Oscar looked around his bedroom furtively. He looked back to the computer screen and stuck his foot down on the accelerator. His virtual car picked up speed. The buildings flashed by faster and faster. He didn't know how fast, there was no speedometer, but he started to gain on the enemy cars, and then he burned past them.
He gave a quick glance around his room again. No-one was watching. What about the window? Clear.
He pressed the accelerator a bit more, not quite to the bottom, but enough to leave the enemy cars in the dust.
He crossed the finish-line well ahead of them. Woosies! The speed limit was there to be broken! What were they thinking!
Well, of course, they weren't thinking, they were computer cars. But still.
Oscar braked to a halt, got up from his games console, and went to the bathroom.
***
When Oscar came out of the bathroom, there was a knock at the door. Half a second later, a black lump of iron broke a hole in his front door. He watched as a hand in black gloves reached through the hole and opened the door.
Oscar ran to his bedroom to get his hand-gun. He ran around the corner of his bed, placing his hand on the soft blankets as a pivot, pulling them off in the process. He reached the small bed-side drawers. He pulled out the top one. The hand-gun lay there, greased and ready for usage. Had he loaded it? He couldn't remember. He reached his hand forward to pick it up.
A voice came from behind him, aggressive and authoritarian. "Police. Stand where you are. Put your hands up."
Oscar pulled his hand slowly back from the hand and raised his arms slowly into the arm, trying not to do anything hasty.
The voice ordered, "Put your hands against the wall. Slowly."
Oscar did so.
The voice said, "You are under arrest for exceeding the speed limit. Anything you say can be taken down and used in evidence against you. Do you understand?"
How did they know he'd been speeding? He'd been so careful?
He said, "I understand."
"Good. I'm going to cuff you now, and then we will take you to the station."
***
Oscar was shoved into the back of a police-van. The door slammed behind him. He took a seat amidst the other suspects.
Of course it was right that he had been arrested. It had been shown time and time again, in endless studies, that people who broke the speed limit in computer games were more likely to break the speed limit on the streets. He could have killed someone!
The van was cold and dirty. It swerved around the corners, throwing them around against the hard metallic sides. Something dug into his arm. A screw coming out of the metal.
The guy next to him farted. Someone hawked phlegm onto the floor of the van.
***
The guards pushed him down corridors of metallic bars. They stopped in front of a large cage. One guard thumbed through a bunch of keys, checking the labels on each one. The guard found the one he was looking for, slotted it into the door of the cage, but it wouldn't turn. He peered at it, and flicked through more keys.
The next key worked ok. The guard with the keys pulled the door of the cage open. The guard behind Oscar shoved Oscar hard into the cell. Oscar tripped on the entrance, and fell forward hard. His head struck the metal bed, and he tumbled onto the floor.
He looked back to see the door closing. It clanked shut.
The guard who'd shoved him in through the door spat on him. The guard said, "Let that be a lesson to you scum." The guard clenched his face and yanked the door back open. He took a step into the cell, and kicked Oscar hard in the stomach with his boots. He put his boot against Oscar's groin and pressed. He said, "This is for resisting arrest."
"But I...". The guard pressed harder against Oscar's testicles with his boot. He leaned down and smashed Oscar in the head with a gloved hand.
The guard said, "How dare you argue with me. Here we are God, and you will treat us so. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
The guard pulled away, pulled his foot, and ploughed it into Oscar's stomach. The guard said, "Don't talk to us. Do you understand?"
Oscar said nothing.
The guard kicked him again anyway.
***
Oscar lay on the hard metal bed massaging his bruises. He looked at the neon light flickering outside. He moved again, trying to find a comfortable position, but none came.
Footsteps came down the corridor.
The guards reached his cell and opened the door.
One said, "You're free to go."
Really? He looked up at the guard hopefully.
The guard pulled back one arm and slammed his fist into Oscar's stomach.
The guard said, "Yeah, right. Free to go! Not likely. You're going to fry for this."
The other guard said, "Easy Fred. We don't want any visible bruises when the lawyer's here."
The first guard, Fred, said, "Ah fuck it", and kneed Oscar in the thigh hard.
The second guard said, "Your lawyer's here. Let's go."
Oscar stumbled out of the cell. The guards dragged him limping and sliding along the dingy corridor as the neon bulb behind him flickered uncertainly.
***
The guards escorted Oscar into a room with a real light-bulb.
A man sat at a desk. He had black square-rimmed glasses with a crack in one lens, and sticky tape along one corner. His hair was greasy.
The man looked up at him. He said, "Take a seat Mr Wiseman." The greasy-haired guy indicated a seat opposite him.
Oscar sat down in the derelict office chair. He leaned back on it, but it didn't take his weight, and he found himself flailing backwards. He caught his balance and sat up again. He tried not to lean against the broken chair back.
The man with the broken spectacles said, "I'm your lawyer. Public defender."
Oscar said, "Ok. What happens now?"
"The DA wants you to fry. He says you were going three times the speed limit."
"It was a computer game!"
Oscar leaned back on the chair, and flailed backwards again. He sat back up, and looked at the lawyer numbly.
The lawyer peered at him through his makeshift glasses. He said, "In law, virtualization of crime is no defense. It is well known that virtual crimes correlate with real crimes. You might speed on the road one day, and someone might die.
The laywer continued, "The DA wants to prevent that."
Oscar said, "The... can... what?"
The lawyer said, "There is no realistic defense. You'll be tried, and executed."
"Exec... tried... defense.. .what?"
"Three times the speed limit is a capital offense Mr Wiseman."
"What.. something?... can do?"
"There's very little we can do for you Mr Wiseman. The DA has a video capture from your computer game showing clearly your excess speed."
"But there wasn't even a speedometer!"
"The State is free to determine the speed for itself in the absence of objective measurements."
"Ridiculous!"
"It's the law Mr Wiseman. Do you have any mitigating circumstances?"
"Well... I don't want to die. What's your name?"
"Mr Gray."
"Mr Gray, I was playing a computer game. I didn't know anyone was watching!"
"But they were. Do you have a girlfriend?"
"No."
"A wife?"
"No."
"Children?"
"No... I don't have any dependents Mr Gray."
"Then you will be executed, and your assets will be seized by the State." Mr Gray looked at his watch. The watch strap was attached to the watch face with more sticky tape.
Mr Gray said, "I have to go Mr Wiseman. Please let me know if you can think of any mitigating circumstances."
"That's it?"
"I'm a Public Defender. You're welcome to find a private lawyer Mr Wiseman. No biggie for me. Feel free."
"Bail?"
"Unlikely."
Oscar slipped off the chair, as it buckled beneath him.
He looked up at Mr Gray. Mr Gray said, "Good day to you Mr Wiseman."
"How long do I have?"
"To live?"
"Yeah."
"Oh these things take a while. Most people look forward to it. Jail is hard."
Oscar watched Mr Gray open the door and walk out. Oscar lay still in his sprawled position on the floor next to the useless office chair.
***
Oscar shat on the floor of his cell. He flung the shit around his cell and down the corridors.
The guards came back. Oscar flung shit at them.
The first guard, the violent one, shouted, "Open the cell now Mike." The nice guard, Mike, fumbled through for the keys. Oscar picked up a handful of shit and flung it at the nasty one, at Fred.
Mike found the key. His hands were shaking slightly. The keys jangled together. Mike unlocked the door.
Fred opened the door, and bodyslammed Oscar against the wall.
Fred punched Oscar in the face again and again. Oscar's world turned grainy and faded to black.
***
Oscar woke up in a white room. Everything was white. He tried to turn over, but couldn't. He was in restraints.
A voice said, "Ah Mr Wiseman you've woken up." Someone walked over to him. A small man looked down at him, "You've been transferred to Hillsman Mental Ward."
Oscar blinked against the light. He tried to move his arms against the restraints but couldn't.
***
There was a garden. It had a high wall around it.
Oscar was released from his restraints a few days later.
That night, he jumped the wall and ran.
***
The woods were cold and quiet. He ran through them. Thorns ripped at his legs. He heard shouting in the distance. A police siren ran.
The woods opened out. Oscar looked down a gentle incline towards the backs of a row of houses. He ran down the grassy hill. He tripped on a hole, and sprawled onto the cold hard earth. He got back up and kept running.
He reached the row of houses. From this position, the houses were hidden by a tall wooden fence.
Oscar reached his arms up and jumped up, grasping the top of the fence. A splinter drove into his left hand. He bit his lip hard and pulled himself up. Laundry hung from a clothesline in the garden.
Oscar pulled himself onto the top of the fence, and rolled off into the garden. He ran to the washing line and grabbed a pair of trousers and a shirt.
He looked around. There was a hut in one corner. He ran behind it. He tore off his orange jumpsuit, threw it down. He pulled on the trousers. Far too long and baggy. He rolled up the trouser legs in turn-ups. He looked at the waist. He looked around on the ground. A piece of old soggy string lay ground into the mud. Oscar picked it up, threaded it through two eyelets at the back of the trouser waistline, and pulled it tight. He tied a granny-knot. He tested the trousers. They stayed up well enough.
He put on the shirt. It was far too big for him. He let it hang outside of his trousers, and rolled the sleeves up.
Oscar stepped away from the garden shed. He saw an alley running alongside the house. He ran along it, trying not to make too much noise. He walked to the front-gate, undid the latch, and slipped out into the road.
The road was quiet and empty. Oscar ran along it, his footsteps echoing in the night. He got to another quiet road. He heard a bus in the distance. He ran in the direction the bus sound had come from.
Oscar ran for thirty minutes or so. He got to a larger road. He found a bus-stop. But he had no money!
He waited for the bus anyway. The bus driver ordered him off, then stopped the bus and called the police. The bus driver refused to open the doors. Oscar looked around himself. An old lady sat on one side. A guy sat on the other side holding a computer, or perhaps a computer case, but either way. The guy looked at him coldly. "Just pay for the bus!" the guy said.
Oscar said, "I have no money."
"Well that's not my fault is it?"
"Can you lend me a couple of dollars?"
"You're not getting a dime out of me."
Oscar picked up the microwave and threw it through the window of the bus.
The guy's face went red. The guy stood up. His arms bulged. The man made a fist with one hand and massaged it with the other.
Oscar jumped onto the back of the seat and jumped through the broken window.
He ran through the streets. Police sirens sounded in the distance.
The police cars went three times the speed limit sometimes.
Anyway...
***
By morning, Oscar had arrived at a town center. He still had no money.
He could steal it, but that wasn't his style.
Begging wasn't either, but at least no-one got hurt.
He sat down at a bus-stop and held out his hand to passers-by.
By the end of the day he'd got ten dollars.
He bought himself a loaf of bread and an apple. That left eight dollars.
By the end of the week, he had fifty dollars. He took a bus to another town. The other passengers tried to avoid sitting next to him, they moved away. He guessed he must smell some.
***
After paying for the bus, Oscar had enough money to pay for the swimming pool.
He took a shower there and washed his clothes. The other swimmers gave him disgusted looks.
Oscar left the swimming pool feeling fresher.
He spent the morning working his way around the restaurant looking for a job.
"Hi. Do you need any waiters?"
"Sorry. We're full."
Or:
"Do you have a work permit?"
"No."
"Sorry."
At least he heard:
"Do you have a work permit?"
"No."
"We can't pay you very much."
"That's fine."
Oscar moved into a tiny grimy flat surrounded by alcoholics who sang and shouted together at night.
He was free from jail, but it would be nice to be able to lead a normal life again.
***
Oscar worked fourteen hours a day, seven days a week, for a pittance in the dingy restaurant. The overbearing, sadistic manager scolded him for the least fault or perceived failing.
Oscar saved up some money.
Six months later, he left his job, and bought a ticket back to his home town.
***
The DA's house was in the country, a mansion. It had security cameras around the perimeter.
Oscar spent time on the internet trying to figure out how to get into the DA's house. How to get past those video cameras?
***
The cameras were arranged in pairs, with interlocking arcs. Each camera in the pair covered the other one, preventing tampering.
Oscar looked along the sights of his paintgun. It wasn't very accurate, but he'd been practicing a lot.
He took a shot. A miss. He tried again. A lucky shot. The paintball splatted against the lens of the camera. He picked up his binoculars and peered closely. The coverage looked good, but not complete.
Oscar picked up the paintball gun and tried again. He missed three more times then scored another hit.
Police car sirens sounded in the distance. Oscar picked up his binoculars and peered through at the camera lens. The coverage looked good.
The cars grew nearer. They moved to the end of the DA's driveway, and screeched to a halt. The sirens turned off.
Oscar looked back at the cameras then turned and ran.
***
Trying to get past the cameras didn't seem obvious. Oscar looked for another way.
***
Oscar bought a model glider and spent some time in the country practicing.
After a couple of months he was ready to try again.
***
It was 4am in the morning.
Oscar knelt down in the fields near the DA's house. He pushed the payload into the launcher and pointed the launcher vertically upwards. The launcher comprised a long tube, a mortar.
Oscar held onto the tube with one hand, then put his head to the ground, and pulled the trigger with the other hand. There was a loud pop from the tube. Oscar smelt acrid fumes. He lifted his head and lay the launcher on its side on the ground. He looked up into the sky. Something white flickered.
He picked up the remote controller, and looked at the tv screen. It blurred and span around then stabilized.
He saw the hills in the distance. He pushed the rudder left and turned the small glider in a gentle spiral. The DA's house came into view. He left the glider to move in that direction. The camera jerked and moved around as a gust of wind caught it. Was today too windy?
He corrected the flight as the glider jerked around. He'd practiced enough that it felt natural and fluid.
He'd never seen the DA's house from the air before. There were two floors. Each floor had five windows. Which one to pick?
He aimed for one on the bottom, second from the left. It was as good as any.
The glider didn't seem to move very quickly. As the house got nearer things started to get faster and faster. He zoomed across the DA's lawn. The window got nearer and nearer. Just before impact, Oscar dropped the wings, triggering their incineration. They were highly oxygenated and should burn smokelessly, with little residue, as they floated to the ground. The camera struck the window, and then, blackness.
What was supposed to happen was that the payload was a sticky bean-bag, with a camera inside. It was supposed to stick to the window and slowly roll down, then the camera could be used, through a small periscope.
Whether that would really happen was hard to tell.
Oscar looked at his watch. 04:11:30. He decided to wait one minute, till 04:12:30.
He was impatient, so at 04:12:20, he tried the periscope. Up it came, and he saw a view of the garden. He turned it around. He saw blackness. The edge of the window? He raised it higher, and there he saw a close-up view of the DA's curtain.
He put the camera to standby, to save battery, turned off the remote control, and lay down to get some sleep.
***
Oscar awoke to the sound of his watch beeping. He moved his hand to his wrist and turned the alarm off. 07:30 am.
Oscar picked up the remote controller, and turned it on. He sent a "wake up" signal to the camera. It popped on. He raised the periscope. The curtain was gone.
The DA stood in the room talking into a cellphone. He toyed with a dart idly in his hand.
The DA shouted, "That will not do!" and pushed a button on the cellphone.
He hefted the dart in his hand, then lifted his hand, turned, and flung it full-force into the dart-board, into a photo of the president.
Virtual murder. Not bad?
The DA sat down at a computer. He turned the computer on, and fiddled around for a while.
A face came on the screen. A woman's. Not his wife's. Oscar zoomed in on the screen. The woman's face was too perfect, too plastic. A simulation. Still...
He listened in.
The woman said, "Your next mission darling is to rescue my poodle-woodle from the nasty bad-man."
Oscar heard the DA whisper, "Yes darling" at the computer screen.
A virtual affair?
It was good enough. The DA lived on his reputation.
Oscar plugged the remote control into his netbook computer, and transferred the recordings over. He played them through to check they were ok. He checked that they hadn't failed to record somehow.
He closed the netbook, set the camera to standby, and turned off the remote controller.
***
The DA met him in Moon Coffee.
The DA looked at him severely. He said, "This is blackmail."
Oscar said softly, "It is true."
"Which is itself punishable by prison."
Oscar said quietly, "I understand."
"You won't get away with this Mr Wiseman."
"I just want my life back sir."
"I'll hunt you down Mr Wiseman."
The DA looked down at the papers in front of him, and pulled out a pen.
He said, "If you push me on this, we'll both go down. Do you understand?"
Oscar looked at him, trying not to smile, trying to look serious and nonchalant. He said, "I understand."
The DA twisted the thick gold pen in his fingers. He pulled the lid off with a satisfying click. He raised the lid to his nose and smelled it. He put the lid down on the table.
He brought the pen down, and signed the papers.
"These are release papers Mr Wiseman. Do not think of making anything of this. I'll hunt you down. We'll both go down ok?"
Oscar said carefully, "Sure."
The DA picked up one paper and gave it to Mr Wiseman. Oscar looked it up and down. He wasn't a lawyer but it looked ok. It said:
"I, District Attorney for ___ , solemnly declare that Mr Oscar Wiseman is free to leave police custody free of any obligations or penalties. The State does not wish to pursue charges with respect to defendant's alleged crime of speeding in a computer game on 12th June.
"Under the laws preventing double jeopardy, the State waives all future rights to charging Mr Wiseman with said offense."
Oscar looked up. "It looks ok."
The DA said, "Don't push me on this. I'm willing to take myself down with you if you push me too hard Mr Wiseman."
"Sure."
The DA stood and held out his hand, then thought better of it and took it back.
The DA said, "Good day to you Mr Wiseman."
Oscar resolved never to play computer games ever again.
***
Copyright Hugh Perkins 2009