4-Dave

Dave

 

Dave poured them both a shot.

“What’s up Ric? Talk to old Dave “

Ricardo looked again around the bar. The faces of the men sitting around it were older, tired looking. There was no skin unlined and wrinkled in the room. It was generally safer to speak openly around older people that had not been conditioned to report every odd thing they heard to the NSA, but still he whispered.

“Scary stuff”. He nodded to his glass and Dave poured another drink.

“You know I broadcast. Well, I also receive. I get feeds from the East coast and the mid-West. Local news, stuff like that. I network with other citjourns. “

Dave interrupted, “Hold on there bud. You got to remember I’m stupid. Since the internet died I have no use for the computer except for transactions; stupid shit I have to do. Hang on.”

He spent a few minutes making his rounds refilling other patrons’ drinks and eventually returned and refilled both their glasses. The ceiling fans were stained with old cigarette smoke but nobody smoked anymore; it was a thing of the past because the black market for that was dead and the penalties were too harsh for the return.

 “Okay Ric. “ What’s up? And what the hell is a ‘citjourn’? “

He slugged back his fourth shot.

“First, can you pour me the non-watered down rot gut? This is like colored water. “Dave scowled in a hurt and exaggerated manner and produced another bottle. “ Sorry, “he said. “ A man has to make a living “.

“Well sheesh, maybe you’d have more business if the drinks weren’t such shit? “ He looked around the bar again. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention to them; perfectly deceptive. They both knew the bar was empty because most people had little to no disposable income.

“So, the other night? During the president’s speech on the Chinese carrier? “

Dave nodded, all humor now gone from his eyes.

“Well, the president gave one speech here and another on the East coast, and another different speech in the mid-West.”

Dave just looked coldly at him waiting for more information.

“Here, he talked about the aircraft carrier. How we should remain calm and cooperate with the authorities? “

Dave nodded.

“Well, on the East coast all he talked about was the sea trade bill. There wasn’t one word about the Chinese. In the mid-West it was all about the farm bill. No mention of the Chinese. “

Dave would have made a great card player; his eyes were as blank as those of a child’s doll. His lips pursed slightly. That was his only reaction. The ceiling fans turned the stale air as the drinks slowly emptied around the bar.

Finally he asked, “What are you saying? “

Ricardo threw back and drained his glass before he leaned forward and whispered. “It means they are going to let the Chinese have us. “

Dave stood motionless for a moment. Neither noticed the one set of eyes on them across the bar. Ricardo unplugged his key and stood.

“And Dave? A citjourn is a citizen journalist. We are the closest thing there is to honest news. “

Dave threw his own drink back and wiped his forehead with a stained cloth.

“Oh man, “he said. “ No way. “

“Way. “ Ricardo said. “I have to go see if I still have a car. Goodnight Dave. Fill your water jugs man. “

“Okay Ric. I will. Shoot. Goodnight. “

He left the bar, his head now pleasantly swimming with the buzz and walked back to his car. Traffic was sparse and it sat right where he’d left it in the middle of a traffic lane, the cars swerving around it and sometimes honking in annoyance. Somebody had broken the windshield out and when he got close enough to open the door he noticed the smell and the smears on the seats.  “Great, “he yelled to the passing cars. “ Did you have to shit in my car? “

It still seemed absurdly amusing and he tipped his head back and laughed a little too hard. It might have been fueled by the cheap booze but in a shadowy corner of his conscious he thought about the carrier and his laughter had a tint of madness and intoxication in it. A full moon shone down, perhaps fueling that feeling.

He howled laughter at it for a few seconds. He found some old papers from the back seat covered the filth so he could sit.

“I guess I deserved that. “ Then, he looked to the excrement smeared on the dash and said coldly, “Motherfuckers. “