Payment in Blood

Chapter Four: A Fool and His Money

“'Seize the day,'
I heard him say
'Life will not always be this way
Look around
Hear the sounds
Cherish your life while you're still around!'”

--Dream Theater – A Change of Seasons (pt 2)

“Hey, Rippy, I have something for you.”

Riptos opened his eyes and looked over to see Elena kneeling by the bed, holding an envelope. He took the envelope and examined it. There was no return address. He opened the envelope to reveal a handwritten letter.

Dear Mr. Calavera,

I regret to inform you that I cannot provide a return address in this letter due to some unsavory people who are conspiring against me. I have heard of your suffering after the war, and it turns out that I have just the thing to remedy your paralysis permanently.

Sytech Cybernetics Corporation is currently conducting trials of a new electronic neural-interface chip that can bridge a break in a damaged nerve. Currently the trials are closed to all but a few applicants who have pulled the right strings to get in. However, we can pull those strings for you.

With this device implanted in your back, you will have your sensation and movement in your lower body restored—not entirely, but enough for daily life and work. Enclosed is a set of documents and medical articles about this new technology, including citations to prove that this is in fact genuine.

If you elect to accept my offer, we can meet on March 23, at 759 Wallace St. behind the old church and discuss arrangements. This treatment will take a year at least to appear on the open market and will cost tens of thousands of credits. This is a great opportunity, Mr. Calavera. I hope you seize it.

Yours,
Nack Cunningham, Esq.

Riptos's eyes went wide as he handed it back to Elena. “Holy hell,” he muttered.

“What's the matter?” said Elena.

“Read it.”

Elena read the document carefully, and then flipped through the documents that accompanied the letter. “I don't know about this, Riptos, this sounds a little fishy. And 'Esquire'? Who does this guy think he is?”

“Well, he provided citations to medical journals. We could look them up ourselves.”
“I'll have the kids check them, they spend all their time online anyway.”

“Could you stay for a while? I need someone to talk to. Being cooped up here is driving me insane.”

“Sure, honey, what do you want to talk about.”

“I just can't go on stuck in despair like this. After the initial shock of realizing that my legs don't work anymore, I've just been in this deep, huge funk that won't go away. And now that I've come to fully realize what has happened to me, I'm wondering what else I can do besides lying around hoping to fade away. I've got to do something, Elena. I don't know what, I don't know how, but I have to do something. I spent twenty years of my life with as much purpose and drive as any man I know, and now it has all gone away. I need to get it back.”

“I understand that it must be very hard on you, Riptos. But are you really going to put so much faith in an anonymous letter promising a veritable miracle?”

“It's not like this is a completely unprecedented technology. They've done this for paralysis of minor nerves and even blindness. How hard is it to believe they've taken it a bit further? I know that it might seem fishy, but goddamn it, it beats sitting on my ass for the rest of my life. I haven't spent forty years in this world just to give up on life now.”

“I hope you know what you're doing, Riptos. OK, we'll investigate this, but I'm still suspicious.”

Riptos nodded. “Maybe I'll finally start living again.”

--

“Well, isn't that a fine fucking performance,” barked the drill instructor at the shuddering, panting hedgehog at his feet. “Recruit Spencer fucks it up yet again. Why the fuck do you even try?”

Adrian didn't say anything, knowing that it was futile. As he tried to stand up, the instructor grabbed him by the back of his collar and held him up in front of the other recruits.

“Recruits, here we have a shining example of pure, absolute suck turned into flesh. Pure fucking suck! He's so bad he sucks! He sucks so bad he fucks! Half of you couldn't fight a one-armed human, but this, this just takes the cake. All of you take an example of what not to be like from this gutless, dickless, worthless excuse for a Mobian. That is all. You are dismissed, including this scrawny punk right here.” Adrian grunted as he was thrown down to the ground. Motherfucker, he thought to himself.

Adrian practically limped back to his dorm, feeling exhausted and humiliated as usual. He had gone from dead last to dead last in the six-kilometer run, with no sign of improvement. Eventually, he had stopped trying to get ahead, convinced that he never would. After a shower and a change of clothes, he picked up the phone and dialed Rex Christensen's number. Rex was a soldier, after all. Maybe he could give some advice.

Connie answered the phone. “Connie Christensen speaking, may I help you?”

“Hey, this is Adrian, could you get Rex on the phone please?”

“No problem.”

A few moments later, Rex was on the other end. “Hey there, buddy, how is it going?”

Adrian sighed. “My military career so far is a complete, unmitigated disaster. I can handle the classwork, but I completely suck in field training. I'm getting last place in everything, the instructors are always abusing me, insulting me, and using me as an example of everything shitty. I need help, Rex. I can't take much more of this.”

“Well, the instructors aren't paid to pat you on the back. Are you sure they're really being especially unpleasant to you?”

“Yes. Today one of them grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and described various physical and sexual deficiencies of mine in front of everything, and then threw me down like a piece of garbage. I'm going to lose my mind, Rex! They hate me!”

Rex's tone became a little sterner. “I think you should take a step back and think whether it's really all because of them or if you're doing something wrong. I suspected you would have a difficult time. You never struck me as a very tough person either physically or emotionally. Look, if they're harassing you so much, it's probably because they think you might wash out and they're seeing if you have what it takes. You have to prove that you're man enough to be a soldier, and that's what I think is really the problem. You've never really had your courage tested before, and thus you have no idea how to handle it. You say you can't take it anymore? Then you have two choices—make yourself succeed or go back to civilian life. You're just setting yourself up for more humiliation until they finally throw you out.”

“I don't know what to do, Rex. I need someone to help me.”

“No one can help you. The instructors are there to weed out those who aren't tough enough to be soldiers. If you can handle them, you can handle the military. But you have to handle them. They don't hate you, and they probably don't really enjoy their work. I believe you can make it, Adrian, but you have to try.”

“I just feel so afraid. I've never faced anything so hard in my life.”

“Life can be hard sometimes, but that doesn't mean you can give up. I got through this, and I can be as lazy and irresponsible as they come. Just ask my wife.” Rex chuckled as he finished the sentence.

“All right, I'll try. I've given so much up to do this that I can't walk away now.” He sighed. “I guess I'll see you later, then. Bye, Rex.”

“Take care of yourself, kid. It can only get better from here, trust me.”

Adrian put the phone back on the hook and sighed, feeling like a weight had been pulled of his shoulders. He thought of all the people who had become officers in the Mobian Navy and how many of those people lacked things that Adrian himself had. Suddenly, compulsively, he reached for a sheet of paper and a pen and wrote “I WON'T LET THEM KNOCK ME DOWN”. He then tore the part of the paper with the writing on it off, folded it, and put it in his pocket. Now it was on paper, his resolution given some physical form.

Looking up at the clock, Adrian saw that there was still an hour left before the next class. Just enough time for a nap. He set the clock to trigger the alarm in 45 minutes, lay down on the couch, and closed his eyes.

--

Edward Grinberg pored over the papers arrayed on his desk. Through stealth, cunning, and just a little intimidation, he had procured extensive police records about the murder of Marjorie Krug, records that perhaps would lead him to her son so he could finish the job. Of course, he had never acknowledged the child as his son—he was merely an accident that had to be mopped up like any other. The murder had not only left a survivor, it had also landed him in prison—very unbecoming of one of Takeo Sekaro's favorite students.

So far, there seemed to be no leads. Krug had adopted the child out anonymously, and the police never discovered which agency she had given the child to. All that was known was that she had given birth to the child and sent him away to protect him. “Elusive little bastard,” he snarled under his breath. “I'll find you, and then I'll give you the same treatment I gave your bitch mother.”

Edward's ears perked up as he heard Nack walking into the room. “What is it?” he said.

“Hello, Edward. I was wondering how your, uh, research is going.”

“These reports don't tell me shit. The pigs are just as clueless as we are. However, I have drawn up a list of people I think we should interrogate to see what they know. After all, we have a lot more ways of making people talk than the pigs do.”

“Patience, my friend. Before we do that, I am negotiating a 'business' proposition with a disabled Earth-Mobius War veteran named Riptos Calavera. The poor sucker is just begging to be relieved of his money, and who are we to not oblige him?”

“I greatly enjoy ripping people off,” said Edward with a grin. “What's the plan?”

“Mr. Calavera is a paraplegic, and Sytech Corporation is conducting an invitation-only trial of its spinal interface chip to cure spinal paralysis. We get him in for 'free', and then after everything's done, we squeeze him for every credit we can get out of him.”

“Sounds excellent. When will we meet Mr. Calavera?”

“On the 23rd, on Wallace Street behind the old church.”

“Stupid bastard doesn't know what he's in for. He'll be walking all right, walking all the way to the homeless shelter.”

“Now, don't get too ahead of yourself,” said Nack. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“You always have a clever catchphrase for every situation, don't you, Nack? Well, I have one of my own.”

“And what's that?”

“A fool and his money are easily parted.”