“Please,” Silas said, holding up one hand. “I understand how difficult young adults can be.”
“What can we do?” Alan asked.
“I don’t know. Normally, we’d call the police and expel him.”
“Normally?”
“This isn’t a normal situation. I do acknowledge your status as a friend of Georgetown University.”
“This is his last year,” Naomi said. “What if he finished the year online?”
“That’s a possibility, but we’re still obligated to report the crime,” Silas said.
“Blake has felt very alienated here,” Alan said. “It’s not easy for him. He doesn’t fit in with the white students or the people of color. I think the drugs were his attempt to gain acceptance.”
“That’s unfortunate. Here at Georgetown, we try very hard to be an accepting and inclusive campus. I understand the difficulties of living in two worlds. My mother’s from Mexico and my father’s from Virginia. It wasn’t always easy navigating the two cultures, but I do think we’ve made great strides in this country over the years.”
“I think, given the circumstances, a strong warning and removal from campus would send the proper message,” Alan said.
Silas nodded and looked to Naomi. “What do you think?”
“I think my son has real problems that we as a family need to tackle, but involving the state will only compound these issues,” Naomi replied.
“I think we can accommodate, provided you remain a friend of the university. By the way, we’re looking for donors for the new VR center. Would you be interested in becoming a gold-level donor?”
Naomi pursed her lips and said, “Of course.”
Naomi wrote a check for 100,000 Fed Coins, nearly wiping out their savings account. But Blake avoided expulsion and arrest.
They drove across campus to Blake’s dorm, with campus security in tow. Officer Trask escorted them to Blake’s dorm room so he could collect his belongings. He was no longer allowed on campus without a security escort. Blake lumbered along at his own pace, his escorts slowing their pace to match his.
Blake’s dorm room was outfitted with an OLED television, with nanospeakers for perfect surround sound. His walls were an homage to drugs and women with large derrieres. Somehow he had affixed a mirror on the ceiling over his bed.
Naomi packed a suitcase with his clothes.
Officer Trask stood by the door.
Blake looked around his room and said, “Damn, we need to hire some movers.”
“We will,” Alan said. “Just pack what you need for the next week or so. The movers will get the rest.”
Naomi’s phone chimed. She swiped right and said, “Vernon, can you hold on a minute?” Without waiting for an answer, she said to Alan, “I’m taking this outside.”
Alan nodded.
Blake scowled at his mother.
Naomi left the dorm room. The hallway was mostly quiet, only the occasional student. The campus security, now and earlier, had probably moved the parties elsewhere. She put the phone to her ear as she walked to the elevator. “Thank you for calling me back. It’s perfect timing. Another minute and I might’ve punched my son in the face.”
“That bad?” Vernon asked.
“Part of me wanted to let the police deal with him.” Naomi entered the elevator and pressed L.
“That’s not a good idea. We don’t need that kind of press.”
“Don’t worry. I fixed it.”
“How’d you do that?”
“I wrote a check for 100,000 Fed Coins.”
“Ouch.”
Naomi exited the elevator. “I know.” She sighed. “And Alan makes excuses for him. He never lets Blake fail. Now he’s this arrogant asshole who I can’t stand to look at.” Naomi stepped outside into the crisp night air, headed for her Toyota sedan.
“He can’t be that bad.”
“Maybe I’m a terrible mother.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Sometimes I wonder what would happen if he were arrested. Would he pass the psychopath test? I have a feeling he wouldn’t. Part of me wanted him to be arrested so they’d test him and send him to the island.” Naomi paced on the sidewalk near her car.
“That’s understandable. You’re upset. You just spent a fortune bailing him out. This is on him. Not you.”
“Is it?”
“Of course it’s on him. You’ve done your part. Blake has been given every opportunity to be successful.”
Naomi sighed. “My son’s a loser.”
“Stop, Naomi.”
“Worse than that, he’s a bad person.”
“People change. Give him time. I was punk when I was his age too.”
“You grew up in the projects. You had an excuse.”
“That’s not an excuse. I matured, and I grew up. He will too.”
“I love you, Vernon,” Naomi said.
“I love you too.”
“I miss you. I really wanted to see you this weekend.”
Heavy footsteps approached.
“We’ll find time next week,” Vernon said.
Naomi turned to the footsteps. Blake stared at his mother, a suitcase in hand. Officer Trask and Alan lagged behind.
“Talking to Vernon?” Blake said, lifting his chin.
“A work call,” Naomi replied.
Blake snickered. “Yeah, right.”
21
Derek Burns the Midnight Oil
The road looked blurry. Derek drove his old box truck on Route 66 West toward home. He opened his eyes wider and slapped his face lightly. It was times like this he wished he’d had an autonomous truck. Thankfully, traffic was light.
Derek grabbed his phone from the cupholder and tapped the April icon. Straight to voice mail. Again.
“This is April. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back.”
After the tone, Derek said, “Hey, I was hopin’ to talk to you. I’m drivin’ home from the farmers’ market. Between Friday and today, I’ve sold out. I’m not even workin’ tomorrow. I gave my table to the guy next to me. I can’t believe I’m still standin’ after this week. I’m worn out. I hope you’re not workin’ too hard. Well, if you get this message, call me back. I could use the company. I love you.”
Derek set his phone back in the cupholder. His eyelids drooped and shut, then he opened them wide. He opened the window, letting the cool air blow into the cab. He turned up the radio, listening to upbeat music, singing along. He slapped his face.
Somewhere along the line, he ran out of steam. His eyes drooped and shut for an instant, but he opened them again. A moment later, he shut his eyes for a few more seconds, but he opened them again. He did this over and over again until he was gone.
As he slept, he didn’t notice as the truck slowed, his foot no longer pressing the gas. He didn’t notice as he drifted off the highway into the grass median separating westbound and eastbound traffic. He didn’t notice as he drifted onto 66 East, traveling the wrong way.
He awoke with a jolt when his box truck smashed head-on into an autonomous BMW. The speed of the lighter-weight BMW was offset by the girth and comparatively low speed of Derek’s box truck, creating a head-to-head stalemate that totaled both vehicles. The initial impact yanked Derek toward the windshield, his seat belt the only reason he didn’t go through the glass and beyond.
The wreckage blocked the left lane of eastbound traffic. The autonomous vehicles adjusted to this bottleneck instantly, sending signals throughout the network. Vehicles many miles away slowed and moved to the right lane in anticipation of the upcoming impediment.
Derek groaned and tried to move, but his lower leg was pinned by twisted metal. He attempted to pull his leg from the wreckage, but the pain coming from his right ankle took his breath away. Autonomous vehicles zipped past, without the urge to rubberneck.
He looked into the decimated BMW. He was relieved that it seemed empty. A dealer tag was in the front window. Probably delivering itself. He checked the cupholder, but his phone wasn’t there. He glanced around the cab but didn’t see it anywhere. He’d never used the voice command on his phone, but he’d seen others do it.