A short spin-off of our nosy bartender! [CRITTER]
“The city is getting dangerous these days. There’s a great app to help you keep safe—”
I bet—
“I can help you download it. You can also share your location—”
Stalker. Your wife won’t be—
“Young people need to be careful—”
Careful with you. Only if they knew you drowned her.
“Thanks for the concern.” I slid another drink, forcing a smile. “This one’s on the house.” Tip well; you’ve got her inheritance now.
“The ambience and the service here are always top-notch. I feel like a burden has been lifted off my shoulders.”
Of course—
“Someone’s at the door,” I said quickly. “I’ll be back. Enjoy your time here.”
How long will this old man stay?
Following the gentle knocks, I instinctively knew who it was. I stepped outside and pulled the creaky, repurposed barn door shut behind me.
“How’s the bug bounty hunter Jon doing tonight?”
Thanks for waiting, I whispered in my head to the old man’s wife listening from somewhere quiet and dark.
Inside, Jon was already talking again. “You won’t believe—”
Oh my God, why do you have to give me the entire spiel? Can’t you give me a TL;DR? Or just drink and shut up?
…
… …
… … …
“The agent only called Sarah. No one else… Isn’t that strange? It’s an N=1 problem!”
I don’t give two fucks about it.
“Do you think it could have been a ghost?”
“Obviously not; I would know if it were a ghost.”
“What? Are you a ghost whisperer? Could you debug this for me?”
Shit… Their habits rub off on me. “I meant I trust your skills.”
“To be that bad? You gonna lose a customer,” he laughed. “Yet, people just seem to be drawn to this bar.” After a pause, he added, “You know, you should say what’s on your mind. As much as I’m a customer, I’m also concerned. Balancing school and work must be tough.”
If only this murderer would leave—
The old man finally decided to leave. “I keep telling him he should think about his safety. My wife passed away recently due to unknown reasons. You should also be careful, young man.” He paid his bill and the tip? Thrice as usual.
I wouldn’t mind him—
“If safety’s bothering you, why don’t you try Tune-In? It’s a police scanner. It uses—”
There he goes again. Good Lord—
He downloaded it for me right there and showed me how it worked. I had to admit it was cool—and shady.
“Live police chatter, car locations, no registration required. What if someone used it to ambush a patrol?”
“For a young man, you really take security seriously. That’s good—”
You clearly haven’t seen enough lonely souls wreck havoc—
The bar closes at 2AM. By the time I mixed practice drinks and cleaned up, it was nearly 3. Even ghosts slept at 3.
The walk home was short and empty. Police cruised regularly, and I had my own silent guardians, so I never felt afraid. The bar stressed me more than the streets. The night let me shed other people’s memories like old skin; if not, it constricts you.
Curiosity won. I opened Tune-In.
“Bzz, Bzz. Taking a break. Bzz, Bzz,” the voice cut off.
“Matt is taking a break for the third time this night to eat his fifth sandwich,” a monotonous voice chimed in, husky, with a hint of static. Multiple voices joined in commenting on how he’s going to get even fatter if he keeps it up. Laughter crackled across the channel.
Don’t they have to chase burglars? I could only shake my head. So much for safety…
“Multiple raccoons squished to death on the road,” the monotonous voice came back in.
.
.
.
“A fight broke out in front of a bar at XXX,” the voice added.
A while later, another panicked voice beeped in, “A woman hit her friend with a heel over a stolen purse.”
“Dispatch. What’s her situation?” some random lady blurted.
Bleak, like my future… and everyone else’s. Must be an expensive bag.
“A red purse was with the squished raccoons.”
Should I go visit the dead raccoons?…
His ‘don’t care’ tone fluctuated between a class clown’s and a class bully’s. Breaking up fights day in, day out must be tiring. One gets apathetic soon. Having eyes on you all the time wouldn’t be fun either. I knew it myself. I’ve always been surrounded by silent eyes with lingering guilt, and their burdens resting on my shoulders.
Soon, I was proven wrong. “This is the most beautiful street in SF,” the monotone man said in a monotone, flat, calm, almost poetic. “There’s the Opera, there’s the—”
Why is he giving a city tour in the middle of the night?
“The lights shine brighter than the stars; the urban landscape looks like a living aurora. They truly are a timeless spectacle—”
And now he’s an artist?
I almost closed the app—it was pointless. Strangely, his voice didn’t tire me. People speak when their thoughts weigh them down. Words lift these burdens off their shoulders. Sometimes, with the right words, even ghosts leave.
It doesn’t mean they disappear into the void of the space. They get transferred from one soul to the next, lingering, transforming, growing, and shrinking. Unless someone is truly at peace, that’s when the cycle stops. So, listening to him felt like an exorcist heeding God. I couldn’t get myself to delete it.
.
.
.
A police car zipped past me while I kept listening to the city tour like a podcast. He’d make an excellent travelogue host.
“I saw the same man dressed in black again. Why would someone walk home so late at night?”
I looked at the taillights trailing ahead, partly shocked, partly enraged. Mind your own business! All for the high opinion I had of him!
I just know things at times. That very moment, I knew things weren’t going to be right. That I should find a different road to take. Before I decided on a new route, I heard him again over static, “Bzz Bzz. Jeff… Reconnecting. A group of men started a fire at a building.”
Now? Why? Arghh!!! Where’s the nearest police car when you need it?
I checked the app. The nearest car was stationary—Matt, probably on sandwich six.
“Jeff’s in trouble. There’s Arson at XXX.” I was panting for air.
“Jeff?” He looked confused.
“The car reported it. I heard it on the app.”
“Ahh, arson, you say?” he said in the most relaxed tone ever.
This isn’t a bedtime story!
He buzzed his walkie-talkie or whatever that thing was to let the closest car go visit the site. He chatted as if he were catching up with his friends after a decade.
Just as I was getting restless, he finished his call. “You said you were walking in that direction, right? Let me drop you home. Could be risky.”
“I’ll be fine, officer. Your work right now is more important. There’s a person in trouble.”
“Person? Who are you talking about?”
“Jeff, of course!”
“Look, I’m confused. I don’t know anyone called Jeff. Are you sure you have nothing to do with the stuff going on ahead?” After a few thoughtful pauses that seemed unlike him, he added, “I need you to come to the station with me for a report.”
It was on the app, damn it!
I turned on the app and heard the conversations. Among the many voices, the distinct narrator was clear.
“The fire looks brilliant. History mentions there was a great fire a century ago. In order—”
“Look at this idiot praising the fire!”
“I am looking. I can’t hear anyone praising anything,” he said, stuffing the last bite of the sandwich into his mouth. “To the station with me, sir.”
“It’s this car at the location.” I showed the car number, the last hope.
“Ehh, that’s supposed to be encrypted; no one should hear anything from that car on the app. Did you tamper with your phone or the app to get the data, mister?” He sighed. “That’s the autonomous car reporting to the Junction Frequency, the JF you’ve been talking about. And—”
What on earth is going on with this city?