Terry Neale - Jo-el

I seemed to draw minimal attention, that was good. But then again, I seemed forgotten by the waitress. Five minutes went by, maybe that doesn’t sound like a long time, but I would have liked to order a drink. My annoyance grew when I noticed a single woman, who had arrived after me, sipping something hot from a cup. I waved at the waitress and called, ‘excuse me’ but to no avail. My gesticulating did solicit the attention of several other patrons. Both red hats glanced and growled. I tried to be patient.

Ten minutes passed and no luck. I was upset and begun waving at the waitress once more. Then I noticed a balding, young man, maybe mid-thirties, heading my way from behind the counter. Hallelujah, attention at last. I hadn’t noticed him before, so maybe the manager.

“Excuse me sir,” he almost whispered and didn’t smile. “Can you afford to pay?” He stood there, dead still, a little nervous.

There was a pregnant pause. My lips parted and closed, but no sounds were emitted. It felt like a hush came over the café. The reindeers perked up their noses and their flaps swung back. I swallowed deeply, reached into my pants pocket and removed my wallet. I pulled the notes methodically from their slot, there was more than a hundred dollars there. The man sort of smiled and left, but he didn’t take my order. I felt smug but that quickly turned to anger. He went over to the waitress and said something, she sauntered over to my table and took my order for a BLT, French fries and an ice-tea.

Wow, so far my experience at being a poor black man was ghastly. Maybe I should have dressed a wee bit more up-market. The café returned to its normal hubbub and my ice-tea arrived without a smile. I sipped it noisily, showing my disgust. The wait for the BLT was excruciating, I wanted to leave. I’d had enough. I know I’d woof it down and get out of there pronto, I hated eating like that. When you retire, the pleasure of dawdling over a meal was usually relished. This instance would not be remembered as pleasurable in the least. And it was about to become worse.

A voice rang out in my ear, it was Sally. “ The manager called the police. You need to get out of there.”

“Why?”

“Your driver’s license was visible when you showed him the cash.”

“Oh crap!” I keep my license under a transparent cover for ease. He must have seen the picture of Dave, white man and jumped to a hasty conclusion. He presumed I’d stolen the wallet and cash. I reached hurriedly into my pocket to fork out a couple of dollars for the iced tea and then heard a police car in the distance. My heart beat faster.

My movements were rushed and I caused quite a commotion, resulting in many eyes turned toward me. I ignored the stares and made for the exit. The waitress watched with her mouth gapped wide open, but she didn’t know what to do. The manager was not in sight. As I left the café I could see the police car only a short way up the street. I was sure they could see me. I turned the other way and walked smartly with my back to the screeching car that had now raced past the café entrance and was pulling level with me.

With my back to the police car, I thought “ Change identity; young white man, newish grey coat.” I looked at the backs of my hands, they were now white. My heart was racing now and I could feel sweat building up on my forehead. I carried on walking smartly along the sidewalk, quickly realizing that a normal, innocent person would turn and investigate the speeding car. So I swung around and watched as the police car came to a speedy halt in the street. They were blocked by parked cars where I was standing. I could see the wide-eyed look of the officer in the passenger seat. He was expecting a black male and appeared extremely confused, his forehead creased into a ripple of red skin and his eyes had grown to the size of footballs. I waited on the sidewalk, but the police officer didn’t exit his vehicle, he’d turned to his colleague and was saying something. The car moved forward into an empty slot by the curb.

I waited patiently, trying to calm my pulse, wondering how they would handle the situation.

The first officer reached me. The look of amazement was still fixed firmly on his expression. “Excuse me, sir, did you just come from the café, just there?” He indicated with a nod.

“No!” I said, as steadily as possible.

I could tell he wasn’t sure how to continue. Then he said, “did you see a black man exit the café?” The officer was staring up and down the street as he spoke. There were few people around, a young woman pushing a stroller was across the road, glancing at us and an elderly couple were heading toward us from the direction of the café.

“No, officer,” I was polite.

His partner had reached his side. They moved away from me a little, but I overheard what they were saying.

“Did he look black, to you?”

“Damn right he did.”

“Strangest thing.”

“Must be the light. Let’s go talk to the manager.”

“Okay.” He turned back to me. “Thanks for your help, sir.” Then they both set off to question the manager. My heart was singing, now. I wanted to burst of laughing. “ Thanks, Sally.” I thought.

“ You’re welcome,” she replied.

I kept walking for a while, feeling that I needed to put some distance between myself and the café. There was a Chinese restaurant across the street. I enjoyed the Szechwan Chicken, taking my time. I watched a recording on the heads-up display of the manager being told not to waste police time. He looked embarrassed and when he tried to call the waitress over to substantiate the story the police officers had had enough and promptly left. Done and dusted.

I was home by three and back to being Dave Murphy. Shortly before four, Betty knocked on my door and asked if I’d like to come over for dinner. Crock-pot lamb shank, with all the trimmings. Sounded great and the idea of some normal company and an escape from the bizarre events of the day was truly welcome. I said I’d be over by six, which gave me time for a shower and a rewarding Black Label.

Saturday morning came bright and early. The sun shone in lines through the bedroom window, highlighting the dust dancing gracefully around the room. My cleaner came on Mondays, I needed to remember to clear up the family room. Maggie was coming over for dinner. She had texted that she wanted Thai food, so I needed to book a table at our local favorite Thai restaurant, just two stops down on the train toward the City. No drinking and driving with a police office for a daughter. I wondered briefly if she’d heard the story of the vanishing black man. Somehow I doubted it, those cops would have kept that incidence to themselves.

I was comfortably cocooned under my duvet, enjoying the peace, watching the lines of dust in the sun-light. I reflected on the whacky events since Wednesday. If it hadn’t happened to me I simply wouldn’t have believed it. I needed to know why? That was paramount. Sally had said there was more instructions, ‘the best for last.’ Then the answer I wanted. Just thinking of a computer as a person was nuts, yet we were all moving in that direction. Our smart phones had become extensions of ourselves. We talked to them and they answered back. Rudimentary and often wrong but they were improving almost daily. What was Sally but an ultimate smart phone with an unlimited database of information. If everybody had access to that database maybe crime and evil would end. If the police forces of today knew immediately who was responsible for every crime, then I guess crime would simply be futile and cease being such a problem in our society. Incredible to even imagine it. Sally had said there was no crime on Cirion, no racial problems. Everything solved by technology. We were heading in that direction. CCTV was everywhere in England, recording events. Catching criminals was much easier. You could listen to conversations through their smart phones, people posted where they were and what they were doing on Facebook. What was the difference to the ultimate situation the people of Cirion had achieved? It didn’t seem to me to be so far off on earth. Technology was moving exponentially. Just five hundred years ago, we couldn’t fly around the world in aircraft, there was no electricity, no engines, medical treatments were heathen.