“So you’re like a full on
conspiracy nut!” Phil exclaimed.
Stevie had to force back a smile.
The two were sitting together at the back of a small cafe. They were in a town
called Simpson West, which was more of a north east bearing from the more
populated Simpson. Phil had joked that the founder must have been the town
drunk from ‘ye olde Simpson’, “got his marching orders after one too many piss
ups and, headed west but, unable to walk straight, had swung around nearly 180
degrees before finally setting up shop in the deserted plains of Simpson West.”
“Maybe he just had his map upside
down,” Stevie had retorted.
Stevie imagined Mark Tanenworth
would have appreciated the silliness. His old friend probably thought Stevie
was dead by now. He wondered if Mark had built up the courage to leave Citadel;
felt a pang of guilt at not telling him to do so from day one. In the end the
undercover job had barely garnered any worth except convicting Stevie to a life
on the run. He would have had much better results just helping his friend and
sharing a couple more silly jokes.
But now he had Phil, for better or
worse - better as Phil shared the disdain for Citadel; worse as youth tended to
bring the worst out in people. The shaggy kid was apparently averse to
cleanliness or hygiene in any form. Sure Stevie had picked up a stench after
weeks of sleeping under bridges, but Phil refused to shower even after ample
opportunity. His clothes were old and tattered from literally never being
washed, and for a self proclaimed environmentalist and practicing ethicist he
had a terrible habit of leaving anything he touched in a mess. But he did have
a keen interest in Stevie’s Citadel knowledge, and, considering he was the
first, Stevie had to force back a smile.
The Wi-Fi at the cafe was a little
slow but it got the job done. Stevie had shown Phil a small section of his work
– all the records and information he had compiled on the activities at Citadel.
He had explained his goal and philosophy and even confessed to being a fan of
BullCit before it broke the big time.
“I don’t know if I would have kept
reading it had I known the author was such a deadbeat.”
“I’m sorry, but it seems like you
were clearly drawn to my inner beauty, my writing prowess.”
“Just a like-minded voice; rare
back then. I would have preferred you spoke a few more facts when you preached
the truth.”
“Gotta fight fire with fire. If
they want to fuck you in the ass don’t act like you like it. The example
leaders never make a splash.”
“The fire is the easiest to put
out; easiest to corrupt.”
“Fuck off Captain Sage, they were
gonna kill me.”
Stevie laughed. They were now
looking through the blogosphere of conspiracy theorists who had jumped on the
BullCit bandwagon. They had talked about it earlier in the day and agreed this
should be their plan. Phil had argued that they should use some of their money
to buy a cheap laptop. Stevie hadn’t agreed at first.
“We don’t have any income, any
money coming in. We need to survive on this cash for as long as we can. Treat
it like rations.”
“You gotta see the bigger picture,
dude. They want us dead. Not because we are anti-Citadel, but because they are
planning something right now and we are an immediate threat.” Stevie remained
pensive, Phil continued, “That’s why they pushed my site to the big time, got
me to sign a gag order with a gun to my head and destroy any credit I had with
the history or the shooting. Why shut it down when you can have my anti-Citadel
movement sponsored by Citadel. Half the conspiracy nuts on the net call me a hack
and a puppet.”
“But your fame drew the movement
into the spotlight. The sentiment towards Citadel has worsened despite your
selling out. Just sounds like bad business to me. They saw the effects so they
tricked you into a breach of contract and now you’re voiceless again. Anyone
could claim to be you. I’m sure someone will have opened up a new site under
the guise of Hippy Flip by now.”
“Fuck that, that’s moot point. Read
between the lines, dude. There’s a back story here, a sub plot about to come to
the fore. I can sense it.”
Stevie raised his eyebrows, “A sub
plot coming to the fore?”
Phil rolled his eyes, “I’ve been
reading a screenwriting book lately. Thought about expanding my craft.”
“To be honest you come across more
of a orator than a writer.”
“Yeah well I’m orating now and I’m
saying we need to buy this laptop and start devising our own plan.”
They were scrolling through
another site, this one called “The Bigger Picture” and underneath the header in
smaller text it read “Is Worth 1000 Bigger Words”
“That shit doesn’t even make
sense.” They browsed some of the recent posts. It was just pictures most likely
taken by the author him or herself. The most recent included a photo of two
newspapers laid next to each other. The headline on the first read “Tony
Holdsworth In Coma” then the subtitle “Drug Binge Suicide?” The second
newspaper which was in slightly better condition read “Tony Holdsworth Wakes
Up” then “Bigger and Better Than Ever”
“Did you know he had recovered?”
Stevie asked. Phil shook his head.
The next shot was a recent photo of
the Newport Haven train disaster site. In the foreground was a cross with a
name scratched into it; the background was the wreckage and the scattered
crosses that had been erected on the hill overlooking it. It was an eerie scene
taken in twilight.
Further down they saw some photos
of apparently unrelated items. The lack of a caption made the interpretation
much wider but the general theme was still decipherable. There was a photo of a
man with a slimy grin looking over an audience at a show. “Smithwaite,” Phil
had said with some contempt, “he’s a cunt, but I guess he kept me alive for a
while.”
There were photos of Lucy Blues
and Manny Holdsworth on stage giving each other a rather suggestive look and
even a photo of Phil standing in a group smoking a joint.
“Who the fuck is this guy?” Phil
said. “Must be someone on set, right?”
Stevie shrugged. He was trying to
think but he always landed in the same spot. The same spot he landed back in
the car after the Newport Disaster. The majority of the photos were of Walter
Wallace - on stage or backstage or in non TV events. Everything seemed to be
about Walter Wallace. “It’s Walter, everything and everyone is talking about
Walter. If they are planning something than he is involved.”
Phil nodded. “You know the funny
thing – and maybe that is just how this guy wanted to edit it – but in none of
these photos of Walter is he smiling. So much for happiest man alive.”
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