Chapter 10: Escape

Tum dum Tum dum! Warren Norman, With All the Bad News! The theme from “Jaws”! Catchy theme for my new news broadcasts! Deal with it. My broadcast is the only news broadcast. I cover the entire globe simulcast. Scheduled at rare occasions whenever it pleases the Empress. Officially sanctioned by the Empress herself! And in honor of one whole month elapsing since Reign of our Immortal Empress began, we present: Tonights segment! De-population. The Empress in her wisdom, created a vacuum. She disbanded all governments, military, and police. Anarchy reins, under the auspices of the Empress. The few national leaders that insisted on continuing to govern, have new memorial crater lakes posthumously named for them. Edit your maps. Where their capitols once existed, are now deep lakes.

The Empress learned everything she needed to know, almost everything she knows, in the universities she attended, while earning all those science degrees. Among the things learned ( Brainwashed, Warren thought. ) that impressed her most, is, human beings are a dangerous plague harmful to the earth and it’s non-human inhabitants! Humans overpopulate and are destroying the planet. The overpopulation is unsustainable and she has taken appropriate steps. She kicked away the nationalistic stools that kept society on it’s teetering tiptoes, barely hanging on. The Empress assisted in a global hanged suicide of corrosive society!

The Empress estimates half of the worlds population has died during this first month since she declared herself. And CO2 emissions are down thirty percent! A bonus benefit! Expectations are, further reductions in population by half again, and commiserate reductions in CO2 emissions, will occur each succeeding month. When her first year anniversary finally arrives, the population should be reduced from the former eight billion parasites to a mere four million self reliant survivors, roughly scattered equally about the globe.

She is culling the herd using Darwinian natural selection, and only the fittest will prevail.

To celebrate her first anniversary, she will hunt down the warlords and murderers who commit war crimes or are guilty of atrocities. There will be show trials and tortured executions, broadcast live to re-establish justice! Once Justice is re-established, she will announce her great scheme for a new and better world! Be assured that all is going exactly according to her brilliant plan!

This is Warren Norman, wishing everyone, A Good Evening!

“Empress? What is your verdict on the rushes of the proposed broadcast? Does it need further editing? Or is it in the can?” Warren Norman was acting his most obsequious and fawning version of groveling before the Empress.

“Change the Warren Norman, With All the Bad News to Warren Norman, With All the News of the Realm. This is NOT about you! So cut out all that nonsense about yourself prior to ‘Scheduled at rare occasions whenever it pleases the Empress.’ Also, we don’t need your appalling smirking face sitting at a huge desk shuffling papers like some celebrity anchor man. You are NOT!

Insert clips of happy cheering crowds from coronations, sporting events, papal appearances, inaugurations, theatrical opening nights, and captive audiences of dictators for their political speeches! Samples from all around the world.

I want to see continuous cheering masses of people, a montage of various races and nationalities, with your voice over. Let me see the edit before I approve it for final release.”

The Empress grew more haughty and demanding daily. She was growing into the job. Puffed up, feeling more self important and uniquely solely qualified to rule! Warren Norman was growing ever more anxious to escape her arrogant august presence. Nobody could forcibly or secretly escape from the Empress. The nanobots were her spy network.

Her abilities were superhuman, literally out of this world! He would only accomplish escape, by beguiling the Empress into arranging his escape herself. Somehow it must benefit her and be best if it is her own idea!

In some imagined escapes, he intentionally offended Empress. But he feared that the true consequence of offending her, was more likely fatal than a desired banishment. Warren racked his brains without rest! Constantly imagining weird scenarios. Nothing workable emerged from these delusional pipe dreams.

Until he analyzed the Empress herself, her style.

Minimalist. Subdued. She was obsessively symmetrical. Wore dull militariztic colors, and was neat to a fault. Perfectly groomed. Without any ostentation. Almost spartan puritanical dress. Maybe he could safely offend her sense of aesthetics? Should be relatively safe. She might order him to dress more conservatively, but unlikely to squash him like a bug! Highlighting the ruined world she authored, certainly would offend her. Make a point of dressing in a Mad Max, steam-punk, or steam-goth post-apocalyptic style. Shame her. Trigger her conscience, if she has any! It might irk her enough to kick him out. Unsymmetrical. Unkempt. Careless of his appearance. He was warming to the project. Change needed to be subtle and gradual. He decided not to shave for awhile, or trim his nails, and immediately began wearing mismatched socks, and sometimes none. The Empress seemed not to notice. At first.

He ignored the many expensive suits, and sport coats and shirt/tie ensembles in his closets. Replaced them with an army surplus stained field jacket worn gaping and flapping open, decorated with non-military rude patches. Beneath, he wore a variety of garish colored, crude sloganed tee shirts, shirt tail out. He grew mutton chops and pierced his ears so he could wear hoops. Began wearing heavy rings and bracelets. Hung chains on himself, in weird bandoleer styles. Cut his slacks off raggedly just below the knee. Added combat boots and neon knee socks to the costume.

When he began wearing cosmetics, she finally banished him. She said she didn’t want to see him in person ever again. He could work from home and they would only communicate electronically via nanobot.

He pretended distress, complained he had no other home, and asked for a favor. He had no family except a daughter who did not love him. It was his one great regret. He had ignored her while she grew up, only sending her money as some token of his love, as he single-minded pursued his career. As an adult, she only ever contacted him to ask for more money. That was when you could still buy things. Now he’d lost contact with her completely. If he could relocate in time, to when she was a still a little girl, he would devote himself, spend time with her, be the father he failed to be the first time around. Maybe they could have a real father daughter relationship, in time Time was inconsequential to the Empress, and the news programs he created for her, had nothing to do with reporting actual events. Where and when he was, was unimportant. He could better concentrate on his presentation of propaganda news extravaganzas as she wanted, if he was content and had a more normal natural lifestyle. It was highly possible, they would bump into each other occasionally if he remained in the palace. Impossible, if he were in a different time. In the past. Specifically, 1987, was the year he wanted. The Empress was aware Norman knew nothing about time travel. But she gave him, assigned him a nanobot tail/jailer/guard/servant, to take him where, or whenever he liked, provide for his needs, and facilitate communications with the Empress. She cruelly smiled. Warren couldn’t interpret the sneer she gave him.

“Now, get out of my sight! Disgusting apparition, you make me sick!” He did, and gladly! He’d WON! Again! Escaped the dire consequences! Escaped the predicament he’d blindly stumbled into while following his ambition! Saved himself one more time! Again! Warren Norman hugged himself and pirouetted in glee.

Now! Think, he reminded himself. Celebration is premature. He hasn’t escaped yet! Just has permission to escape! But! He also has the means to. The nanobot.

1987 is the year he wants. Shorting stock options before the October 1987 stock market crash is a fortune maker. His daughter Anna is six years old and hungry for Daddy’s affection. She feels insecure after her parents divorce and is vulnerable. An opportunity to cement a strong loving relationship, he foolishly wasted last time. Warren is recently divorced from her mother in 1987. This time, he can preempt and defuse or reverse some of his ex’s legal maneuvers, that surprised and cost him a fortune. Revenge, how sweet. Warren likes and frequently enjoys prostitutes. Pay for play, he considers a clean business. Variety, hassle and commitment free, and on his schedule, whenever he wants. Of the hundreds, maybe thousands of prostitutes he employed over the years, only two women stand out as remarkable memories. Both he encountered in 1987. He would enjoy renewing those two acquaintances, perhaps even making them longer duration. Live in sex toys, for awhile, why not? Maybe start a rotating harem of prostitutes. Maybe he would luck out and salvage some cute teen runaways! With the nanobot’s help, wealth is easy to acquire. And prostitutes do anything for money! Money makes the world go round in 1987! First, he needs a base of operations. Why not more than one? Sure, but you have to start somewhere. The first one. A mega-yacht? A mansion somewhere? A private island? A castle? A resort hotel? How about just a hotel? One of those old five story brownstones, with businesses renting the street level store fronts.

Might be good! He wanted a clean smelling upscale bar that served good burgers and Philly cheese steak sandwiches. A separate spaghetti restaurant on the premises, needs to make good lasagna and other dishes besides spaghetti. They would be coerced into providing exclusive room service for him. Probably the best arrangement is he own everything and hire cooks and managers. Yeah. So what if doesn’t show a profit, only nice if it does! His comfort is the priority.

Going to need a nest egg. Unwise to pull millions out of thin air. Government wants to know where you got it, even in 1987. Giants won Super Bowl XXI. First time they won since 1956. Thinks he’ll place a few small wagers. He’s a Giants fan. Knows the score. A trip to Vegas is in order early January. Did he keep any cash after it became worthless? Not even sure where his wallet is. Hasn’t carried it for almost two months. Ah, it’s here in the cuff-links drawer. Hasn’t used those in awhile either. Hundred forty four bucks. Many fortunes start with less! Warren is a man with a plan! He switched to first person.

Remembering how to dress in 1987 wasn’t difficult. I never changed. Still dress the same, when I’m posing as my conservative anchor man personae and not a steam punk pirate. After shaving, trimming nails and hair and tossing the earrings into the cuff-links drawer, I put on a light weight silvery gray silk Armani with a pink button down shirt, a turquoise and gold striped tie, brown wingtips and voilà! Ready for war. Caesars Palace 1987, here I come.

“Hi, Mr. Erlickson? My name is Mr. Norman. You are going to win a $1,061,812 jackpot on this slot machine in just a few minutes. How I know isn’t important. What IS important is, they will cheat you out of it. You are 19 and the law in Vegas says you have to be 21 to gamble. Would you rather be famous for being cheated out of a million dollars? Or be a millionaire? When the jackpot bells and lights start their ruckus, step back and let me collect the win. Afterwards, you let me take the $61,812 and you keep the million. I told you I know you will win. When you hit the jackpot, you will know I spoke true and know you can trust me. If you don’t win, you’re out nothing! Deal? Smart lad.”

Easy pickings. $61,812 for seed money on the Giants in the Super Bowl.

Just have to reverse the clock to January. Oh, nanobot, I have a task for you!

Poor Mr. Erlickson got stuck with all the taxes and still they tried to cheat him out of the million dollar win! At least he ended up famous! Since I’m a Giants fan and remembered their best games and the scores, I made a killing on super bowl XXI. Win 39 to 20 over Broncos, and by point spreads and double payouts for extra touchdowns, creative bets, I mopped up. Even though the Giants were the favorites, I walked away with three hundred grand, but that includes the seed money. My original hundred forty four dollars is nearly gone. Even in 1987, food costs money, you dig? It’s now Hotel time!

The nanobot whisked me away to Detroit. Walking around, taking my life in my hands, Detroit can be dangerous even in 1987, I recognized the bar where I met Linda. And across the street, the hotel she took me to. Linda is one of the only two hookers who ever made a big impression on me. I want to see her again.