Las Vegas, Nevada - 3:00 PM

Karl looked at the single use call phone in his hand, shrugged slightly and tossed it into the wastebasket on the street.  A few yards away quick-footed men handed pamphlets to tourists as they passed by, slapping them against their open palms to grab their attention.  The ground near them was littered with dropped advertisements for local strip joints and after-hours clubs.  As Karl walked toward them, two men in shorts and polo shirts thrust their papers at him.  He shook his head in disapproval and continued walking slowly toward the corner.  Reaching out to signal a cab that had just turned the corner, he reached for the handle, and slid into the back seat.  

“Airport” was the only word he spoke, but the driver was barely paying attention.  He’d had this passenger before, and the destination was always the same.  So was the tip, and a slight grin turned up the corners of his mouth.  This weekend, he’d be able to afford to take the kids to do something fun.  A lucky break indeed, he thought, as he focused on getting to the airport terminal as quickly as he could.

A small OLED display lit up Karl’s wrist as he pulled back the sleeve of his sport-coat.  With one finger, Karl swept across the display until it changed to show outbound flights to San Francisco.  Picking the 5:15 flight, he chose the ‘Buy’ option and typed in his credit card PIIN.    A blinking confirmation let him know that his seat was reserved.  It should be an empty flight, he knew.  Air travel was all but dead now, but major cities like Vegas and San Fransisco would always have service.  Not everyone was comfortable with the teleportation pods.  Karl certainly had his own reason for avoiding them, and it was people like him that kept the last airlines working.  

He relaxed in the back of the cab, thinking about all of what he had to do next.  First things first, though - meeting up with Katelyn would be a welcome task indeed.  He thought carefully of how she looked lying next to him in bed, the sunlight highlighting her shoulder-length brown hair.  When he had left her Friday morning, she was still asleep.  He never woke her when he left in the morning.  The memory of her lying in bed was one of the few luxuries that he enjoyed.  That, and the poker tables.  Well, life was about to get a bit more complicated.  This might be the last night he and Kate spent together, and he was going to make sure he enjoyed it.

Swiping the wrist device to the right, a small display projected a blank email form.  His fingers dropped to his knees and he began touch typing onto the projected keypad on both thighs.

To: Randolph White

Subj: The cat is out of the bag

Randy:

  You knew this day was coming.  Eventually someone would be able to prove what you’ve been hiding and today, sir, is that day.  The public won’t stand for it once they know.  The funny thing is that it isn’t even your fault that I can prove it.  You were VERY careful.  But, friend, the great thing about capitalism is that someone is always looking for the loophole - the way to make a quick buck.  And that turns out to be your Achilles heel.  You see, you’re not the only one going down.  So is Reli Corp and that greedy bastard you call your partner.  You’re fucked, Randy - The last laugh is mine!

K…

He read the message over again, thinking for a short while.  He had waited 7 years to be able to prove what Randy was doing.  Now that he had his proof, he wasn’t sure an email was going to cut it.  He wanted to see his face when he found out - he wanted some tactile revenge.  But with Randy’s security, there was no way he was going to be able to have that feeling.  

Suddenly remembering that security, Karl changed the header to delay the Send to 6:00 PM.  He didn’t want to be on that flight when Randy chased him down.  There was no telling if the airplane would get shot down with everyone on board.  After all, killing a hundred people would be nothing, when you were responsible for the death of thousands.  Karl hit OK and the display slipped away.

  

Arriving at the airport, the Trans-SouthWest name stood out on the road sign.  The driver pulled up to the terminal and three crisp $100 bills exchanged hands as he slipped from the yellow taxi.  Today, Karl’s life would start anew.

San Francisco, California - 2:30 PM - Joe[]s Coffee Shop 

Katelyn sat by herself in a corner booth, facing out onto the water.  From here, she watched the construction crews rebuilding the bridge to SOMETHING Island.  It had been almost a year since the bridge had fallen during the latest scuffle between citizens and government.  Some idiot had decided to blow it up and inconvenience those who still had jobs and had to commute.  Katelyn would never understand the way the ‘privileged poor’ thought.  Not participating in society, but benefiting from its mechanisms, the up and coming social class in America had decided it didn’t need to give in order to receive.  After all, there was enough to go around for everyone, right?  And damn those multinational corporations that gave it to them - how dare they have power?

Well, whoever blew up the bridge had created some jobs, alright.  Day and Night Construction crews kept this coffee shop busy nowadays.  It used to be empty during the week until they came to town.  Bits of Portugese and Spanish floated over the din of plates and coffee cups.  Her phone rang and she quickly picked it off the table to answer it.

“Yeah…”  

“You’re sure it’s done?”

“I’ll let him know at once.  You can expect payment as discussed when he is happy with the results.”

Katelyn pulled down the phone, pressed a speed dial button and held it up to her left ear this time.  With her now free right hand, she grabbed her notepad and swiped across it to record the time and date of the call.

“It’s done..”

“All right, see you then”  

She hung up the phone and swiped another logged call into her notepad.  Without organization, life swiftly fell into disorder.  Her obsessive note-taking was the only thing keeping her sane.  She signaled for the check from the busy-looking waitress and looked out the window again.  It was a gorgeous day, and with this latest venture out of the way, she might even be able to concentrate on spending time out of doors.  A walk in the park would be nice right about now.  It would be evening before she saw Karl, and the rest of her day was now free.  A smile crept across her face as the check arrived a moment later.  Thankful that she had a job, of sorts, she knew that enjoying the coffeehouses that San Francisco was famous for was a luxury that only the working class could afford any more.  And with this latest score, nothing was going to get in the way of her enjoying that little luxury for the rest of her life.

As Katelyn reached into her pocket and counted out exact change, the working men at the next table got up and left.  As Katelyn left, her cell phone sat on the table, abandoned, never to be used again.  When the federal agents arrived in a few hours, they would find only a confused waitress and a melted casing.

I think that I'm going to participate in NaNoWriMo - we'll see how that goes (not!) along with everything else I'm doing....

Page 2

The company paid well, as well as could be expected in this day and age. His job certainly wasn't very difficult, and he got plenty of exercise and sunshine to boot. But, like any middle-classed American, he was unhappy with his lot in life, always reaching for that brass ring that felt out of reach. Daniel lived in the city and didn't need a car, but he saw plenty of fancy vehicles as he walked around town; he wanted one so badly just to be able to drive down the street and let others be envious of the 'BMW' tag on the trunk. He had bought into the dream, lock, stock and barrel. It didn't matter that he didn't need a car; he WANTED one, and a fancy one at that. As he reached for the handle on the glass doors to the building, he thought, "Perhaps that will be the first thing I buy."

The door swung outward and he deftly ducked inside. The air conditioner felt cool and refreshing after the hot sun. Walking to the elevators as he did every day about this time, he reached out to push the 'up' button. So far, so good. All he had to do now was hold in his anxiety. "Just a normal day", he lied to himself, "nothing to sweat about." As the elevator doors opened and the upward arrow 'dinged' to light up the stainless steel walls, he jumped directly in front of an exiting coworker.

"Sorry, my fault", he fumbled as the cooler smacked the man in the shins.

"Hey, slow down there buddy!"

"Sorry again, " he frowned as he waved one hand to apologize. The cooler shifted precariously from the other hand, almost slipping from his sweaty grasp. Daniel reached for it, just as the elevator doors started to close, and he pulled it inside. He really needed to be more careful with the cargo, especially today, his last day.

Alone in the elevator, he paused and glanced at the panel. 1:47; Sunny; 83 degrees. He reached for the '7' and it lit up at his touch. With his left hand, he raised the cooler as if to inspect it for damage. Holding it with both hands, he lowered it again in front of his thighs.

Science Fiction Story 1 Start.

Daniel Sledman walked quickly down the street. He always walked swiftly, even when he wasn't in a hurry to get anywhere. Although, these days, that never happened - the not being in a hurry bit. His life was comprised almost completely of missions. Whether it was going to the DMV to get his license renewed, picking up something at the store, heading home after work, he was always in a rush to get to the next thing. Not like when he was younger and more care-free with his time. That was all going to change for him, just as soon as he finished this mission he was on. He was getting ready to check out of the rat race, once and for all, if they let him.

As he strode past the florist on 6th Street and Howard Ave, he looked up at the office buildings above. The sun glinted off the windows on the 8th floor and nearly blinded him from being able to see the steel structure. Atop that building was the logo of his company, 'Reli Corp'. Every afternoon, Daniel delivered the cooler to 10th Street by 2PM. It was 1:30 now and he was early as usual. As he walked, the cooler rubbed against his pant leg, the biohazard sticker worn from the constant friction.

In the Beginning

I've wanted to get back into my creative side for such a long time, and it was initially why I began my blog. However, my blog has turned more into my blah-g and I'm no more creative than when I began.

So, just like anything else you do and try to get good at, accountability is important. I figure that if I'm going to restart trying to write, I should do it publicly and maybe that will push me to be more proactive in getting down to it.

Enjoy my creative writing - it will be rough draft quality and the ideas will likely be scattered as free writing can be. But if you enjoy it, I'd love to hear about it.