The Man With Two White Shoes

By Al Horn

Journal cube 16. Date 16.4.2168

Now that most of the excitement has died down, I feel the need to get all the details recorded before they slip away from me. Of course, I will need all of this for my story later anyway. The nice thing about a personal journal is putting all your thoughts down and then using only what you need at some point in the future. Okay, where do I begin? I guess with Todd.

Todd Lamar was the first person I ran into when I entered the lower lounge of the Adrian. The lower lounge was more or less where anyone who didn't have a first class berth would go to gather. It served as mess hall, chapel and entertainment center. I use the word 'entertainment' rather loosely. Most of the people there simply referred to it as the lowerloo while referring to the first class lounge as heaven. The 'h' purposely not being capitalized. I've never been to heaven but I hear it's nice. Oh, I'm digressing.

I say Todd was the first person that I meet when in reality he was the first person that got my attention when I walked in. He was crossing from the bar to a table where a group was playing cards. What grabbed my attention was the old fashion way he was dressed. I say old fashion but what I really meant was his shoes. Wearing shoes of the same color went out of style years ago. Yet, there he was, wearing two white shoes. He caught me looking at him, as he was about to sit down. He pointed to an empty seat at their table and motioned me to join his group. I had nothing better to do so I crossed through a small crowd, slid into the seat directly across from him, and asked what game they were playing.

Hang on a second. I will try to recall the conversation verbatim. It might not matter now, but later on, when I commit this to text, it might.

***

"New meat," exclaimed the fellow next to me.

I smiled at what certainly was meant to be a comradely statement. "It was nice of you to include me, gentlemen."

The fellow to my left was quick to reply, "Hey, if you see any gentlemen sitting here, feel free to buy them a drink"

"Whoa there, Bobby," Todd interrupted. "Let's not scare the man away too soon."

"I doubt anything he would have said could have angered me," I entered in my own defense.

"You have to understand, Bobby's had a few," Todd said with a gleam in his eye while glancing quickly around the table. "He's the reason we got thrown out of here last night."

"Damn right," Bobby exclaimed rather proudly while smashing his fist upon the hexagonal table. My presence filled the last side. I casually took in the rest of the group.

Todd himself was about one hundred and eighty centimeters tall and looked to weigh in around ninety kilos. I would have guessed his age at late fifties possibly sixty years old. Unlike the other men at the table he wore his clothes loosely. He was clean-shaven and wore his thin straight hair fashionably long.

The man to Todd's right spoke up. "Karl's the name." He appeared to be a few years older than Todd but carried a similar frame and the same air of confidence. 'I've been in plenty a lowerloo and I've never seen anybody get thrown out. It was all we could do to keep the Jack Hammer's from doing a real number on him."

"I'm not afraid of any Jack Hammer," blurted Bobby.

"If you had the brains God gave a goose you would," this was from the man at Todd's left. "Hi, Gary's my name. I probably shouldn't claim him, but Bobby here is my younger brother." You didn't have to be a genius to figure that out. Both men were in their late twenties and carried facial features so alike; you might have thought they were twins if not for the differences in hair colors.

Todd pointed to the fellow to my right, the man who had hailed my entry into the game. "This is Kym." He was Todd's age. He possessed reddish hair and a long face. "He's quick to predict the future but won't say a word about his past. And what should we call you?"

"My name is Alphonso Fortuto Horatio," I replied.

Todd made a quick glance upward before saying, "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." The rest of the fellows at the table all snickered at his remark. He grinned at the rest of the group before turning to me with a semi-serious look. "It must have been tough growing up with a name like that."

I must admit that I was a little put off by his comment, but I didn't want to give anyone the pleasure of knowing it. After all, I was named after my grandfather. My recently departed aunt often reminded me of the fact as I grew up in her house. "Well, I realize it's a bit long for all the names I've heard here."

Todd quickly spoke up; "We'll just call you Al."

I was about to protest when all the other fellows chimed in with votes in favor of the name. In secondary school I had learned rather quickly that to disagree with the gang usually meant something far worse. As such, I grinned and nodded as if I was just about to make the same suggestion.

Kym leaned in my direction and uttered lowly. "He did you a favor. The rest of this mob wouldn't have been so kind."

Later, I found out that Kym's real name was Kymernica Testrada. I'm still not sure of how the 'mob' could have perverted his name into something undesirable. All in all, I'm sure that Gary and his drunken brother could have come up with something worse. To use the phrase I heard so often that evening, I 'let it ride'.

Immediately after Kym's comment, I noticed the deck they had been playing with. "That's a rather small deck you're playing with isn't it, Karl. I would guess there are no more than fifty cards."

"Fifty-two to be exact," he replied. "This is just an old fashion game of poker. You do know how to play poker, don't you?"

Of course, I had heard of the game before. I had never played but knew the basic rules. I decided to employ a ruse to cover my lack of experience. "Of course I know how to play. It's just that where I come from there are so many variations."

"Yeah, that was our problem when we began to play last night," said Todd. "We all know dozens of variations. We discovered that despite having played the same variant, we all had different rules that we learned it by. Finally, we all agreed the only true game we could play that held to the same rules was good old five card draw, guts to open, and your ace up to draw four cards."

I nodded as if comprehending what he had just told me. I shrugged my shoulders, wanting to appear indifferent, "That limits things a bit, but it does sound fair."

Karl immediately slapped his hand on the table. "See, I told you that even a sober man could see the sense to it." He displayed a big smile as if I had just vindicated some earlier remark.

"Wait a second," said Todd. "I'll be the first to admit that I thought we were just spinning our wheels last night." He looked me in the eye, "but I'm here to tell you, Al. I have never sat with four better poker faces in all my life. I've done work all over the Home System, and if it weren't for poor old Mike, there's no doubt they would have picked me clean."

"Who is Mike?" I asked.

"He was the guy that sat where you are now," said Gary. "I have never seen a worse player in all my life. I almost felt sorry for him. How about you, Karl?"

"Yeah, almost."

Everyone at the table started to chuckle rather loudly as the implications began to sink in. I was trying to look for a tactful way to back out; something that would disqualify me from the competition.

"If you don't mind, we would like to see the color of your green," said Todd.

"My green?"

"We prefer Terran Script," he replied.

"Yeah, we don't much cotton to Paxian credit rings," chimed in Bobby.

The truth of the matter was that I had plenty of Script. My editor had told me to carry it for tipping purposes. I was about to beg out of the game. Claiming not to have the proper funding. I looked up at Todd and saw a bemused look in his eyes. I could tell that he knew the truth. He was keeping silent. Allowing me to use my excuse if I so desired. I also knew that if I did, it would feel like I was slinking off with my tail between my legs. I've always felt there was a difference in avoiding a conflict before it was publicly known and running from one after being dropped into the middle of it. I reached into one pocket that held a fair amount of Script, pulled it all out and set it on the table.

"I'm afraid this is all that I have with me, will it get me into your game?"

"Jesus... Freaking... Christ," yelled Bobby. "I could get drunk every day with all that!"

"Hold on Bobby," said his brother. "That looks to be mostly ones and fives. How about it, Al?"

"There is a couple of tens in there. My editor told me to have plenty of small Script for moments like these."

"Your editor? Don't tell me your some rich, famous author down here slumming with the poor folk?" This came from Todd.

"I'm neither rich or famous. I have a degree in writing from a third-rate university. I've sold a few articles and a few short stories. I have written three novels; none of them have sold. My books all take place out in the great Pax. I, on the other hand, have never been out of the Home System. My editor tells me my stories don't have the right feel. That was when he suggested I take a trip to an exotic world. That's why I'm on my way to Tackson II."

"Tackson II. What's out there?" asked Todd.

I smiled rather sheepishly, "I don't have the foggiest idea. It was my editors idea."

"Hey. If I'm not mistaken, that was a mining world that got hit by pirates a few years back," said Kym.

Karl's face brightened at that. "I think your right. As a matter of fact, if I recall correctly they never really recovered from that." He turned to me, "why would your editor send you out there? Is he trying to get rid of you?"

"It's possible," I replied. "Actually, he did say they were a little down on their luck. The stories I write are about overcoming diversity. Man, struggling against the elements, those sorts of things. Perhaps, if I see real people handling life and death situations, I might be able to lend more realism to my own writing."

"I'm sure they'll appreciate having you under foot while their doing it too," said Gary.

"I guess I'll have to get in there and lend a hand. If I want to really understand the struggle, I'll need to become a part of it."

"Hey, Al, nothing personal, but you don't strike me as the sort of person who has done an honest days work in your entire life," he returned.

"Wait a second, Gary," said Todd. "The palms may not be callused but the finger tips are. Most writing today is done with voice software. How about it, Al?"

"I have done some freelance programming," I replied. "My minor was in machine language programming."

"See, there you go," said Todd. "I was on Saxon 431 when the main computer crashed. All the slave units reacted except for the one that ran the air processing plant. They were able to manually restart the fans but the converter units were strictly computer controlled. Instead of backing the hard drive up, someone accidentally wiped it and the backup clean. If it weren't for someone like Al, there would have been a whole lot of dead people."

"You were on Saxon 431?" asked Kym. "You could have been one those 'dead' people?"

"I said there would have been a whole lot of dead people. I didn't say I would have been one of them." Todd raised one hand in the air as if to hold everybody's attention. "I was on a company ship docked there. They sealed off the station when the main computer crashed. No one in, no one out. If it had happened ten minutes later, I would have made it inside."

"Still, I'll bet it was pretty intense inside that station," Karl chimed in. "I'd say you were pretty lucky."

He spread both hands out in front of him, palms up and shook his head slowly. "Guys, smarts and skills are great things to have, but give me dumb luck any day. My point is, had there not been a programmer around, things would have turned out differently."

"My apologies, Al," said Gary with a grand wave of his right hand.

"No offense taken." I didn't bother to tell him  all my programs had been for toy robots I used for pranks at the frat house I stayed in.

Karl started dealing cards at that point. He held up before dealing me my last card. "Al, it's a dollar ante."

I threw in my first dollar of the night and that got us started. There really wasn't too much worth recollecting as far as the game was concerned. We sat there for over six hours playing. I didn't lose all of my money. I came real close before winning a good size pot. I'm fairly certain I started out with about one hundred and sixty dollars in Script. I left with eight-nine. I would have been out sooner if the bar hadn't accepted credit rings.

I must admit I had a good time. I never disclosed that my "third-rate university" had been Boston College. On the other hand, the others were quite pleased to tell of where they had spent all their academic lives.

As I recall, Gary said he had done all of his primary and secondary school in the same small town he grew up in. It had been a public school system in southern Iowa. From there, he had done some vocational classes for farm machinery repair. I learned all those large automated combines that scour the heart of mid-western America actually break down on a regular basis. Men like him and his brother would crawl into the bowels of these machines to replace parts at periodic intervals.

He had hit it big in one of the local river casinos a few months earlier and had sunk the money into a homestead grant on Compano IV. The grant included coach class tickets for two, three thousand hectares, and used but serviceable equipment.  Him and his brother figured a few years of hard work would yield a profitable farm. With any luck, they would land a couple of the local daughters to help out. They had brought along the rest of their meager life savings to act as a cushion. They were also hoping to enlarge that cushion at the expense of the others in the card game. The night before, Garry had taken the biggest part of my predecessor's money before his brother got them thrown out.

As a note here, if Bobby had the brains God gave a goose, he would have been afraid of the security forces. The Jack Hammers, as the fellows called them, were all former marines. Most of them possessed cybernetic implants, carried Boar class stun batons and they all wore Klac I suits. Gary said he had counted twenty on board. Even without weapons, the four presently on duty could have handled our table and six others had a free for all broke out.

I'm told the Jack Hammers were recent editions to this part of the ship. Most passenger ships carry a crew of ten. Due to some ships disappearing over the last sixteen months, Pax Security Administration had decreed new protective measures. It had been a few months since the last ship had gone missing. No one knew if that meant the end of the matter or if things were ripe for another incident. Having them on board made me feel better.

I woke up the next day feeling rather good about myself. I was feeling confident about this journey. We were two days out from Home System traveling towards our first stop. Nobody appeared too nervous. After all, what could happen this close to Administration Headquarters? I had just entered the lowerloo and was about to order something to eat when I felt a tap on the shoulder. It was Kym.

"Hey, Al. We're over in the far corner. Bobby thought you might be avoiding us. I figured you just missed us on your way in. Care to join us?"

Breakfast was usually a solitary affair for me. I glanced back at the table Kym had referred to. Todd was signaling a secretive nod of his head for me to come and join them. I wondered if they had taken it easy on me last night and now they were about to fatten me for the slaughter. "Sure. Why not."

The vacant seat at the table was between Todd and Karl. Everyone was inspecting me to see if I was any worse the damage for the previous evening. Just before sitting down, I placed my hand on my stomach and said as if stating for the record: "I don't know if I can handle breakfast. You fellows were pretty hard on me last night."

Todd rolled his eyes and said, "Yeah, right. I lost more money than you did. At this rate, I'll be cashing my ticket in at the first stop and heading back to Earth."

The rest of the gang chuckled and I sat down. I entered my order into the pop-up menu in the table then leaned back into my chair. "Did you all plan to eat at this time?"

"Sure," said Karl. "Most things on this ship happen on a schedule. This is the last call for breakfast. By missing the start times on most meals, you can eat late, stay up after most people have turned in, and then sleep late. You seemed to have fallen right in step."

"That's strange. I don't remember anyone mentioning a schedule last night."

Todd nudged my elbow with his. "We told Mike and haven't seen him since. It's more fun with six players at the table. Unless you had other plans for this evening?"

I looked around at four pair of expecting eyes. I considered making an excuse to miss the game. After a few moments I thought there was more to be learned about this group first. "Well, I had planned on taking the engine room tour tonight but that can wait for another day or two."

"Oh, there's nothing special about the engine room on this ship," said Kym. "If you've seen one, you've seen them all."

"You have extensive experience I take it?"

"No," he replied. "I used to work in the docks. I loaded supplies for a lot of different ships. In return for the latest news, most crewmen are more than happy to show you around. It's usually a nice break in routine to have a new face around."

"Well, I be damned," Gary snorted. "I never figured you for a Docker. Your hands are almost as smooth as Al's."

"That's because it's been two years since I swung a pallet. My dad died, left me some money, and I've been in some of the best bars in the Home System spending it ever since."

Todd chimed in, "I wish you would let some of that go at the poker table. You've been one of the winners each night."

"Well, the truth be told, I'm down to the end of my inheritance. I bought a ticket out to Acropolis IV hoping to get on at the yards there. I hear the fringe benefits are pretty good. As far as winning goes, I figure my lucks better than I thought or you guys are some of the worse card players I've ever run into."

Eyebrows shot up around the table. Todd rubbed his hands together and then grinned contritely at everyone. "Boys, I think were going to have to come up with a few new games tonight." He pointed a thumb at Kym. "Just to level the playing field." His comment was met with enthusiasm. "How about we add 'no-peek-flash' to the menu?"

Gary and Bobby were grinning with pleasure. Karl looked down at the table, shaking his head. Kym smiled and looked away. After a long pause, all eyes were back to me. I had no more knowledge of this game than the one we played last night. I replied, as nonchalantly as possible, "Is that all, what about 'old man on a stick'?"

Everybody wrinkled their eyebrows in puzzlement. Everyone except Todd. He was on to me somehow. "Can't say I've ever heard of that one. Can you explain the rules? Maybe we've heard it called by a different name."

I was trying to think up some quick variation on five-card draw when Bobby jumped in, "What's wrong with Chicago hi-lo?"

"That's fine with me," I replied quickly.

Gary and Karl were immediately trying to put in their opinions. The discussion soon turned into a shouting match about which games were real and which games were played by little boys only. I sat back and listened. I had hoped to sift through all the explanations to catch some of the rules for these games. 'No-peek-flash' was never mentioned. I would have to wing it later. Personally I thought my bluff had gone over pretty good. It was confirmed just as breakfast arrived.

Todd leaned my way and said, "Well played."

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