The White Mustang

The White Mustang
By
Raman Jalota

    The white mustang raced gracefully on the empty road by the Pacific ocean. Tom lowered the top and let the south California sun warm him and his tennis buddy Jim. Jim nodded his head in contentment as the road curved and the famous Pebble Beach Tennis court appeared. A single Tennis court had replaced the renowned golf course that had stood by the sea for so long.
    Jim pulled the sunglasses off his eyes and walked on to the blue cement court. He smelled the salt off the sea mist and felt the slight breeze they had ordered.
    “I like it. Just one court. Just for us. But Tom, I thought it was going to be green.”
    “I couldn’t remember to order the color this time and I think we got blue by default.”
    “Maybe we should change the default to be green.”
    “I think we should go back to grass courts, Jimmy boy.”
    “You are talking like an old fart, Tom. We can play on any surface. We are not primitives.”
    “Yeah but we will break down the bodies that we do borrow when we play primitive style.”
    After a brief warm-up, Tom started serving in Ivanisevic style. Immediately Jim changed his return style to that of Agassi.

.....

    Karen waited by the side of the red Ferrari as Martina went into the gasoline utilities commission building to extend her permit. She came back smiling and waving a new permit.
    She slid into the driver’s seat, “What an ugly green color!”
    “Yeah, but we can get unlimited gas for another three months. I think this is the best part about being primitive. The ability to drive and see places with our bodies and minds still intact. I could never be a modern.”
    Martina started the car and put her arm around Karen, “I’ll never understand it. How can one forego the randomness of life, nature and our reactions to everything around us for a life of inaction?”
    “Well moderns may not be as bad off as you think, dear. Sure they don’t have a body, but they do have the immense power of the Uninet at their disposal. And they can create realities in which they feel almost primitive.”
“But this ... they can never feel this.”
    She reached over and kissed Karen. Karen patted her on the thigh, “I have heard that some moderns detach their brains and use human bodies for the ultimate adventure of being a ‘primitive’.”
    “Can they enjoy the borrowed bodies like we do?”
    Karen smiled knowingly, “If you are talking about sex. Sex can be better for the moderns. You know, it’s the brain that tells us everything. Even though the body is creating the sensation, only the brain can create the pleasure. Whether the sensation is of climbing Mount Everest or having an orgasm with a movie star, it’s our brain that tells us whether we are feeling horrible or great.”
    She slid a little lower on her seat to be more comfortable and put her arm around Martina, “I like this much better.”

.....

    Marilyn Monroe flashed her wide open smile and removed her top. Tom felt his body waking up. Alright! First the bra and then the skirt. He licked his lips and tasted the Mouton Cadet that he had been sharing with Marilyn. She turned her back to him and he unhooked the bra with his teeth. She sat down next to him and unzipped his pants. He patted her hips and kissed them. Soft and fragrant. This is going to be great.
    Something intruded his thoughts. Who could be there? Marilyn, his own body and all the other sensations disappeared, “Who the hell is it?”
    “This is Jim, trying to get through to warn you of impending disasters.”
    “I was screwing Marilyn Monroe. Couldn’t you wait Jimbo?”
    “She’s not as much fun as you are led to believe. You should try Vera Romanov. She’s an ancient Russian porn star who is just incredible.”
    “Well what’s the good news?”
    “Well the good news may not be as good as you think. Sure, it will be fun to resolve the crisis. But I think something dangerous is being brewed by the primitives.”
    “So what’s the immediate danger?”
    “A gang of primitives are trying to break through the Nash dome.”
    “But our lasers have always taken care of them. What’s new with these primitives?”
    “This group has found a way to deflect our lasers and is trying to break into the dome. It may require the second level of offense that only you can authorize.”
“Oh yes, the perks of being a sandman. Do you wanna watch it in prim?”
    “Aren’t you afraid of the danger, Tom?”
    “That’s part of the fun. Are you going to join me?”

.....

    Someone yelled, “The bloody moderns are coming.”
    A hush fell over the group of fifty or so primitives armed with shields, hammers and Molotov cocktails. A short bearded man with piercing green eyes, a bald head and an orange S on his shield raised his hand to silence the group.
    “Be on your guard. I’ll see what these guys are trying to pull.”
    “Careful Jack, these bastards are tricky.”
    Jack moved towards the armored cars that had stopped a hundred yards from the dome.
Shielded by mechanics, Tom emerged. His brain intact in the pladium helmet was attached to a human body. Jim, similarly primmed was right alongside him. This is too damn dangerous. If they destroy our bodies, we are done! Why did I agree to this foolishness?
    Tom whispered, “Don’t be afraid. The cannons are ready and I can trigger them in a nanosecond. Don’t you feel the excitement of being a prim?”
    They stood within a few yards of each other. Jack all alone and Tom with his mechanics ready to protect him at all cost.
    “What the hell are you trying to do? You don’t belong here. This is modern territory. You better clear out fast.”
    Jack was puzzled by the devices that the mechanics carried. What kind of weapons are these? How would we ever find an answer to the advanced weaponery of these moderns? He glared at Tom, “I have the authority to take control of this dome. You have no legal authority to establish a physical presence in this territory. This structure is not specified in our treaty. We are here to take control.”
   “That’s not up to you. We have rights that go beyond the treaty. Who the hell are you?”
   “I am Jack Sakarov. I am in charge of the territory between the Pacific and the Rockies. This dome has been hidden for a long time. This is an unauthorized structure and is being seized.”
    “Listen Jack. We will annihilate you if you take another step towards the dome. This matter has to go higher than your rank. I have the authority to sand you.”
    Tom signaled for the cannons to be exposed. Jack stood shocked by the awesomeness of the legendary sand cannons. If this guy is correct. We are dead. I have to retrieve and rethink what we must do next. Damn!
    “You are the sandman!” Jack’s mouth fell open. He quickly recovered.
    “Hold everything. I’ll take it to my escee. But I want you to be forewarned. None of this will be tolerated by us.”
    He walked towards his group. Whispers of ‘sand’, ‘sandman’ and ‘sand cannons’ went like shockwaves through the group. He motioned for them to retrieve.
    Jim stepped out in the open, “Well that wasn’t so bad. You handled it nice and quietly.”
    “Yes so far. But he doesn’t know what’s next in store for him.”
    “You mean?”
    The primitives had barely moved into the shadows of the dome perimeter as the four cannons fired simultaneously and shells landed within inches of the retreating group. The sound of the shells landing and exploding around them were drowned by the screams of people dying as their skin was penetrated by the cyanosillica particles and their blood was brought to a boil by the chemicals.

.....

    The sound of the rain woke the two of them up. After a few lingering kisses Karen removed Martina’s shirt and started kissing her breasts. Martina looked at the ceiling and murmured approvingly. She put her hand on Karen’s head and guided it down.
    An urgent knock broke their lovemaking. “Who is it?”
    Martina grabbed her robe and threw it on. A faint sound came through. At this time of the night! Who can it be? She looked through the window by the front door. A dirty, wet and tired Jack stood in the rain, blood running down his face and clothes. She opened the door as she screamed for Karen to come quickly.
    “What happened Jack?”
    She led him to the couch and sat him down. Karen saw the two, turned around and came back with towels. The two of them wiped him dry. Martina sighed relieved when she couldn’t find any bleeding wounds.
    “Karen, can you make some hot tea? And put some brandy for Jack ... for me too. Make one for yourself if you feel like.”
    Jack’s breathing finally slowed down. He sat up straight and sipped the tea, “They got all but seven of us ... at that damn modern structure ... we need to move the other six to a clinic.”
    “Who got you?”
    “The sandman.”
    Karen screamed, “You mean he’s real?”
    “Real as any modern can be. They had four cannons that shot sand over us. The sand burns you as it gets into your skin. It puts you to a deep sleep ... forever. Only seven of us survived. I am O.K. But the other six are in bad shape. I came to get help.”

.....

    Martina paced her office. He’s over two hours late! What the hell is keeping him? A clean but tired Jack finally showed up.
    “What the hell took you so long? I’ve been waiting all day. What is it that you have for me?”
Jack shrugged his shoulders loosening the backpack. He reached in and brought out a dirty green board with circuitry printed on it, “This is what we have been waiting for. A computing device. This is what we must expand on to break into the Uninet.”
    Martina gasped, “where did you find it?”
    “We had it all along. I spent last night going through the entire lab looking through all the electronic artifacts we have unearthed over the last ten years. This was found at the dig we named Utah.”
    Martina stared at the motherboard unbelieving. She had seen several different pictures in the technical manuals. It definitely had the look of a motherboard, “This really maybe our way in. We would need several devices to make it work. Do we have anything? Anyone?”
    “There’s no better designer than Hemingway. He can use any of the parts that we have found in our archaeological digs. We will have to figure out everything else as we progress. Do you really think we can do it?”
    “Of course Jack. This is what we have been waiting for.” She smiled her broad smile, flashing her perfect teeth and the symmetrical laugh lines around her face.

.....

    “Watch it, don’t take any damn chances.”
    “What the hell are you scared of, Jim? This is why we go primitive. To have the feel of danger ... putting everything on the line.”
    Tom steered the white mustang around the electronic wall and stopped in front of the gate. The videonics recognized the two and opened the gates. He drove in slowly over the ruts and parked next to an old beat up truck.
    The courts were almost empty. Very few moderns could afford the luxury of tennis or going primitive or both. Tom was one of the few exceptions. Always a thrill seeker, he loved flirting with danger. Despite the high degree of alert and Jim’s hesitation, he had talked him into another game of primitive tennis. But they couldn’t handle more than two hours. Dead tired they climbed back in the mustang.
    “Let’s get back and get rid of these damn bodies.”
    “Let me record the score. We both won one set each and you won the third in a tie-breaker. Our grand total still shows me ahead by thirty-seven sets.”
    “Yeah, but you have lost a bunch of matches Tom. You like to pretend to win even when you loose. Don’t you?”
    “Well, I am ahead in total matches too. But you are catching up fast Jimbo. Another eight to go before we are even.”
    “I am going to drive to the west entrance.” Tom drove out of the Colorado tennis center and turned left towards the highway.
    “You love this car, don’t you?”
    “This is a nineteen-ninety-six classic antique. And she runs so beautifully.” He caressed the steering as if it was Marilyn Monroe, “You notice the contoured doors without the bumper strips! This is hard to find. And to have it running in such good shape. The mechanics really do a great job maintaining it for me.”
    A rusty, topless Jeep overtook them. It hesitated and ran right next to them. Tom gasped as he recognized Jack Sakarov. Jack motioned him to pull over. Tom pressed the accelerator harder.
    Jack shouted something to his companion, who reached over and unscrewed the top off a bottle. He stuck a rag into the bottle and lit it. As the two raced, one trying to get away and the other trying to catch up, the Molotov cocktail came flying from the Jeep and into the mustang. Tom swung the car off the road in an attempt to stop and get out. The flames were already too high.
    The mustang slowly rolled to the right as the fuel tank exploded. Tom’s helmet saved his brain from burning but his whole body was on fire. This is what it feels to be on fire. What a wonderful sensation. Shit I am dying. I can’t escape this. He looked for Jim but his blinded eyes couldn’t make out anything. Is this a moment of darkness? Or is it the end?

.....

    “I got the sandman, Martina. I got him and his friend. We found them driving on the road and now they are toast.”
    “What happened?”
    “I was coming back from the lab when I saw this fancy white mustang with the top down. I raced my old Jeep to overtake them. And to my surprise, the sandman and his friend were in it. Once I recognized him, there was no way I was going to let him get away.”
    “Alright! You got the bastard!” She gave him a hug and a kiss.
    “How are you coming along with The computing device?”
    “Hemingway has helped get most of it working. He even found a way to hook me into their net, but ...”
    “But what?”
    “I can’t get through the security. They have a security setup that won’t let me through. I wish we had a password creating device. I think they used them in the past. All I can do is try seven times and then it shuts me out for several hours. I need a means of finding the passwords that will let me in. Hemingway thinks it will be two levels of security, each requiring its own password. Without that I can’t even begin to infiltrate the Uninet.”
    “Once you are in, what will you do?”
    “I’ll have to find their central power source and either have your group physically destroy it or I’ll have to find a way to short-circuit the power to their suspension systems.”
    “What’s that?”
    “A system of networks that keeps their brains in a suspended state of being forever.”
    “And once that power is short-circuited?”
    “That would be the end to the moderns!”

.....

    Jack knocked on the lab door. He walked in to see a dejected Martina slumped in her chair staring at her computing device. Katrina braiding her hair to try and sooth her frustration.
    “So, no luck yet, huh?”
    “This whole thing is maddening. I love solving tough problems but this requires getting into the brains of the Uninet security controller. And who knows what bizarre logic he may have used to come up with the passwords.”
    “But he’s dead.”
    “Who?”
    “The head of security. That was the sandman. His name from what I could find was Tom Brown. His friend Jerry Turner whom we also get that time seemed to be a high level officer in the modern setup too.”
    Katrina massaged Martina’s brow, “Tom Brown ... he won’t use his own name, would he ever?”
    Martina slowly sat up, “No, no one would be that stupid. However if we could figure out what he did or was involved in ....”
    Jack started counting, “He was the head of security; he was the sandman; he was one of the few who actually ventured out as a primitive; ... what else?”
    “What did you find in his pockets or the car when you killed him?”
    “Well we found burnt tennis clothes and rackets.”
    Martina stroked her forehead, “Think damn it ... tennis what would he use that would be subtle but related to Tennis ... damn ... I can’t think of anything.”
    Katrina patted her shoulder, “How about love, or game or set or match or something like that?”
    Martina shook her head, “No I need something more logical but obscure. Some how connected but not.”
    Jack’s eyes slowly lit up, “I bet you that’s what it is ...”
    Martina screamed, “What?”
    “It’s the car. White mustang! I bet you a bottle of vodka.”
    Martina jumped up, “Yes, that’s perfect.”
    The modern population dreamed their ordered dreams, unaware that within a few short hours, a primitive was about to penetrate and destroy the Uninet with a little white mustang.

The End     2995 words

Copyright © 2004 Raman Jalota. All rights reserved. No part of this electronic publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.

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