Dawn of the Unthinkable (13 page)

So with all these problems, the last thing
he really needed was out-of-town guests. Bill and Nora Tomlin were
friends from college who were taking a tour of some East Coast
states, and they had never seen Philadelphia. They had taken in the
Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, and a few other tourist sites, and
were now ready for a night on the town. They had met in college and
got married shortly afterward. They were truly suited to one
another—he a nerdy engineer, she a slightly frumpy housewife. They
apparently enjoyed a tremendous sex life, as during his nightly
math binge he had heard alternate giggles and moans from the spare
bedroom they were staying in. He had to turn the
Wagner
concerto on his stereo up louder, which they just took as an
invitation to get louder. He was hoping that they would leave
earlier than they had said but were apparently enjoying themselves
to no end. The fact that they had a normal sexual relationship
frustrated him, and it was something he didn’t need in his
precarious mix now.

Bill, who was riding up front with Krumpf,
said, “Man, this traffic is horrendous. Is there any side street
you can turn down?” He was trying to be helpful.

“If there was, I would have done it by now,
don’t you think?” Krumpf said.

“Jeez, sorry man. I didn’t mean that you
weren’t doing a good job. I sure wouldn’t want to drive here,” he
said. He and his wife lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

“Sorry, sorry,” Krumpf said, realizing that
he had muffed another interaction. He didn’t know if this couple
was particularly annoying, or if it was another symptom of his
increasing disconnect.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for
these vermin running around my car.” Like everything else in his
life, the Mercedes was kept in pristine condition. Now there was
one actually sitting on the hood, talking to some friends! The
nerve! He honked his horn. Nothing; the young man kept talking. He
honked again, still no response. He rolled down the window, and
said in a loud voice, “Excuse me, could you get off my car?”

The youth finally looked at him and said,
“You talkin’ to me?”

Krumpf could not deal with this lack of
discipline and respect. He hit the accelerator, and turned sharply
left. There was a small opening he had seen, and he was moving
toward it before it closed up. The shocked youth rolled off the
hood just clear of the wheels. Another inch or so and his head
would have been removed.

Krumpf smiled grimly to himself as he
whipped the car back onto the highway. He had taken control of the
situation and taken the appropriate action. While the matter was
small, surely it showed that he was a man of affairs, someone who
could be counted on in a tight spot. He was so impressed with
himself he didn’t even notice the reaction of his passengers.
Having been closest to the side where the decapitation had almost
taken place, they were just now relaxing their panic grip on the
seats. They looked at each other incredulously first, then at
Krumpf. He seemed to be smiling and mumbling something about the
Fatherland and leaders.

Bill finally worked up the courage to say,
“Uh…Otto? You know you practically killed that guy back there,”
trying to keep the fear out of his voice.

Krumpf was not listening, a picture of
himself driving a Panzer tank had popped into his head, and he was
enjoying making the enemy soldiers run for their lives.
Unfortunately, this was manifesting itself by him driving
recklessly, making pedestrians hop out of the way. Bill started
yelling his name, trying to snap him out of it, when Krumpf finally
came back to reality. He slowed down, and came to a stop halfway
through an intersection against the light.

He flushed up with embarrassment as he
realized what he had done, and said, “Listen, I’m really sorry,
folks. I don’t know what got into me.”

Bill looked back at Nora who was practically
turning white and said, “You okay, Hon?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she stammered, while
making spinning motions around her ear with her finger.

Bill nodded and said, “Listen, Ot, we’re a
little tired. Why don’t you take us home?”

“Are you sure? The place we were going is
only right up here a little further,” Krumpf said contritely,
knowing that they were now afraid of his behavior.

“No, really, that’s fine. We can really use
some rest,” Bill insisted, knowing his wife would not want to drive
with him if he was drinking and was already apparently
unstable.

“Okay,” said Krumpf, “you’re the boss,” and
he swung the car towards home. They rode in silence with no further
incidents.

When they arrived back at Krumpf’s house,
the couple went into the bedroom and had a short conversation. When
they came out, Bill told Krumpf that they would not be staying the
night but leaving now. Krumpf did not want this interaction to end
so badly. His handlers would not be pleased to find out that he
could not pull off a routine contact. But at the same time, he knew
that he might blow up at them more severely if they stayed, and he
was afraid that he might try some of the methods of self-defense he
had been trained in on them. He made half-hearted protestations at
their leaving, but Nora already had their bags packed. He walked
them down to their car where Nora gave him a quick handshake (She
couldn’t bring herself to kiss him; he gave her the willies.), and
he said goodbye to Bill. Bill shook his hand and pushed his glasses
up his nose in true nerd fashion.

“Hey, buddy, I think you might need to get
some help. You seem pretty uptight,” he said quietly. Krumpf
flushed and thought again about his training; he could take this
plump fellow out pretty easily.

He struggled to regain his composure.
“Thanks for your concern. I think I’ve just been a little stressed
out lately,” he said, hoping they would be on their way before
something terrible happened.

“Oh, well, take it easy, Otto. See ya’ again
sometime,” chirped Bill as he hopped into his car. He started it,
and with a wave, they were gone.

Krumpf turned from the street and went back
into his house. The soothing strains of classical music, Wagner,
his favorite, floated over him and helped him calm down. He thought
about what Tomlin had said about getting help and wondered with
horror if his father’s disease was overtaking him. But then he
thought,
No, that’s not possible; I have been conditioned to
withstand any type of abuse and deprivation in order to stay loyal
to the cause.
To see the Fatherland restored with gleaming rows
of soldiers and all undesirables eliminated was a dream that would
keep him together.
And just one man to lead them! Maybe
myself!
Dare he think it? He had the ability, he knew, but
could he convince a legion of followers to fall in line? Hadn’t he
just made a mess with the perfectly amiable fellow and his
unpalatable wife? But they must be undesirable, then, if they could
not appreciate his gifts. They would have to be eliminated. In
fact, maybe he should start making a list. Yes, that would be a
good idea, a nice list with people to be eliminated. He wouldn’t
tell the handlers; he wasn’t sure if they would approve. But he
thought it was a perfectly splendid idea and set happily about
making perfectly straight lines on a piece of paper, writing down
names in small, precise printing.

Winter 1990

Ryan lost touch with his article for a week
or two while he went about the daily routine of his life. As with
most middle class Americans, he and his wife spent a large portion
of their time running their household much like a small business.
They went to Wendy’s for a cheap meal on Friday nights. While the
nutritional value of the meal they got may not be the best, having
a dollar menu with three indifferent eaters was an attraction.
That, and they had a “Fixin’s Bar” which allowed the children to
get creative with condiments. Great works of art were made out of
garlic bread, ketchup, pickles, and mayonnaise. None of it was
eaten, and the end result was thrown out.

Ryan said to Kathy, “Damn, I feel guilty
about wasting so much food, but it’s the American way. If they
didn’t want people to waste it, they shouldn’t have put it out
unsupervised.”

Kathy snorted. “Look, when you’re not
thinking about saving the world you have to live in the real one.
They are content to let us gobble up or waste this food as we see
fit, they apparently are making money anyhow. I hear Dave Thomas
lives in a big old house and he’s saving up cash to get Wendy’s
hair fixed. So quit putting your looney toon ideas on all of us,
please. Besides, I think Scott’s ‘Still Life in Garlic Bread and
Pickles’ showed real promise, didn’t you?” She gathered up the kids
who had probably tossed about five dollars of the ten they spent
away.

So money came in and went out. Purchases had
to be discussed and executed; personnel had to be managed, trained,
transported, fed, and housed. Of course, into that mix came intense
emotions, which usually were not a factor at a real business.
Sometimes the events of life overwhelmed side projects and, as this
little assignment he had given himself was not high on his wife’s
list of priorities, he had to set it aside.

But finally he found time to get back to it,
and he looked to see where he had left off. Ah, time to do the
business piece, he saw. Wait till they hear about this! He was sure
the world’s mega-corporations and Mom and Pop shops would be
thrilled with his ideas for them. Wasn’t it business that drove
people into a lust for material goods? Encouraged greed and over
consumption? Advanced easy credit so people could buy more than
they could afford? Yes, the profit mongers were responsible for
much that was wrong with society today, and they would need a major
revision to fall into line.

It was Christmastime, and Kathy was busy
organizing their family’s holiday. On a trip to the mall with the
kids she turned to him and said, “Look, I got this covered. All I
need you to do is keep an eye on them while I get in and out of a
few stores. Is that okay?”

“Sure. Is that before or after the Santa
picture?”

“Before. They will get rammy if we’re there
too long. Remember that movie
A Christmas Story
where
Ralphie and his kid brother have to wait in an endless line to see
him? It does not improve their mood to wait for mom to get done
shopping for fancy paper plates. Doesn’t Ashley look cute? I put
her in the outfit my mom gave her. I think she looks adorable.”

Ryan smiled at her. “You’re both as cute as
bunnies, I’m sure Santa will be thrilled to have her and the boys
on his lap.” Kathy couldn’t tell if he was serious or not but was
happy that he liked the way they looked and went back to making her
list and checking it twice.

He looked around the mall at the mass of
people searching for the right present for that special someone.
Ryan had been a small business owner himself distributing Disney
products, and he was guilty as any owner in his attempt to satisfy
the material “needs” of society. He wondered if anyone really
needed his products, or whether they even needed Disney, Warner
Brothers, or any of the other theme parks at all. Then he realized
that, yes, entertainment and relaxation were important parts of any
culture, and that anything that could be done to encourage it
should be. So he had not felt guilty about trying to make his
business as successful as possible, as almost all businesses
contributed something to society, either in terms of wages or
products; they were a positive force in the world. Even if his
company was not making, say, heart valves, he was still
contributing. But all companies could become better focused to
produce what was needed, not was what was wanted.

But right now, only a small portion of
society was able to take advantage of the companies that provided
first class entertainment. Other countries of the world already
realized the importance of time off from work, with almost all of
Europe shutting down for August. Why were the Americans still
killing themselves?

They were working so hard because businesses
and investors demanded it. The need to generate profits at all
costs led to sixty-hour workweeks, families splitting up because
one or both parents were not home enough, and generally the tail
wagging the dog. Peopled lived to work instead of the other way
around. Businesses should start taking the approach that they
should benefit society first, their employees next, and the
business last. This idea was the inverse of how things operated
now. They all worshipped at the altar of competition, as if it
always made things better. He wondered how they overlooked
cooperation so frequently. Even in very competitive businesses,
when firms cooperated, they did better than they would on their
own. What if they cooperated all the time? Think of what they could
accomplish!

Businesses spent time and effort trying to
come up with new ways to put each other out of business, but
instead they should be finding ways to help cure diseases, rehab
dilapidated housing, and train people in new technologies. Society
would make large leaps in the quality of living because the profit
motive often placed resources in products and services that didn’t
benefit the majority of its citizens. In his system, people would
vote for what they
needed
the most and make sure that
businesses produced an adequate amount of it, and
then
businesses would be allowed to produce what people wanted. Now, too
many businesses catered to the wants of an idle rich class because
they could produce fewer items and make as much profit as making
many of the needs of the lower classes. This should change.

After the Santa picture was taken and the
purchases made, they went home. While Kathy busied herself prepping
the house, Ryan sat down and began to write out his ideas.