salvaging the revolution

MESSAGE FROM: 412 – xxx – xxxx [DOKTOR]

Meet me at the point i will arrive by river at dawn

RECEIVED: 4:03AM 04/20/2005


the sun shined somewhere behind the buildings in this city, but the river spilled westward into darkness. not long after those first birds sang in the morning, i became acutely aware of a foul presence lurking in the east, hurtling forward in the darkness in some kind of vain, half-retarded attempt to outrun the sun.

suddenly, an airhorn blast. the doktor was about fifty feet off shore, dropping an anchor from some kind of battered, aged speedboat.

“swim, you pigfucker!”

“i’m not swimming out there…pull closer.”

“impossible…i’m just learning how to manage this beast. i can’t risk pulling up along that concrete. it might shatter the hull.”

“what?”

“Swim!”

and why not…the doktor helped haul me aboard after i thrashed about for five minutes or so. i sprawled out on the floor of the boat as he sped away.

“it’s fuckin’ cold.”

“what?”

“i said it’s fuckin’ cold.”

“what?”

“cold, you bastard, cold”

“i can’t hear you.”

“what?”

we traveled at top speed past tugboats and barges filled with coal or coke or some other such unholiness. when we reached a less-trafficked spot on the river, the doktor cut the engine.

“where did you get the boat?”

“nevermind that now,” he said, “i’m glad you made it…i figured you would have bellyached about your job and professionalism and what-not.”

“it’s saturday.”

“of course it is.”

“is this stolen?”

“of course it is…but that’s only partly your concern. this is our new job.”

“what are you talking about?”

“this…these waters…ahhhh…i am, after all, a man of the sea.”

“this is a river.”

“I’VE GOT NO TIME TO SPLIT SEMANTICAL HAIRS WITH YOU! listen…we are going into the salvage business.”

“oh christ…”

“yes! the salvage business…MAO salvations…i will be the Chairman.”

“like Chairman Mao?”

“no, you moron, MAO…M-A-O…Monongahela, Allegheny, Ohio. together we will rule these waterways.”

“doing what? you are goin’ fuckin’ crazy, you know that? i can’t believe i left my shoes behind for this…”

he tried to smack me, but his reflexes were dulled from…something…

“i’m not crazy…i’m more lucid now than…than…than in a long time, alright…look, you’re in on the ground floor of an opportunity that can shake this city to its rotten core…the societal implications of this operation will have far-reaching consequences and could quite possibly – with a little bit of luck – start a movement.”

“what are we planning on salvaging?”

“ahhh…you’re coming around, i see.”

“i’m waiting.”

“are you sure you’re done crying?”

“take me back to shore…i’d rather be sleeping.”

“rather? you pussy...look, this operation will be many-headed. i figure the quickest facet to implement will be the fishing excursions.”

“fishing excursions?”

“yes…fishing excursions. what…we get some rods and reels and a few tackle boxes…load the ice chest up with beer and sandwiches, and that’s all we’re gonna fuckin’ need. we’ll charge $100 an hour.”

“who’s gonna wanna go fishing with you?”

“oh no…not me, motherfucker…i’m not pulling your weight forever. i might man the steering wheel, but you are the captain on the fishing cruises.”

“what are we gonna catch?”

“YOU DECIDE THAT YOU LAZY BASTARD! these rivers are alive with monster catfish…perhaps we should advertise with the legend of the man who was swallowed whole by a catfish as big as a Buick.”

“did that really happen?”

“WHO CARES?”

“what are some of the other ‘heads’ of this operation?”

“huh?”

“you said this operation has many different parts…what are the others?”

“oh yes…but don’t forget about the fishing cruises…that is your area of detail and to shirk your obligations there would be unexcusable. the residuals on those trips could really be sweet in the long run, you know, down the road…”

“shut up and get on with it.”

“ok…sunken treasures.”

“treasure?”

“treasure, baby, treasure.”

“in these rivers?”

“in these rivers…well, maybe not so much treasure, as sunken Stealth Bombers.”

“it wasn’t a Stealth Bomber, you moron…it was a B-25 that crashed into the Mon.”

“i’m disappointed.”

“in what?”

“in you.”

“why?”

“because you are believing what they are telling you…i say it was a Stealth Bomber, and we’re gonna find it, and when we do, you’re gonna feel dumb.”

“you know, i did hear that the night it happened…strange military trucks were seen in the area and many, many people along the river were hauled in for questioning, or quarantined, or worse.”

“really?”

“yeah…and i heard that it might have been an alien spacecraft!”

“are you serious?”

“no, you moron.”

“unirregardlessly…that sunken plane is around here somewhere and we’re gonna find it. who knows? perhaps it has acted as some sort of underwater artificial reef for giant Cadillac catfish. we can supervise underwater dives, act as tour guides, sell the pilot seats on Ebay to the highest bidder. i bet it’s loaded with gold bullion. that’s the reason it went down, you understand, it’s cargo was too heavy.”

“right.”

“here’s the kicker…”

“can’t wait.”

“shut up and listen…the real cash cow is the salvage operation.”

“the plane is government property…”

“we’re not salvaging the plane, you thick-headed bastard…well, parts of it we will salvage, but it’s really pennies compared to the full-scale operation.”

“sure it is.”

“cancel all plans for the fourth of july.”

“sure i will.”

“i’m serious.”

“oh, i don’t doubt that…you are seriously disturbed, that’s for damm sure…and your Hunter fixation borders on the obsessive…the creepy, even.”

“HE’S A GODDAMM AMERICAN PATRIOT, YOU SOULLESS HUMP! besides, this fourth of july will be a new independence day…Our independence day.”

“i’m already free...”

“i’m not talking about just you…i’m talking about Us All.”

“oh.”

“i’m talking about the Weird.”

“can we get on with this? that river patrol boat seems to be circling, probably calling for reinforcements.”

“this fourth of july…when all of those greedheads and fishheads have their little suburban boats parked precariously around the point…we will arrive. and we will wait.”

“for what?”

“for them to get drunk and run out of gas for christ sakes.”

“what’s a fishhead?”

“NEVERMIND! listen…we will wait until they run out of gas, then we will ferry them to the mainland and return to pillage the boats.”

“that’s robbery.”

“fuck that…we’re gonna be the modern day robin hoods…johnny appleseeds.”

“what are we planting.”

“the seeds of a revolution.”

“oh christ…take me back to shore.”

“yeah man…we ferry them back to shore…charge them an arm and a leg…and then rip the boats to shreds…sell them for parts, scrap, whatever.”

“why do you think they are gonna be running out of gas?”

“stop taking the bus and find out about the price of gas…”

“no thanks.”

“well, it’s through the roof and rising…those rich bloodsuckers have all of their money tied up in mortgages, cocaine, anti-depressants, boner pills, and sex club fees that they won’t be able to feed their motorboats for long. all we have to do is sit back and wait.”

“and then what?”

“then we put the lion’s share of that money back into the city.”

“for what?”

“to fill the point up with lite beer.”

“lite beer?”

“lite beer…the popular choice…see, the way i see it, it’s a sure fire way to get a large number of people involved. plug them with beer…we can talk until we’re blue in the face about chemical weapons or the whittling away of civil liberties or corporate wars in faraway lands, but no one will give a shit. lite beer will bring people around.”

“fuck…this isn’t good.”

“what isn’t?”

“you starting to make sense.”

“motherfucker, i’m about to make dollars! and once we get them down there and they start drinking, then i pull the jedi mind trick on them. give me an hour or two, and they will be ripping up the pavement on the boulevard with their bare hands.”

“and then what?”

“then we plant grass.”

“uh…”

“it’s a start.”

“a little unity.”

“right on brother, right on…”

he fired up the engines on the boat and we roared back into the sunrise. if you looked at the water in just the right way, you could catch the iridescence of the spilled gasoline on the surface. i’d be lying if i said it wasn’t at least a little bit beautiful. riding on the river in the early morning sunlight, we had planned an operation and maybe started a movement. with any luck and the right kind of eyes, maybe we’ll take this act to the White House.