Safety for women demands that the power of no is inviolate. Damian’s latest is that he is king of NUUSA‘s Rocky Mountain Pact. One key missing element: its queen. Inger shall be his queen as he rules over the Rocky Mountain Pact. What’s that? He’s in debtor’s prison? Details.
I’ve met guys like this. Their fondest wish is to marry their mothers. Rather Freudian. A woman who will dote on them, feed them, pay the bills and not trouble them. The mother/girlfriend they fantasize will never give them any grief. It’s delusional.
Damian did Inger a solid. She panicked, accused a coworker of rape, and ran to a Palo Alto homeless camp. Serendipity. Damian was there, living in a tent and working as an intern. The morning after she’s got the clothes on her back and nothing else. Rock bottom? Not quite.
Walk of Shame
It seemed like the right vibe. A coworker glanced at her, smiled, and went back to his Americano. She could get mad clicks with this claim—the smile was rape. So, she launched, “that was rape. You just raped me. That guy just raped me!” This was supposed to hurt the guy she accused of rape. That didn’t go well. He looked stunned for a minute, then realized the drama was headed away from him, and went back to his phone and coffee.
Inger is the one who suffered. The security guards called 911 and requested an ambulance. The paramedics arrived and after consulting a responding police officer, decided to take her to Stanford Hospital for psych evaluation. Inger had seen videos go viral on the claims of an outraged woman. This is not what she imagined would happen.
What she imagined is that she would be lauded for exposing a rapist. But the social winds changed. The mood for hysteria died down. Now, a woman making accusations wasn’t immediately believed. Reports were taken. Video evidence from the Hive was evaluated. The criminal justice system took its time. And this time, the conclusion was that Inger needed therapy.
To A Long Weekend
She accused on Thursday. Admitted Thursday evening. Her clothes were replaced by a tunic and drawstring pants. Shit brown jail slippers for shoes. Her purse containing her wallet, keys and phone were in a public trash can near the park. Why? Don’t ask. A blur of tests on Friday then placed in a shared room with another woman. Inger doesn’t remember the conversation save one thing, “honey, you don’t belong here.” Saturday was quiet. Sunday was a different blur. A therapy session, an interview with the social worker, then a ride to the curb in a wheelchair. The hospital ordered a robotaxi for her back to her job.
In the heat of the fever over “MeToo” she would be a hero. Today? The reputational damage to her employer hurt her employment. So, the robotaxi delivered her to a locked door and security guards who denied her entry. Now she’s in Palo Alto’s El Camino Park. Monday morning the banks would open. She could begin the repair then.
El Camino Park was littered with tents in the meantime. One guy, over by the skateboard park, had a nicer setup with a butane stove. He commandeered a picnic spot with a table and a barbeque. The tent was Stanford crimson red. A Stanford grad homeless? How?
Homeless EE
It’s still true in 2125. Interning at a Silicon Valley tech company isn’t a golden ticket. It’s an investment in a promising future. You need your own money to afford basics like housing and food. Inger has it, Damian does not. So, Damian camps out in El Camino Park while working as an Intern at StratusCore™ in their Access Integrity Division.
For you and me, hiring engineers, interns even, to try and break access systems seems stupid. But if good engineers don’t look for weaknesses bad actors will. Security is another thing that can happen for us or to us. StratusCore™ is trusted because they stay ahead of bad actors trying to exploit security weaknesses. Interns let loose to break the Access Integrity is a plus. Until Damian used his knowledge to unlock the door network.
The timeline position of this post is between Inger’s accusation and her travels around Virginia protesting the invasiveness of the Hive in 2125. Yes, if you read old posts about Inger, she was in Charlottesville protesting “very fine people”. It also predates the door network crash of prior posts. This space is a little messy. Continuity can be challenging. Now that “Inger’s Finger” is destined for publication I’m cleaning things up as best I can. There will still be loose ends. If that bothers you, go away.
Facty-ish
In this space the facts serve the narrative. Facts are fungible. Click away if your truth is objective fact and subjective truth gives you fevers. In the headlines lately is the claim that Salmon Voldemort wants to be king. He gives Nationalist and Authoritarian vibes. So, his feels are Nazi—meaning he is a Nazi and so is anyone affiliated with Him. So nice to know that I get to add Nazi to my list of adjectives.
Those that believe he is Voldemort can’t be dissuaded from their narrative. It’s their truth and we are evil to question it. He is leading us across the River Styx to the lowest level of hell, facts. Is he? Or is Twitler akin to Daddy coming home and finding the daughter on the family room sectional with a boy and clothing unbuttoned? Awkward. Promises not kept.
Write Between the Lines
I can make this promise. Since deciding to complete “Inger’s Finger” I also chose to make the thread internally consistent. The story has a future timeframe of 2125. It is set in a post-apocalypse NUUSA. There is tech that is plausible but also science-fiction. Inger’s narrative settled down since deciding to finish the novel. Where I can I write narrative that ties together the story from 2018 written about current events to this thread placed in 2125.
Inger woke up with Damian’s arms around her. His face was nuzzled against her neck. This . . . can’t hold. “Hey. Sleep well?” he said. Not like that, “Get off me!” Inger sat up. Her pants were in a pile at the foot of the sleeping bag. Damian pulled her waste closer to him, “relax. You are warm and that’s nice.”
“You are a creep and it’s not nice. Get off me!” She got to her knees and pulled on the draw string pants. “Where are you going? I can make you breakfast.” “I’m good.” Inger gathered her discharge paperwork and the shoes issued to her then left the tent.
9am. The banks are open. She passed a Morgan Stanley branch on the way to El Camino Park. It was about a ten-minute walk. Damian would be an annoying ghost she could forget in ten minutes.
Advantages
At the building she took the elevator to the second floor. “Can I help you?” asked the receptionist. A thousand words rushed through Inger. How to express the last few days since she accused a coworker of rape? Her face flushed and she teared up, “Yes.” The orange tunic and drawstring pants gave jail vibes.
“No. I need a lot. Starting with clothes,” Inger let out a heavy sigh.
“What’s going on? Are you a client?”
“Too much is going on. I am a client. Let the camera take my picture. I’ll be recognized.”
“I’m so sorry! Give me a minute.” The camera behind the receptionist sent Inger’s face to the bank’s authentication system, “Recognized. Inger Amelia Warrick is a client in our Richmond office,” said a digital voice. “Inger, nice to meet you. What can we do for you?”
“Can we start with food and clothes?”
Those are odd things to request of a receptionist at a wealth management office. But Inger was dressed in a tunic and pants that gave jail vibes, “Sure. What would you like?”
“Garlic Chicken.”
“Gotcha. I can order from Territory Foods. Where do you shop for clothes?”
“Nordstrom has all my sizes.”
It was a day—an intense day. By the end of it she had her bank cards, replacement phone, and temporary ID on her phone. Nordstrom sent over clothing. She called the maintenance company for her condominium to request a replacement fob. By dinnertime she was home. Her leftover chicken salad with grapes and orzo was still good. There is no place like home.
New Evils
Inger’s mistake was misreading the room. Inside her bubble the vibe was to believe every woman. She could accuse a man and get clicks. That didn’t happen. The night in Damai’s tent planted a seed in him. Also, her reputation took a hit. Accusation didn’t hold the weight it once did.
In 2125 the boogeyman is also mission critical. Because of the Hive Inger’s place in the first world was restored in one day. Also because of the Hive innovation in defeating recognition became an underground cottage industry. Inger’s presence within the Hive is part of the air she breathes. The Hive is both boogeyman and benefit. It doesn’t occur to her that the thing to protest are the radio signals that keep her connected. No, it’s obsessed, piggish men that attract her ire. She said No to the wrong thing. The power of no for Inger diminished.