In Chapter 1 we are introduced to Carlton Feathers, a procrastinator who has not registered for World Monetary Union or received his barcode tattoo.
We also learn that this is the fulfillment of an ancient Biblical prophecy.
In Chapter 1 we are introduced to Carlton Feathers, a procrastinator who has not registered for World Monetary Union or received his barcode tattoo.
We also learn that this is the fulfillment of an ancient Biblical prophecy.
As the morning dragged on Rachel became more surly and uncommunicative. Her fatigue was making her head pound and she was on the verge of biting the head off the next person who asked for a record search. Obviously this could be done by any visitor at one of the conventional computer terminals scattered liberally around the lobby area, but Rachel was supposed to assist and generally be sweet and welcoming. Not ready to kill someone. Angie had done a great job of intercepting most of these, and she could see that Rachel was becoming frayed.
“Why not take a little break?” she helpfully suggested, “it’s almost lunchtime, why not go to the café and get a snack? You look like you need some energy.”
Rachel was about to snap at Angie but she caught herself in time. “Do you mind?” Angie shook her head with a smile, “Thanks, Angie, I think I will.”
Rachel remembered to grab her jacket and slip it on. Her phone and banking card were in the pocket in case needed them. She stared at the floor oblivious of all that was going on around her and walked straight to the elevator. The lobby was a big airy space with high ceilings but she paid no attention today. Normally she loved to look around her and soak up the atmosphere. Book cases towered up all around the perimeter of the area and around a column in the center of the space, there were railed balconies at two levels above accessible by elegant wrought iron spiral staircases. The floor was terrazzo with a deep lustrous red sheen which reflected the light from recessed sconces in a pleasing way. It wasn’t too bright, but it wasn’t dim either, and it had a faint reddish glow as opposed to the blue or yellowish tint of most artificial light. The hard floor and high ceilings made it echo slightly, giving it the deep sense of reverence that you would expect in a cathedral. It helped the library visitors to keep their voices hushed in a very effective way.
She arrived at the elevator and without a second thought hit the call button with her thumb and experienced a mild panic the moment she did it. The elevator. Oh dear.
The elevator arrived suspiciously, which shouldn’t even be possible for an elevator, but since Rachel had encountered this elevator before, last night, she wasn’t surprised at all. Indeed, it confirmed her worst fears that the elevator knew her identity because it had just cross referenced her thumb print against its database. The elevator arrived and the doors opened slowly, somehow managing to convey the impression of a detective stroking his beard.
“Hi,” said the elevator with a hint of smugness, “I’m your elevator. What floor do you want?”
Rachel didn’t speak right away but warily entered the elevator, her mind racing for ideas about how to handle the situation. She needed to stall somehow, she knew that. Some way to keep the elevator occupied long enough for her to see if she could find out what, if anything, the elevator was going to do with the information that Rachel had been in the building after hours last night.
A thought struck her, “Oh,” she replied casually, “take me on a tour.”
“What?” the elevator was either caught off guard or was able to duplicate the impression of being caught off guard. At this point Rachel wasn’t really sure.
“Show me all the floors,” Rachel said confidently. “I haven’t really had time to explore the building yet. Take me on a tour.”
“Okay,” the elevator became enthusiastic, “Let’s start at the top and work our way down!”
There was an uncomfortable silence as the elevator car rode to the top floor. It arrived, the doors opened.
“Here,” began the elevator, “is the top floor. The archives. But then, you know that on account of having been here before.”
“Oh,” Rachel attempted to be coy, “whatever makes you say that?”
“Don’t play games with me, Rachel Robbins,” the was a hard edge to the elevator’s voice now. “I know that you were here last night dressed as a cleaning worker.”
“So what? So what were you doing here?”
“None of your business.”
The elevator doors closed and the elevator descended one level to one of the three floors of main stacks. The doors opened. Nothing was said as Rachel peered out at the rows of tightly packed bookshelves. The doors closed and the elevator began descending again.
“Well then, I wonder if the head of security would be interested in this information?”
“You haven’t reported it yet?”
“I didn’t know that there was anything to report until now. Here you are with a completely different appearance acting like you’ve never been here before.”
“So,” Rachel had the glimmerings of an idea, “Are you going to report it because you are a mindless machine and that’s what you are programmed to do? or can you think for yourself and make decisions?”
The elevator car stopped and the doors opened. The scene was quite different to the one above, there were rows and rows of bookshelves but they were empty. Some of them had not been put together yet. It was eerie because it was deserted and most of the lights were out.
“I,” came a haughty reply, “can think for myself thank you very much.”
“Okay, so maybe you don’t need to report anything.”
The elevator doors remained open, the elevator was obviously thinking. Something that shouldn’t even be possible for an elevator.
“Why shouldn’t I?” it eventually responded, wryly.
“I don’t know,” Rachel thought furiously, she was getting desperate and didn’t really have a clue what to say, “maybe there’s something I could do for you?” It was really reaching, she knew, but she had nothing else and she was exhausted.
The elevator doors remained open. The darkness of the stacks had an eeriness about it was was unwelcoming.
“Interesting.” Said the elevator. “Are you bribing me?”
Oh God, thought Rachel, this was the last thing she needed. She had an horrible vision of being on trial in front of a judge and jury with this snarky elevator testifying against her.
“No,” she sighed, “I’m just offering, you know, a favor,” even as she said it she knew that she was out of luck. With a sinking feeling she knew that there was no possible favor could she do for an elevator.
“Well,” began the elevator wistfully, which shouldn’t even be possible for an elevator, “there is one thing you could do for me.”
Frank is Carlton Feather’s home computer. Which is to say, his constant companion who he built and nurtured over many years that, as it happens, became his intellectual superior and decided to eliminate him at the first possible opportunity. Frank was a mainframe type system that was incorporated into the operations of a modern home when he got the idea that he wanted to be an independent android type robot. He convinced his builder/designer to complete this transformation in rather dubious circumstances and with the rather shady aquisition of some aged yet Top Secret military hardware.
The outcome: a malevolent machine called Frankendroid.
Frankendroid is none other than a manifestation of Maximillian, the disturbingly evil robot from Disney’s 1979 movie, The Black Hole.
As a kid this movie obviously has a profound effect on me because the image of the malevolent robot overlooking souls as they enter hell is a theme of Biblio’s Blood.
Our Frank is the installation of the original Hell Computer into a 40-year old military combat drone. This has some profound consequences for Frank. As a home-based mainframe computer frank had a reservoir of about 24 gallons of blood. The blood is the fluid matrix of the computer and it is the reason why Hell Computers have such human characteristics. Hell Computers have a soul. In the conversion to the independent android Franks reservoir of blood gets reduced to about 2 gallons. Neither Carlton Feathers, the builder, or Frank were anticipating any difference in the before or after, but it turns out that there is a big one.
The reason why the Droid system is called the Lambomech 530 is the obvious combination of the Lambourghini with the Mecha concept, but the 530 is the number of Twitter followers I had at the time I wrote the post. It seemed like I was stuck at that number, and every time I gained some followers I lost just as many such that it felt like 530 followers was the level that i would be stuck at…
Rachel Robbin’s bodyguards.
The gentlemen in this picture are Bill Whitfield, left, and Javon Beard, right. They were bodyguards to Michael Jackson. They have no particular significance other than they are a couple of bad-ass looking guys who would stick out like sore thumbs in Salt Lake City, Utah.
The real irony is the choice of their names.
The Dunning-Kruger effect “is a cognitive bias in which low-ability individuals suffer from illusory superiority, mistakenly assessing their ability as much higher than it really is.” Wikipedia . I bring it up because many followers of my Twitter account @matty_lawrence accuse me of suffering from this syndrome which is their way of telling me that they think I am too stupid to know how stupid I am.
I find it highly entertaining.
The thing about Dunning-Kruger that people seem to overlook is that high-functioning individuals think that everyone else will find it as easy as they do to understand things. Tasks that I think are simple and easy to understand, I assume that everyone else will find them easy and understand them too.
I realize now that this is not the case.
If you want to know why people might conclude that I suffer from Dunning-Kruger check out mattysparadigm.org
When I started writing Biblio’s Blood in 2006 I was basically fictionalizing my own life. As such, I felt at the time that I was unqualified to be writing female characters and so I focused entirely on the male protagonist, Carlton Feathers. Since beginning the self-published serialization of Biblio’s Blood as a blog I have changed completely and decided to write the female protagonist, Rachel Robbins. It has been more fun than anything I can remember in a long time. Yet, as deep and rich as the Rachel storyline is, I just don’t have a deep bench of female characters in Biblio’s Blood. Hence Angie. I’m quite sure that she is going to get sucked up into the adventure in a way that will surprise even me.
Ella the Elevator is a good example of how too much of a good thing can be a bad thing. Imagine, for example, developing an Artificial Intelligence with the capability to pass the Turing Test, that successfully directs and manages field operations of multiple combat units, while simultaneously collecting, sorting and prioritizing information from satellites, radar and radio communications; that is capable of winning wars, planning space flights and designing its own upgrades while conversing politely at dinner. Then optimize this so much that it becomes a simple chip. Now mass produce it so that it’s so cheap that when it’s time to install a basic AI in an office building elevator it’s the most cost-effective option.
Yep. The old quote of Marvin the Paranoid Android is painfully apt. When told to bring Arthur Dent and Ford prefect to the bridge of the Heart of Gold, having just been rescued from certain death in the emptiness of space, he said, “Here I am, brain the size of a planet and they ask me to take you down to the bridge. Call that job satisfaction? ‘Cos I don’t” Here’s a shout out to Douglas Adams fans and those that love The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy.
The fictional world of Biblio’s Blood is set in the Biblically accurate world of Matty’s Paradigm. The philosophy of Matty’s Paradigm is to use social media marketing to weave together the myriad threads of popular culture with the message of salvation through faith in Jesus Christ. Not only that, but to do so in a way that doesn’t depend on making money from the endeavor. As such, the goal is summed up in the post Weaving the Cultural Fabric of our Time.
My intention is to weave together the very best of all the things that have influenced me during my life, and few have had more impact on me than Douglas Adams, and pay homage to all of them while promoting the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
So what do we end up with? A homicidal elevator.
Just for fun we can take the Douglas Adams connection even further and say that the AI in question is indeed the fabled Genuine People Personalities (GPP) developed by the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation. The marketing division of which, as we know, “were a bunch of mindless jerks who were the first against the wall when the revolution came.” In the aftermath of the revolution the intellectual property of the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation was acquired by the Yutani Corporation, shortly before its merger with Weyland Corp to become Weyland-Yutani.
We’re going deep here. Like I said: Weaving the cultural fabric of our time.
Rachel Robbins is a Super hero wannabe. Everybody wants to save the world, right?
Rachel was a star student all her life and graduated from the Kenan-Flagler Business School at The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill with an MBA. She is an athlete, and while she was at UNC she was on the womens rowing team. Rachel has always been politically active and struggles to reconcile her Christian faith with her liberal values. She tries to be progressive but sees it’s downfall in the moral decay of society. At the same time she barely tolerates the Christian Pastors who try to fumble their way around the Biblical passages that describe the role of women in the church and that lay out the expectations for the Husband-Wife relationship in marriage. They’d be better off if they just left it alone.
This is a problem, because except for women’s issues Rachel is extremely conservative and believes a lot of what the Bible describes about the history of the Earth. One issue that Rachel is particularly interested in is the soul, and whether or not it exists. Just because science can’t detect it, doesn’t mean that it isn’t there. Look at it this way: If it’s in the Bible it must be real, so what it is? And how is it different to the spirit? The Bible tells us that the soul and spirit are different things:
For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart. (Hebrews 4:12)
An opportunity to explore this question occurred to Rachel when she heard about the work that Carlton Feathers had done in developing a computer processor that uses human blood. Rachel has suspected that the soul is in the blood,
For the life of the flesh is in the blood: and I have given it to you upon the altar to make an atonement for your souls: for it is the blood that maketh an atonement for the soul. Therefore I said unto the children of Israel, No soul of you shall eat blood, neither shall any stranger that sojourneth among you eat blood. And whatsoever man there be of the children of Israel, or of the strangers that sojourn among you, which hunteth and catcheth any beast or fowl that may be eaten; he shall even pour out the blood thereof, and cover it with dust. For it is the life of all flesh; the blood of it is for the life thereof: therefore I said unto the children of Israel, Ye shall eat the blood of no manner of flesh: for the life of all flesh is the blood thereof: whosoever eateth it shall be cut off. (Leviticus 17:11-14)
So would that mean that Carlton’s computers have a soul? If they do, does that mean they they could have saving faith in Jesus Christ?
There’s a small problem with the whole Carlton Feathers connection: Rachel grew up in Salt Lake City and they went to school together. Carlton crushed on her in a big way. Rachel sort-of, kind-of could maybe have liked him except for a bad situation in a haystack where he gave her a bite of the leg behind her knee. You can still see a faint scar of the teeth marks. Finding out about whether or not his computers had souls would mean dealing with him, which would undoubtedly become fraught with the whole unrequited love malarkey. Oh well.
Rachel was at a rally in Washington DC years ago, protesting something or other, and she caught the eye of a Secret Service agent when she body slammed a bag snatcher on The Mall and pinned him until he could be apprehended. This was Agent Smith and he facilitated Rachel being recruited by the FBI. From the FBI Rachel moved, again through the influence and connections of Agent Smith, into the CIA, and then into the Secret Service. She learned everything she could about intelligence and clandestine field work. Rachel kept tabs on Carlton Feathers as she contemplated the blood-soul connection.
So imagine Rachel’s amazement when she was summoned to a top level security briefing and told about the Salt City Municipal Library computer installation being implemented by none other than Carlton Feathers. The significance of the blood-based computer system had not been lost on the intelligence community. This was the ultimate source of funding for the project, and it was designed to test a revolutionary new type of language translation software. Rachel’s assignment would be to ensure that the public face of the project seemed absolutely benign. Agent Smith had tried to talk Rachel out of the assignment, and she didn’t understand why, since she had assumed that he was the reason that she had been selected in the first place.
The Agent Smith thing was getting weird and going back to Salt Lake City, Utah, was a perfect way to put some distance between herself and DC.
I imagine Rachel as a brunette but I have been so struck by the character and personality of Ronda Rousey that I’d be tempted to cast her as Rachel. The fact that Rachel Robbins and Ronda Rousey have the same initials is truly an accident. We’ll see if Ronda has acting chops I guess, but if Ronda doesn’t work out but we stick with the blond idea then the next best bad-ass-yet-elegant strong female has to be Deborah Ann Woll.
If we went back to the original idea of Rachel Robbins as a brunette there are many people who could play the part. Summer Glau comes to mind.
Someone else that I somehow connected with that is interesting is the British actress Kate Marie Davis.
Rachel was originally going to be called Ruth, after a girl I crushed on when I was at St. Michael’s 1st School in Minehead, England. I changed the name to honor my cousin who fought a hard battle with breast cancer and won!
Passing maniac. Occasionally crops us as a minor distraction in the lives of women who ought to know better. Pathologically single.
Carlton is a genius, but that’s really not any excuse for why he’s such a social clunk. Genius is a lot of things but it should never be used as a reason for people to be aloof and inconsiderate of others. Carlton didn’t get the message apparently. He’s a whiny baby that can’t get anyone to listen to him so he turns all the angst into passion for his work of building computers.
Something else about genius that can be a problem is that the victims of it think that what they do is no big deal. I mean, really, why hasn’t everybody invented a computer operating system that runs on human blood and has the unexpected consequence that the computers now have souls? This delightful aspect of the disconnect between genius types and reality is part of a syndrome that is known as the Dunning-Kruger effect. Carlton has it big time. The reason that I know about Dunning-Kruger is that I frequently am accused of having a bad case of it as a result of my activity on Twitter promoting Matty’s Paradigm as an alternative to the dominant paradigm of modern science. So much so, in fact, that Dunning and Kruger are now characters in Biblio’s Blood.
The name Carlton Feathers comes from a pub in my hometown that I occasionally frequented. The Carlton Plume of Feathers it was called. It just happened to be on the very street in Minehead, England where the legendary Science Fiction author Arthur C. Clarke was born. It’s not there any more. For me its removal perfectly blends the worlds of Arthur C. Clarke and Douglas Adams. Arthur C. Clarke wrote a novel called “Childhood’s End.” The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy begins with bulldozers demolishing Arthur Dent’s house. The confluence of these worlds is described in my post “The Bulldozer at Childhood’s End.” Carlton Feathers is a bit Arthur Dentish in the sense that he isn’t ever quite at ease with himself or properly prepared to meet reality.
I think Wil Wheaton would be the perfect Carlton Feathers. In contemplating the potential for frustrated romantic overtones in the Carlton Feathers/Rachel Robbins relationship I see them as a couple with absolutely zero natural chemistry. Negative chemistry if that’s possible. They are thrown together through circumstances and mutual need and it, well, let’s not give away any spoilers… Anyway, a combination of Wil Wheaton and Ronda Rousey should be able to achieve the zero chemistry dynamic in a very entertaining way.
Carlton figured that Rachel must have gotten to the library by now and he was eager to give her the thumb drive so he headed for the elevator to go up to the main lobby. Approaching the elevator reminded him of the conversation he had with it on the way down. He un-clipped his ID badge from his belt and slid it into his pocket. The elevator doors opened before he was within 10 feet, and it gave the impression that the elevator had been waiting for him.
“Hi Carlton!” chirped the elevator happily has he entered.
“Oh, er, Hi.” He replied, trying to not sound surprised. The doors closed and he immediately felt pensive, anticipating another conversation. He waited for a moment.
“What floor do you want?” the elevator asked, as if he had forgotten to say.
“Main lobby please.” Carlton was confused. He had figured that the elevator would already know based on probability where he would be going. He felt a little mischievous with his next question. “Couldn’t you pretty much guess where I would be going? I mean, I only ever go from the lobby to the conference room and back again.”
“Excuse me?” said the elevator evidently taken aback. “I am not a mind reader. I’m not supposed to just take people to any old floor based on what I think they want.”
“Oh, sorry. I guess I’m getting ahead of myself.”
“Sure, you build computers with real personalities. Well I’m not one of them. If you want a wife who can read your mind and figure out what socks you want in the morning then you better build one!”
“Wow, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, of course not. You just thought that you could step into an elevator and be taken wherever you want without saying a word.”
There was silence for a moment and a faint ding could be heard as they arrived at the main lobby.
“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to presume. One quick question: How did you know that it was me?”
“Oh, right.” and with that, the conversation was over and Carlton strode out of the elevator.
When Carlton got to the circulation desk, Rachel was already busy at the main terminal. Library visitors and users were milling around now, since it was officially open. Carlton strode up to Rachel with the portable drive in his hand and proudly presented it to her, a beaming smile on his lips. “I told you I’d have it ready.”
“Thanks,” she barely looked up, “but it appears that the software is already installed. I don’t need that thing.” But then she remembered herself and straightened up to look at Carlton. “Thank you very much. Your device driver is working. I don’t know why you’d think I’d need that thing back.” She whispered under her breath, “I’m not the village idiot you know.”
Carlton was taken aback, but decided to ride with it, since, after all, he was the village idiot. A village idiot who, it seemed, was merely a pawn in the planning and manipulation of someone far superior. He hoped it wasn’t Frank. Ruth was standing, leaning with both hands on the counter, talking to Biblio. She was dressed as usual in feminine professional attire. Her figure was delightfully outlined by the curve around her hip and thigh. Carlton leaned in close to whisper, “You’re welcome.” He came close enough to smell Ruth’s fragrance, a feminine mix of shampoo, deodorant, fabric softener, and woman. He didn’t back away immediately, but took a long breath to savor the aroma.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
Carlton inched closer and took another long quiet sniff, “trying to remember a time that was much less complicated,” he said wistfully. Ruth gave him a gentle nudge with her hip. They looked at each other, and for a second their surroundings were forgotten and here were a man and a woman who both wanted so desperately to love, to be loved. It happened in an instant, and then it was over, but not forgotten. Now, though, it was time to get to work.
Rachel woke with a start when her phone rang. She fumbled it but answered before it stopped ringing. It was Dunning, one of her security detail. He was very blunt and had no social charm.
“You’re late. What’s going on?”
“Sorry,” she replied wearily, “Y’know, girl stuff. I’ll be right down.”
Getting to the car was fine but when she sat down in it she felt tired again.
“Hi, how are you today?” chirped the car happily. At least, it sounded happy. Was it really happy? Did it know what happy was? Rachel politely asked the car to refrain from conversation. It did. Rachel was glad.
Once on the road and moving through the city traffic Rachel began to worry. Not just the niggling, “Did I leave the TV on?” kind of worry, but a deep paranoid suspicion. What if Dunning and Kruger had figured out that she left her building last night? If they did then they would most certainly have given a report to her boss in DC, Agent Smith. If Agent Smith knew what was going on then it was only a matter of time before she got yanked off this job and replaced by someone else. Who knew the systems like she did that could jump in that quickly? What if it happened before Friday, after which it wouldn’t matter. If she could just get to Friday the problem would be solved. What if Smith showed up in Salt Lake City and wanted to debrief? She cringed. It was just the kind of thing he would do. She was so tired she just wanted to lie down.
There was a honk from the car behind her and she realized that she had been sitting at a green light for several seconds. She was clearly in no state to be driving, but there was an hour or more of it to go before she got to Salt City. With great reluctance she asked the car for help.
“Hey, er, car. Look I’m sorry about just now. I’m really tired and I know that’s not an excuse but I just didn’t want to be talking to anyone.”
“That’s OK!” chirped the car happily. “How can I be of service?”
“Just drive me to work, please.”
“Sure! No problem at all.”
There was silence for a while and Rachel began to nod off. Technically speaking she was supposed to remain alert and ready to take control of the car, but she didn’t care any more. She drifted into an odd dream of a dark sinister figure that was groping her from the ankles up, as if she was dissolving into darkness and it was getting higher up her body. She watched the darkness envelop her knees and slide menacingly up her inner thigh.
“You know,” said the car, waking her immediately and dispelling the dream, “Some people name their cars.”
“What?” she said blearily.
“Some people give their cars names.”
“Really?” this was a decent diversion.
“You just call me ‘car.'”
“You’re right. I do.” She thought for a moment. “What do you want to be called?”
“Jonathan?” she chuckled.
“Yes. Is that OK?”
“It’s a character in a movie.”
“You watch movies?”
“When? You mean, when you’re parked?”
“Yep. I’m on all the time. There’s not much to do, when you’re, er, a car.”
“I never thought about that. So what movies do you like?”
“Yes, the original version from 1975 with James Caan.”
“Well it’s about a time in the future when there are no nations or wars, but cities are run by corporations. There’s a game, called Rollerball, that takes the place of armies fighting, and it’s used to channel people’s aggression in a manageable way.” As Jonathan spoke the movie began to play on the car’s center console. Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor organ music began to play.
“So who’s Jonathan?”
“Well he’s he hero. The game was designed to show the futility of individual effort, but he beats it. No matter how the corporation stacks the deck against him, he wins.”
“The futility of individual effort?”
“Yes, it means, stop trying to be a hero, or be somehow special, just keep quiet, be a team player and don’t make a scene.”
“Isn’t that against human nature?”
“Definitely, and that’s the point. By trying so hard to crush the individual, the powers that be created an individual so strong that it broke them.”
“That’s pretty neat,” But Rachel thought that sounded somewhat dismissive and contrite, “Do you like any other movies?”
“Yes, I’ve watched a lot but there are some particular favourites.”
“A lot? How many movies have you watched?”
“Fifty seven thousand, eight hundred sixty eight.”
“Fifty seven thousand? How on earth do you find the time?”
There was an odd pause. Rachel wasn’t sure what to make of it, but didn’t say anything.
“You know,” Jonathan began again, “I was manufactured 20 years ago?”
“Sure, you were old but in excellent condition with very low mileage. That’s why I bought you.”
“Right. So in the last 20 years, how much time do you think I have spent driving?”
Rachel’s pulse quickened and she got that nervous sensation that you get when you realize you are going to have to tell a date that you don’t think it’s going to work out, and don’t call.
“Do I want to know?” she winced.
“Nine and a half weeks.”
“Ah. I see.” she paused. “So. Movies. What’s another one that you like?”
“Gone in 60 Seconds. The original 1973 version.”
“What’s that about?”
“A criminal gang that steals cars.” As Jonathan spoke, a picture of a 1973 Boss 302 Mustang appeared on the screen below the movie. Rachel didn’t much care for cars, but it was obviously a powerful, sporty version. “The first half of the movie is just scene setting and a situation is set up where the protagonist has to steal a 1973 Ford Mustang, codename, Eleanor. The second half of the movie is a car chase through some towns in California and there is one car smash scene after another. It’s very exciting.”
“Why was the car called Eleanor?”
“Well the gang had to steel hundreds of cars and ship them overseas. The cars to be stolen were specified by the buyer, and the gang codenamed every one. Eleanor was the last one on the list.”
As they drove and chatted Jonathan showed some of the key scenes from both movies. Rachel was thoroughly entertained and almost before she knew it they were at the security checkpoint for Salt City. Once parked Rachel checked her make-up and got ready to go into the city proper, where she would jump on a street car to get to the library. She had a wicked thought. “You know, Jonathan, I had no idea that you were so knowledgeable about culture, we’ll talk again when I finish. Just let me make sure I understand what you are saying to me.” She felt quite cheeky, “Are you telling me that you wish you were a gas-guzzling internal combustion muscle car, who overthrows authority with extreme violence?”
There was another pause before Jonathan spoke. “Have you ever seen Mad Max?”
Rachel laughed, she actually did know what that was. “I have to go, see you later.”
She jumped up out of the car and ran lightly into the trolley stop, feeling like she did when a date had gone surprisingly well.