James

James sat down at the massive wooden desk, punched his number into the computer and requested his balance. Half-way around the world at a huge computer complex, the information was quickly located and displayed on the video screen. He watched with indifference as the long line of digits appeared.
As he stared at the digits, he heard the sound of gunfire from the street. At the push of a button the digits disappeared as James shoved back the chair and crossed the plush, sunken living room. He hurried up the four steps with giant strides, taking two steps at a time. He crossed the alcove and stood in front of the large bay windows that overlooked the street.
Near the corner he saw three trackers tying a man to the post of a street illuminator. There was blood on the man's face and a large spot of blood stained the front of his ragged white shirt.
James didn't recognize the trackers even though they wore the same kind of uniform he wore. He watched stoically as one of the trackers took a knife from his pocket and opened it. The blade flashed in the afternoon sunlight. With little effort, the tracker tore open the front of the man's shirt and the buttons bounced on the pavement like popcorn. The knife blade sliced through the air as he shouted obscenities.
James didn't need to hear the words to know what was being said. Many times he had witnessed scenes such as this one. Now, he waited for the finale. The blade being inserted just beneath the ribs to puncture the heart. Instead, the blade flashed again as the tracker made a cut on the man's chest, then wiped the blade clean on the torn shirt.
To James Emmerson Marshall IV, this scene brought to life the memory of his father. Suddenly, it was no longer a stranger tied to the post, it was James Emmerson Marshall III.
A soft rain was falling on his father's battered, bleeding body. James could feel the rain on his face and taste the salt from his tears, as he helplessly watched his father's agony. He heard himself pleading and begging for his father's life to be spared as he had done that night. He saw himself fall to his knees and pray. He heard the words ringing in his mind as the burned their way into his memory. Again he felt the isolation and aloneness as he denied his sacred covenant and swore his allegiance to the King and the United System. He felt a tingling sensation in the palm of his right hand as he accepted the mark of the newly united world. Finally, they cut his father down, but it was too late. He cradled his father's body in his arms and wiped the rain from his face. He laughed as he cried. It was too late.
All the old anger and fear came rushing back. Pain and regret seemed to bubble into his consciousness. Everyone has his price. Now, nothing could take away the mark the System had put on him. Reality could not be altered. James turned his face from the window, his eyes were moist.
The change was necessary for the preservation of humanity. It started gradually and was referred to as progress. The undeniable result of that progress was war. It was short and bloody, but it took a toll on the land and the people. Once again, mankind had restrained the urge for total destruction. The United System was a welcomed relief to the majority of the war-weary people. They were tired of bloodshed and eager to live together under one government. They wanted peace - at any price. It was mankind's only hope of survival. It was the only alternative to obliteration.
Of course, there were a few who could not and would not accept the new System. Those who refused were usually apprehended, held for ten days, then presented for public execution. James' father was among the first to die. It was an ugly, disgusting time, but it was necessary for the perfection of a workable world government.
James went to the kitchen and returned to the window with a cup of hot coffee. The man on the post had passed out and James found himself wondering how long he could live in his present condition. He was badly wounded but he would remain tied to the post until he died. No one would go near him. No one would tend his wounds or offer him a drink of water. The man had committed a crime that threatened the perfection of society and he would have to die to pay for his rebellion. No one would dare to cut the ropes that bound him. The penalty for such an act was death and no one in their right mind would jeopardize his own life for the life of a stranger.
James took his coffee and went back into the living room. He set the coffee on the desk and inserted a disc into the computer. Soft music filled the room as he stretched out on the brown velvet sofa. Tomorrow he would wear the white coveralls of a commanding officer. It would take time to earn the gold braid but at least he was moving up in position. He smiled as he envisioned himself in white coveralls draped in gold braid, insignia and medals. He closed his eyes and thought of the valuable information he had learned in the past two weeks. With this new knowledge he could disrupt communications all over the world.
Displeased with himself for thinking such treacherous thoughts, he removed the disc and went back to the window. A patch of light fog was making it difficult to see clearly. The man's position hadn't changed much but the blood on his shirt was worse. If he didn't get help soon he would bleed to death.
The illuminator automatically came on, spreading light on the surrounding area. James noticed the beams of light reflected off the two rampant lions which held the iron gate in place at the end of the walk. Their mouths were curiously open as though they were hungry enough to devour the gate. Even though he had never really been hungry a day in his life, James detested hunger. Even the thought of hunger was repulsive to him. He had seen movies about the famines of the past but they were just movies. In reality, he had never known of a shortage of any kind. He had always had plenty. To him, hunger was unthinkable.
Tomorrow he would have the gate removed, but the lions would have to stay until he could find a suitable replacement for the computer components they contained.
"Computer," he said , still gazing out the window.
In his mind, James went back to the first time he came to this house. He remembered the look on the housing agents face when he told him he wanted the house for just two people. Now, he thought, I wish I had taken a smaller place. His thoughts were interupted when the computer beeped, signaling him to continue his command.
"Show todays news," he stated absently.
The wall screen at the far end of the living room burst into brilliant color and vibrant sound. The news would continue for about three hours or until he instructed it to stop.
James didn't see the news or the window glass or the gate. What he did see was a vision of his future. He wasn't dressed in heavily decorated, white coveralls, setting in a plush office marked "Supreme Commander". He saw himself as a tired, lonely old man, spending his time with a computer. It would be his companion and his only friend.
Disquieted, he retrieved his cup from the desk and sat down on the sofa. Vivid colors leaped on the furnature and danced on the walls, bathing the room in fiery tones of red. Looking toward the screen, he took a sip of coffee as the red tones raced across his face. The coffee was cold. He made an unpleasant face as he set the cup on the computer console and pressed a button to stop the news. The room immediately returned to its natural colors.
"Computer," he said, "is the water in the pool warm?"
"Affirmative," the computer responded.
"Turn the pool lights on dim and open the patio doors."
"Would you like the towels warmed?"
"Yes, warm the towels."
James went up the four steps, past the wall screen and down a short hallway into the gym. He remopved his dark blue coveralls revealing the black swim trunks he wore beneath them. The cool air from the open patio door sent a quick chill over his almost naked body as he began to work out. He concentrated intensely on each exercise to achieve the maximum benefit. When he finished the vigorous workout, his tan body glistened with moisture.
In the darkness, the soft glow of the underwater lights rippled as he swam the length of the pool twice without stopping. He turned onto his back to float for awhile. He saw a star as it fell past the slender cresent moon. Orion was keeping vigil above the flower garden and the Dipper continued to pour its contents above the pool.
Some day, he thought, I'm going to invite my son and his family to dinner so we can get re-acquainted. We could spend the whole day together. We could cook out and play some golf and swim...
To dispel the silly thoughts, James swam two more laps at his top speed. He climbed out of the pool and dripped over to the towel warmer. At the push of a button the warmer issued soft, warm towels. He wrapped one around his waist, draped one around his shoulders and took another to dry his hair.
Placidly, he went back to the bay windows. At a glance he could tell that nothing had changed. The man was the same as before and fog still hung in the air.
"Computer, turn out the pool lights and lock the patio doors. Note: Change the water in the pool and make it five degrees warmer."
Down the hall in the west wing of the house, he passed four empty suites before arriving at the master suite at the end of the hall. Shortly after the death of his wife, Rachael, he had the master suite redecorated in rich earth tones. Opposite the door, the large cocoa-brown bed with creamy satin sheets, stood majestically against the west wall. On the left side of the bed stood the computer console and a bedside table was on the right. The other door on the east wall opened to James' dressing room and bath. Behind the door on the south wall was the sitting room, dressing room and bath that had once belonged to Rachael. Even with the doors locked, he could see her daintiness reflected in tiny pink roses. He could feel her softness in the delicate lace curtains and smell her presence in the sweetness of the air. She would remain with him forever...in his memories.

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