Summer, 1994
Fred Sykes is not having a good night.
"This is the last job you ever do for us!" yelled Tony Dracon, before shoving Fred backwards.
"Wait, please, Mr. Dracon," replies Fred. "It's not my fault."
"That's what they all say."
One of Dracon's men, a huge, bespectacled black man in a short-sleeve shirt, pulls out a Colt Python revolver.
Fred's eyes widen. This is the end of his life.
This was the last job that he did for Dracon's crew.
The hammer of the colt is pulled back, and then strikes the primer of the .357 Magnum round. The primer sets off the gunpowder, and the bullet is ejected at high speed.
Fred jumps.
The man with the glasses fires again, and Fred continues jumping, dodging the Magnum bullets.
"Dance," says the shooter as he fires the rounds from the Python.
Dracon and his goons laugh.
"C'mon," says Dracon. "Let's go. I haven't had this good laugh in years!"
He and his goons turn around and head back into the building. Dracon then turns around.
"We'll be watching you, Sykes," he says.
Fred's mouth widens. He used an alias when doing jobs for Dracon.
How did he know who I really am?
He walks around the streets of Manhattan. It is early evening, and the streets are still choc k-full of cars. He needs to blow off some steam.
He arrives at his destination, a seedy bar on a seedy part of this island. He knows the staff there.
Maybe a few beers will make me feel better, he thinks.
He walks into the bar. It is dark. There is the bar with its barstools, several woodfen circular tables with chars. The song "Dreamlover" by Mariah Carey plays on a jukebox.
The bartender, a bald man with a huge moustache, stands behind the bar.
"What will it be, Sykes?" he asks.
"Get me a Coors original," replies Fred.
"Okay, pay up first."
"What?' askes Fred, confused.
"Listen, Sykes, you ain't good on credit, so we need ya to pay up front. You got a credit card or cash?"
"I should have some cash," replies Fred, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a dollar bill, with FEDERAL RESERVE NOTE printed on top.
"A dollar ain't gonna cut it, Sykes," replies the bartender. "If ya don't have cash, ya gotta leave- or you copuild be thrown out. "You know what's that like, don't ya Sykes?"
"All right," rep[lies Fred.
He heads out the door into the evening air of Manhattan. He walks along the sidewalk, sulking.
Someone taps his one the shoulder.
He is frightened. A mugger could very well be robbing him of his last dollar bill.
What if the mugger kills him for not having enough money?
He turns around and sees a man in a blue uniform. "How the night going, Sykes?" ask the man, an NYPD officer whose face Fred recognizes. "I got a piece of paper for you."
The cop shows Fred a piece of paper, with the seal of the Supreme Court of New York County on it.
"It's an arrest warrant with your name on it, Sykes. You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. If you can not afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you."
Fred feels his wrists slapped with handcuffs- a feeling he is all too familiar with. The cop guides him to the back suit of a blue Chevrolet Caprice 9C1 used as a police car by the New York City Police Department.
He feels a painful bump against his head.
"Oops," says the cop. "It was an accident."
"I'll sue you for civil rights violations!" yells Fred.
"Maybe you can think of yer lawsuit in between the ass poundings you'll take at Rikers."
The cops and his partner laugh. Seconds later, the police cars pulls from the curb, joining the stream of traffic in Manhattan.
Fred Sykes seethes with rage while sitting in the back seat of the police car.
He yet again is reminded how powerless he is.
Ooooooooo
The next morning, Fred Sykes still seethes with rage, while in lockup in the 23rd NYPD precinct.
He knows it would take a miracle for him not to spend the rest of 1994 in Rikers Island, a place that would further erode his soul, his humanity.
But other people are much more optimistic.
Such as one woman starting her first day on the job in Manhattan.
Dr. Scarlett Mallory presents her ID to the uniformed guard at the gate. The guard checks her ID against a list, and seconds Scarlett is allowed inside. She looks at the building where she will work, with a huge sign reading "GEN-U-TECH".
She enters and walks along the hallways. She recognizes the hallway from her visist here, wehen she was interviewed. She had been excited when she received the call that she was hired.
This is her big break.
She soon walks through one of the doors. Inside is a large room. The centerpiece is a desk. The desk has some beakers on top in addition to the telephone and personal desktop computer. The office is Spartan, with tiles on the ceiling and floors, and lit by fluorescent lamps overhead.
She recognizes the man sitting behind the desk. Brown hair, an aristocratic demeanor.
"Ah, Dr. Mallory," says Dr. Anton Sevarius. "Welcome to your first day on the job here at Gen-U-Tech Systems."
"Thank you, sir," says Scarlett.
A woman in a suit, with brown hair, stands inside the office with Dr. Sevarius. "Jane Lyman," she says. "I work in HR for Gen-U-Tech headquarters."
"You will need to sign some documentation, Dr. Mallory," says Sevarius.
"Of course."
"Here it is," replies Lyman.
Scarlett signs some documentation. She recognizes the Form W-4, along with documents such as a non-disclosure agreement and confidentiality agreement. She recalled having to sign a bunch of documentation when she was interviewed here last week, including an application for a top secret security clearance.
"The Pentagon is a major client of ours," Dr. Sevarius had said.
"Before you start, Dr. Mallory, you need to watch some orientation videos," says Lyman.
The newly-hired scientist is escorted to another room with a Sony color television and a Sony video cassette recorder. The HR person inserts a VHS cassette.
"Welcome to Gen-U-Tech systems," says a recording of Jane Lyman.
And so Dr. Scarlett Mallory listened to the videos. They covered a lot from basic company policy to payroll to safety to sexual harassment policy.
Lyman then escorted Scarlett to another room, where a young man stood behind a Nikon camera standing on a tripod. He took the scientist's picture, and then went to an Apple Macintosh Quadra sitting on a desk. Soon, an ID badge was printed.
Scarlett saw her picture and name on it, along with "GEN-U-TECH" printed on the front. On the back it read, "Valid from 11/1/1993 to 10/31/1994. This badge is property of Gen-U-Tech Systems. If found, please call 212-555-0908, Extension 1995."
"I hoped you enjoyed those videos," says Sevarius. "Let's get working."
Scarlett is excited. Life now is much better than it was a decade ago.