The Wolves of Third Clan Read online

  Chapter 8

  We were driving along the interstate because I needed to check on my one bedroom apartment and the four of them were unsure whether Bloody Mary’s was a safe place to stay. If you’re wondering what happened to the three amigos who lost their heads, don’t fret, the kitchen was equipped with all sorts of cutting and hacking utensils which quickly made mincemeat of them. On a side note; never, under any circumstances, eat off the menu at Bloody Mary’s.

  My apartment was located in the city of Irving, more specifically in a section of Irving named Las Colinas. Las Colinas means ‘the hills’ in Spanish and I cannot for the life of me figure out why someone decided to call it so. Other than some speed bumps there doesn’t seem to be any elevation change at all but it does have one thing going for it; an amazing sculpture of mustangs in motion. If you haven’t seen it, do so. It will reinforce your inherent belief there actually is a place in this world for art. Anyway, my little domicile was on the third floor of an apartment complex designed as a sort of Texas Soho which tried to incorporate the feel of a northern neighborhood where shops and living quarters were within walking distance of each other. It hadn’t worked by the time I took residence but I think it was because the economy went ker-flunk right after they were built. When I was there it was living quarters without the shops which gave it an urban-flight feel except without the flight because no one had lived there before which kind of eliminates the ‘flight’ aspect from a definitional point of view. The six-hundred square-foot room I rented had a view of the street and other, more pricy developments, located across the street so it was actually pretty nice; I didn’t spend much money and looked out upon others who did. As we walked up the stairs I began racking my brain to remember if I’d left the place in some semblance of order but, unfortunately, knew it would look like a train wreck. I hadn’t had a date in a while, didn’t see one on the horizon and had always been utterly hopeless at picking up girls from nightclubs, restaurants, sporting events, well, you get the picture. About the only place I’d never tried meeting a girl was at church because it always struck me as inappropriate to try and fool God into thinking I was interested in finding a nice soul-mate when the fact was I’d probably be imagining her nude the whole time we were at Bible Study. So I never cleaned the place. I mean it. I never cleaned the place. I would move things around in order to avoid stepping on them but I never actually put anything up.

  “My God, man!” said George.

  “Oh goodness” said Trudy.

  “Could definitely use a woman’s help” said Vivian.

  “Huh? What’s the problem?” said Phillip and I secretly knew I liked him best but we could never be roomies.

  “Okay, okay, just give me a second here to straighten up a smidge” I said while picking my toaster off the carpet.

  “Johnny?” said Trudy.

  “Yes?” I said.

  “How old is this?”

  The pizza box she held might as well have been a Santa’s Secret Prize for all the remembrance I had of it.

  “Dude” I heard George say to Phillip “check out the fridge.”

  Alright now, before we get too far I would like to point out one minor fact in life; supermarkets get top money for aged cheese. Aged milk, I believe, becomes yogurt or sour cream. Aged eggs? Exceptional for home defense.

  I rummaged around and found my home phone handset under a pile of clothes I guess I used as a protection cover of some sort and pressed the button to activate my answering machine which my handset was supposed to sit on but which I had no earthly idea the location of until I heard it beep and say “You have no messages”. How pathetic is that?

  HOW PATHETIC IS WHAT?

  I was gone over twenty-four hours and not a single phone call. Maybe it helped I hadn’t had a real job for so long my old creditors had finally given up trying to recoup even a portion of their misguided loans. To this day I thank the Lord above this great country decided it’d probably be impossible to imprison everyone who reneged on their outstanding debts. If they did, who would they get to make the phone calls demanding payment?

  I DON’T KNOW.

  Do you know where you are on the economic ladder when you find yourself hassling broke people to give what they don’t have?

  NO.

  On the same rung as the people you’re calling. You might as well have a conversation with yourself.

  “Johnny?”

  “Yes Vivian?”

  “Why so much hand lotion?”

  Time to change the subject.

  “You know what? I just remembered something; you called Sebastian by his first name. Did you know him before?” I asked Vivian.

  “Yes, he’s a Beta we’ve known was patrolling the area for some time.”

  “A Beta?”

  “A less-dominate Werewolf. He is, or was, an unattached male looking for a Vampire.”

  “And he thought…?”

  “He thought the three of them could come in, kill George and Phillip, and take over our pride.”

  “You do that?”

  “Of course. Every species does it, only not in the same overt manner.”

  “Human’s don’t battle for their mates, Vivian.”

  “Yes they do, just not in the physical sense anymore, now they do it economically.”

  The woman could debate.

  “Be that as it may; how did you know Sebastian and his friends were about to enter the bar?”

  “I would’ve thought you’d figured it out by now.”

  “Nope, still clueless.”

  “We smelled them.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “We smelled…”

  “Sorry, sorry. I meant, how could you have smelled them?”

  “By their odor.”

  “Okay, sorry again. Bad question. Let me rephrase it. How far can you smell?”

  “As far as odor can travel.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. Unlike Human’s we never lost our scenting ability.”

  “You never lost your…? Never mind. Different question. Why did Humans lose their scenting ability?”

  “Because they quit being prey” Vivian said with a grin.

  “Because they…? Look, this is going to take forever if I have to get it out of you one question at a time; could you please give me the shortened version?”

  “Sure, Sweetie, you need only to ask. Okay, when Vampires first began delivering Humans we were very protective of them because they were so cute and vulnerable; like little puppies. Anyway, we sheltered them and fed them until they were old enough to strike out on their own, which they did, and which was a complete disaster. You see, Humans aren’t actually the most gifted predators in the world, at least not when working by themselves, and those mean old lions, tigers and bears were eating them right up. Well, we took a look at what was happening and decided to do something about it. Do you know what it was?”

  “Please tell me you didn’t eat them.”

  “No Sweetie, we didn’t eat them. We taught them cooperation. We’d learned something from our eons of hibernation and it was how to organize. So we rounded them all up, put them into large groups and had them try again. I’ve got to tell you we were a little worried at first because they were just so bad at the actual killing part. I mean, they had these little fingernails and tiny teeth so you can’t really blame them for losing most of their prey. But you know what they did have back then? The sense of scent. All animals have it because without it you can neither detect food from afar nor escape from danger you can’t see and Humans need all the forewarning they can get, what with their stubby little slow-moving legs and all. So they lived in groups and used their noses to tell them when to run for the trees which didn’t really work when you’re running from lions, tigers and bears but you get the point. They were capable enough to last long enough to invent weapons which was the game changer. Now when those mean old predators tried to attack our cute little Humans they got what was com
ing to them; a bunch of spears in their butts. Well, over time those same predators quit attacking our Humans so they didn’t need to use their sense of smell for protection and then another thing came along and all but put an end to their olfactory proficiency.”

  “Farming” I said.

  “Yes, farming. Good for you. So our cute little Humans began their first foray into agriculture and now they didn’t even need their adorable little nostrils to find prey for food. Isn’t that just the neatest thing? They evolved their need to scent into a sense of smell.”

  “But Superiors didn’t?”

  “Oh no, honey, we couldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we were bred to kill.”

  The statement seemed to need refining and I was about to keep on questioning the perky little platinum but something was said which led me to abandon that line of thought.

  “Johnny?”

  “Yes, Trudy?”

  “What’s on all of these video tapes?”

  “You know what? I just remembered my apartment complex never gave me a copy of the rental agreement so I guess we don’t need to keep looking. Where are we headed next?”

  “The library” answered George.

  “The library?”

  “Yes, it’s a place where people go to gather information.”

  “I know what it is, George, why are we going there?”

  “We need to find out more about Industrial Products.”

  “Oh” I replied.

  “So where’s the nearest library?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously, George.”

  “That’s sad, Johnny.”

  “Why? No one uses them anymore. You can get all the information you need from the internet and for that you only need a computer or smart phone.”

  “Do you have a computer or smart phone?” he asked.

  Okay, the internet revolution took me by surprise, I readily admit. For a long time everything I saw on television or read in magazines led me to believe women never, ever, went for the geeks. Geeks played on computers, thus, avoid computers. Now, I was also taught information was power but since it didn’t mention women I tended to ignore that bit of wisdom and instead worked on the social skills necessary to climb the hierarchal ladder which promised a harem of scantily clad females; drinking. I know, I know, it sounds stupid now but look at what I was influenced by; commercials on every channel showing bikini-clad women having the time of their lives promising you it was all possible if you did the one thing all the commercials had in common and drank beer. It didn’t matter what kind, they all delivered the same package clothed in bikinis. So I, as a good viewer of television, bought the story they were selling which led me to ignore the new geek-like field of computer engineering which was just a fledgling degree when I started my six years of higher education and instead focused on the tried and true field of Liberal Arts which gives the young student a nominal understanding of many differing areas and an expertise in none. Uh-huh, I can hold a conversation with you on just about any problem facing society today but ask me for a solution and I will imitate Helen Keller with laryngitis.

  “No, I don’t have a computer or smart phone, George” I said.

  “Why not?” asked Phillip.

  “Because I have a degree in Liberal Arts.”

  “Oh.”

  You see what I mean?

  NOPE.

  The man didn’t need to ponder the answer for a fraction of a second. Six of the hardest partying years in my life wasted down the drain, so to speak, on a worthless four year degree; and what did I have to show for it?

  A DIPLOMA?

  A fraternity jacket and possible cirrhosis of the liver.

  We were finally driving on a road with only one name because the freeway dual-name designators were probably too busy high-fiving themselves over the number of hopelessly lost visitors wandering their city to bother confounding the local population. The library, to me, is one of man’s most noble investments in its youth and it’s a shame things have come to an end but the fix is in and I can’t say there’s any justification for providing tax dollars to fund a building most of society views as a relic of the pre-information age. The fact something which was not ancient a mere twenty years ago but is so today should lead one to believe society has absolutely no idea where it’s headed. If I’m correct, and I sometimes am, it was only thirty years ago they were designing libraries with materials which had the strength and resiliency to last a hundred years and more. Now what are they going to do with them?

  WITH WHAT?

  Libraries, Einstein. You know they’re not going to tear them down; they were built to last a hundred years for crying out loud! Should they turn them into museums?

  YES?

  For what… books?

  THEY DON’T SOUND VERY SMART.

  Actually, they’re too smart for their own good; at least technology-wise.

  “There it is!” shouted Phillip and we all stared at him because there were five of us in one pickup and a mere pointing of the finger would’ve sufficed.

  George parked the truck and we all piled out and entered the library. The silence of libraries has always been their undoing because people are inherently social when placed in social situations and a large building containing thousands of interesting topics is definitely a setting for social interaction; but we’re told to be quiet so others can read. Why?

  HUH?

  I ask this question in all honesty. Why are the majority of citizens in an advanced society always asked to bend to the will of a select few?

  I DON’T KNOW.

  We all know virtually everyone checks books out of the library. Why be quiet so a couple of people with home-reading issues can have their little oasis of privacy?

  TO BE POLITE?

  You want quiet?

  I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU’RE TALKING TO?

  Go home!

  “Hello, can I help you?” the little grey-haired lady said.

  “Yes, we’d like to use one of the computers, please” I said.

  “Do you have your library card?”

  “No.”

  “Do you live in Irving?”

  “Yes.”

  “May I see your driver’s license?”

  “Sure.”

  “This says you live in Austin.”

  “Yeah, I used to live there but now I live here.”

  “Well, we need a local driver’s license.”

  “Will a local electricity bill work?”

  “Yes, do you have one on you?”

  “Yes, right here” and I handed her a copy of one of my old electric-bill statements.

  What’s with the government and their need to know where you reside?

  THEY’RE CURIOUS?

  Every time I get asked for my driver’s license they invariably want to know if my address is correct. I know what they’re doing and so do you. If for some reason I decide to take up a life of crime they’ll know the first place to look. Now, I don’t plan on taking up a life of crime but if I did why would I willingly give them information to terminate my new employment?

  YOU WOULDN’T.

  Dang right, I wouldn’t, and it’s not like they really need the information anyway, not in today’s society. We all know they know where we live. Have creditors ever not been able to find someone?

  I DON’T KNOW?

  No, the real reason they want to see your driver’s license is to check if your address is current, which it won’t be, because no one under thirty resides in the same place for more than two years anymore because no one’s job is in the same place for any length of time. It’s a money grab. They see your license, verify your address is wrong, then threaten you with a fine if you don’t get it corrected. Then you spend a whole day the following week waiting in one of the slowest moving lines since the Russian Bread Shortage only to be charged twenty-five dollars by a surly governme
nt employee who has no more incentive than a prison-guard to make your life any less miserable.

  “Here you are, dear” the little grey-haired lady said as she handed me my brand new library card.

  “Thank you ma’am” I told the cute little nanny.

  “And sir?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’ll probably want to get your driver’s license updated.”

  Big Brother is getting older, greyer, and femaler.

  FEMALER?

  It means more female.

  I DON’T THINK IT ACTUALLY DOES.

  We entered the library’s main room and were confronted with the amazing array of shelves lined up in rows holding thousands of books the local population gave up reading sometime in the early eighties. Why the early eighties you ask?

  I DIDN’T.

  Because books are one of our discretionary time wasters; same with television, movies and video games which became much more entertaining during the decade. It was only a matter of time before they surpassed books as our preferred method of entertainment because they’re much easier on the grey matter; actual thought and interpretation being replaced with sound, sight and gore. So, do books have a place in modern society?

  NO?

  Yes.

  THAT’S WHAT I MEANT TO SAY.

  Because sound, sight and gore only get you so far. After about a decade of the same trivial junk show-business churns out the people begin to realize they’ve seen it, done it and are bored with it.

  “Where do we start?” Trudy asked after sitting down in front of one of the library’s ten free computers.

  “Just search for anything on Industrial Products” said George.

  So Trudy typed in ‘Industrial Products’ and ,voila, we were in business. Actually we were on the website for Industrial Products which seemed to be about it.

  “What next?” asked Trudy.

  “Check on ‘Contact Us’” George replied.

  She did so and an address with a post office box came up first followed by a 1-800 line and finally the address to the website we were currently on.

  “Okay, this is what we used to verify the appointment with Peter so copy the address, post office box and phone number then go back and make a new search for Bob… what was his last name?”

  “Simpson” I responded.

  “Okay run a search for Bob Simpson with Industrial Products in Dallas.”

  She did so and right away we found a link to a website.

  “It’s the same one we just left” Phillip said.

  “Alright, what was the other guy’s name?” George asked.

  “Steve” I said.

  “Steve what?” he said.

  “I have no idea.”

  “What? Okay, never mind. What was Melissa’s last name?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “You have…? My God, man!”

  “I’m sorry but we weren’t really on a last name basis.”

  “Let me try something” said Phillip.

  “Go ahead” said George.

  “Okay, Johnny, you ready?” said Phillip.

  “Shoot.”

  “What’s your last name?”

  “Johnson.”

  “What’s Bob’s last name?”

  “Simpson.”

  “What’s Steve’s last name?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Huh? Well that didn’t work.”

  “That was your bright idea? Ask him the same questions I did, only faster?” said George.

  “Yeah, I think I saw it on one of those self-help programs or something” replied Phillip.

  “What was it called?” I asked.

  “I don’t remember” he said.

  “You watched a self-help program about memorization and can’t remember what it was called?” asked George.

  “Yes… no… I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know what?” George asked.

  “I don’t know how to answer the question” Phillip replied.

  “Boys!” Vivian said authoritatively.

  “Yes, Mistress” they replied in unison.

  “Let’s quit worrying about who remembered what and find a clue as to who’s doing this to us.”

  “Your right, Mistress, I’m sorry. Trudy, could you go back to their website?” asked George.

  “Sure. Okay, here it is. What’re we looking for?”

  “Anything out of the ordinary.”

  “Anything out of the ordinary? Who are you, Inspector Cousteau?” said Phillip.

  “What? You can remember the name of an obscure French detective but you draw a blank on the name of the show purporting to help you do it?”

  “He’s not obscure.”

  “I’ll bet you don’t even know what ‘obscure’ means.”

  “I do too. It means vague or abstract; kind of like what your face is going to look like if you keep talking to me that way!”

  “Why you little…!”

  “Boys!”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “I want you two to separate. Phillip, take Johnny and see if you can jog his memory about Steve or Melissa’s last names” said Vivian in her cute little perky manner.

  “Come on, Johnny” Phillip said while lifting me off the ground as he grabbed my arm.

  “Phillip?”

  “Yes, Johnny?”

  “My feet aren’t touching the ground.”

  “Oh, sorry” he said while letting go.

  “Phillip?” I asked.

  “Yes?” he answered as we walked down the self-help section of the library.

  “Earlier, Vivian said you were bred to kill; what did she mean?”

  “Pretty much what she said. The Heavens designed us to be top predators on this world.”

  “Okay, but she said Humans lost some of their scenting ability because they no longer had to worry about becoming prey, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So if you’re the top predators why do you still have all your scenting abilities?”

  “Because we’re also prey.”

  “To what?”

  “To ourselves.”

  “You’re prey to yourselves?”

  “Yes, the Heavens designed us to be the top predators on this world so we seek to dominate all, including our own.”

  “How can they design you to do that?” I asked.

  “Chemically.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Chemically, Johnny. All of us; you, me, the lions, tigers and bears are all a big huge mixture of molecules. Some of those molecules make up our skeleton, some our muscles and some our hormones which are chemicals used to regulate how we perceive the world.”

  “Huh?”

  “Have you ever disliked someone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “I don’t know? Because they made me mad.”

  “Why’d they make you mad?”

  “Usually because they tried to make me do something I didn’t want to, I guess.”

  “Surely you’ve had people who’ve made you do things you didn’t want whom you still liked?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why the difference? One person asks you to do something and you dislike them the other asks the same thing and it’s okay. Why the difference?”

  “The way they ask?”

  “Okay. Why is the way they ask important?”

  “Probably because one asks and the other orders.”

  “So why would ordering you to do something make you mad but asking be okay?”

  “Because if you ask me I can say ‘no’.”

  “Exactly. You retain the ability to say ‘no’. You keep your individuality and you don’t subordinate yourself to another.”

  “And your point is?”

  “Your individuality is controlled by your hormones. When someone asks you to do something you retain the ability to say ‘no’ and thus keep control of your individuality. When someone ord
ers you to do something it’s an attack on the very essence of your being and your body responds the only way it knows how by releasing chemicals in preparation for one of the two possible outcomes.”

  “Which are?”

  “Fight or flight; yes or no, if you will. You can agree to the demand and dislike the person because they assaulted your individuality or you can disagree and face the consequences which come with it.”

  “And the consequences are?”

  “Punishment, job loss or, at its most primal and natural level, physical confrontation.”

  “Oh.”

  “So when we Werewolves meet each other we meet at a primal level, Johnny.”

  “You fight.”

  “We kill.”

  “But Vivian said Sebastian was a Beta, a less dominant Werewolf, isn’t that a kind of subordination?”

  “Good, very astute observation, I’m proud of you but the answer to your question is no.”

  “Why?”

  “Because ‘Beta’ doesn’t mean subordinate; it’s merely the designation of a Werewolf who’s not mated with a Vampire.”

  “Oh. So Sebastian and his friends were…?”

  “Un-mated Werewolves.”

  “And they were going to…?”

  “Kill me and George to take over our family.”

  “Which includes…?”

  “Trudy, Vivian and Stephanie.”

  “Okay, that’s where I’m coming up with the problem. If they killed you and George why would the girls become their… what did you call it?”

  “Their mated. And the answer to your question is actually quite simple; we don’t feel love” he said.

  And there’s the crux of the problem. You people readily admit killing each other. How can an intelligent species not be able to get along for the good of all if they cared for each other? The answer; they can’t.

  WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?

  No one. It’s a mental exercise to help sort one’s thoughts.

  OH? HOW DO YOU DO IT?

  By thinking, so don’t try it without supervision.

  “But you and George seem to love Trudy and Vivian” I said.

  “We’re protective of them. We’d fight to the death anyone who would try and take them from us but if Trudy were to fall victim to some accident tomorrow where she could not recover I would not mourn her, I would look for another to be mated with.”

  “How awful!”

  “It’s not awful, it’s chemical.”

  “You’re blaming chemicals for leaving Trudy on her deathbed?”

  “No, she wouldn’t be on her deathbed, she would either recover and I wouldn’t leave or she would die and I would. Remember, we don’t get sick like Humans and what doesn’t kill us, doesn’t kill us.”

  “But…?”

  “Johnny, there’s an easy way to look at it; do you want to hear what it is?”

  “Do you promise it’s easy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then go ahead.”

  “Alright, love is like an illegal drug…”

  “Hold on.”

  “What?”

  “You can’t say something is easy to understand and then start the descriptive process with an illegal drug.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why not? I don’t know, but for the record it doesn’t sound good and I think you should come up with a better analogy in the future.”

  “Analogy?”

  “It means a descriptive story.”

  “I know what it means, I’m just surprised you know.”

  “Why?”

  “You know.”

  “No I don’t, tell me.”

  “Uh, the Liberal Arts thing.”

  “Alright, alright, just get on with your story.”

  “Okay, love is like an illegal drug in the way it affects the brain’s pleasure center, namely the Dopamine receptors. Do you know what Dopamine is?”

  “Sure.”

  “Really.”

  “Of course not you big oaf! Do I look like a person who knows what that is?”

  “Wow! Sorry, Mr. Sensitive. Alright, Dopamine is what gives Humans the ability to feel euphoria because it regulates the chemicals responsible for pain or pleasure.”

  “Huh?”

  “You know Werewolves and Vampires were created by the Heavens to be Superiors, correct?”

  “Okay, if you say so.”

  “I do and the green Alien also said so.”

  “Good point. Okay, so you were created superiorly, so what?”

  “The Heavens created us in such a way our every molecule, our every atom, works as it should. We begin healing the instant we’re harmed, we use energy as expediently as possible and we age at a rate virtuously imperceptible to Humans. These attributes give us an enormous advantage over all other species on the planet but they do have one drawback.”

  “Humility?”

  “No, Johnny, we have no need for fear.”

  “No need for fear?”

  “Nope, fear is a Human trait which evolved from necessity.”

  “Why?”

  “Because without fear Humans would’ve lasted only a few generations.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep, fear is what keeps Humans from doing incredibly stupid things again and again.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like taking on a lion, tiger or bear with their bare hands.”

  “Okay, I get you but… then what is fear?”

  “It’s a chemical non-reaction.”

  “What?”

  “Johnny, what’s the opposite of fear?”

  “Courage.”

  “Sorry, no, courage is a byproduct of fear. You can’t be courageous without fear. Look at it this way; it’s one thing to attack a lion with your bare hands to protect a family member, it’s quite another thing to club a baby seal to death because someone likes the feel of their fur.”

  “Okay, then what’s the opposite of fear?”

  “Euphoria and, surprisingly, it’s actually the Human preferred state of being.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Humans came from Superiors so the natural way for them to feel is euphoria but, because they are such a watered down blood-ancestor of ours, they didn’t inherit our superiority over the other creatures so Nature opened pathways for fear, anxiety and worry so Humans would be on edge and survive. But since Nature’s a nice gal she also created a chemical which would alter those pathways to provide some relief.”

  “And that chemical is Dopamine?”

  “Well, there’s a whole bunch of chemicals involved but for our purposes we’ll stick to the big one, and yes, it’s Dopamine. Since Humans don’t heal instantaneously they need to be warned away from doing things which would harm them so lingering pain and inflammation evolved to help them understand their stupidity. Humans also don’t live very long so precaution and worry for the future were also provided by nature as sort of a kick-start to get their butts in gear. Add these things up and you get the emotional state of Humans today; worrisome future-planners. Now this may seem like a bad thing but it’s not because those worrisome future-planners evolved the one thing we Superiors lack.”

  “Humbleness.”

  “No, curiosity and innovation. If it were just us Superiors on the planet we’d probably still be hunting wild game and living in caves. Remember, we were around a long time before we bred Humans and we pretty much accomplished nothing because we didn’t need to.”

  “The mother of innovation…”

  “…is necessity. Humans needed to innovate in order to survive.”

  “So what does this have to do with love?”

  “The carrot and the stick. Innovation is best served with the promise of pain or, better yet, the feeling of pleasure. Now remember, Humans come from us so they began life as little Superiors until they got eaten by the lions. Now, Nature is quite simplistic in her intricate design so what do you think would be easier to accomplish; introduce a who
le new set of chemicals and neurons to generate a feeling of unease and thus protect them from themselves or just sort of throw a breaker into the mix and cut off their natural feeling of euphoria?”

  “The breaker part?”

  “Yes, good answer. Nature merely chose some Humans who were wired a little incorrectly, those with the breaker already thrown, which was good in this case because it kept them fearful and alive and those Humans went on to sire other little Humans with the same genetic flaw.”

  “Okay, then why do we still feel pleasure at times?”

  “Because Nature used a circuit breaker; she kept it around for emergencies and sometimes those emergencies show up in the form of love.”

  “What?”

  “Dopamine is a sort of chemical circuit breaker. When Nature throws the switch Dopamine comes alive and you get high.”

  “Oh… but you always feel Dopamine?”

  “Yep. We’re Doped all the time. Our whole lives are lived in the feeling of euphoria so I guess you could say ‘We’re high on life’.”

  “You’ve been waiting a long time to use that; haven’t you, Phillip?”

  “Longer than you can possibly imagine, Johnny.”

  It was strange walking down the self-help aisle of the local library with a Werewolf; more so, considering he was giving Humans a compliment through insult but the day had been pretty remarkable. By the way, why are there so many self-help books on acquiring wealth?

  I DON’T KNOW.

  And who in their right mind would give away their secret to financial success?

  I DON’T KNOW.

  If everyone read their book and became successful then the author would no longer be considered a success because success is based upon the unsuccessfulness of others. That’s writing your way into mediocrity.

  YEAH, OKAY, I GET THAT.

  I seriously doubt it.

  “Hey, Johnny?” Phillip said.

  “Yes?”

  “Any chance you remembered their last names?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “Alright, let’s head on back and see if the others have found anything.”

  So we began walking back.

  “Phillip?”

  “Yes, Johnny?”

  “You said Werewolves don’t feel fear, right?”

  “Correct.”

  “But when you and Trudy were in the cooler with Sebastian I distinctly heard him beg for mercy?”

  “So?”

  “So, if someone is begging for mercy aren’t they begging you not to do something which will hurt them? Aren’t they, in essence, pleading for you not to do a future event? Isn’t that fear of the future?”

  “It would’ve been if he were actually doing that, yes.”

  “But he wasn’t?”

  “No.”

  “What was he doing?”

  “Begging to die.”

  “He was begging to die?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Johnny, what’s the thing Humans fear most?”

  “Great White Sharks.”

  “Okay, good one. Why do they fear Great White Sharks?”

  “Because they eat you.”

  “And when they eat you…?”

  “You die.”

  “So what do Humans fear the most?”

  “Alright, you want me to say death, right?”

  “Yes, Humans fear death the most.”

  “And Werewolves don’t?”

  “Remember, we don’t have the wiring for fear.”

  “So…?”

  “We look forward to it.”

  “You look forward to it?”

  “Uh-huh, it’s the great unknown, the last mystery if you will. What’s beyond the physical limitations of the body and all that sort of stuff.”

  “That’s insane.”

  “Why?”

  “What if there’s nothing? What if all you get is a big old bag of squat?”

  “Then you don’t have anything to worry about do you?”

  “Okay, then what if it’s horrible with a big pit of fire and some man-goat walking around jabbing you with a pitchfork?”

  “Then I’d rip his head off.”

  “You can’t rip the Devil’s head off, Phillip.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s the Devil” I said.

  “So?”

  “So you just can’t do it, it’s not an option.”

  “Why is it not an option? Who says?”

  “The people who know.”

  “How do they know?”

  “Because God told them.”

  “How do you know God told them.”

  “Because they said so.”

  “That’s a circular argument, Johnny.”

  “I know, I never really was any good at the religious stuff.”

  “Don’t worry, no one is.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of fear. Religion has, as it’s backbone, a set of rules you must follow in order not to face horrible consequences when you die. Do bad things and meet your fate, do good things and enjoy eternal bliss. Do you know why Humans invented those concepts?”

  “Curiosity about the afterlife?”

  “No, they were afraid. They were afraid other Humans would kill them in their sleep, steal their stuff or rape their wives and girlfriends so they made up perfectly rational rules everyone was to follow but it had one problem; do you know what it was?”

  “No.”

  “The consequences of doing bad only applied while one was alive. Let’s say you were a really bad person and you knew you could steal another man’s wife by killing him in his sleep; what was to stop you from doing it?”

  “Because you’d burn in Hell.”

  “In the beginning there was no concept of Hell. The only thing to stop you was the knowledge the other villagers were going to find you and kill you. But if that’s all there was to it then you might just decide to take the chance and live happily ever after raping the poor woman until you got tired of her, killed her and stole someone else’s wife.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “That’s Human.”

  “So in order to stop the guy from stealing your wife…”

  “Eternal damnation was incorporated into the teachings of every religion and has remained so ever since. It’s actually quite effective and, in my view, the correct interpretation of how things should be.”

  “But you said you didn’t believe in… ? Well, I can’t even use the word ‘Heaven’ anymore since now it’s a planet populated by green Aliens.”

  “No, you can use it, for all we know it’s exactly the place we wind up after we die.”

  “Okay, but you said you didn’t believe in Heaven and Hell.”

  “No I didn’t. I said I wasn’t afraid of Heaven and Hell.”

  “But you suck peoples blood for your pregnant Vampires?”

  “And you kill whole cows to slate your hunger; what’s the difference?”

  “Cows aren’t people, Phillip.”

  “No, they’re inherently nicer, Johnny.”

  When we got back to the computer area of the library we found Trudy still sitting in front of the monitor with the cutest little frown of concentration on her forehead. Why are women so adorable when in deep thought but men appear to be having a migraine?

  BECAUSE THEY JUST ARE.

  Anyway, we looked around for Vivian and George but didn’t see them and after an uncomfortable minute of waiting for Trudy to acknowledge our existence I coughed.

  “Hi, Johnny. Any luck coming up with those last names?”

  “No, sorry.”

  “It’s okay, I’m sure you’re trying.”

  I hate it when girls do that. Of course I wasn’t trying, I knew I had no chance whatsoever of coming up with those last names but now because a pretty girl hinted she had faith I was at least attempting to access my black-hole of grey matter I had to try; didn’t I?

  YES.
<
br />   So I sat down and gave myself a migraine.

  YOU GAVE YOURSELF A MIGRAINE?

  Not actually, nincompoop, it was a play on words.

  “Where’s George and Vivian?” Phillip asked Trudy.

  “George is checking out back-dated phone books and Vivian is calling Nat.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there’s absolutely no reference to anyone resembling our Bob Simpson anywhere near the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex except for the website” she said.

  “What?”

  “Other than the website promoting Industrial Products it’s as though Bob Simpson never existed. So George is looking to see if he just didn’t make it into the computers for some reason by perusing previous years’ phonebooks and Vivian is calling Nat to see if he can find out any information on the police computer.”

  “Is that normal?” I asked.

  “Is what normal?” Trudy replied.

  “Not being referenced on the internet.”

  “No, it’s not normal, and it’s most definitely not if you’re a salesman.”

  “Why?”

  “Because your job is to sell. How are you going to sell if people can’t find you?” she responded.

  “Oh.”

  “You weren’t very good at your job, were you?” said Phillip.

  “No, I wasn’t. Thanks for pointing it out.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I was being facetious.”

  “Facetious?”

  “It means…”

  “I know what it means, I’m just surprised…”

  “Hey! For the last time, when I picked the major it was still a viable employment career!”

  How is it possible after all the time science fiction writers spent warning us about the downside of machines we’d go right ahead and produce them to do the exact thing the authors were predicting would happen?

  WHAT DID THEY PREDICT?

  They’d put us out of business. Now, I know it’s the wave of the future and all but, seriously, did we really think a robot arm capable of welding a joint was going to do anything other than enrich one already wealthy individual at the expense of another, un-wealthy one?

  MAYBE THEY THOUGHT IT WOULD IMPROVE EFFICIENCY.

  As far as I can tell, modern technology is merely replacing Humans by doing the exact same thing only at a lower cost and faster rate. Who are we benefitting with that insane idea?

  THE CONSUMER?

  Okay, I’ve got to give you one. But the consumer is made up of people who need to work in order to purchase the goods the machines are making. So, if the machines are taking all the jobs who is going to purchase the goods?

  THE PEOPLE WHO BUILT THE MACHINES?

  Okay, another good point and I’m really surprised you’ve been able to string two of them together…

  THANK YOU.

  … but your argument falls short due to the law of supply and demand. It only takes a few people to operate a machine which does the work many received a paycheck for in the past. The machine can spit out supply at the same rate the multitudes did but at a fraction of the cost because the owner of the machine only has to pay a few instead of many. Sounds good, right?

  YES.

  But whose going to buy the goods? Machines are profitable because they produce a vast quantity of goods not a better quality of goods. Heck, they only have the ability to produce one quality because they don’t possess imagination.

  HUH?

  They don’t think; they just do. Machines are best when producing stuff vast in quantity which is, by definition, viewed as desirable by the masses who have been put out of work by the thing producing what they previously did.

  I’M NOT GETTING YOU?

  The goods produced by machines are almost always aimed at a market they’ve unemployed.

  WHO?

  The people whose jobs they took.

  THEN THOSE PEOPLE NEED TO FIND NEW JOBS.

  Okay… what jobs?

  THE JOBS RUNNING THE MACHINES.

  There’s not enough of them. It only takes a few to produce what the many once did.

  THEN THEY NEED TO FIND JOBS IN A DIFFERENT FIELD.

  Okay, what field?

  ENGINEERING, PHYSICS, STUFF MACHINES CAN’T DO.

  Okay. That’ll work. But it’s going to put the I.Q. people out of business.

  HUH?

  The I.Q. people, the ones who measure intelligence.

  WHY WOULD IT PUT THEM OUT OF BUSINESS?

  Because why would you need them if everyone had the mental capacity to understand engineering and quantum physics? Do you see where I’m going here?

  NO.

  Not everyone was born with the intelligence to comprehend Vector Calculus. Heck, ninety-nine percent of the people in the world got the short end of the stick there. What are they going to do when machines have removed labor as a skillset leaving only artificial intelligence as a viable means of employment?

  I DON’T KNOW?

  Look, I’m all for modern technology but I think they’d better start to get a grasp on what they’re doing before half the people on the planet are sitting around with absolutely nothing to do and no prospects of doing it if there were something to do because they don’t have the job or money to do it.

  On to another subject; what the heck is up with gravity? Why hasn’t the moon hit us by now?

  “Hey, everyone” said George.

  “Oh, hey, George” I responded because it’s what you’re supposed to do when someone joins a group.

  “Alright, I checked every local phonebook dating back to nineteen-eighty and I came up with seventy-nine different Bob Simpsons.”

  “Really? That many?” said Trudy.

  “Yeah, apparently it’s a popular name.”

  “Okay, let me see the list and I’ll start searching the internet.”

  “Don’t bother” came the voice of Vivian as she walked back in to join our band of wanna-be detectives.

  “Why not?” Trudy asked.

  “He doesn’t exist.”

  “He doesn’t?” she asked.

  “Nope, except for the Industrial Products website, our Bob Simpson doesn’t register in any civilian databases.”

  “What about the government databases?” Trudy asked.

  “Nat said he’d get back to us.”

  “What? Since when does he need time to access information?” George said.

  “I don’t know; but I couldn’t really call him on it, could I?” the gorgeous Vivian responded.

  “I’m getting a bad feeling here” said George.

  “You should, no one’s reported either man missing” replied Vivian.

  “No one?” added Phillip.

  “Nope, not a single call or inquiry to any police department anywhere.”

  “Um, excuse me?” I said.

  “Yes” Vivian responded while looking directly into my eyes and for a second I forgot what I was going to ask but then I remembered.

  “How could he possibly know?”

  “Know what?”

  “The reports to every police department. How could he possibly know every police department heard nothing?”

  “Because he’s from Heaven, silly” the blonde bombshell chirped.

  “Oh for Heaven’s sake! Sorry, bad phrasing there. I mean, how can he possibly know every report from every police department?”

  “Because the Heavens developed us. They bred us, implanted us on Earth and have been monitoring us from the beginning” she replied.

  “So?”

  “So, doesn’t it make sense the Heavens would be a slight bit ahead of us in the technology race?”

  “Oh.”

  “Yes, sorry Sweetie, if you think Big Brother is bad wait till you get a load of the Big-Green-Spying-Machine” Vivian replied with the most delectable chuckle.

  “How can they do that? Do we have transistors imbedded in us or something?”

  “Something close. They monitor us c
hemically.”

  “Chemically?”

  “Sure. Every organism on Earth has a chemical makeup, the higher the organism the more diverse the chemical makeup. The Heavens devised a way to categorize us according to species.”

  “Oh my God! Can they see us at all times?”

  “Well, kind of; they can tell between species, Sweetie, like the difference between us and Humans or the difference between Humans and apes so they can sort of narrow it down as it were.”

  “Then how…?”

  “There’s only so many of us, Johnny, and we’re very territorial so they usually have a good idea of where we are but even so…” said George.

  “Even so what?”

  “They use bugs.”

  “Bugs?”

  “Electronic surveillance.”

  “Yep, it kind of sucks to know your always being monitored, doesn’t it?” said Phillip.

  “But… but… ?“

  “Don’t worry, they don’t care about your video tapes” he added, which I ignored after giving him my most penetrating and lethal stare, which he ignored.

  “What I was going to say was ‘How does knowing where an individual is located help them monitor all the police reports?’.”

  “Oh it doesn’t, Sweetie, they just listen in to every call the police stations get and wait for code words which in this case would definitely include Bob Simpson, Steve What’s-his-name and Industrial Products” answered Vivian.

  “And no one reported anything?” I said.

  “Nope” she replied.

  “Which means?” I asked.

  “I’m positive I have a bad feeling about this” finished George.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” said Phillip.

  “Yes” responded George and I guess everyone else was thinking the same thing because they all started heading for the exit.

  “What? What are you thinking?” I asked while trailing the foursome.

  “I think we threw something away we shouldn’t have” said George over his shoulder.

  “What?”

  “Bob and Steve.”