Peace Out (The Futures Trilogy Book 1) (2 page)

ANNA AND SCOTT

The latest horror movie from the Zimmerman brothers targets the sanctity of Peace Out. Instead of going to meet their Maker, the victims awake in a mad doctor’s experiments chamber. The typical mayhem ensues. The movie has provided a windfall to a stable of nearly retired actors, all happy to take the paycheck and die in glorious gouts of blood. Lorelei McClain is the eye candy as a terminally ill college student who breaks free of her bonds and escapes into the underground labyrinth, rescuing octogenarians along the way. All part of the doctor’s plan, of course. Played with gleeful abandon by Cooper Smithson, he brings a level of controlled insanity to the role that is truly terrifying. There are no plot twists or surprises, but Rubbed Out is entertaining from start to finish.

The controversy over Rubbed Out has been greater than the movie itself. Peace Out successfully sued the producers over the use of their name and trademarks in the film. The resulting edits pushed the release back by two months and Rubbed Out missed the potential box office gains of an October release. Still, Rubbed Out is a change of pace from the Oscar bait and holiday themed films of December. Just don
’t take Gramps. He might change his mind about Peacing Out!

The Film Goddess, Review of Rubbed Out, opening 12/15/2035

“Where are you from?” asked the guy to her left.

“Right here,” Anna said. “I live across town.”

“I’m Scott,” he said. “I go to school in Palo Alto.”

Just say Stanford, you prick, Anna thought. We
’re all the top here. She gave him a second look and decided he was cute enough to play nice. “I go to school in New Jersey,” she said.

“I
’m pre-med. You?” he asked.

“Psych,” she responded.

“Are you shrinking me now?”

“Of course,” Anna laughed and smiled. Scott grinned back. He would be a fun summer fling. Beach days, movies, maybe a road trip to Vegas with a few other interns. She looked around the room to make sure Scott was the one she wanted. In high school, Anna
’s brains had been a liability and she hadn’t quite grown into her lithe figure. After a year of education at the hands and mouths of some of the most refined young gentlemen at Princeton, Anna had realized her power.

“Verdict?”

“You’ll do. For now.” Anna said it with such charm.

Scott laughed.

“Interns,” said the lady in a white coat and carrying a clipboard. The young men and women came to attention. “I’m Nina Jenkins, administrative coordinator for our summer program.” She took a brief roll call and handed out badges and blue coats. “These coats indicate that you are members of our summer program,” she said. “You will wear them at all times with your badge on the right front pocket.” She tapped her own badge. “You each have been paired with a mentor. Half of every day will be spent shadowing them and learning from observation. They might even let you help. Half of each day will be the grunt work that all of you will complain about. But I can promise you, those are the best times. I remember those times fondly, because my future husband and I bonded over our hatred of paperwork.” Nina smiled. “Look around you, because in twenty years of existence, the intern program has produced fourteen marriages. You could be sitting next to your future spouse.”

They all laughed.

Nina checked her watch. She grabbed a stack of tablets and passed them around. “You have a few videos to watch on sexual harassment and appropriate attire. After that, your mentors will be by to collect you. These tablets are yours for the summer. Don’t lose them.” Nina picked up a remote control and lowered a screen. “You also have forms to complete for your paychecks, as well as the non-disclosure and employment agreements. There is a schedule in there too. We meet back here at 4:30 for a discussion of the day and so I can answer any questions. The mixer starts at 5:30 in the employee dining room. The Director will make a few remarks.” Nina turned on the movie. A blue screen appeared and cheesy instrumental music played. “Congratulations to all of you. Welcome to Peace Out!” Nina said. She left them, her heels clacking on the tile floor.

The students dutifully watched the droning man describe acts of sexual harassment. “Is he teaching us how to do it or how not to do it?” Scott whispered in Anna
’s ear.

“What is cupping, anyway?” she whispered back.

“Must be something people used to do fifty years ago, because I think that was when this video was made!” Scott said this in a normal voice and some of the other interns laughed. “Seriously, we should offer to make a new one. That would be a fun summer project.”

A girl in the front row of tables and chairs turned around. “I don
’t know about you,” she said, “but I’d like to get an offer at the end of the summer. Yes, the video is lame. But we are supposed to watch it. Fill out your forms if you’re that bored.”

Scott looked at Anna as if to gauge how he should react. Anna didn
’t want to be with the class clown or the class asshole. She shrugged. “Sorry,” Scott said. He touched his tablet and skimmed the contents. The sexual harassment video seemed to last forever.

Nina popped back in to switch to the appropriate attire video. “You
’d be surprised,” she said, “at how many young ladies used show up in what can only be called club wear. And at how many young men thought flip flops counted as business casual.”

This video was even worse than the last. Anna learned that her skirt length must be no more than three inches above the knee. She wondered if Nina had a tape measure stashed in her office. Probably.

When the videos were over, the interns signed dotted lines, initialed pages, gave thumbprints, and tapped in bank account numbers for direct deposit.

Nina came back to show them how to submit their forms and then the mentors started to arrive. The girl in the front was an engineering student, destined for the crematory and energy turbines. Scott was scooped up by an unexpectedly attractive doctor. Anna frowned, then relaxed at the wedding band on the woman
’s finger and the strands of grey in her hair.

“Anna?” A man in his early thirties came into the room. She stood up, putting on her blue coat and name badge. The man held out his hand and she shook it. “I
’m Dr. Cleager, but you can call me Patrick.”

Anna took in his tailored blazer, fabulous shoes, and speech cadence. She was glad. A woman might have viewed her as competition. A straight man might have had difficulty viewing her as anything but a hot piece of ass to eyeball for a summer, sexual harassment video notwithstanding. “Nice to meet you,” she said.

“Let’s get some lunch,” Patrick said, leading her down the hall. “Aren’t those videos god-awful?” he asked. “I don’t know why Nina keeps trotting them out every year. I think it has become tradition. It isn’t like Peace Out can’t afford to make new ones.”

“I still don
’t know what cupping is,” Anna said.

Patrick laughed, “Oh honey, we are going to get along great.” He took her into a large room with lofted ceilings and wall-to-wall windows overlooking the ocean.

“This room is amazing,” Anna commented.

Patrick stopped at a podium in the front of the room and touched the tablet mounted there. He flipped to the right page and initialed his name. Anna found a tab labeled “Interns” and followed suit.

“Lunch is free, of course,” Patrick said, “One of the perks of working for Peace Out. But they do need to keep track of usage. Everything is really very good, very fresh. But they are the worst at ethnic food. Sometimes I just want some pho, you know?”

Anna helped herself to a square of lasagna and a spinach salad with fresh strawberries, candied pecans, and Gorgonzola.

“The dessert table is over there,” Patrick said. Assorted cookies surrounded a large chocolate cheesecake on a glass cake stand. “Between that and the barista on seven, you will gain ten pounds this summer.”

“I have the metabolism of a fifteen year old boy,” Anna said. “Good genes.”

“Wait until you hit thirty,” he said. “It is all downhill from there.”

“You look great,” Anna said honestly.

“There is an employee gym on three. It has a pool, machines, weights, the works. I go every morning.”

“Nina didn
’t mention that,” Anna said.

“It
’s in your tablet,” Patrick said. “There is a perk sheet. A service to pick up dry-cleaning. Floor seats to basketball games. A box at the Disney Concert Hall, the Staples Center, you name it. More senior employees get priority of course, but tickets do trickle down to the interns. Full-time employees have free house-cleaning twice a month.” Patrick took a sip of iced tea.

“That sounds amazing,” Anna said.

“It is,” Patrick said. “But Facilitation is a demanding job. Emotionally draining and stressful. Many people burn out. They can’t handle it.”

“How long have you been here?” asked Anna.

“I’ve been at Peace Out LA for six years,” he said. “At some point you have to compartmentalize. You have to accept that you do the best that you can do. Then you go home for the day and leave it all behind.” Patrick polished off his salad. “What the hell,” he said. “That cheesecake is pretty good. Split a piece with me?”

“Sure,” said Anna. “Want some coffee?”

“Black, please,” he said. Patrick got the cheesecake while Anna got the coffee. A woman in black pants and white button-down shirt came by to clear the dishes. Anna saw some of the other interns with their mentors. She looked around for Scott but didn’t see him.

Back at the table, Patrick cut the cheesecake in half and put it onto two plates. Anna set a mug of coffee by him. “Thanks,” he said.

“Did you start your career here?” Anna asked as she sat back down.

“I did,” he said. “I interned just like you. I went to USC for my bachelors and UCLA for my doctorate. I did a fellowship at Peace Out Raleigh and then a residency at Peace Out headquarters in Bellingham. But I had to come home to California. Been here ever since.” Patrick stuck his fork into the cheesecake. “Enough about me, though. Tell me what isn
’t on your resume.”

“Let
’s see,” said Anna. “I grew up in Pasadena. I have a younger brother named Orson after Orson Welles. He is sixteen. My parents are old movie buffs and collect vintage posters. My dad is a mix of just about everything and my mom is as white as they come. My greatest regret is that I don’t speak a second language so I’m taking Spanish and Mandarin in addition to my psych courses. I played drums in a terrible girl band during high school. We thought we were going to be famous,” Anna said. “I hate cold weather, but I love Princeton... I like almost all kinds of cheese?” She laughed. “I’m rambling. Is this what you really want to know?”

“Sure,” Patrick said.

“What about you? What isn’t on your resume?” she asked.

“I was born and raised in Long Beach,” he said. “I met my husband Drake at church shortly after moving back to LA. It wasn
’t quite love at first sight, but almost. We have two kids. I’ll show you pictures later. Drake stays home with them. He is a carpenter and makes the most phenomenal furniture. He only does commissioned pieces now. He comes by with the youngest for lunch on Fridays. You’ll meet them. I am a rabid basketball fan, and manage to get floor seats to the Lakers way more often than I should. My husband calls himself a basketball widower during March Madness. I also like almost all kinds of cheese. There is a fromagerie about a mile from here with the most delicious sandwiches. We’ll have to go. They also have twenty dollar bags of bits and pieces from all the leftover chunks that are too small to sell individually.”

“I
’m in!” Anna said.

Patrick checked his watch. “Time to go, Anna,” he said. “My next appointment is at 1:30.”

“What do I do?” Anna asked.

“Watch and listen,” he said. “Please don
’t react. Whatever happens, you do not register shock or surprise. The only expression you are allowed to have is one of empathy and understanding.”

“Got it,” she said.

MARTY AND JENNY

I met with Harvey Samuels today. He wants to turn Peace Out into a reality show. Our Center has been open for a week and already Hollywood has come calling. He promised that it would be a very dignified approach, respectful of the intensely personal nature of choosing to Peace Out. But I could see him salivating at the thought of televising the deaths of our applicants, the tears of their families. It sickened me.

The last thing we need is that kind of publicity. I will not allow Peace Out to be turned into a spectacle. We have fought so hard and for so long to gain acceptance here. To be allowed to Peace Out here
—our home, our country.

He told me he had the permission of a dozen individuals and couples ready to let him film them. I told him that while he may have their permission, he would never have ours. Whatever they want to do before they come to our Center is up to them. But I will not let cameras on our property. He offered money. I laughed in his face. With our fortune in the trusts, Peace Out will never have to take a dime from the likes of Harvey Samuels.

I miss you. Wrap things up and come on home.

Email from Daniel Keller, Bellingham, Washington, USA to Elizabeth Keller, Zurich, Switzerland, 5/19/2027.

The microwave dinged. Marty Lawson opened the door and pulled out the tray. He peeled back the plastic cover, cursing under his breath when the steam burned his fingertips. Sucking on them, he went to the refrigerator. It contained four eggs, a door of expired condiments and the remains of a twelve-pack of Miller Light.

The wan light of the refrigerator turned Marty
’s face a bilious shade of yellow, the wrinkles and speckles on his balding pate becoming an alien landscape. He grabbed a beer.

Marty took his dinner into the den. He set his beer on a needlepointed coaster then lowered himself into his armchair. Marty reached for the remote and flipped on the television. The Falcons were playing. Marty hadn
’t missed a game for nearly sixty years, no matter what. He and Diana had watched the play-offs from the delivery room, and their son Josh had been born during overtime.

Blowing on his dinner, Marty stuck a fork into the gravy coated meatloaf patty and dipped it in the neighboring mashed potatoes. He washed it down with a sip from his beer then ate all the rubbery carrots. Diana would want him to eat his vegetables. He groaned at a bad call. “Damn refs,” he muttered.

The doorbell rang. Marty muted the television. He hunkered down in his chair and continued to eat.

The doorbell rang again. It was followed by knocking.

“Mr. Lawson? Are you there?” The voice was young and female.

Marty ignored it.

“Mr. Lawson? Look, it’s Jenny from next door. I’m doing my volunteer hours for school. I made you cookies. Chocolate chip.”

Marty looked at the congealed berry compote and soggy crust in the last compartment of his frozen dinner. He paused the game. “Coming,” he called. He opened the door a crack.

“Hi Mr. Lawson,” Jenny said brightly. She held a plate of cookies. “Can I come in?”

“No,” he said, “but I
’ll take the cookies.” He opened the door a little wider.

“I need volunteer hours,” she said, holding the plate back.

“Lemme see the form,” Marty grunted. She handed it over. He wrote the number 20 in the hours column and signed. “Here you go. Thank you for your support of the elderly.” He took the plate and shut the door in her face.

Munching on a most excellent and still slightly warm cookie, Marty wished he had a glass of milk to go with it. He settled for his beer and put the game back on. Josh had been a little older than Jenny when he died. He had been a handsome one. Probably would have dated a pretty little thing like Jenny. Losing Josh nearly broke up Marty
’s marriage. But in the end, he and Diana realized that all they had in this life was each other. Then after forty five years she had to go and leave him. Marty still hadn’t quite forgiven her.

“Come with me,” she had pleaded. “We
’ll do it together.”

“If you think I
’m going to one of those damned Peace Out Centers, you don’t know me,” he snapped back.

“Look at us,” Diana said. “We
’re dying piece by piece here. There is no one to take care of us when we can’t take care of each other anymore.”

“Which is why you want to leave me?” he countered.

“I don’t want to leave you,” she said. “I want us to leave together. To exit this world on our own terms.”

“My terms are simple,” he said. “I
’ll be here till the devil drags me away.”

Diana sighed. “Will you at least join an Enclave? It would make me feel much better.”

“About leaving me?”

“Marty. I have dementia. It isn
’t so bad yet, but it is going to be. I want to leave this earth while I still know who I am. While I still love you.”

“I
’m not joining an Enclave just so you can Peace Out without guilt. When they put the bag over your head or needle in your arm or whatever the fuck they are going to do to you, I want you to hate yourself. I want you to know that your husband is going to be alone because you can’t stand living anymore. Because you are too selfish to stick it out with me.”

Diana paled. “You don
’t mean it.”

“The hell I don
’t.” He was using words as a bludgeon. “Why Peace Out, Diana? If you want to die, I’ve got razor blades in the bathroom. Hell, we have a dozen bottles of meds. I bet if you took all of them, it would solve all your problems.”

“I
’m not talking to you when you’re like this. It’s pointless.” She left the room. Marty had gotten solidly drunk and spent the evening listening to old records. When he came to bed at 2 AM, she was asleep.

The next morning, he woke to the sound of Diana in the shower. He pulled on his robe and got the coffee going. He pulled up the news on his tablet and put two frozen waffles into the toaster. Diana joined him in the kitchen, digging a spoon into her daily yogurt. She finished, then put on her coat.

“I’m going to the store,” she said. “Do you need anything?”

“I
’m almost out of shaving cream,” he said.

“OK.” She started to leave.

“Wait,” Marty said. Diana stopped and turned around. “Everything I said last night... It is because I love you. I can’t lose you too.” They rarely mentioned Josh. After years of grieving, they found it easier to act as though he had never existed.

“I
’m already lost Marty,” Diana said. “Will you please let me go?”

“Till death do us part.” Marty said bitterly.

“Yes,” she said. “A death of my choosing. Nothing you say or do will make me change my mind. If this is what finally destroys us, then that is the way it has to be.” She sighed. “But I’d rather have you with me, holding my hand, telling me to give Josh a hug when I see him on the other side.”

If there is another side, Marty thought. He looked at his wife
’s face, searching for anything, an opening that he could take to convince her not to Peace Out. He saw nothing. “How long do we have?” he asked.

“Three months,” she said. “There is a wait-list at the Center.”

“I never did take you to Paris,” he said. “How is our bank account?”

“We can afford to eat at a few nice restaurants,” Diana smiled, relieved at his acceptance of the situation.

“Book it,” he said.

“Will you join an Enclave?”

“I promise,” he said.

Marty had broken that promise. He did go with Diana to Atlanta
’s Peace Out Center. He held her close while her heart stopped beating. The Facilitator had even pulled up a listing of local Enclaves that matched up with what Marty could afford. There were multiple Enclaves actively seeking men. A few that included free prescriptions for a variety of tumescents. Marty was more than a little put off by the thought of becoming an elderly stallion to a stable of retired brood mares. He decided that he would rather live in the house they all had shared.

Diana had handled all of their finances and left a file for him with their passwords and account information. He was pleased to see that there was enough left for him to live comfortably for at least twenty years. He doubted he would be around that long. Historically, Lawson hearts tended to give out at around eighty.

Marty looked down at the single cookie left on the plate in his hands. His stomach hurt. Damn girl with her damned cookies, he thought. The game was over. The Falcons won. He logged onto his fantasy football league and engaged in a spirited discussion with a few friends. Marty considered them friends, even though they had never met. He was also fairly certain that Jason16 was actually 16. No matter. He knew his football.

Marty fell asleep in his chair, snoring. The last cookie dried out overnight. He would still eat it for breakfast in the morning.