Error

by Ásgrímur Hartmannsson

Chapter 22

'Error' synopsis

One day, Jonas, who has recently migrated to the city, discovers that all his records — including his assets — have been erased somehow. No longer able to get work, buy anything on credit or sell his now legally non-existent car, his life becomes a unique adventure.

Jonas was passing the freeway when a car approached. Normally, Jonas would have completely ignored it, but it honked its horn at him, so he looked in its direction. The car was completely unfamiliar to him — a normal-looking sedan. But the man at the wheel he did recognize. It was Frank.

Jonas stopped as the car came to a stop right by him. Frank rolled down the window and asked if he wanted a ride. Jonas accepted, and stepped inside the car.

Frank looked haggard. Normally Jonas would not have noticed the way he looked, but he was used to see Frank neat and tidy, although stinking of burnt and tarry leaves. He had clear marks on his face in all shades of purple, and some of green. It was clear where the Mace spray had hit him; he was slightly red-looking where the ski goggles had not covered his skin. His shirt had splatters of blood on it and his hair was unkempt. Jonas wondered how he would carry himself once out of the car.

“Why are you walking?” asked Frank. “Did your car break down or something?”

“It got flattened,” said Jonas.

Frank gave Jonas a bewildered look. “Flattened?”

“These thugs I told you about drove their truck over it.”

“Damn! Where are they now?” asked Frank.

“Just lying there, below the mall parking lot,” said Jonas.

“Why are they doing that?” Frank asked, sounding more than a little surprised.

“They went off the third floor.”

“Went off... What do you mean?”

“I think they are dead,” said Jonas.

Frank was silent for a while. Jonas could see he was grinning.

“I drove past an accident farther up the road here...”

“I know. They were chasing me too,” said Jonas.

“You are good,” said Frank. “I don’t know why I did not hire you before.”

“You did not know I existed before,” said Jonas.

“Right,” Frank smiled. “Joe will be so pissed.”

“Who is Joe?” asked Jonas.

“The man who had the thugs follow you around. He’s been killing my customers. They’ve killed three people just this week.”

“Three?”

“Two you’ve met already. Maria, they hanged her on Friday. I just found out today. And Sid... He supposedly OD’d in a toilet yesterday.”

“How do you know they did not just commit suicide? Or if it was just an accident?” asked Jonas.

“Maria had her hands tied behind her back. And I know for a fact that Sid was only doing pot. I’m his dealer. Was his dealer. You just can’t OD on pot.”

Jonas nodded, still looking out the front windshield.

“So, how did you escape from the police?” he asked Frank.

“Long story...”

“Something tells me we’ll have a lot of time,” said Jonas.

“Okay then.”

Frank began: “There was this huge fight, you know, you were there until the middle, I think. We were swinging at them as we could, mostly just to keep them away, when some backup arrived. But the backup did not fight. They just shouted: ‘FIRE’.

“Then the fight mostly broke up. Eddy had to finish beating someone he finally got under, and they caught him, I think. Me and Rick escaped out the back. We just ran, each in our own direction. I found this car in a driveway. The keys were in it. I told Rick if he escaped to find me at the bar, and that’s where I’m heading now.”

“Aha,” Jonas said, and nodded.

“I suppose it’ll be all over the news today,” said Frank, grinning.

Jonas nodded. He wanted to go home and sleep until the news came on. But as things were turning out, he figured he’d have to take another one of those pills. So he did. Frank did not notice or did not care. He just drove the car.

They arrived at the bar an hour before noon. Frank grabbed his bat from the back seat before he exited the car. It had bloodstains on it. Frank did not have a limp, but he held his right arm in a funny way.

The smoke seemed to have subsided a little inside the bar, so visibility was better than usual. The barman was calmly cleaning glasses. There was only one other man in the place, and he was sleeping.

Jonas took a seat in the corner in front of Frank. They ordered some beer from the barman and just threw their breath. Jonas became dizzy. The air was not doing good things for him. He drank some beer and hoped the feeling would go away. They both sat silently for some time until the bar door opened. Some of the smoke escaped, and in came a large man.

So much smoke had escaped that the man could be positively identified from where they were sitting. It was Rick. Rick did not limp either. He looked like everything was fine. He got a beer at the bar, and then went to have a seat with the guys.

“Hello Rick, I was beginning to get worried,” said Frank.

“Hey, I can get out of everything,” said Rick.

“How did you come here?” asked Frank.

“I got a taxi,” said Rick. He had a sip of his beer.

“Did you know the building is on fire?” he said to Frank and Jonas.

Jonas looked up. The day was not a total skull after all.

“Yeah. I ran until nobody bothered to chase me anymore, and then some. Then I looked back, and there was fire coming out of the windows.”

Frank was silent for a while. Then he said, “Doesn’t that make us terrorists?”

“Terrorists? Cool. I’ve always wanted to be a terrorist,” said Rick, obviously overjoyed at his new rank.

Jonas sat and considered his beer while the guys considered the benefits of being regarded as terrorists. Apparently the prospect of being shipped to Guantanamo Bay did not cast a shadow over their joy. Jonas drank some beer. He considered the possible effects of having set fire to the Bureau of Personal Information Protection building.

The central archives computer had been completely destroyed. That would mean... all data would be lost. The credit card companies and the banks had better have backups, he thought. Every shred of personal information known to the state would be gone.

And since law required that everything go through the central archives for protection against terrorists, nobody would now be able to use a credit card. It was highly dubious that they could access their bank accounts either, not being able to prove who they were.

It seemed to him that all data would have to be restored manually from hard copy: paper, whatever credentials people could come up with. The state would just have to bite the bullet and trust people.

Jonas wondered if they would do that. Then he began to grin. The grin turned into a smile, and then he laughed. Of course they would do that. The officials themselves would have had their identities deleted.

No, not deleted. That was the wrong word. Immolated was a much better word.

Jonas forced himself to stop laughing when he saw that Frank and Rick were staring at him.

“What joys you so?” asked Frank.

“I was just thinking,” said Jonas.

“It is good that you can entertain yourself. Is it anything we might enjoy?” asked Frank.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what you find funny,” said Jonas, grinning to his teeth.

“We have all day,” said Frank.

“Okay... you know, the Personal Information Building, the one we just set on fire...”

“Go on,” said Frank.

“It has everyone’s identity in it, in the computer, the one we set on fire. The one we bashed with clubs and then set on fire,” said Jonas.

“Your meaning?” asked Frank.

“Everybody has lost their number,” said Jonas.

“What do you mean?”

“The number of the beast,” said Jonas and grinned.

“That does not mean what people think it means,” said Frank.

“I know; it just fits so well with what I have just lost for everybody. Nobody can buy anything any longer. Everybody is broke,” said Jonas, still grinning.

“I fail to see how that is funny,” said Frank.

“You’d have to be me,” said Jonas.

“Ah...” Frank said and nodded.

Rick looked at Frank, then at Jonas. “But if everybody is broke, and can’t buy nothing, doesn’t that mean we are broke and can’t buy nothing?”

“Yeah, I guess it would,” said Frank. And they both looked at Jonas, like he had just made them do something contrary to their advancement.

Jonas felt it was time to explain. “You see, this will be fixed. They have to. The guys in charge can’t be in charge unless they fix this, because now they don’t have any money either. And they will do it soon. But because of the damages, there might be an economic low soon. It might last for years.”

The guys still looked at him like he was weird.

“You guys are drug dealers. You should thrive on the displeasure to come, when people start taking more drugs to escape their troubles.”

“Well, if you put it like that, I guess we might do this more often,” said Frank.

Jonas finished his beer and sat still for a while before he began to move from his seat. The guys asked him where he was going, and he told them he was going home — walking. It would take him all day, but he had time. It was not like he was working or anything. They said goodbye, and he walked toward the door.

Jonas had three or four steps to go when the door swung open and in waltzed three men, two of which lacked a neck. They pushed Jonas to the side with some force, flinging him against the bar. Jonas was most upset.

The men approached the guys and the lightest one spoke. “Frank! There you are. I hear your customers are dying on you.”

Frank looked up at him. “Hi, Joe,” he greeted.

“I guess you will have run out by the end of the month, the way things are going,” continued Joe, as though Frank had not said a word.

“Nah, I think it’s over,” said Frank.

“You should have gone into politics, like your father,” said Joe.

“Nah, I’m not rotten enough for it. I’m sure you might have done well though,” said Frank.

Joe stood a while, then turned to his goons and said something Jonas did not quite hear. The goons approached Frank and Rick and a fight broke out. Frank had grabbed his bat and clonked one of the goons on the head, Rick was about evenly matched with the other.

Jonas thought he’d contribute something, so he walked to Joe and gave him a swift kick in the ass. Joe turned around, furious, and tried to grab him. But Jonas jumped back, grabbed a chair and swung it with some force into Joe’s upper body. Joe got a hold on the chair, so Jonas let it loose and threw himself at him. Joe fell to the floor, and Jonas kicked him some more.

Joe’s goons were winning the fight with Rick and Frank, but that was about to change.

Jonas grabbed an empty beer bottle and smashed it on the goon Rick was wrestling. There was an abundance of bottles lying around, and he did it again. The goon suffered multiple hits before the next bottle broke, and was by then he was getting dizzy. Jonas got the third bottle, and bashed in the side of the guy’s head. He stumbled and fell. Rick kicked him a few times, then turned to the other goon.

Jonas gave Rick a bottle, and together they clonked the guy until he let go of Frank. Once loose, Frank began hitting the guy with the bat again. He did not stop until the guy lay unconscious and bloody under his feet. Rick kicked him a few times.

Joe stumbled to his feet. “You are dead! I’ll get you for this!” he got out his phone, and dialled a number.

After standing idly for a few seconds, Frank asked, “Who are you calling?”

Joe glared at him. “Doesn’t matter; I sent out an SMS while I was on the floor. You are just as dead.”

“Why?” asked Frank. Then he took a few steps toward Joe with that evil grin on his face.

The barman turned up the volume on the TV. His favourite program was on: The news.

Technically, it was the radio news, but the state TV broadcast the radio when normal programming had not begun on TV. It was much better than the high-pitched beep it had broadcast some decades earlier.

Frank looked toward the screen. “The building housing the Bureau of Personal Information Protection was set on fire last night by a group of persons as yet unknown...”

Frank looked at Joe, who had a bewildered look on his face. He shook his head, and looked toward the screen. Nothing special was on it, but looking at it was somehow logical, because it was after all a TV they were listening to.

Just after the fire news story, there came a news item that cleared it all up for Joe:

Two fatal accidents had happened in the city last night. In both cases modified mountain-cars were involved. In both cases all passengers were dead on arrival at hospital.

That brought the week’s traffic deaths up to thirteen. Joe was becoming pale. He swallowed, and looked at Frank like a scared animal looks at a predator. “You killed them?” he asked, with a quivering voice.

“You killed mine,” said Frank.

Joe swallowed hard. “I never killed anyone. They did. They are all dead now,” said Joe.

“Well, you gave the order. That makes you responsible,” said Frank.

“I did not order them to kill everyone. Sometimes they just did it because they wanted to, not me,” Joe said, retreating toward the door.

“Tell me, which ones did they kill, as you say, just for fun?” asked Frank, moving closer, the bat ready to swing.

“I don’t know how many they killed. Honestly,” said Joe.

“You just wrinkled your forehead,” said Frank.

“Huh?”

“That means you’re lying,” said Frank.

“Why do you care?” said Joe.

“I’m just curious,” said Frank. “Tell me how many they killed, and I’ll just turn you in to the police. Lie to me again, and I beat you with my trusty bat. Okay?”

“You can’t kill me, I have friends in high places,” argued Joe.

“They don’t matter anymore. Their identities have been lost. Just like yours,” said Frank.

Joe gave an expression of wonder, leading Jonas and the rest to think he did not know what had just happened.

Frank cleared the most important bit up for him: “I will kill you and hide your body, and I won’t get caught, because you don’t exist.”

Joe nodded. He still did not believe Frank, but he thought he had gone out of his mind, and decided it would be best to humour him. Joe was wise enough to know that it is dumb to argue with psychopaths. He began counting on his fingers.

To be continued...