A season that was

This story is not from a far away time. Number of cars still exceeded buses. And number of buses still exceeded the number of tube. Neither is this story from far away future because Sakura still bloomed around the city and old wooden bridges could still be walked upon.

During this time close to one park which was blessed with season’s best Cherry blossom views. A man named Mikmac was sitting and enjoying his cups of tea all while counting the number of sakura flowers over the tree next to the the garden gate. The wind was mild and sun’s heat soared by an umbrella of clouds. He had already counted till forty and was a bit distressed as his eyes were soaring.

 It was then that he noticed that there was a girl sitting next to him and looking at him curiously. To be true, he already knew the girl was there but since he could not manage not to look at him. He had started counting the flowers. But now he had no choice but to answer her gaze.

 ”A good morning to you, miss”, he bowed and questioned politely, “Do I interest you anyway”
“Why do you ask so?” asked the girl.

“Probably, because I have been sitting here since an hour and you have not paid a moment of attention to Me.” she pointed at the cherry blossom tree, “What interests you in them?”

“They are the cherry tree, miss” He said shyly “They hold stories”.
“And do I not?” she asked with a stick in her voice.
MikMac was taken aback by such a straight question.

“I know not what to say”, first he tried to look her directly in eyes but found them scarily pretty. He stole his gaze away.
“I know not what to say. Can I offer you a cup of tea?” he asked searching corners.

Was his discomfort not visible? Were his shaking hands, the sudden jerks of his head not visible to all? Did he not understand the anxiety filling his aura?  We know not of him but the girl’s flooding eyes did tell that it was a visible color.

She politely declined, “No thank you, I must leave. Please do enjoy your counting of the sakura. They rarely flower so pretty”. So said she stood from the chair and took her leave.

The cafe was seven steps below the road. The hurry in her steps was visible even to the wind which shed sakura flowers as if to fill the love her steps drained from the scene. Once she had distanced herself from the cafe, and the garden was out from sight she switched her phone on and dialed a number.

The voice on the other side was as frozen as pine in winter. It spoke with calm “I suppose you have already met him?” The answer was not in words but in sobs flowing like waves touching and returning over a shore.

“Had I not warned you of this meeting?” The woman at the other end inquired “Tell me your location I will send a car”
“Thank you”, she replied, pausing to fend her tears off, “I will wait for the bus”.

Alas, but the bus stop too was sheltered under a sakura tree, flooded with lovers still able to recognize each other. Alas, for her sobs were now as loud as the engines growling around. Alas, for the tree did not shed even a single flower down into her lap.

The talking guns

At a time clocked only in the memories of wind, at a place known only to the sand. The quiet of the night was about to be breached. The signs that new gear was coming were clearly visible with robots laying down and anchoring the helipad mats. The only thing left to do was to fix the LEDs.

The chopping noise finally broke the silence. And after it went away, the whole night was filled with the music of gun fire, normal celebration procedures. The quiet of night returned soon afterwards. Desert was desert again.

Come morning, the daily breakfast chatter held lesser accounts of yesterday's sex and more about the new gear that had arrived. Every body was boasting about the guns that had come, some said they fired light out from their nozzles, some talked of invisible bullets, while others of noise less bombs, some even said the new guns talked.

The whole chatter was so strange that even the quieter once held their ears open. The rumors grew stranger every day. It was only a week after that strange landing that a few men belonging to the most ruthless teams were called. They were given the new machines, for hours they stayed inside the caves. There they received instructions for their new assignment.

Soon everybody had started preparing and loading the gear. They were to attack the nearest village and take it over. The orders were clear to annihilate the whole population. It was also told that the newly arrived miracles were up at front.

Every one was excited about the raid. The village was still a few miles away when they were instructed to halt. A line of warriors sitting on horses was standing in front. A few were strong built, a few looked old and few looked like children.  A battle was about to start. The lead team got out their jeeps and started fixing their guns.

Once the enemy was in range they all started their customary prayers "O lord! Pardon us for we want to fight those men hand in hand but they too have weapons. Thus we have no choice", they added, "I wish not to press the trigger more then once, which is to save my own life but even If I do it for once the evil in my hands does not stop and fires infinite more; O lord! Pardon me"

Said so, the men in front removed the lock of the guns and waited for a signal. Soon the men started racing towards them. It was then that the received the signal and they pressed the trigger. Putt! One bullet fired.

Strange; the men thought, they pressed the trigger again, Putt.

Everybody checked his gun, fount it was still locked. He removed the lock and fired but again it fired only once. Every time they checked their guns they found it in lock position. So many times they tried but every-time the gun automatically returned to the lock position. Soon they were pushing the trigger like mad men. But it was not enough.

The time soon ran out, the team raced backwards to join the contingent. Some in hurry left their stupid guns behind.

Soon the rocks had changed position. Several men over the horses had taken position behind the rocks.
It was then that one boy found one of those strange guns still standing on the rock.
As he approached the gun, it talked. "Stay away or I will shoot"

The boy fell back in horror. His eyes were still popping out of his eyes, when it saw the barrel of the gun pointing towards his face.
"What are you doing here?" the gun talked again.
The boy probably had a lion's heart. He did not run scream or panic but said "those men are trying to destroy our village, they are evil men, they plan to kill us all"
"strange! the men holding me was saying, he did not want to press the trigger more then once but kept on pressing it again-n-again" "why?" the gun was addressed the boy.
"They are liars, they are evil. They want to kill us then they will go to our village and kill everybody there".

"Evil, the word I understand", the gun said, "Do me a favor can you pick me up and reverse my direction."

The boy was not a scared kid. He was most happy to change the direction away from his face.
Once done. The gun said "now do yourself a favor, go to other gun over at our left and give it the code I tell you"
Ok! The boy said and ran away towards his horse.

What happened! The commander of the fleet asked. Why are you retreating? Where are those expensive
guns?
The guns are defective. They wouldn't fire we have been cheated.

That was the last word which he could say as a bullet silenced him. Soon a flurry of bullets started piercing through their outfit.

Very soon, the jeeps started retreating but even that could not protect them from being wiped out.

The seventeenth Rebellion

English political institutions were on the verge of disappearing from the stage. The Grip of the secret service, an ever visible reality, was a dog lash tightening over each and every neck across the Great London Expansion. The new western council management services or simply put NWCMS had the mandate to monitor the eleven hundred million Europeans citizens.
To get the parliament out of the game, The New Western Council had just declared the European parliament as the greatest terrorist threat to the free world. English parliament, at first, tried to interfere but once half of her members disappeared and most of the rest were found in one jail or another.
There was nothing much that they could do anymore. It was somewhere a decade back that it’s powers to determine taxes had been taken away from it. Within a year, the parliament was nothing more then a group of former Elites who couldn’t even shout out their estate windows.
President Foxtrot of the Great Western Union had called their meetings as an attempt to rejuvenate the Great English Circus. Very soon the city councils were abolished. It was soon followed by the abolition of the judiciary services and other royal services. The qualifications for the Peace and Policing Services were made lenient, probably to include more muscle.
Within a year, the civil service exams were cancelled and recruitment was made directly from various universities. The reason given was to encourage the better of men towards joining Defense Companies. With the losses suffered at the Great Eastern War Line, the defense companies were always complaining of the shortage of man power.
It was during this time that the attack from the Anonymous international shook the Great London Expansion. Within a night The London council of governors had lost its control over the extended territories.
It was an unexpected attack- The Anonymous Internationals had struck and disabled five central servers. The extended territories took advantage of the outage. And by the early morning the Cities of Paris, Madrid, Brussels, Berlin & Warsaw had declared separation from the Union.
To the knowledgeable men it all seemed too much to not be called a well planned conspiracy. The five cities where the servers had gone down were the same which had declared separation. The Governing council soon declared it as a rebellion. President Foxtrot declared it a per-meditated conspiracy against the people of free world. He ordered correction measures of the highest level.
When watched from the National Space center, the concentration of armed satellites over the European skies felt like a beehive. And armed paratroopers were dropped all across the rebel strong holds. It was declared that within a day the servers will return to function.
The battle ships covered the shores and emergency was declared. Any Plane without a flight plan with western union was ordered to be shot without a prior notice. Emergency was declared all across the boundaries of the rebel territory.
The rebellion regions were under the complete siege of the Council Fleet. Their commander demanded immediate access to the servers otherwise threatened them with a nuclear response. They were given a time limit of 15 hours. The world kept watching but the rebel cities did not bulge.
At the fourteenth hour the commander of the fleet ordered to prepare for a nuclear strike. It was then while all the preparations were complete and the commander was waiting for the final call from the council office, the unthinkable happened.
The fleet lost all its communications. Its equipments stopped responding. Not only there but all the electronic equipment in the whole London expansion went blank. Machines stopped running.
The robots stopped working. The vehicles halted at their place. The planes lost their auto pilots, factories stopped. The cities painted with electronic bill boards became a shed of black. It could be seen from the National Space Center, complete Europe suddenly converted from a light house to the dark Korean patch.
The confusion lasted for about fifteen hour. Not a single response reached the space station. The havoc turned into a silent horror movie scene. If felt as if Europe had been removed from the map.
Suddenly a voice came from no where…
“Parliament commences in 10 minutes. If you want to attend- Step out. Parliament commences in 10 minutes. If you want to attend- step out. Step out”.
Soon the screens all across the Europe went ablaze with scenes of speeches from the days of freedom. Every few moments, the screen would pop out a new scene from one of the parliaments- people talking, standing up, and cheering the speaker.
For a moment it showed the old parliament building, empty like it was these days. It stayed there for a moment then suddenly it showed the last prime minister giving his famous freedom speech and the parliament giving him a standing ovation and the fetal shooting afterwards.
President Foxtrot was watching the whole broadcast on a screen right on him and was looking down at the blue globe placed on his table. “Sir, we have lost control of the Great London Server, the city is no longer under our control” said the men behind standing behind him.
“Order the Commander to launch the nuclear strike”.
“Sir, unfortunately the fleet too has joined the rebellion; the Joint Marshal of the fleet has declared his allegiance to the new London Parliament”.
“This is a disaster. Call the war council; tell them to prepare for emergency…”He was cut in between.
Parliament is in session, Parliament is in session.
What? Foxtrot looked at the giant screen in front of him. It was playing the same message again n again. “Parliament is in session, Parliament is in session”, showing the direct view of the London parliament with its entire brimming expanse.
How?? A horror flickered over Foxtrot’s face. But it was soon replaced with that of terror. The voice over the screen soon was dwarfed by the evacuation siren screeching above.
A robotic voice was narrating evacuation procedures ‘evacuate, evacuate, the gravity generators have failed, evacuate. Plethora will enter mars atmosphere in fifteen minutes”.

Either Hands 2

It was not very difficult to hack into lunch cube. It was after all only a place to eat. But even browsing through data did not give me much of  a clue. It was about time to visit the Lunch cube. It closes all its functions by 2am. So it was a pretty rest less night.  The security at such places is the easiest to break.  Nobody gives a damn if a food joint is robbed. What can they take -a day old food?
The server room wasn’t too hard to crack either.  The task I had in mind was an easy one. Trace the table I had been allotted today and then the records of the table until I find the person I saw in the afternoon.  It took time….a lot of time. By the time I found the man. I was half asleep.
Shit.  The face was unmistakably the same but the records were all blurred. Old data! Who in the world are you, old man? I struck the cabinet next to me with a lot of vigor. An action people like us should always avoid. Who in the world are you?
His name is ’Alex Ross’. A voice came from behind. Even before I could try picking up the heaviest thing near my hand. A barrel was pressing at the back of my head. “No gun? Mr. Johnson, are you joking? Breaking into public property, hacking into public systems and you don’t even have a gun? You are dead Timothy Johnson.”
I had to take a deep breath. There were not too many sentences that I could afford.
“What more do you about Alex Ross, Mr. J P Thompson?”
There was this momentary silence engulfing the room. Then a loud thud followed and I was lying on the floor holding my head.
How do you know my name, scum? His gun was now pressing right under my eyes. How do you know my name?
“I am the one who called you here Thompson. Actually, It was a friend of mine who gave you the call asking you to find me” “don’t worry; you would get your money” Just answer my question.
“Listen her Timothy,” He held me up with my collars. He pulled me close to his eyes. His dark black circles zooming deep into my eyes, “I don’t give a damn about money. Tell me whatever I ask and I probably will not kill you.”
He threw me down on the floor.  The barrel was moving as if it had too many parts of me to burst but it could not choose.
“How do you know Ross?”
“Why am I here?”
You are here because you are going to die. His eyes swelled with amusement. He was surly about to press the trigger.
Wait! Wait! I will tell you everything. But first you must help me understand what is going on over here.
JP was studying my face like a camera. Finally, he lowered his gun and put it in his jacket, pulled the chair closest to him.
“His name is Alex Ross, he was former number two of Kapritiaci Colts. But five years back he died here in a freak accident.
-Was he your informant?
JP Thompson looked at me with a cynical smile.
“Now you talking like a newspaper man, You done good homework boy”, “yes, I was able to trap him, was about to turn himself in with a lot of information but just the before he could. As I said, he died. We checked his table, the mechanic, everything but couldn’t find a lead. The table does was tempered but tables don’t talk. He was having lunch and suddenly the table dropped dead to the equator line.
-what was he carrying with him?
“Nothing, he had nothing with him. Except for his gun we found nothing. The operation was closed after his death. A few of my fellow officers also died afterwards. Everybody’s dead for nothing.”  He spitted out on the floor, making a puddle of spit on the waxed floor.
You think it is fun, boy? He looked at me with curiosity. What are you doing here asking all these questions?
“I think, I know where all that information that Ross was carrying that day is.”
He looked at me more with suspicion then curiosity. I knew he had his gun close to his hand but now it was visible below his now raised jacket.
“Who are you? Tell me now or tell the heavenly god tomorrow?”
Sensing the seriousness of situation I explained him about today’s happenings and about my ability to see past events.
And I am sure, Ross that very day was carrying the data you were expecting and it is still here in this lunch cube.
He was looking at me with open wide eyes. I don’t believe you.
You will, just give me some space. I was out here looking for something. Click of the keyboard was the only sound that filled the room for next few minutes.
- Got it! These are the location coordinates for the day Ross was killed. Let’s go.
I rushed to pick my coat up
-To where?
To the bottom of the well, I looked his confused face. That is where his nose is.
I asked him to follow me while I switched on my torch and started searching for door.  But he took the lead. “Come behind me, I will take you to the bottom. But you better explain everything.”
While on the way, while climbing down the bottom less pit, I tried my best to make sense. My ability, the day that had happened. My logic for this situation “When I pressed that button, since Ross was actually not there, it should have moved down. And at the same time if Ross was there, if, it was his table on the day of incident, which it was, it should have moved away from me towards the top; but it didn’t; it  means Ross too had intended to go down instead of going up that very day. He probably had something down here that he wanted to retrieve. But the preprogrammed table did not allow him so. And he died as planned.
I don’t know if JP was listening or not but he kept moving. It took up couple of hours and a few gun shots to reach the bottom of the well and a few more to search for the spot which would have been exact mirror of Ross’s equatorial position.
“Got it! “I screamed. There at the exact position in the centre of the box. There was a small metal pack of cigarettes riveted to the floor. Inside the box were few microchips. JPs Face was worth watching. He was just like a man who had seen a ghost.
“Boy! You are a marvel.” And he hugged me hard. “This is the find of the decade. We got to get it to the police, right now. General would be amazed at our find.”
“But I didn’t get one thing?” He started the talk himself, why did you call for me. “If you knew this much, why did you call me, you could have done it all by yourself?”
I guess the silence was of no use any more. “Mr. Thompson, the incident in the cube was not the only experience that I had today.” I gulped my words, but I guess it was about time, “You see I had another experience in the morning.” I took my time, “A road accident and it was you got killed in it.”
JP froze on his feet. After a blank of some minutes he turned and looked at me. His face again, or now even more was a sculpture of frozen meat.
You said you could only see past events.
My voice bottomed even more. “Yes, that is what I thought too, but as I was researching for Ross’s accident. Along with all the data, your face also showed up. You were the lead detective of Ross’s accident. And no where in your public records, it was written that you were deceased. I myself was confused so I decided it was better to call you. So, I had Jack call you up.”
His face was more grave then I remembered him from before, “and when do you predict it will happen”
“I don’t know what to make of it all. I have never ever before seen a man dead before he actually is. I don’t know, it could be tomorrow, next week, next year. I don’t know when. He stepped a bit closer to me.”
For the first time, I heard him sigh. A kind of sadness crept through his eyes.
“Boy, you have done enough favors to me for this day. Can you do me one more? I’ll be grateful”
I looked straight into his eyes. He was stiff as a stone. He took my right hand and put the pack of cigarettes on my palms and closed them for me.
“If I die tomorrow, then all my work that I did, all this work you did won’t be worth a dime. Keep it and do with it as you find suitable. I can’t promise you much only that this would be a very good story.”
“Do me this favor, if you happen to be there when I die. Find me a good place under for me to rest”.
-I will, Mr. Thompson.
It was 3′o clock in the morning, and I was standing out Mic’s door, knocking at it repeatedly. He wasn’t happy when he opened the door, “I have something to show you.”
He looked at my with a sleepy face & welcomed me in the door, “better be good”
I showed him the files. Everything the cigarettes box had.
“So all this happened today?” He sure was not looking sleepy anymore.
-Yes. “You want us to go public today?”
You know better Mic.
He looked at me with screening eyes, and then picked up his phone. “Stop the weekly edition, we have to make some important changes; yes! Wait for me, I will be in office within half an hour”
By the time we reached the press, it had already started raining.
I looked at the window and thought about JP Thompson.
“Happy ending! Is this one?”
..end.

Either Hands 1

The sun was quite charming today. I could feel it’s rays sneaking in the window and warming the mood inside. It explained the cheerful, energetic mood in the office. Probably, Mic has had too much of it today.
“If there is one thing that I hate more then a bad coffee is to read a scrap story from one of my own, pay rolled writers”.
Tim why can’t any of your stories have an happy ending?
It’s a ghost story Mic. Ghosts don’t have an happy ending.
Off course they can. send them to heaven or a vacation or let them find love.
Mic, ghosts don’t take vacations. you and I do?
“If you kept on talking like this, you may earn one.  Write me a story with happy ending. End of meeting.
This kind of talk is an every day talk, specially if you are working with Mic. He’s got lot of pressure, I guess.
But him giving me one was not welcome at all.
“Happy ending, what does he know?”
“what do you understand by an happy ending?”  This thin skinny man, walking in front, plain shirt tugged out. probably a man from small town, knew about happy ending. I tugged him on his shoulder. What I got was a familiar look of terror on his face.
It wasn’t before long that he sped his way ahead. Hey! Before I could say another word. I realized he had taken to air, a projectile headed towards right hand side of the road. It took another half a minute before the walk light went green. Silently, I made my way to where that man should have landed. There he was, I was right he wasn’t young, probably middle aged, bald in front, a nose had  an odd curvature. well not as odd as shapes his limbs did.
It was horrifying. Had I experienced this accident ten years back, I would surely have vomited.  I checked his dress, an expensive fabric, three piece suit. I was sure there was a gun somewhere under the coat. I waited for another five minutes, hoping some body will come to the scene. meanwhile I took as much notes as I could without looking too stupid. then decided to move on.
Story or no story, I was hungry.  ten minutes had already passed. I had another thirty five to return to office.The lunch cube was still a few buildings away. I always admired the way the building was designed. The grandness that existed inside was never evident at the door. you would just walk next to it and think just another food joint.  but when you went in, the hundreds of people in queue was over whelming, and a same no may be inside on the dinning side.
I have my prints at the gate and look the line computer suggested me. It displayed the letter F. I wanted to crush the screen. but moved on. There are instructions displayed at each junction, helpers at each food wall. but we regulars rarely talk with them. What interests us most is the structure, the people, the interactions going around. Once served, the lanes take us to the Jupiter box. 
A huge globe of tables. it is the most intriguing part of our daily meal. The randomness of the tables in front was always overwhelming. people occupying small cells distributed everywhere, in every possible dimension. The people above the equator were always the richer folks.
Mob men, prostitutes, bankers, politicians. Their place in the social structure had been virtually written in the DNA of the system. while down below our feet, was the hive over crowded by people like us.  while we could see the boundaries of the globe above. Looking down only made you sick. There were only & only people there.  Not very soon but finally I spotted a table for me. With only one person in front, it was an easy catch.
“hey wait!” I shouted and rushed to the table.
Though looking at the man in front, I gulped for once. Here was this man, dressed as if ultra rich. If he wanted he could reject me the seat but I had to take chances. I sat down and entered my ID and gave my thumb impression. Without hearing a word from him.
The table takes a few seconds before it decides based on our data which would be the suitable position for me. It depended on my data and that of the other person in front. I was sure, I would be traveling really up high today. I never been too high in the cadre. except for a few times I came with mic. My table always slides down.
The word lightening, I had read it several times. seen it too. it is kind of a rupture in the sky. that exists for less then a blink of an eye.  you never want to travel that fast. because well you just cant. But I guess, i was riding lightening that day.
I had this sensation that my skin was tearing away from me, my clothes would shred to pieces. Except for the horror of the moment there was nothing left in me.
It was a moment of lightening. the next moment I remember, the man in front was all over the table. I did not have the strength to scream, I was searching for my heart beat, I was cold and I was sweating too. I felt my heart beat a moment later.  a second later  I heard a push from another man, hey wake up, sleep head. give some space. hey! he shook me pretty hard.
By the time I had adjusted my eyes.  I realized I was still at the equator line. but my heart beat did not return, a hand smacked me at the back and I puked over my lunch box.
“Gosh! you OK man”.
can you take me to the exit corner, May be I need to see the doctor.
Yeah! sure, man, sure. I took his shoulders and he walked me to the medic.
by the time, my senses returned I was still sitting in the medic’s room. I checked my watch, it was 1:40. I got to go.
The medic gave a smile “take lot’s of water for next few hours”
My stomach was grumbling hard. Instead of the return path to globe’s office. I took a detour to Jack’s joint.
Jack Sterns, a 5 feet large rhino shouldered, jolly man, now in his forties was the only person, I tried terming as a friend. We shared a past. and we shared our horror too. Unlike me our cursed did not direct his life. He stuck with what he adored most in his life, food. 
Hey Tin man, you look exhausted. jumped off a train or something?
No, just bad dreams.
He studied my face, with a serious look, something that was very rare of him. I know, what you need, you need a big Jack’o'burger and a cup of coffee.
He shouted out loud, get this men some Jack style life please and bring me a glass of pumpkin juice.
The quiet was a few minutes long. did not break until I had a few bites.
‘what happened today’
what else! I told him everything that had happened in the lunch cube.
“pretty scary, yeah!”
but hey it happens, now look there, at your back. I see a man jump from that big building, nearly everyday. I have sometimes gone there to try to talk with him. but you know how it is. They can’t hear us. I mean he is like my milkman. never misses. and the day I don’t see him jump. I feel like, my day is incomplete. Forget it, write about it and then forget it.
you are one big no help!, i said sarcastically to Jack.
hey but I give you free burgers?, yeah! and they are good too.
now that is flattery. but even that won’t get you a free second, tin man.
“it was about six pm, when mic called me in his office. you know I hate pastries from johnny bake point. you know why, because johnny doesn’t care about his clients, he talks too loud and his cakes are always half baked and he is always late in doing his order. This is a johnny cake.
which part.
-Which part, he started staring right through me, where are facts, where is reality, who is going  to read it?
what’s wrong with it.
-even my boy can tell,   Tim. A table that falls, breaks, it shatters and if a rich man is sitting on a table, it goes up, it doesn’t go down. it falls from top to the  equator. not from the equator to the bottom. This story is silly.
-Are you going to put it up?
this week no. this form not a chance.
-Fine Mic! but you will forget me for this week.
I made my heavy feet out as fast as I could. I was angry but not furious. Mic was correct even I had noticed those discrepancies. But I knew what i saw.
I stamped out of the office, saying, -”Fine I will edit and return it tomorrow. “
“Tomorrow would be too late!”, Mic shouted from behind. 
“Today? Fine but it will charge you extra. Now what’s that name again?”
-”Timothy Johnson. He works for the Cube  Entire”..
cont..

Maggi

This story started not in the sections but rather very close to it. A couple of miles away from the vessel-factories, which are softly termed as sections there is a whole island built up of connected boats and yatches. Most of us live on land but the lesser fortunate once live in these boat colonies.

On one of these boats, was a famous spot for lunches. It is here where I have been waiting since last one hour for the inspector from the Journalist Support Desk. For some very important reason unknown to me, it was a purely contract division. Somebody, probably, as stupid as me. Although this stupid person, right now was like a god to me, he held the strings of life.

Since last one hour I had been watching the two envelops I had placed in front of me. One of them contained an article written by me. He was scheduled to help me with this article. In official language, it was a courtesy visit to proof read my work and suggests improvements. But it was publicly known, JuStD inspectors were more then that. They were judges; he was coming to decide- what is to be done with me.  Any mistake and this would be the last when someone would hear of me.

The second one contained one thousand Dounles in cash. With extensive research, I had been informed by the underground that this much would be enough to convince the inspector of my innocence. I had to act as if I was here to get the article cleared and he was to act as here to scrutinize the real intention behind the article. If we played our roles properly, he would accept the gift and OK me as a law abiding citizen.

Getting these thousand Dounles had been an expensive affair. Considering that I neither am a writer nor a rich man. The piece of electronics in envelop was just a piece of shit that I had to give my best to write.

Three weeks earlier, I was a happier man, as much happy as all the middle class people in our world are.
Our house, though still on mortgage, is a lovely house. One of the hundreds of row houses on 31st Blair Street, somewhere in Mega land, it is one of the most beautifully crafted houses. The insides painted with fancy colors and decorated with the best Teflon furniture that we could afford. My girlfriend Irene and I had decorated our small house as if it were a fairy land. Our daughter Maggi, now eight, is among the most beautiful creation of god.

This small row house was our kingdom of happiness. If it wasn't for Irene, I don't think I would ever have settled. My meager income, as the company mechanic, with my small town attitude was a hard match for this super city. But she shared it all with me. The heavy mortgage, boat loan, insurance, government protection charges, corporate protection charges, default repayment fund, emergency evacuation fee, employment tax, the anchoring tax, all of them made living in this super city difficult. But Maggi was all more important to us.

The evening had been rather gloomy; the UV protection shields had been raised, leaving us at the mercy of Virtual Light System. Out the window, everything became dark every half an hour and stayed that way for exact twelve minutes. Irene was sobbing out loud. I had been trying hard to calm her down. But I guess the bear were not helping.  I had nothing to console with.

In the afternoon, our third petition to the Department of Marriage & Personal relations had been rejected. I had spent four hours trying to convince the judge that we won't attempt a child, that we were happy with Maggi, that our not being married is affecting our job profiles, led us nowhere.

The judge was as stringent as all the previous ones, "Mr. Meyers, I am still not convinced with your argument. Please do not waste more time of this court. I will not license this marriage, which is bisexual in nature, on basis of such weak arguments. Had you come to us with a same sex partner, I myself would have assured a license within six months.  This horrendous act is just not happening. That's it."

I tried hard to convince Irene, "Don't worry love, we will file another appeal, these hippocrates will have to agree".
"With Maggi’s citizenship exam approaching? How do you plan to raise the money? Tell me how?"
This was the first time we were having, such a serious fight. We had fought before, when Maggi came in our life, when I had decided to more to Mega land, when I tried to stop Irene from late night work. But each time, we were confident of our bond.

It was during this time, I guess, when Maggi picked up my eye plates and asked for the password. It wasn't until the next week, that is two weeks earlier that I realized the horrifying gravity of my stupidity when I was called to John's cabin. A short man with shoulders as wide as a rhino was waiting for me.
"Please sit down Mr. Meyers. Would you like a cup of coffee".

"I got to return to the shop floor. I got a robot malfunction to attend to", I was sure John is going drop the hell on me if I did not get that bot moving, "Thanks for the coffee! But I got to go"

"Mr. Meyers, I work with Department of Safety, Freedom & Protection" I am here to talk with you, would you, please, share a cup of coffee with me. I insist."

He was at least five inches shorter then me, but surely was bulkier.  Everybody knew what DeSafP was, the welfare people, they took care of everything, childcare, schools, traffic, boats, and taxes. But this guy was different, his harsh tone, the uncustomary black suit, black glasses. You don't say no to them. Best thing to do was what I did, took a seat, "What I can do for you, have I got a sailing ticket?"

"Oh! No not at all.  Nothing big, just wanted to share this piece of paper with you" I took it with the pad. Something, in the way he gripped the pad made me nervous. It was a two page letter with an official logo over it. Most of it was jargon but the highlighter marks were bold enough to chill me down.

In a line, very close to the bottom. The word "political" was highlighted and in front of it number '100' was written. The same was encircled with red ink. Very near to the top, I had read my name. The letter was trouble.
"What is this?"
"That is what I am here to ask you, Mr. Meyers?” He looked directly at me; I could feel the depth of the blank glasses engulfing me. Outside the temperature was hundred and eight degree but I was sweating. Best was to keep quiet.

While silence kept on engulfing the room, he kept sipping on his coffee. "It's from an article that I am writing."
"I thought you were a mechanic?"
"I am but I am trying to write a letter to the newspaper, to express me views."
"Tell me more about it?"
"It's about the troubles I am facing in getting the marriage license."
"you are talking about your girl friend Irene Saffons?" and then I was babbling our whole story.
"Still hundred times in one article, isn’t it too much for a single article?" He was still busy with his cup of coffee.
They could be from the drafts which I haven't deleted. I know am allowed to write. I want to bring the whole issue of bisexual marriage brought to attention. You see, I really want to marry here.

All the while I was talking, I realized, he was getting uneasy, very soon he was leaning on the coffee machine.
"Off course you are allowed to express.  And we are your friends are happy that a common person like you wishes to express his views.  Although, I personally think, you are attempting lunacy. "
"off-course you can write", he turned and looked straight at me, "If I am not mistaking, you do will have to get the final draft approval from JuStD?"
Yes, I would, but the article is in writing.
"Fair enough, tell you what, I will do you a favor and send somebody from JuStD to meet you. Isn't that good"
Yes, it could, but the article is still in writing.
"Well, then better finish it in one week" His smile was scouring.

"Now you can return to your work, my friend" As I was about to leave, "One more thing, Mr. Meyers, the order in my hands, requests you to keep all your equipments on- online status from now on".
Why?
"Let's just say that you caught my eyes" His wryly smiled.

By the time, I had climbed down the steps, I was visibly shaking. My knees were weak. I decided to leave my boat in parking and took a cab, "31 Blair street, please."

By the time, I had reached to my house, I was sure that I was going to have a heart attack. Yet, Somehow, I managed to reach the study, I could not understand, why was I still alive.

As soon as I could confirm that the doors were locked. I took out my computer and launched HopHazard, courtesy of a long forgotten friend; it could pinpoint recently accessed files.
"How am I still alive?" the answer was right in front of me. The extensive search took only a blink to complete.
Screen displayed only two document files Alisa4 and MaggiM.

It was unbelievable. I still had last of my few off line minutes left. I ran another search to find the word 'political' in it. the computer was just about to go through zillions of bites on my computer. Took nearly fifteen minutes, I looked at the screen with wide eyes. The return again was only two files - Alisa4, MaggiM. I tried opening them but could not. It was a wise decision to leave them there.

I spent next 30 minutes searching all the data storage devices manually, but could not find anything. Something did not fit in. but It was comfortable. "They don't have anything on me, it was just a fluke" The picture of me sitting alone in a metal cell covered with water on all sides diminished from my eyes. And I could feel the warmth of Maggi and Irene close to me.

But still the article would have to be written. I had two weeks.

On my way out to the couch, Maggi caught me from behind, "Pop, you OK! Why so worried?"
Her touch made me forget all my troubles. I took her in my arms and said "well! Pops had to write a story about momma and him"
Wow! Would I be there?
Of course! my little darling. How can there be a story without Maggi.

Although I was feeling better but I knew that it still was no time to calm down. I had no idea how the two files came to my computer but neither did I have any time. JuStD inspectors were no joke. They still were government.
The slightest thought of loosing Irene or Maggi shivered me to hell.  There was no me without them. She was all I existed for, lived for.

"I don't think you do much of writing? Do you Mr. Meyers?", it was more of a statement then a question.
Yeah?
"I am saying this piece ain't worth a thing".
"No, but yes, yes, but it is a very important. You got to understand. We love each other and we love our daughter more then anything. You can not separate us. "

No body is separating you. Don’t you both live together?
Yes, but we aren't married yet!
Marriage or no marriage, no body is stopping you from living together.  That should be enough for you.
But we don't get spouse benefits.
If you want spouse benefits, find a guy for yourself.
Look this is a legal matter and takes my advice stay from this newspaper business.
But!
"But or nothing! How could you be so unpatriotic? I am going to make a note of your behavior" His hands were getting restless. His hands were crushing more crumbs then what went to his mouth.

It was time for me to slide envelop towards him. He slowly took it under his hat, checked the cash and put it in his bag. Then he pushed a few buttons on his hand top & returned my chip to me.

"Here, this is all OK for publishing that is if someone would want to publish it" he was smiling wryly. I watched him get up and disappear out the door.

My sandwiches were still there in the plate, untouched. But the coffee mug was empty. Best I could was to call for another.

......end

Spoonfull's not enough

A decision had to be taken. I have been doing the lubrication and the support part since a few months. I checked my contact lists, and then I checked my diaries.
"There’s none", I sighed while putting down the idea along with the contact book, "there is none, I can talk to".
Time was of essence; "Either return to duty or don't come, ever, at all". Simple language; clear words; obvious implications.

The only one left to speak with was my tea. I waited for the minute hand to touch base twelve, an effortless approach of the minute hand and a freaking, steady walk of the second hand. The hour hand, probably was as undecided as me, I couldn't figure it moving. But finally after a suitable pause that must have been infinity in some other dimension, the clock did tick 3 p.m.

Putting the water in is the easiest task. Adding sugar was act of reflex. The most difficult part is adding the tea leafs. I added few, and then added a few more and then a bit more again.  Preparing tea is a more enchanting process then making coffee. Perhaps the people having super vision and a very sound nose will disagree with me. For me, watching a tea boil is a lot like attending church. You can't do it better, you can't do it worst. And you can't afford to fall asleep either.

First the tea leaves they start swimming up then realizing there is no way out they return towards bottom. Very soon they realize that, there is no way out. Trapped, if I can say, trapped in a current of boiling water. It is a beautiful dance to experience. Very soon they start leaking color and soon enough water too feels drunk and joins the dance, hand in had with the leaves. Slowly, very slowly, the water starts loosing his identity and converts to a hot brown fluid.

"Am I using too much of tea?", probably I had. The ball room was feeling overcrowded.
The dance of love that had begin itself eight years back was feeling more like a rugby match. The only thing of attention that remains in the hall is people bumping into each other.  Very soon, instead of a place to find the perfect match it was a struggle to continue your steps. One pushes here, a push there, a knee here, an elbow there.

Frankly, for the young, the inexperienced once, it is difficult to judge.  The cold, unrelated people, feel too thin to occupy the scene. It isn't until the music sinks in, the heat masses up, that they start taking space. It isn't until it is too late to stop that you realize the place is over crowded.

The aroma that had enchanted me for so long was now becoming unbearable.
"I put too much in too less of water". Adding water would be a stupid choice; for a short moment, ever considered adding milk to it.

This tea was supposed to be the tastiest of my collection. The tea leaves were exotic. But the scene, in front, was turning chaotic. Felt more like dancing garbage.  Smelled more like boiled leaf water.

I picked up the phone. Took the tea pot and flushed the tea down the sink.
Amazingly, life isn't this easy.  Once you have chosen a partner, you want to keep on dancing. Once you have put your life into something, you just don't want to give it up. But then, a tea has to be tea.