<I am the Sump Pumps of K of District of Columbia,> I think.
The Sump Pumps of K pump water beyond the Watergate.
<|That white noise.> I push door and step.
Few stars shine. Clouds float. Sky is dark. Street lamps' light illuminate the people.
People talk; point and stand around cafe; stand and talk by vehicle gardens; sit and stand before store fronts; walk along sidewalks; walk to and from people and tables; eat hot dogs and fries.
The door shuts. A beep beeps.
Hot dog and fries fume.
I descend stairs. <|Into the world.>
Humidity spreads over flesh.
I step from stairs and between people. <|Where is my Psycho?>
Stagecoaches and rickshaws movers say, ,,Move, move, move...''
Two Secret Sentries stand by intersection.
People bite and chew hot dogs.
<|Food.> I think, walk left.
Laser signs on vehicle gardens shine Sam's Hot Dogs.
A bike flows past on sidewalk.
<|Want squab dog.>
I walk by Jeep.
Biker weaves bike through crowd, hops onto street, hops onto sidewalk.
Someone yells, ,,IT IS A SIDEWALK!''
A biker gang flows along street. Ten people wearing red jump suits pull stagecoach and say, ,,Move, move, move, move, move...''
Representative Rickshaw rolls along street. Page hands grip poles of Representative Rickshaw. Page puffs and huffs. Arms are taut with step. Lips move and help form the words, ,,Move. Move. Move...''
A Jeep quarter panel cage door rattles. Whiskers and small nose poke through fence.
I walk. <|Psycho is near.>
,,DICK!'' says Sam louder than movers' shout and people's chatter.
I look back, say, ,,SAM!'' and lift index finger above head.
,,DICK!'' says Sam. Sam raises index finger in air.
,,SAM!'' I say. I look forward.
,,Does Dick want Psycho to establish authority in the parameter above?'' says Psycho.
,,Sam's hot dog is the number one hot dog.'' I lower hand. <|No suits and shades. No petrol cars. No flashing sensor lights.> I step between people. <|No laser lights, no visible drones. Lots of people. Is it that late?> I look to Conn. <|Rickshaw. Where is?> ''Psycho, where are you?'' I say. I look behind. <|Nothing entering apartment. No flashing windows. Did I blow out the candle? No candle flicker.>
Psycho says, ,,Psycho's position is upon the roof above Mustang's Office. Absolute error to eliminate all targets with no property destruction zero point zero one percent. Area of concentration three feet parameter around Dick. One shot kill probability ninety-nine point nine nine nine nine.''
<|Psycho needs deconditioning.>
<|Why aim if can't kill?> ,,Why do you need to calculate one shot kill probability if you can not kill?''
,,Psycho is waiting to kill,'' Psycho says. ''And Psycho is able to torture.''
I say, ,,That's bad.''
A stagecoach is moved by two movers in green jump suits. Low voice says, ,,Move... Move... Move...'' Stagecoach wheels roll slow. Loud laughter on the corner of P is. Stagecoach and skaters roll along street.
Moist forehead is dried by breeze.
Psycho says, ,,Psycho detects a Secret Sentry and ranges the Secret Sentry.''
I look up and right.
Psycho leaps from one building to another building.
I say, ,,I don't want to know.''
Psycho leaps to a church; to a ministry; to the P Street Lobbyist Lounge.
I walk along sidewalk and between people.
People stand and lean. People sit on chairs and stoops and steps.
Hot rubber fumes.
A rickshaw mover hollers, ,,MOVE! Move! Move, move...'' Legs pump and push and pull the rickshaw.
Psycho says, ,,Psycho has range.''
Rickshaw mover's boots clomp along street. Couple in rickshaw cab rub and kiss bodies. The mover's holler lowers to a steady cadence of, ,,Move, move, move, move...''
Psycho says, ,,Psycho has range.''
Shit and piss smells flow past then fade.
Psycho says, ''Psycho has aim.''
<|Never get use to it.> ,,Don't aim.'' Lamp pole's red light sensor blinks. <|Forward. Light dimmer.> ''Where you aiming?''
,,There are two primary targets, two secondary targets, ten thousand two hundred seven subprime targets in field of operation,'' says Psycho.
Sam's Hot Dog signs glow on vehicle gardens doors and quarter panels. Lamp pole's light dims.
People lean against vehicle gardens. Their heads pivot with people.
,,Ice,'' says someone.
I feel sweat on forehead. ,,What is the field of operation?''
Psycho says, ,,The Beltway Wall is the field of operation.''
People sit around circle tables. They hold crosses and press arms before chest. People stand against wall. They talk and laugh. They hold cups.
I lift forearm to forehead. I lower forearm. Hand grabs handkerchief from back pants' pocket. <|The record written. Psycho can't filter all signals.>
People stare at the sidewalk from stoop. People fondle hand guns holstered to hips, ankles, shoulders.
I wipe forehead with handkerchief.
Congov sits on stoop and wears red arm band.
<|Secret Sentry congov.> I wink to Secret Sentry on stoop. <|They don't know.>
Psycho's voice fades then rises, ''Center line ranged.''
<|Or they do.>
Secret Sentry looks away, <|From me,> to man across street.
I fold and slide handkerchief into back pocket.
People on stoops talk and watch. Their eyes follow walkers, bikers, vehicles.
A loud laughter is.
I walk, smile through people.
People stand on sidewalk and talk, fondle hair, wink, smile. People part and create a path. People are armed with silver twenty-two caliber hand guns.
Silver gun handles reflect the street lamp light.
I walk group path. I say, ,,Thank you,'' and look to all.
Two men smile. A woman with long blonde hair winks and smiles.
Warm wind blows upon skin and dries sweat.
Stagecoach and rickshaw movers chant, ,,Move, move, move, move...''
I think, <|How long psych injections?>
A biker passes.
Biker, <|Congov,> slows to slow peddle to weave between people on sidewalk.
Sweat drips from his face.
Psycho's deep sex voice flows to an echo, ,,The secondary targets are engaging with primary targets.''
A Secret Sentry on stoop says, ,,IT IS A SIDEWALK.''
<|Will they kill Mustang?> I think.
,,Three new drones are ranged. Signals are intercepted. Signals are translated. Signals are spliced. Signals are changed. Signals are sent,'' Psycho says.
,,I don't need to hear what you told me, Psycho.'' <|Will they kill mom and dad?>
Psycho says, ,,Drone audio report no longer verbal for Dick of The Detective Store.''
A shout and laughter rise. People point and laugh.
<|I am immediate danger.>
Pepper smoke flows from an open window.
People smile, toast, drink, eat over white table cloths and shiny plates of squab.
I walk toward traffic circle, think, <|Lamp is out. Always out. Dark. No moving shadows.>
People walk past.
<|Not government stagecoach. The petrol truck of congov. Going toward circle. Should I?>
Psycho says, ''Ranging contractor government.''
I say, ,,Psycho, no more range reports.''
,,All range reporting turned off for Dick of The Detective Store,'' Psycho says.
Rickshaws, bikes, stagecoaches roll around traffic circle.
Petrol smoke tickles throat.
I cough. I fan hand before face. <|Killing machine controlled by competing company?>
Stagecoach wheel rattles.
<|...Can be global...>
Building lights flicker then fade. Vehicle garden doors shine JOE'S.
<|Petrol truck going. It will stop on corner.> I stride upon soft spot in rubber sidewalk.
Traffic circle lights shine. Stagecoaches, rickshaws with red and blue spoked wheels roll.
People walk by church. People wear long necklaces hanging crosses and name tags. People touch gun handles and rub holsters.
Elbows and shoulders bump. Cups are tipped. Whiskey spills. Some one says, ,,Hey, now, watch it.''
People turn heads and stare. <|At me.>
People and I bump shoulders and elbows. ,,Can a Gee Forty-three lie?'' I say.
,,Yes,'' says Psycho.
I step between people standing, walking past.
A breeze blows. Piss and shit smell is. Shit and piss smell fades.
I step on street.
<|The Watergate,> I think. Legs reach, grab, pull, push.
Biker group flows to traffic circle.
<|If clue people exist, psych injection, psych projection?>
I step on sidewalk.
Church's roof cross illuminates the night. Twelve people stand in the shadows by tall church doors.
I walk past.
Two communication drones appear by cross.
I walk toward circle.
Psycho says, ''Contractor government is ranged. Transmissions are intercepted: Decrypting. Reading.''
,,Please no more reporting, Psycho, except mom, dad, Mustang or clue people.''
,,Situation reporting turned off for Dick of The Detective Store,'' Psycho says.
Movers pull rickshaws and stagecoaches around circle. Movers shout, speak, chant, holler and scream, ,,MOVE. Move. Move. MOVE. MOVE!''
I walk to curb corner, step left.
A congov truck rolls on Mass. The congov truck rolls slow and rolls onto sidewalk. The congov truck stops.
I slide jacket from left shoulder to right shoulder.
Congov truck idles on sidewalk by Mass corner. Congov truck blocks crosswalk to rubber island splitting Mass.
Burnt petrol clouds cover.
Stagecoaches and rickshaws roll around congov truck and merge right onto traffic circle outer lane.
Red-hand glows from across Mass.
I slow step to a stand. I stand by congov truck's grill.
Sweat beads on forehead.
A gust is. Sweat smell is.
The movers drip sweat. The movers pull past.
<|Congov no trust.> I grab handkerchief, unfold, hold corner to mouth. Handkerchief is over mouth.
I catch sneeze with handkerchief. I fold handkerchief with one hand and put handkerchief in back pocket.
The red-hand glows.
<|I did this.> I lick dry lips. I look behind. I look left and right, think, <|I do this.>
Congov truck doors open. Two congov step from truck cab. The two congov talk.
Sweat covers nose.
One congov talks, <|By me,> walks to his right, walks toward apartment. One congov stands by truck's hood, leans upon hood and talks.
<|Not aware of Psycho.>
Stagecoach movers say, ,,Move, move, move, move, move.''
I clear throat and spit upon street by front truck wheel. <|Targets could be psych injected.> ,,They are not aware of you, Psycho.''
,,No,'' says Psycho.
Rubber and sweat fume.
Stagecoaches and rickshaws move around traffic circle.
Movers chant, say, shout and whisper, ,,MOVE, MOVE. MOVE, move, Move. MOVE! Move, move, move, move.''
The congov by truck's hood pushes dark spectacles up nose bridge, says, ,,No. Standing here by the circle now. There is no confirmation of anything. We are waiting for information. There is no reason to order others in the area. Not now.''
The red-hand glows.
Rickshaws and stagecoaches roll past and merge to circle.
The congov continues to talk, ''Yeah, too much information. Yeah, I...John is walking down to get something to eat...No, I'm not hungry...One minute. John.'' The red-hand fades. ''Get me a hot dog.''
<|No hand.> I step to street. <|Congov never question.> I widen stride, think, <|Just shoot.>
The red-hand flashes.
,,MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!!!'' movers shout left to right. A stagecoach rattles toward circle.
<|...Why they say.> I step to curb to pedestrian island, look right.
Traffic circle's outer lane fills with stagecoaches, rickshaws and bicycles.
A steel stagecoach merges with stagecoaches, rickshaws, bikers counter-clockwise move around traffic circle. Steel stagecoach movers scream, ,,MOVE! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!!!''
Congov stands by open truck door and looks at illuminated cross.
The red-hand and building lights flicker.
Stagecoach movers and rickshaw movers say, ,,Move, move, move, move...''
Stagecoaches, rickshaws or bikes roll right.
I look left and right.
Road is empty.
I step upon street.
,,THERE IS A RED-HAND,'' shouts a Secret Sentry from rickshaw. Rickshaw is parked upon the traffic circle's sidewalk ring.
I wide stride across street to median between traffic circle's inner and outer traffic lanes. <|Maybe I can become a mover?> I step from median to the street.
''THERE IS A RED-HAND,'' shouts Secret Sentry.
<|Then I'd move, move, move.> I look left and right then forward at sidewalk ring.
Sidewalk ring surrounds the tree ring and the four pie quadrant ring. The four pie quadrant ring is cut by four paths from the sidewalk ring to traffic circle's center. Granite benches circle traffic circle center and a three tiered basin and fountains around a man-on-horse statue.
Bright white lights shine from man-on-horse statue's head. Bright white lights illuminate the traffic circle's center.
''THERE IS A RED-HAND,'' hollers Secret Sentry. A white light beam shines upon face.
<|Maybe jail is cool. Underground?> I wipe forehead.
Two men peddle bikes.
<|No.> I step upon sidewalk ring.
Metal bike rims roll over rubber street.
The light beam disappears.
A Secret Sentry stands on path to man-on-horse. Secret Sentry stands by black rickshaw. Secret Sentry looks. <|At me.> Secret Sentry points dim flashlight, <|At me.>
<|Should reach, grab flashlight.> I smile. <|That'd scare 'em.>
Secret Sentry turns a handle on flashlight. The flashlight shines bright light beam. Bright light beam shines from back. Shadow is cast.
The tree ring is.
<|New gentree in ring.>
People lay under the branches. Couples hold hands and walk along tree ring.
,,Area scan warns Secret Sentry in sand quadrant,'' reports Psycho.
I say, ,,No reporting, Psycho.'' I walk...
Psycho says, ,,It's a warning, Dick.''
The white lights shine bright.
Lamp pole's top sensors blink red lights.
<|Recording,> I think. ,,No warnings,'' I say. I walk...
Psycho says, ,,Warning turned off for Dick of The Detective Store.''
<|Who else reporting?> I glance back to Secret Sentry. <|Secret Sentry?>
Forehead and nose sweat.
<|Guy skating my way.>
Skater pops from inner circle. Skater bops head.
,,Psycho, are you reporting or warning for anyone other than me.'' I step between group and couples.
,,No,'' says Psycho.
I twist and pivot body, walk backward toward man-on-horse, look at building tops around circle. I think, <|No urchin.> I grab handkerchief and pull it from back pocket, unfold it, wipe face, wipe brow, cheek, ear, neck, around wrist. <|Invisible. Many scanners.>
Two drones float.
I walk backward toward man-on-horse. I fold handkerchief and slide it in back pocket.
People lay on backs upon the sand quadrant. They stare to the stars covered by the cross's illumination.
The left side wood quadrant is covered with prayer rugs. A preacher speaks verse and points to illuminated cross.
<|They.> I look to left and turn left and look at building tops and walk forward to man-on-horse.
Psycho leaps in a streak from the white bank. Psycho's streak flows right and up and over traffic circle to white hotel roof.
<|A really good psych injection.> I say, ,,I can see you.''
Psycho says, ,,Psycho is not invisible.''
I think, <|No one seen.>
Psycho disappears then reappears on white hotel roof. ''One is thinking of the streak.''
I say, ,,Me.''
,,Yes,'' says Psycho.
People sit on bench ring around man-on-horse. They stare at the people walking inner circle.
<|We're all tapped,> I think. I say, ,,Psycho, how many minds are you reading?''
Psycho says, ,,Ten thousand six hundred sixty-nine minds read.''
People sit on benches. People stare and kiss. People sit with heads cocked back, mouths open, eyes closed.
I walk into the white light. <|Dupont still on horse. Guns. Two congov.>
I step with women and men.
Women and men walk around inner circle. Their ring fingers bonded with gold rings. They reach and touch other men and women.
<|They.> Legs pull and push, stride, step against men and women flow.
White light illuminates.
<|Where is Psycho?> I walk by the basin, walk along the granite path.
Heels click upon granite path. Whispers hide behind hand and band covering lips and another's ear.
Static is. Psycho's voice says, ''Psycho is upon the top of the white hotel.''
<|...Maybe injection wearing off...>
Lamp pole's top scanner lights flicker and dim, brighten.
<|Lamp scanner broke.> I inhale and smell humidity. <|Government petrol.> I hear diesel motor putter and smell its exhaust.
Congov truck flows from tunnel along Conn toward Reagan Hotel.
<|If only congov know.> I think, <|Dead.> I say, ,,If you are not a psych injection, you are nothing more than a puppet, Psycho. A global red.'' Head shakes side to side. ''Only global red or congov, government foolish enough to use a killing machine for a puppet.''
Congov sits on bench.
I walk between benches. <|Others focus away. Looks. Contact.> I wink.
The congov looks away.
A couple parts hands. Two couples kiss.
The white light fades after the benches.
''Will you kill everyone, Psycho?''
Psycho says, ,,Maybe.''
Person holds a lamp. The lamp casts light upon people. People spread blanket over sand quadrant.
,,Why do you exist?''
Psycho says, ,,Gee Forty-three are created to protect this good country by taking the fight to the enemy. A good defense is a good offense. Gee Forty-three get them before they get US.''
US echoes then fades from mind.
,,An advertisement.'' I step from granite to rubber. I walk path from inner circle to sidewalk ring. <|Where's the government? Left? Congov all?> ''Government doesn't care.''
People couple on sidewalk.
,,Why does Dick believe the government does not care?'' says Psycho.
,,It has been sold to create you.'' Heart beat increases. Jaw tightens. I inhale and slowly exhale. I feel and think, <|The psych injection?> Heart rate slows.
Psycho says, ,,Primary and secondary targets update. Primary and secondary targets are waiting for seats inside Larry's Fajitas. Targets are under the awning of Larry's Fajitas.''
I step between couple. ,,Clue people update.''
I slide jacket to position higher on shoulder.
Psycho's voice says, ,,The primary targets have completed drinking whiskey. Two orders of whiskey are ordered. The secondary targets are drinking water.''
Rickshaws and stagecoaches roll around the traffic circle. People in red, white and blue jump suits pull stagecoaches. Metal rims roll over the traffic circle.
Movers shout, ,,MOVE, MOVE, MOVE, MOVE...''
I stand on sidewalk ring.
<|Need to leave.>
The dim methane lamps illuminate sidewalk and street center. They flicker.
<|No one knows. Maybe quagmire around Reflecting Pool? No. White buildings. No. People behind. Three. Sensors not tracking.>
,,Reflecting Pool a Mire Factor Three,'' says Psycho.
,,Don't answer my internal dialog unless I see to you, Psycho.''
A murder of drones appears above.
Red-hand glows across traffic circle.
I mutter, ''Hamp,'' pull jacket from right shoulder and set jacket upon left shoulder.
Sweat beads on nose. <|Woman behind.>
Murder of drones spreads across sky.
The red-hand glows. The stagecoaches, rickshaws and bikes stop. The red-hand fades.
I step from sidewalk.
Dim street lanterns cast shadows.
People walk to and from restaurants and hotels. The movers inhale, exhale. Their sweat drips, drips, drips to the rubber street.
I inhale sweat fumes.
<|What time is it?> I grab handkerchief, wipe forehead, fold handkerchief to pocket.
The red-hand flashes.
Man and woman couples hold hands and walk to man-on-horse.
I step upon median.
I look a man in the eyes. ''Pardon me.'' I stare at his pudgy, blood red cheeks. I nod head. I step upon outer traffic circle lane.
A Secret Sentry pulls Secret Sentry rickshaw. It yells, ,,MOVE! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE...''
<|Congov and blue,> I think.
The red-hand flashes.
Page pulls congress rickshaw and screams, ,,MOVE! MOVE! MOVE...''
People stand and walk, touch shoulders and slide chests between chests, step upon sidewalk.
Legs pull and push, pull and push to rubber island between Hamp split.
People walk across street to white hotel or data warehouse.
People stand and mass around white hotel's entrances.
<|Congov. Lawyers. Interns.>
Stagecoaches park along outer circle near white hotel. Stagecoaches and rickshaws movers scream, ,,MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!!!'' and move stagecoaches and rickshaws around parked stagecoaches and traffic circle.
I stride left to sidewalk and white hotel. <|Is Mustang there?>
People stand and step on sidewalk before white hotel. People are a mass. Mass spreads to outer circle lane.
<|Why I walk?>
People surround. They talk. They look. They point at the people line; the groups; the crowd; the stagecoaches. They laugh and smile.
White light shines upon crowd.
Men and women wear ties and jackets. They walk from white hotel's six door exit between people over sidewalk to cafes and diners and whiskey lounges.
Guitar and hand drums sound from white hotel and through the talk.
<|I continue this reality.>
Psycho crawls along white hotel roof's edge.
People point arms and fingers above. <|At the expanding murder of drones.>
No red-hand glows.
I step upon curb then sidewalk. Shoulders bump shoulders.
People shuffle and push past. They part hands and step, strafe between.
Hip hits holsters.
Psycho's limbs whip from roof. Psycho crawls white hotel's roof.
<|Psycho seen is people shooting.>
Sweat and rubber fume.
People stand in a line to white hotel's doors. Door opens. Cold air puffs from white hotel.
I pull handkerchief from back pocket and wipe forehead, think, <|Vehicle gardens,> step into space, slide jacket from left to right shoulder. <|Vehicle gardens.> I wedge chest through people.
People stand and talk and look.
<|The sweat.> ,,Excuse me.'' I step and slide and say, ''Excuse me,'' step and slide and say, ''Excuse me.'' A few people stare.
Alcohol sweat fumes flow into nose.
People hold beer and whiskey cups.
<|Red carpet. Stage ready to pull. Sidewalk is wide. Gun holsters strapped to thighs.> I pivot chest and step between people. <|Vehicle gardens.>
''Psycho, you can control the stop lights,'' I say.
,,Yes,'' says Psycho.
<|White oak.> Trees grow from open quagmire holes. White oaks grow between sidewalk and vehicle gardens.
<|BMW, Lexus, Audi, Saab, Jeep.> Vehicle gardens lay end to end to end. A fish jumps up and down in Lexus pool.
Three stagecoaches roll to circle. Movers holler, ,,MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!!!'' Stagecoach movers shove movers into traffic circle's outer lane.
I walk along sidewalk.
Condominium lights shine, flicker and dim. A tall steel fence surrounds the condominium.
Street lights on both sides of Hamp cast white light. Two lights flicker.
I feel and think, <|Why now?> I walk upon sidewalk. I step between people.
People walk and talk.
<|Who could it be? If anyone? Enemies?> I walk. <|No money.>
Warm wind blows.
People walk on other sidewalk. They walk away from traffic circle. Someone shouts, ,,COME ON!''
<|Always a deep quagmire.>
One man steps from sidewalk between vehicle gardens to street. A second man steps from sidewalk and follows and jumps on the back of one man. Two men grapple each other in middle of street.
,,MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!'' Stagecoach movers raise their voice. Their faces are taut with each shout.
Two men grapple and laugh and stumble to a Jeep.
A stagecoach passes behind the two men.
Tall steel link fence changes to a short stone wall to an iron rod fence.
Congov with dark spectacles stand on sidewalk by end of tall steel link fence.
Bikes flow to the traffic circle. A stagecoach flows. Movers chant, ,,Move. Move. Move...''
Two men grapple upon a Jeep.
Strawberries grow in Jeep.
,,WATCH THE GARDEN FENCE!'' shouts one from stoop.
People walk past.
The congov with dark spectacles stand with back to back. They touch their ears and talk.
Police drone floats behind. Its red and blue lights flash.
The street lamp flame flickers.
Person shouts, ''SAID STOP!''
A shadow stands on stoop. Flame light flickers. Man casts shadow from stoop. White oak creates shadow.
I think, <|Lettuce,> walk by a BMW. <|Carrots.> I look behind.
The two men grapple. One pushes the other against the Jeep. The other laughs loud.
,,Danger. A strobe pulse is being triggered,'' Psycho says.
A click clicks.
I cover eyes with eyelids.
A pop pops.
Blood red flashes then fades.
Right foot lands before left foot. Left foot lands before right foot.
I walk. I uncover eyes with eyelids, blink.
,,Where am I?'' say three people standing on sidewalk. They rub eye sockets, shake heads, look around.
I look forward. <|Mustang should be there.> I step past a man and woman. <|Here.>
Congov stand back to back. Index fingers press right ear canal. Their faces sweat. Their height is the same. They murmur.
I walk by congov.
Men and women pairs walk in a column. They smile, <|At me,> squeeze, walk by holding hands.
Sweat drop forms on nose. <|Psych injection will reason reaction.>
Laughter sounds from a white condominium. Condominium lights flicker. Silhouettes dance past window.
I pivot chest and step between people.
People walk past. A person peers and brow forms V. <|At me.>
Cicada buzz raises and lowers.
Psycho lands on white condominium.
<|Thirsty,> I think.
Psycho leaps from row house to row house.
Row house door opens. A man and a woman step to stoop. The man walks down the stoop while the woman looks at the door. The man turns to face woman and says, ,,Did I turn the cooler off?'' Woman turns to face man, says, ,,No.''
Feet clomp up stairs to door and into row house. Man says loud, ,,THE COOLER IS ON.'' Feet clomp down stairs from building to stairs then step on walkway to sidewalk.
A Nineteen Sixty-six Mustang is between a Nineteen Sixty-four and a half Mustang and a Nineteen Sixty-seven Mustang.
<|Mustang garden. Plastic shine.>
Bright lights shine.
Warm wind blows.
Porsche 911 vehicle garden and an Army drone are. The Porsche 911 vehicle garden is full of red, white, blue roses. The drone floats above the Porsche 911 vehicle garden and the trees. A red and blue light blinks from bottom.
The red and blue lights disappear then reappear.
Drone spotlight illuminates the street.
Psycho leaps from white condominium to white hotel.
Soft hovercopter gyration is distant.
Sweat drop falls from chin.
<|Vehicle garden.> I walk, switch jacket from right shoulder to left shoulder, pull handkerchief from pocket and wipe face, neck.
Shit and piss smells float past.
<|Mustang...> I widen stride.
A quagmire around red condominium grows corn. The corn is surrounded by steel chain link fence.
,,A strobe,'' Psycho says.
Bright white light behind casts shadow of me over the sidewalk, the vehicle gardens, the trees, the fences to beyond beyond where I can touch only with my shadow. The shadow flickers and fades, and I reach for the top of the shadow and in that instant that second I reach beyond beyond then flash fades and beyond is before. I reach and stretch beyond the sidewalk and beyond the trees and streets to the sky and stars and the darkness of space. In space I float and fade to become a dot then disappear into...
I feel and think, <|Where am I?> I stand.
A hoot and a low bass voice says, ,,Duuuuupooooont CIRCLE!''
I think, <|...Like it's announcing the name of a fighter of a distant boxing match.> I inhale rubber fumes. I open eyes. I exhale.
Feet crunch cicada husks.
Hovercopter whirl is.
,,Primary Targets are given a five minute table time,'' says a voice.
My shadow dances before me with the darkness.
Cicada buzz in shadows and shrubs.
<|Clue people.> I walk.
People wearing heels click down stairs from condominium doors. People stand on sidewalks and on roofs. People laugh, argue and chat.
Bikes cycle over street: one, two, three...Then four and five. Two more bikes flow over street between car and truck vehicle gardens.
Trucks' bed's wire cages cover peppers, spinach, beans, tomatoes rows. Hoods and engines are shiny grills.
<|Food.> I walk. <|Food with Mustang?> I think.
A sex voice says, ''Hovercopter over eighteenth. Hovercopter emits a propaganda bomb.''
<|Mustang. Where's Mustang?> I look up.
Gust pushes tree tops. Tree tops sway.
Army and police drones float.
<|More drones than normal.>
Chest lunges, arms flap. Foot pulls from raised sidewalk. Leg throws foot forward. Foot lands, and leg braces. Body balances.
''Dick's body scan returns no trauma,'' says the sex voice.
<|Is that coming from a drone?> I think.
People walk by.
<|The office not Mustang.> I look behind. <|Here.>
''Hovercopter over eighteenth. Psycho suggests an alternate route to the goal,'' says sex voice.
Heart beats fast.
I feel and think, <|Gee Forty-three Killing Machine.> I pivot head up and down and down and up. I walk. <|Here.>
Corvette vehicle garden grows beets.
Shit and piss smell is.
<|Psycho. Mustang at Larry's Fajitas.>
Congov truck with radar dish turns right from Q. Congov truck rolls toward traffic circle.
High heels click past. Small silver twenty-two caliber pistols are strapped to ankles.
<|Psycho. Psych Injection. Company. Global. Maybe government? ...New detective?>
Psycho's limbs flow from condominium to condominium. Red and blue lights flash. Psycho leaps from row house to row house. Limbs flow from one row house to other row house.
<|Don't ask.> Sweat gathers upon nose. <|Don't make real.>
People with platform boots walk toward circle.
<|Mustang, mom and dad.>
People lean against vehicle gardens. Their heads pivot with people.
<|Make it real in mind.> I think, <|Escape, Southeast quagmire.>
People lean on white oaks. They watch people pass. People wink and smile.
''Danger. Gee Forty-three killing machine has entered field of operation,'' says Psycho.
The cicadas buzz. The buzz raises and lowers, raises and lowers.
People walk from buildings, sit on steps and stare. Drones beep...beep...beep...
A congov truck putters to corner past the corn and by stop sign. Truck rolls into intersection street before stagecoach.
The ten movers pull stagecoach. They hit and slide heels over rubber street. Ten movers push back against stagecoach's forward flow. Lead movers lift an arm and place open palm on tailgate of truck and push back the stagecoach pole with an arm.
The stagecoach stops.
Congov truck wheels slowly roll.
The stagecoach moves slow behind congov truck. The stagecoach movers say, ,,Move. Move. Move. Move...''
,,What is life, Dick?'' says Psycho.
>|This is,< I think to Psycho.
Pole mounted radar dish spins on congov truck bed.
,,Hello,'' I say.
Psycho says, ,,The primary targets are ordering another whiskey. The primary targets, secondary targets will be seated before eight minutes. Psycho has read and is reading the subprime targets' minds in Larry's Fajitas.''
The congov truck with spinning radar dish passes. Stagecoaches and rickshaws queue behind the congov truck. All movers say slow, ,,Move... Move... Move... Move... Move...''
<|The people.> I look up.
Gray streaks above to steel hotel roof on 18th. Psycho fades from sight.
I step from sidewalk to street. <|Too much information.>
Bikers flow around congov truck.
Petroleum clouds float from congov truck.
Lungs tighten, grip to make a lung fist. Lungs squeeze air out.
I exhale. I step from street to sidewalk.
People wave hands before face, point at congov, pivot head side to side, cough, sneeze.
One, two, three, four and five bikes flow and merge then flow between stagecoaches and rickshaws.
Petroleum cloud blows away.
<|No. No government.> I wide stride, pull handkerchief from pocket, walk by The Shire GenGarden Quagmire sign, wipe face with handkerchief, walk by people pointing. I fold and slide handkerchief into back pants' pocket. I think, <|Why me?>
People open doors and step to stoops. People walk toward traffic circle.
A siren somewhere wails. The wail pierces ears and pulls mind. The siren fades to silence then rises to wail. The wail becomes a whistle and then the whistle becomes one with the wind gust.
<|Army,> I think.
Stagecoaches and rickshaws queue for merge on to Hamp. Movers whisper, ,,Move... Move... Move... Move... Move...,'' behind congov truck.
The hovercopter blade twirls. A shout and whip snaps and, ''MOVE. MOVE. MOVE...,'' is.
<|Hovercopter.> I stride wide and quick. Leg muscles pulse. Sweat drips.
I put jacket over right shoulder. I shake left arm and hand.
Sweat drops from ear to neck. Collar absorbs sweat drop.
I step left at intersection, walk, look right at steel condominium, wipe neck and head with handkerchief.
Psycho leaps from steel condominium to a plastic row house then a plastic row hotel.
,,Subprime target hovercopter approaches,'' says Psycho.
Hovercopter floats above street and above tree tops. The blade gyration flows through the humidity. A red dot and a blue dot shine from saucer center. A cone of white light covers street, vehicle gardens, sidewalks and stoops.
I look left.
People stand on street. People sit in rickshaw.
I walk across street and look at hovercopter.
,,Propaganda bomb.'' I stuff handkerchief in pocket and walk, look at people's faces and sidewalk, think, <|If real.>
People do not make eye contact.
Psycho says, ,,Interrupt. Mustang is talking with Richard Taft about the Football team Cowboys.''
I lift head. <|Mustang.> I walk upon sidewalk. <|Is good.>
Row houses are. White oak line separates sidewalk and vehicle gardens. Bikes are chained to tree bases and light poles.
I think, <|People.> I turn chest and slide between standing groups.
People sit on steps and wear hip holsters holding forty-five caliber guns.
Psycho leaps from plastic hotel and lands on red condominium.
Cicada buzz rises from shrub and lowers to shrub.
<|Football.> I step on cicada husks. <|The game tomorrow will be good.> I lick sweat from lips, taste the salt. <|The game.> I grab handkerchief and wipe face with handkerchief. <|Redskins and Cowboys.> I fold handkerchief and stuff it in back pants' pocket.
''Hovercopter emitting Propaganda Bomb. Psycho unable to intercept and filter signal,'' says Psycho.
<|Who's that new corner?> I look left and right. <|Me?> I walk across street. <|Game time.> My arms and hands sway with opposite leg's wide step forward. <|The game is now.>
Bentley and BMW vehicle gardens grow tomatoes.
People spread sense and talk. Their chatter and laughs are loud. The words are sharp and shaking in pitch. <|With scan fear.> People shout, ,,HERE.'' People laugh.
Mint and sage blow away.
A soft breeze flows upon face and arms.
Twirling hovercopter blade sound changes pitch.
Cone of while light shines.
I focus forward. <|Football.> I stride on curb by people.
People stand still. People walk backwards and forwards. People point to the cone of white.
Three stagecoaches move along street toward white light.
The cone of white light touches the base of the condominiums and row houses.
Breeze gusts to a wind then a breeze.
Neck, face, head are cool and dry.
I look left and step to street.
Vehicle gardens and people fill street.
I step to sidewalk.
Cone of white casts from the hovercopter. The hovercopter's blade spins. The hover blade swoosh hums and blows.
Tree leaves flap and flutter.
I feel numb.
More people stand and stare.
People hold on to hats. People point.
Feet crunch cicada husks. Sweat falls from nose.
People stand on stoops, sidewalk, between vehicle gardens.
<|Hot.> I unbutton top shirt buttons. I switch jacket from laying on one shoulder to the other shoulder. <|Football.>
Shoulder bumps shoulder.
People walk away from cone of white light. People stand.
The cone of white light covers vehicle gardens, trees, stoops.
The people flow away from the cone of white toward Hamp.
Two people near cone of white light laugh. They hold, push and pull each other to the cone of white light.
,,LAAAAARRRRY'S FAAAAAJIIIIIIIIIIIIIITAAAS,'' bellows from the people. People walk away from the cone of white light. Their hands stretch toward Larry's Fajitas and cone of white light.
<|Football,> I think.
Steel stagecoach slowly rolls. Twenty movers move steel stagecoach.
<|An I.S. Carbon Laser Carrier. Army.>
An Army stagecoach on S rolls from Col. Guider looks left, pulls right reign. Movers raise their voice to, ,,Move, Move, Move, Move,'' on 18th toward Hamp. Movers are dressed in green, black, tan armor suits.
<|Football.> Steel Army stagecoach with I.S. Carbon Laser moves past. It rolls silent.
Corner lamp posts cast gold and orange hue. Rock Creek Water Pumps thump and hum. Cicada shells crunch under shoe soles. Cicadas buzz. Bikes swoop to and from street.
,,LAAAAAAAARRRRRYYYY'S FAAAAAAAJIIIITAAAAAS,'' hollers person or people on other sidewalk.
I say, barely audible from mouth, ,,That's aaaaaannnoyyyiing.'' <|Or a warning.>
Psycho says, ,,Psycho can subdue the speaker.''
Bikes, rickshaws, stagecoaches queue behind the cone of white light. People walk away.
People stand shoulder to shoulder on sidewalk and step away from cone of white light.
A group walks through the cone of white light.
I look left. I step to street.
People lean upon Toyota vehicle gardens. People stand.
I step to sidewalk. <|Football.>
Sweat flows down nose bridge and falls from nose tip.
<|If they start Dick. Their defence will be good.> I pull handkerchief from pocket and shake loose, wipe face, think, <|Their line is good. It's always good,> wipe back of neck. I fold handkerchief and put it in back pocket. I think, <|Football.> I look forward then up and then along the building tops. I think, <|Football.> I look to other sidewalk and along the building tops. <|Football.>
Building tops are dark.
People fill sidewalks and push away from the cone of white light. People walk between vehicle gardens to street and away from cone of white light.
People push past.
<|Football. Cowboys. Company, congov or globals. I hope not government. Controlling psych injection or Psycho. The other team. The opponent. Cowboys. Cowboys.>
Body feels light.
Four people walk out from blue condominium's double doors. One says, ,,Back inside.'' The four people step back into blue condominium.
<|Victory is detecting who controls Psycho.>
A hovercopter hovers. Cone of white light illuminates circle from building front to building front.
I step between two Lexus vehicle gardens, stop.
I step from Lexus vehicle gardens. I walk on street. <|We are the Redskins.>
Cool air puffs brush face and hands, cool chest.
<|They who control Psycho other team, Cowboys.> I walk toward the cone of white light. <|Larry's Fajitas.> I think, <|Mustang, mom, dad leaving. Psycho not killing. End zone.> I look forward. <|Game time.>
The hovercopter's cone of white light covers stoops, sidewalks, vehicle garden, the street.
Rickshaws, stagecoaches, walkers queue behind cone of white light.
I think, <|The other team Psycho.>
Three bikers walk from light toward me, mount bikes and peddle into night.
I step into white cone. <|Classic case. Classic Football game.>
<|Cowboys versus Redskins.>
The white light covers body.
<|Need to wake tomorrow at eleven, see and feel pregame. Pregame same old casters. No way we won't watch. Better have Dick defensive end. Sack almost every time Dick playing. If Dick not played, not end of the game. Unless Mustang remains off lineup by injuries. If Mustang plays, maybe we be able to team together, pull out victory? Playoffs sure thing. Need home field. Home field advantage after two playoff games helps. Mustang is good. Mustang is a patriot. A true patriot. Mustang came from a small family from country land working hard to give back to country. Mustang is a fine example of one who will fight the war for Mustang knows his country comes first. The entire Redskins team is a testament to greatness. Mustang is only part of a team, a team of the country. A team with an offence upon the world. A team that plays for team US. On any field, home or away, team US will win the offensive because team US is the home team. Go Football. Football is the world. I need to give my support to the team to provide a base of support, so the team can be number one. Number one is needed for the team spirits illuminate from within to shine upon the country and help the brilliance of life grow. Help the brilliance of life glow and show the world of the right, of the right, of the right, of the right of the game. We need to see and feel the game tomorrow. It's early, but if we go to sleep now, we will be able to wake up and be Football. Then we can sit home for the day and think of God...>
Blue and red and white spots burst and fade. Light fades to night.
Shadows and silhouettes outline the night for sight.
I walk between movers, stagecoaches and rickshaws. <|...God? Of the right to Football.> I smile and look around.
People bump shoulders and chest. People slowly walk behind the light.
A cone of white light shines behind. Stagecoaches and rickshaws jerk and stall and roll forward. People pivot heads side to side. Drones float and follow people. Congov walk between stagecoaches, rickshaws, people.
A cone of white light shines behind.
I smile. <|God? Where's the we in God? Heaven? The Redskins will win. ...Yeah. ...Win?> I slowly nod head up and down. <|Cowboys will lose? A good game. It will be a good game. We will win. Our offence and defence have all starters.> I walk through people and movers and stagecoaches and rickshaws.
People point behind. <|At cone of white light.> Congov stand by stagecoach windows and point light beams on passenger faces.
<|Our center better play. Quarter back can't take another hit. Another hit. Another concussion. No pass to the corner Dick.> I pass three congov. <|Am I a Redskins' player?>
,,Move... Move... Move... Move...,'' say men and women movers.
The movers step with, ''Move... Move... Move...,'' and grip one or two poles.
<|Who are Cowboys?> I step between stagecoach bumper and a sweaty mover. I feel and think, <|We are playing Psycho.>
Sweat drips from body.
<|Psycho.> I wipe face with handkerchief and fold handkerchief.
Face is dry.
<|Psycho playing now.> I step by people. <|Cowboys tomorrow.>
People stand with arms folded. They look at hovercopter and cone of white light. One person stands with eyelids covering eyes, arms spread and legs together. <|Like crucified on The Cross.>
<|Propaganda bomb?> I step left between vehicle gardens. I step on sidewalk walk and wedge between people. <|Mustang.>
People stand and talk and shuffle feet around people.
<|Why feel Mustang is on the Redskins?>
Four congov stand at attention upon, <|BMW,> vehicle garden roof. Index fingers press against an ear. Their dark spectacles reflect lamp flames.
I smell barbecue smoke from taR BBQ. <|Hungry.>
The sign taR BBQ flickers red, white, blue. Round tables fill sidewalk corner. People sit at tables. Tiny ribs are stacked on plates.
<|Psycho.> I step and stand between people. <|Who is Psycho?>
Red condominium is left. Row houses are right. A steel fence circles a wheat plot.
<|Real for safety. Unknown controller.>
People stand on sidewalk, talk between Porsche, Ferrari, Jaguar vehicle gardens. People sit around tables before buildings.
I walk. <|Meeting Mustang.>
Rat BBQ fumes.
,,LAAAAAAAARRRRRYYYY'S FAAAAAAAJIIIITAAAAA,'' hollers a voice.
,,That's annoying,'' I say.
,,Psycho can filter the speaker.'' <|Says Psycho.>
I feel and think, <|Gee Forty-three Killing Machine, office, job, Larry's Fajitas, K Street, Contractors. Or government.> I say, ,,Part of the game.''
Psycho says, ,,Primary targets and secondary targets are preparing a maneuver to enter Larry's Fajitas.''
I walk. I look behind. ,,Psycho, where are you?''
The hoverblade slice rattles tree limbs and flaps leaves. The cone of white light hovers away.
,,Psycho is above Larry's Fajitas,'' Psycho says.
Row houses, a church and lounges are right. Divebar and apartments are left.
<|A Gee Forty-three Killing Machine.>
People stand on sidewalk, sit on chairs around tables, lean on vehicle gardens.
I stand. <|Psycho.> I pull handkerchief from pocket and wipe face, neck and wrists. <|Mom and dad.> I stuff handkerchief in back pocket, pull jacket from one shoulder to the other. <|Psycho. Killing machine. On the way. No job. Here. Now. Mustang there. Here now. No game. No contract. No agreement. Who's the Psycho?>
A breeze blows.
I slow step with people.
Face cools. <|Congov.> I pull cuffs.
Congov point at people.
People slow step. People stand in line. People stand in many tight groups. People talk. People point at menus mounted on posts. People sit around tables. They eat, drink and talk along the sidewalk.
A congov wearing dark spectacles turns head to aim dark lenses from person to person of people.
I slide jacket from shoulder to shoulder.
Stagecoaches and rickshaws queue jerks and stops. Movers whisper, ,,Move. Move. Move...''
Four congov talk to three men sitting around a table.
Five congov stand before four men. Men stand with backs against window wall.
Two congov trucks idle on corner.
<|And more congov.> ,,No more.'' I say.
Three women and five men stop before two congov. Congov stand with raised open palm.
Street lanterns shine. A car horn lets out a slow, ,,Mmmmmmmoooooovvvvvve.''
A bike weaves through people and rickshaws and stagecoaches on street.
People form tight groups on sidewalks. People walk there.
Red and blue drone lights flash in sky.
Stagecoaches and rickshaws jerk and roll past. ,,Move... Move... Move...''
People walk onto street.
I step between vehicle gardens. I slide between people. ,,Excuse me.'' I look left then right, step onto street.
Two congov wearing dark spectacles stand on the corner of T by Larry's Lounge. They point. <|At me.>
I say, ''Psycho, are they pointing at me?''
,,Psycho reads they are pointing at you,'' says Psycho.
The Detective Store
Written by Kalab J. Oster™
Edited by United States of America
Copy-Edited by Valerie Jean Thompson
Copy-Edited with Word Prostitute®
Published with Word Prostitute®
Published in United States of America
Library of Congress Control Number: 2009920085
International Standard Book Number: 9780972846592
Word Prostitute® Revision Control Number: 30995
Electric Price: Free To Read
Paper Price: $5 USD and 1 tree for 1 print of The Detective Store. Only 1 print per person.
Copyright © 2009 Word Prostitute®. All Rights Reserved.
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