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Sortmind
Category:
Mainstream
Publisher: Sortmind Press
Type: Fiction
Pages: 206
Copyright: June 11, 2020
ISBN-13: 9798653042331
Price: $3.99 (eBook)
Members of a theatrical troupe find themselves leading a suicidal revolution against the CommWealth system, which has outlawed all private property.
Introduced six months ago, the CommWealth system has outlawed private property. Playwright Allan Larson has adjusted well to this new society, easily claiming umbrellas, mansions, and Porsches from fellow citizens. Any object from your house to the clothes you’re wearing can be demanded by anyone, to be enjoyed for thirty days before anyone else can request it. In order to make this society workable, CommWealth has implemented its Four Rules governing the transfer of property:
1. I have thirty days enjoyment of this object.
2. You may not ask me for anything for thirty days.
3. I can only ask you once.
4. You can never get it back.
Still obsessed with his ex-girlfriend Lisa after their breakup, Allan invokes the laws of CommWealth to demand ownership of her. Meanwhile bicycle mechanic and fledgling actor Richard Stapke seduces Jill Constantine, co-owner with her husband Steve of the Cup of Fog coffee shop, headquarters of the theatrical troupe Forensic Squad.
After a drunken Richard discloses that he’s secretly been writing novels and plays for years, Allan incautiously spreads the word that Richard is a genius. But an official CommWealth claim is made of Richard’s entire literary output, and the resulting five-volume Stapke Intimacies not only reveals Jill and Richard’s affair, but brings to light a twisted history of betrayals, double agents, and murder that propel Steve Constantine and other Forensic Squad members into a suicidal revolution.
Excerpt
Allan shivered at the reflection of his black overcoat and his striding legs on the wet sidewalk. Up ahead someone with a DreamPiston Electronics bag opened a shiny red Porsche glistening with thousands of water beads.
“Okay,” Allan said, “I’ll take your car here.”
The mustached little twerp looked up. “Ah, crap.”
“C’mon, don’t give me any trouble. Gimme the key.”
“Look, it’s raining. And I just got the top-end GorgonPlus camera and the new Fappy tablet.”
“Not my problem. Fork the damn key over.”
“Look, my umbrella’s in the car. Can I just get my umbrella so my stuff--”
“Forget it. The umbrella’s part of the car as far as I’m concerned. Anything in the car. Besides, I just lost my umbrella a couple blocks back. I’m soaked.”
“C’mon, I just got this car the other day.”
“Don’t hand me that. The sticker on the plate says you got it a month and a half ago. You’re overdue, buddy. Now hand me the key.”
“Dammit! Dammit!”
“Got trouble there?” A bright blue City of Linstar police car idled in the rain. “Got a Hoarder there?” a huge officer grinned.
“Uh, no, not at all,” said the twerp. “I just can’t find the key.”
“Yeah, right. You just unlocked the damn car with it,” Allan said, turning to the policeman. “He is giving me a lot of crap about it.”
“C’mon, sir, you know better than that.” The officer’s name tag read BARCLAY.
“Dammit!” snarled the twerp. He separated the Porsche key from his key ring, thrust it at Allan, then spun around and fastened on a man coming down the sidewalk. “Give me that umbrella! Right now!”
“Goddammit,” the man grunted, surrendering his umbrella to the twerp, who grabbed it and hoisted it above his DreamPiston bag.
“We really got the Christmas spirit here, don’t we?” Barclay said.
“Really,” Allan said. “Some people …” He examined the Porsche key in the rain. “Thanks for your help, officer.”
“Oh, I’m sure it wasn’t really necessary. People are basically good, you know. Give ’em time to adjust and all, that’s what I say.”
The twerp leapt into traffic with his new umbrella and his bag, waving his free arm. A little green car skidded to a halt. The twerp ran to the window and pounded on it. “Give me this car! Right now!”
“Whoa!” Allan said. “What a bastard!”
Barclay was out of his patrol car in a second, hand on his holster. “Sir, that’s not the right way to go about it. We need to be respectful. That’s the CommWealth way.”
A young woman got out of the car, carefully put up a clear umbrella, and removed the proper key from her own key chain. The guy snatched it out of her hand even as he threw his DreamPiston bag past her into the passenger seat. “Well, there you go,” she said.
“This guy giving you trouble, miss?” said Officer Barclay.
“Uh, no, not really.” She was tall, red-haired, with long slim legs beneath her yellow raincoat. The twerp revved her former car’s cruddy little engine and whipped past Barclay into traffic.
“Listen, you probably need a ride,” Allan said. “I have this Porsche right here.”
Blue eyes wide, she backed away. “Uh, no … no thanks …”
“But you’ll get soaked!”
“I--I have my umbrella. I’ll be fine. I can get another car. Don’t worry about me.”
“Where’s the damn Christmas spirit, that’s what I want to know,” Officer Barclay muttered, getting into the patrol car. “Hoarders!”
Allan turned back to the redhead. “Are you sure? We could run by my place. You could dry off, hey, even shower if you want. Look, I’ve got an incredible place, I just got it. You won’t believe the size of the wet bar.”
“Really, no thanks.”
“Officer in trouble at Hawkins and Marina--” came the squawk, followed by the roar of Barclay’s patrol car accelerating into the rain.
“Well, screw you, then,” Allan said. “Give me your umbrella!”
“Well, of … of course …” She handed it over, looking at the sky and turning up her raincoat collar.
“Bitch.” Allan slipped into the Porsche and tossed the clear umbrella onto the floor next to the mustached twerp’s original one. He turned the key and the engine rumbled to life. “Wow!” he laughed.
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