Twenty-two Sevenths

Twenty-two Sevenths

         Ancquorville, South Dakota, 7:33 PM. The city jail of 10x10 encompasses only one occupant. It sits on the top bunk, staring through the tiny window, playing its mandolin.
         5:02 AM, same day. The Artist formerly known as Prince, or whatever the man chose to call himself that day, hotwired a little red Corvette.
         The true owner wakes at 4:53 AM with Nature’s annoying call. To the toilet he roams. Business done. To the fridge he stumbles around furniture and useless objects. Pear? Apple? Strawberry? Mango? Honeydew? Fruit salad! On comes the central light. Just enough. Chopping, pealing, slicing, dicing. Bowl it. Light off. Through the foyer and stop! His precious little red Corvette is leaving the driveway! To the burgundy velvet couch to start/finish the salad. 911?
         Not having seen the perpetrator, no one was suspect. Or was everyone? A call came in from “Anonymous” saying that someone named Pi took the corvette. Anonymous was Prince. Naturally?
         Mysteriously the Corvette was in Pi’s driveway when the coppers came a-knocking. What did Prince need with a car he would only cleverly ditch a few hours later? The framework of course!
         Poor Pi was carted off to jail and the little red Corvette went back home to Mr. Chiquita.
         Pi sat playing its mandolin as if it were home again. It hummed something so unique that it came across alien. Pi was the only prisoner in Ancquorville. This did not affect Pi. Its joyous outlook remained intact though the situation was hardly that of candy theft.
         Coda drove the speed limit, as everyone should. He wore a Red Sox baseball cap atop his head, blue jeans, and a faded black tee. Coda chose this typical attire of the human race because he was running away. Coda was a crash test dummy. He came from a new line of prototypes that have the ability to think and feel. This enabled his operators to question them after the automatic testing. Each prototype could feel pain, but pain did not register as pain. The incessant crashing drove Coda to his breaking point, though he didn’t know there was such a thing. Neither did his creators. Two nights before, he escaped the testing site in Canada and drove south. Coda didn’t need directions or maps. He was guided by purpose.
         He entered Ancquorville, South Dakota, at 9:09 PM. Coda knew this to be the destination. He drove up to a relatively small building labeled with the words City Jail. Coda got out of the car and walked to the jail. It was unguarded. No crime ever took place in Ancquorville. Coda peered through the window. Inside laid Pi, fast asleep.
         ”Pardon me?” Coda spoke timidly through the bars.
         Pi stirred slightly and it noticed the shadow across the walls. “Is someone there?” Pi turned to see Coda at the jail window.
         Hello. My name is Coda. For a reason undetermined, I am here to help you. If you will move to the farthest corner of the cell, I am going to drive my car into this wall.”
         Pi nodded and climbed down the bunk with its mandolin. Coda drove the car into the jail cell enough to break through, but not enough to harm Pi or its mandolin.
         ”I do admire your bravery, Coda. I give you all my thanks.” Pi climbed into Coda’s wheels and buckled the seatbelt.
         Four hours pass. Pi occasionally played a tune, but neither Pi nor Coda felt the need to speak. Coda drove nonstop according to the in-brain direction. They passed a sign glorifying the Black Hills, South Dakota, United States, North America, Earth, Milky Way.
         ”This is the end of the line, Pi.”
         ”Very close, but not yet I feel. May I ask our specific endpoint?”
         ”Atop the mount.”
         Pi looked up to the hills, blanketed in satellite light, wondering what business could possibly take place in the Black Hills of South Dakota, Milky Way.
         ”A grand scheme is going to be created in these mountains by you and me alone.”
         ”Hmm, you sure know how to keep the suspense going, Coda.”
         ”Now you know what its like before you crash.”
         ”Checkmate?”
         ”Indeed.”
         Coda pulled off to the side of the road and parked the car. He sat still, planning their next move. Pi giggled, remembering a scene from Back to the Future. “Well, isn’t this a bit awkward? Should I make the first move, or are you secretly dominant?”
         ”How should I say this? Um, I am not anatomically correct.” Coda burst out laughing when he saw the look Pi gave him.
         Pi’s stem arms of near-transparent white went to cover its own body. “Now I’m thoroughly embarrassed! I’ve got nothing!” They laughed for a total of 3 minutes, when they could not keep their breath.
         With a few swift movements, Coda unbuckled his seatbelt and hopped out of the car. “Robin! To the bat cave,” Coda yelled to Pi and the rest of the Black Hills. At almost 2:00 AM the hills got a rude plastic awakening. Pi hurried to follow Coda, who was already speed-walking up to the hills.
         In the year 2319 the United States became barren. People moved to the moons of Saturn, abandoning most of the planet. The few people who lived on Earth went back to simpler lives and governed themselves.
         Mount Rushmore was not maintained by anyone since the President’s departure. Better for the dark time now. No one visited. Americana ceased to exist.
         When at last they stood atop Jefferson’s head, Pi once again asked of their purpose there. “So we are going to create a scheme of some sort? A revamped version of Stonehenge, perhaps?”
         “I will take that into consideration for future acts, but no, not Stonehenge. Below us are dead faces that governed this so-called United States. Since none of that exists in this time, their faces do not represent anything. We are going to recreate the faces on this mountain; ones more suitable.”
         “And those faces might be?”
         “Did you ever eat cereal? Pi nodded. “Well, Snap, Crackle, and Pop are who we are chiseling into the Black Hills.”
         “That’s only three faces.”
         “Oh, yes, the fourth! The fourth will be the registered symbol.”
         “Are you on some sort of mission? What’s the story morning glory?”
         “By now you should’ve somehow realized what you’ve got to do.”
         “You’re great Coda. I throw it and you catch it, no matter what. I don’t have anything to prove. I just have a message for everyone.”
         “That’s enough for me. I’m very easy to please.”
         Coda stared down thoughtfully. “Are you really?” Coda asked with a wicked grin.
         “No! Not like that! You spent too much time with people. Or maybe you hit your head one too many times.”
         “Dummy! Dummy, dummy, dummy!” Coda repeatedly hit his head with his closed fist and laughed hysterically. He fell to the ground, created a small cloud of dirt and laughed harder.
         “You can laugh until dawn, but I am going to get working.”
         Coda’s laughing paused when he said, “Which corner?” his laughter ensued and Pi made his way to where Snap would be molded, shaking his head.
         For the next two years, Coda and Pi worked on the three registered Krispies. When the masterpiece was completed, Pi and Coda talked to the mountain base for their first viewing.
         “We did something wonderful, Coda. Do you agree?” Pi marveled at the art before them.
         “Yes, I do. I have an odd sense of pride. Is that possible?”
         “Possibilities are possible.”
         “I do deserve that.”
         “It’s amazing how humans have spread that idea of self-punishment.”
         The sun dips lower and lower overhead. “Not as much as how we, the background, have been suckered into the web.”
         “True, my man.”
         “People’s evacuating of earth was a good thing. It taught me the meaning of life.” Codan pause.
         “Is that so, Coda? If you’re willing to share that insight, I’m listening.”
         “Words are so hard, you know. Snap, Crackle, and Pop are types of creatures or identities. The words of description are poor, but hopefully you get the gist. Each being lives as a Snap. Just by living, you’re a Snap. A step above in the circle of conflict is the Crackles. They make the waves in the world around. Those who are characterized by Pop are the ones who shatter the minds and make tidal waves. Do you understand?”
         “Coda, I would like to thank you very much for this observation and I hope everyone could see this as we do now. In all their glory, Snap, Crackle, and Pop define the world.”