you be pissed if I fuck up tomorrow’s weather forecast?

Jim>
              Way man, that would be cool—it’s only weather—how bout some snow?

Eddy>
            You got it dude!

Jim>
              Give me a snow storm! Gotta go, got GameSmasher 6 on standby.

Eddy>
            Take care Jim --and take what you can get!

Jim>
              Bye

Eddy>
            Bye

Norton was dressed in a red Santa suit with matching red hat and finished talking to an elderly woman in Michigan who had just turned 93. He wished her a happy birthday and then went to a map on the wall. "Now lets pull out the radar maps," said Norton as he magically waved his hand. A radar map came across a blue screen. "The weather in Michigan has been calculated by our MicroIntel F-Caster software to be bringing in…what?  Boys and girls it’s exactly 9 inches of snow for tomorrow morning!  Wow! Yes!  Snow,  wonderful Snow..."

Norton did a little dance done by kids when something good happens. "Glad to be a weatherman with all this new technology by MicroIntel.  It makes me feel like a rough tough weather guy! Nothing like technology and power tools to get a man going! Let’s pass on to the final news to Amanda who may not have F-Caster software and snow but has all our headlines."  Norton jingled a Christmas bell and winked.

Norton did not have much to do and hammed things as much as possible. Amanda resented the fact that Bob Nortons’s ratings were as high as hers were, and all he did was repeat the flawless F-caster satellite linked weather reports and ring stupid bells. Of course, no one except Eddy and Jimmy knew that tonight’s weather might not be so perfect, more like the weather before F-caster when no one was really sure of how things would come out.  Just like life thought Eddy as he made his own weather.  9 inches sounded about right for a small storm.  Oh the power thought Eddy. The power of being able to control the weather forecast gave Eddy a reason to believe in more than work on the WebTele.

Amanda forced a smile. "Thanks Bob, I’ll look forward to the snow tonight. Glad that we still have rough guys working the weather." Amanda smirked over to Bob, looking at his Santa suit. "Nice suit Norton!  And now for today’s sports"

Robert was born in Michigan and watched the news and weather even though it did not matter living in Seattle. It mattered even less in Tokyo since the weather was mild in the winter and burning hot in the summers.

The Norton news relieved stress. The hacking into the AD2100 system had to be solved soon. Nothing with MicroIntel software was working right and Robert wanted out. Just fix that goddamn problem, fix the wife and start the vineyard, Robert repeated the words to himself.

Robert had a feeling that things were not going to go as planned. It was a hunch, but he could be sure. As Robert would say, part of the reason we all keep living our lives the way we do is that we have no fucking idea of what is really going on. But we have to do the best we can with the available information.  Information to Robert was what deals were to Gill.  It was life.

Robert grabbed his backpack to get some chocolate. Inside Robert saw a black plastic bag and that reminded Robert of something important.

"Hey Jimmy…Jimmy!" Robert interrupted Jimmy’s game of GameMaster 6.

"Yeah, sorry.  Just let me close out this set," Jimmy hit the pause button and looked over to his father.

"What’s up Dad?"

"Jimmy, promise me you won’t tell your mother…promise."

"Sure Dad, and I won’t even blackmail you either.  W
azzz up?"
Robert gave Jimmy a look back that said if you try that you’re in some deep shit.

"Only kidding Dad, what’s up, did you cheat on Mom?"

"No! I didn’t cheat on Mom!  Buddy suffocated the neighbor’s dog, and I need your help."

"Suffocated their dog? That’s a good start Pop on being a good neighbor."

"It wasn’t on purpose.  Buddy passed out on top of the neighbors dog Yuki from all the sleeping pills your Mom gave him."

"Sounds kind of pukie to me," said Jimmy smiling. Jimmy received another evil eye from Robert. "Ok Dad, how can I help?"

"Here take this and put it in your backpack." Robert opened up his backpack and pulled out the now stiff and bloated Yuki. Yuki’s eyes bulged out like small gray glass marbles. Jimmy’s face made that yuk! What the fuck is wrong with my Dad look but took the dog and stuffed it in his backpack.

"He looks like a porcupine, how’d he get all blown up?"

"Don’t ask, please."

"He doesn’t smell yet.  When do you think he will start becoming smelly?" asked Jimmy.

"Jimmy…I don’t know, but probably soon. Please get rid of it somewhere, anywhere."

"Gee Dad, no problem, but what should I tell Shun?"

Robert did not like that question. He probably had to tell Shun something, hell, Shun hated the fucking dog
.

"I don’t know.  Have any ideas?"

"How bout we get them a Sony Aibo-3000?"

The Sony Aibo 3000 was a perfect small electronic dog. It would play just like a regular dog and could be specially programmed to learn from whoever pushed a special button in its back. Once the dog’s button was pushed, it mimicked the master’s language and actions, becoming the perfect pet. Some said people would become attached to it just like a live pet. Robert had a friend who had the dog, and even Buddy liked playing with it.  It wasn’t a bad idea but…

"I’m not sure son.  I read an article that only teenagers and mentally unstable adults liked the Aibo.  Let me figure this out later, I’ve got enough shit to worry about today." Robert bit his tongue; he did not want the driver to pick up any cursing, which he’d heard was bad taste in Japan.

"Shun said he wants an Aibo, and speaking of shit Dad, did you know Shun is in the Mafia?"

Robert’s face immediately felt like it was just sprayed with quick drying glue. I killed the fucking Don’s dog? The sound of the Godfather ran through Roberts brain—da…da.. da da da daaaa.  Ah shit, did Shun really hate the dog? Where did Jimmy get this idea?  It had to be bullshit; kids are filled with bullshit.  Hell, kids make bullshit; they’re bullshit experts, manufacturers of bullshit.

"
Jimmy, who told you he was in the Mafia, and how do you know he wants an Aibo?"  It had to be a rumor, thought Robert.  Kids are always talking shit; they’re manufacturers of shit.

"He told me, Dad," said Jimmy, restarting his GameMaster 6 and totally not reading Robert’s concern.

"He told you? What do you mean he told you?"

Great, thought Robert.  I’ve got a mentally unstable, Aibo-loving neighbor.  Jimmy had to be confused.

"I stopped over to see if you were still there.  Mom told me to go there first before she left. Gee Dad, the place smelled like burnt dog skin, and now I see that mutt all blown up.  What happened?"

"Jimmy, stop asking me questions.  How did Shun say he was in the Mafia?"

"Well he didn’t say Mafia…"

"Well see, then maybe he’s not in the Mafia."  Kids talking shit.

"He said Yakuza.  That’s the Japanese Mafia, and he said he had to register with the police and government. "

"Well, I don’t know what Shun was talking about, but I know that the Mafia does not go down town hall and register themselves with the government." Robert’s brain had a vision of Al Capone walking down to the town hall with his machine gun suitcase in hand saying: Hi, I’m Al Capone, I’d like to register as an organized crime boss, yes, that’s Capone, with a C and not K.  My job?  I kill people and run bootleg liquor. How many people in my club?  Well let’s see…Hey, by the way, want to see my violin?  No? Well here it is anyhow! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!

"Dad…Dad!"  Jimmy raised his voice

"Uh, what son?" Robert broke out of a trance.

"We’re at the front gate.  They want to see your pass."

Robert gave the guard his pass and entered into MicroIntel Japan’s headquarters in Kudanshita, Tokyo. Kudanshita was the right place for MicroIntel, on a small hill near the imperial grounds, using up fifteen acres of a military cemetery.  In the cemetery were statues of Japanese war heroes. In the spring the trees blossomed into pink cherry blossoms. It was winter and people were in the cemetery to pay their respects to the dead. There were red tents with orange lanterns and people eating and drinking, people relaxing on a Monday holiday.

"Dad, look at all those huge statues.  There must be a lot of Japanese heroes.  We killed a lot of them Dad, didn’t we?"

Robert looked at the twenty-foot soldier sitting on horseback. "Yes we did Jimmy, and as you know from history they killed a few Americans too."

"Yeah, but now that the US is too strong for anyone.  We can kick anyone’s ass!  Jeez everyone in the world hates us now, Dad.  Do the Japanese hate us too?"

"No, that was a long time ago.  Time heals things and business is the glue of the world." Robert knew Japan liked the US mostly for business.

The driver rode into the MicroIntel compound, skirting the lined up tents. The red tents contrasted with the metal fence separating them from MicroIntel.

"Dad, I want to check out the party.  It seems pretty cool." Jimmy rolled down his window, letting in a cool breeze.

"Sure, but stay out of trouble, I need to get some work done.  Make sure you’re back by five, and make sure you get a pass card or they won’t let you back in."

The limo parked in an enclosed garage and Robert directed Jimmy to a MicroIntel security guard. Jimmy went to get the proper passes. Robert then took an elevator to the main entrance on the fourth floor. Once the doors opened three Japanese men, all dressed in dark gray suits, stood at attention.  They bowed and spoke almost in unison:

"Welcome to MicroIntel Japan, Mr. Davichi." Robert did his best at bowing and then they all stood up straight and smiled. The older gentleman put out his hand. My name is Taro Watanabe but please just call me Mr. T.  I am not as big as your American Mr. T, but I used to watch him as a kid.  He’s a tough guy."

Robert never understood why the Japanese would pick names of American movie or television stars. It drove him nuts, it drove him even more nuts when someone said, "you know, you look just like Michael Douglas", or "Mr. Davichi, did you know you resemble Harrison Ford, except you’re a little fatter" etc.

"Oh, I hear you’re just as tough as the Mr. T, but you write great Japanese versions of MicroIntel software to do your battles," said Robert smiling.

"That’s not true.  My team writes the software.  I just try to make sure it all works.  Speaking of things working, do you have any ideas on the recent problems with the AD2100 software?"

He couldn’t wait to ask that one. This was not good. The Japanese usually spent half a day on niceties, but no, not at MicroIntel!  These guys were all picked because they had balls of steel.

"No, not yet Mr. T, that’s why I’m here, to figure out what’s going on."

"Great, Gill wants us to go out tomorrow night for dinner.  He’ll be getting into Tokyo late tonight."

"He’s flying to Japan? Are you sure?" 

What the hell was Gill coming out to Japan for? Surely he had wanted me to solve this problem, thought Robert.

"Yes, Mr. Davichi, he was worried about you and the flight.  He said he wanted to be here and we could not contact you yesterday, so we thought we’d just tell you today.  Let’s go out to lunch today and I’ll update you on the project."

That was Gill all right, flying off to a client on a moment’s notice, choosing the most important battles, and going gangbusters to get things done. The first Sunday that Robert takes off in months his boss comes looking for him while he relaxes in the park. So much for a life at MI!  Trying to find time for a
normal
life was impossible. The job of a professor at some small university was looking better and better; then he’d have time for the vineyard.