Zsssupft!
Szofia resiphoned herself back as her three dimensional green-haired 12 year old little girl persona.
The policeman was surprised. “How did you get here?”
“I walked,” snapped Szofia.
“Walked?”
She snapped again. “I'm a fast walker.”
The policeman got angry. “Well, walk out again just as fast! Family aren't allowed in this part of the station. Beat it!”
I saw Szofia scuttle backwards very slowly toward the reception area, eyes on what was happening with me. As she passed a potted plant she tugged off one of its leaves, smelled it, studied it and then dropped it on the floor, still scuttling backwards a little at a time.
“Mr. Nash,” said the desk sergeant after the arresting officer had removed my handcuffs, “press your fingers against the ink pad and then roll them onto the card.”
I did that as best as I could in light of my inside-out upside-down hands.
Ink. Roll. Press.
Then, blitz, before I could even orient myself, they had pushed me against a white screen and snapped pictures – one from the front and one from each side - with my name, a number and date plate under my chin.
The desk sergeant started to process me into jail. “It's Friday, Mr. Nash, and your arraignment will be next Monday morning for all of your charges plus any additional ones we might think of between now and then. You have the right to remain silent and the right to a court-appointed attorney, if you cannot afford one yourself. Et cetera, et cetera and et cetera. You've watched enough television to know the drill, haven't you Mr. Nash? Did you bring your toothbrush and a change of underwear?”
I was terrified and all I could say was “Oiyoyoyei!!"
“What's that you said?”
“Oiyoyoyei, Oiyoyoyei, Oiyoyoyei!!”
Szophia scurried up to the desk to explain my gurgling. "It's OK, Mr. Policeman. See, My dad's got bad dyspepsia. That's his stomach making those noises."
The desk sergeant pointed to the door and told her to get out.
She started to shuffle away. As she slid out of the booking area still walking slowly backwards, Szofia shouted: "It's one of Daddy's old war wounds acting up and all because you PIGS have been abusing a poor veteran with PTSD!! YOU'LL HEAR FROM OUR LAWYERS!!”
Then she blew me a kiss with her fingers! “Hughey-baby... I mean, Daddy... Take care of yourself. I'll see you real soon..." The arresting officer slammed the glass door on Szofia leaving me alone by the front desk.
* * *
I was put in a holding cell with another man who was apparently intoxicated. There were all kinds of shouting noises and hollering from down the corridor. Banging. Twanging. Clanging from every direction. The noise completely roiled my intelligence coils.
The cell had stainless steel furniture that folded up against the wall - two cots, a table, a chair, a sink, a toilet with no seat. It was cold and sterile and hard. It was the most frightening place I had seen so far! The other man in my cell was seated on a steel cot mumbling something, not exactly looking at me. He smelled like the old beer cans that Hugo Nash had left lying around his house.
Then Szofia - that is, the four dimensional cacto-blackberry version of Szofia - walked in right through the walls of the jail. Or, rather, she did not "walk through" the walls, she just ambled into the cell over from 4D where she had been biding her time, because 4D space is always coterminous with 1-2-3 whether the indigenous peoples notice it or not. Zsssupft! She siphoned herself out of 4D and back to three dimensions and humanoid little girl-dom.
She dusted herself off. “Hey! Daddy-O, nice digs you got here ... Heh, heh, you know, dude, I've always wanted to say that to someone!” She cursorily looked around the cell and then at me. “You didn't think I'd abandon you, did 'ya, Hugh? I mean, we're pals now, right?”
The drunk man stared at her and burped.
“Hugh,” Szofia said to me, “why don't you just do one of your little techie blasts like you did in the class room in school and make everything go blank-o?”
“I could,” I answered her. But, I explained, I was supposed to be doing a research study. “How can I do proper research if day after day I do something that upsets the dominant species' equilibrium or that risks alerting the authorities to the fact that I am not 'one of them?' This is all so stressful. Right now my gaseous pressures are sky-rocketing. See my gauge readings on my survival pod? Look: 744 kµ units/4M, oh my! I can literally feel my gasses frizzing over. Oh my, oh my! And besides, won't my pulses knock you out, too, Szofia?”
She was nonplussed. “No problemo, Hugh. It didn't affect me when you did it in school and it won't affect me here. We intelligent vegetables use pure photosynthetics. No bioelectrics necessary. Pulse away, Poppy!”
“There must be some other way to get out of this,” I said. “I do not want to be explusifying at the drop of a hat every time I get in a pickle.”
Szofia raised her eyebrows. “You have something against pickles?” she asked accusingly.
The drunk man stared at Szofia. Szofia stared back, gnarling her nose. She stuck out her tongue pierced with a gold plug and grimaced at him. “Blleeeelllhhbxx,” she warbled. The drunk blinked twice and continued to stare, pasty-eyed, muttering incoherently. She shrugged him off.
The noise from down the hall continued unabated. Other detainees in other cells were still banging things, clanging, shouting... It was terribly discordant.
Szofia sat down on the concrete floor cross-legged. She motioned me to sit down cross-legged, too. “Say Oooooooom,” she said.
I was dumbfounded. “What???”
“Close your eyes and say Ooooooom.”
I sat down cross-legged, but I refused to moan. “This is ridiculous, Szofia! “
She got angry with me. “SAY OOOOOOOOooom, dammit!”
“Oooooooom.” I felt utterly ridiculous.
Szofia, annoyed, waved both her hands upward. “Now, do it again! Louder!”
I was growing annoyed, too. “What's this supposed to do? Are you trying to meditate?”
Szofia placed herself in a full lotus position. “I don't do yoga, Hughdoo. I'm an intelligent vegetable, remember? I'm doing what vegetables do best: I'm vegetating. I'm vegetating for my own benefit, Mr. Hugh.” She paused and became agitated. “You know, you're so damned egocentric, Hugh, just like the rest of them. It isn't always about you. This has nothing to do with YOU. It's supposed to relax ME. I'm vegetating so I can figure out what we're going to do. Because obviously, Hugh, you aren't going to figure anything out, because no matter how big a gas bag scholar you say you are, you are one utterly useless polka-dotted celery stalk. Now help me vegetate, okay?”
I did as she asked: “Ooooooom. Ooooooom. Ooooooom. Oiyoyoyei Oiyoyoyei Oooooooooom...”
“Now keep it up,” she commanded.
“Ooooooom. Ooooooom. Ooooooom.”
The drunk man now joined in. “OoooOoomoomommommooo...Ooooooom. Ooooooom. Ooooooom.OoooOoomoomommommooo Oooooooooom OoooOoomoomommommooo...Ooooooom. Ooooooom. Ooooooom. OoooOoomoomommommooo Oooooooooom...”
The banging and clanging down the hall quieted down. “See, it's working already,” said Szofia.
She then pulled out a cigarette... or was it a cigarette? She struck a match on the floor and lighted her... what.... what was it? I smelled... marijuana... ? “Szofia, what are you smoking?”
She closed her eyes in vegetative meditation. “Shhhhhh. Keeping oooming! I'm trying to relax.”
“Szofia, you are going to get us all thrown in...”
She laughed. “Thrown in jail, is that what you were going to say? Really, Hugh, get a clue: we're already in jail, you clever boy.”
The drunk man continued: OoooOoomoomommommoooOoooOoomoomommommoooOoooOoomoomommommoooOoooOoomoomommommoooOoooOoomoomommommoooOoooOoomoomommommooo...
I was beginning to lose it. “That is fine! You are relaxing...” I pointed at our drunk cell-mate. “He is relaxing... I'm feeling stressed!”
“Then shut him up,” she said opening her green eyes and looking straight at me. “Shut 'em all up! C'mon Hugh. They won't hardly notice.” She started to rap: “Just give a little jolt and then we'll bolt/ Turn on the juice and then we'll be loose. Omm-pah, Doo-dah, time to revolt!”
I was feeling sick. “Szofia! That is a terrible rhyme!”
“It's poetry, Hugh. But it's going to get worse if you don't do something to get us out of here. We succulent veggies get really thorny when we get upset, and when I get thornier, the rappin' gets ornerier!” Szofia shut her eyes again and started rocking back and forth.
The drunk man droned on: “OoooOoomoomommommooo OoooOoomoomommommooo OoooOoomoomommommoooOoooOoomoomommommoooOoooOoomoomommommoooOoooOoomoomommommoooOoooOoomoomommommoooOoooOoomoomommommoooOoooOoomoomommommoooOoooOoomoomommommoooOoooOoomoomommommoooOoooOoomoomommommooo...”
I could barely stand it. “Szofia, make it stop!!! My seams are going to burst!”
She ignored me. “YOU make it stop, Hugh. I'm busy vegetating and oooming and rappin' on you balloon'...”
“OoooOoomoomommommooo OoooOoomoomommommooo OomoooOooo Ooomoomommommooo OoooOoomoomommommoooOoooOoomoomommommooo...”
I was agitated, angry, literally bursting with superheated gases, PISSED OFF (in the local vernacular). I twaggled my gravitational sheets harder than I ever have before and massively expulsifored!
Tsschiapppff
There were impulses galore! It was a dynamite electromagnetic pulse. The overhead florescent lights blistered into small super novas and burned out. So did every electric coffee maker and computer terminal and cell phone in the jail - and for half a mile radius around, as well. The drunk man ceased oooming and went totally blank and silent. So did every corrections officer in the facility, every visitor, every detainee and every car parked in or around the building and also several blocks nearby.
“Taa-daa,” said Szofia. “See what you can do when you put your tiny mind to something?” She blew cannabis smoke up at the ceiling at the sprinkler nozzle. No alarm sounded because the power was shorted out, but the sprinkler itself started to spray water. Szofia tested the grated door of the cell - the electric lock had unbolted and she pulled the door open. She grinned an enormous, face-creasing smile while swinging the open door back and forth.
In fact, every cell door in the jail was unlocked and open. Everyone was soaking wet due to the activated ceiling sprinklers.
“Hugh,” she said, “you are a veritable Marvel Comic Book Superhero! Super Hugh, that's you! C'mon, let's blow this joint before the Man comes back to life!"
We ran down the corridor. Every cell was open and everyone inside looked stunned.
As we passed the front desk, Szofia stuck her water-soaked marijuana cigarette between the immobilized desk sergeant's lips. He remained blank and speechless. She threw open the front doors and hollered. “Let's go already!! We're oooouuuut'a here!!”
We went. When running I still tended to careen in and out of 3 and 4 and 5 D, but though I wobbled, I was able to keep up with Szofia... barely. We cantered out to the street and kept it up all the way home. I was almost out of gas.
About twenty minutes after we had left the building, we heard a commotion from a distance. The fire trucks and police cars had started to converge on the station, but we were long gone and far away.
* * *
I sat in the worn out driver's seat of Hugo Nash's old, banged up Ford. I was petrified.
After crumpling up and tossing away the new parking tickets that had been stuck under the windshield paper clips, Szofia got in and sat down next to me. "If you've got any cell phones or wireless devices in your pockets, Pappy Dear, throw them all out the window right now! On or off, those things are always recording and broadcasting where you are, who you're with and what you're saying. Toss 'em all, dude, and let's get moving!"
I put the key in the ignition, trembling.
"No wait!" shouted Szofia! "Not yet. First, we gotta check out this rocket ship before we lift off!"
Szofia hummed and rocked back and forth while running her fingers across the dust covered vinyl dash board that was cracked in many places. "So cool, so very cool," she said. "This old beater's got real dials and buttons and switches. And, oh my gawd, I don't believe it! That's a real three-on-the-tree manual shifter! I can't believe it, a three-on-the-tree shifter!!! This is one crazy old set of wheels, Houghzer! And no touch screens and no trackware! Yowser! Very, nice, Hughie Dooey. And will ya look at this! A real cassette tape player! I haven't seen one of these in a million years! And look at this collection in the glove box of oldie moldy rock 'n roll music! Hot dog, let's roll Mr. Hugh!"
But I still hadn't turned the ignition key.
Szofia stared at me incredulously. “So, muchacho??? What are you waiting for? A special invitation? TV cameras? Tucker Carlson? Dude! They know your name. They know where you live. You know the cops are coming back here to get you. C'mon, Hughbie baby! We're fugitives from the law, wheehoo!! So let's go already!” Szofia was bouncing up and down in the car seat with excitement.
I cringed. “But, Szofia, I have never before really driven one of these terra-rovers, what they call a car. I have scanned all the manuals. I understand, in theory, how it works, but in practice...”
She laughed hysterically. “It's easy-schmeazy, dude! Just turn the key, shift into gear, step on the gas and POP THE CLUTCH! Come on, Hugh, we won't have all day, you know!”
Szofia slammed in a cassette. "Hot diggity dog!" She screamed. "Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble cover Hendrix's Voodoo Child live at El Mocambo!" She jammed the play button and turned up the volume to the maximum. "Hughie!" she screamed, "I taught Jimi and Stevie all those guitar licks and tricks and they almost, ALMOST got them right! Now, listen, Mr. McHugh. After I give you a snare drum roll, you count off eight quick measures to establish the beat, then you stick it hard! REAL HARD! Buckle up, butter cup......... Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... 7... 8...! GO! GO! GO! GO! Houston, we have lift off!"
I turned the ignition key, slipped the car in "gear," lifted off the clutch and stepped on the gas. Oiyoyoyei! We rocketed backwards into the street and across the center-line into oncoming traffic. We then spun 180 degrees as I let go of the steering wheel and it whipped around! We drove backwards into the lanes weaving between cars and trucks at breakneck speed!
Szofia was ecstatic.
“Wheehoooooo!!”
I was getting motion sick.“Oiyoyoyei!! Oh my hardening jellybags!!!”
Bam. We scraped a concrete jersey barrier. Bam bam. We rubbed against something else, a car, a streetlight stanchion, a fire hydrant... a pedestrian? I screamed at Szofia. “Oh no! What will I tell Pioneer Central Command? Hugo Nash has become a fugitive from the quasi-intelligents' law? A 3D criminal?? A reckless driver??? Oiyoyoyei!!”
“Wheehoooooo!!” screamed Szofia in reply.
I was scared witless. Breathless. I didn't know what to do next. We were pirouetting and pin-wheeling in the middle of the street. “Szofia... how... do... I... stop it???”
She was ecstatic. “Step on the brake, dummy!
“Wheehoooooo!!”
I stepped on the brake pedal!
Hard!!
Too hard!!!
The motor stalled and we skidded to an abrupt stop, sideways in a 7-11 store parking lot. White steam rose from the hood. I glanced back into 4D and saw that my pressure gauges were spinning wildly in circles, completely off the scale. I think that several chŭpaжthx synthetic hair fibers had popped out of my head leaving a bald spot! I sat there expelling warm plasma gases from my ears. Car drivers sped by pointing and honking at us.
Szofia was still bouncing up and down. “Wheeha, that was cool! Okay, now it's my turn. Move over, Rover, and let Szofia take over.”
She grabbed me by the collar and yanked me hard into the passenger seat. She was very strong for her size! Szofia got behind the wheel. Her small green-haired head, shrouded under the hood of her sweatshirt, was barely visible over the dashboard. She looked at me with a crazy grin. She blew a kiss my way and then screamed:
“Wheeeeeeeeehoooooooooooooo!!”
She stomped on the accelerator leaving wriggling black tire tracks burned into the road. A cloud of sparks and melted rubber followed us. The rear of the car fishtailed wildly as we blasted down the highway out of the city and into the darkening evening.
* * *
[You have just finished reading Chapter 7 of Life Among the Three Dimensionals, a serialized sci-fi novel and a throw-back to the non-digital day of extended narratives. Dazed and Confused? Totally lost? Time for remedial lit 101... or the CliffsNotes? For earlier chapters click HERE.]