The Voting Machine

Epitaph

After work, Larry drove me to the Holy Cross Cemetery on West Slauson Avenue, where Gina's parents had bought a tombstone for their only daughter.

Gina Hill

Born 1977 Died 2012

"What the heart has known it shall never forget"

Larry and I both started to cry as we read the epitaph. I wondered who chose the wording. It had to be Gina. It sounded too much like something she would say to be a random fluke.

"I heard there was no body to recover after the explosion," Larry said. "I guess they found enough to check against the dental records. Her folks couldn't even give her a proper burial."

"She was always a sad girl, even before this happened," he continued. "I got to know her when she worked in Marcus's Executive Suite. She came up hard from the 'hood and had an old man who beat her. But she was smarter than anyone gave her credit. She was going to go to school and find a way to reinvent herself. She knew that survival and success are the only things that matter most in the big city. You can't blame a girl for have that kind of heart, trying to roll the dice against fate."

"She proved them all wrong, didn't she?" I said. "Chet gave her the promotion and sent her to India. How many girls go from working phones in the Call Center to Vice President? She was the only one I knew."

"Did you stay in touch after she went over there?" Larry asked.

"I did. I probably shouldn't have. She was reaching out to me more than she should have, blurring the lines between professional and personal. I let her do it. I was stupid, trying to be the hero, not setting limits. My wife got jealous. That's how I ended up in such a mess I had to leave the city."

Larry didn't know how to respond to that.

"How about you?" I asked. "You ever talk to her after she went to India?"

"She called me a couple times. She asked what kind of projects we were doing for Passion. I couldn't tell her much because it was confidential. And she tried to get other types of information."

"What did she want to know?"

"Mostly technical stuff. She said it was related to her projects with the Second World. She wanted to know how to protect it from hackers."

"That sounds like her. She was always interested in IT. She said you couldn't make it business if you didn't understand technology."

"Some of her questions struck me as a little odd."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, like one time she asked me how to hide something in the 'The Second World' so only a certain person could find it, a person who knew her very well. It's like if someone knows you they might have an idea what you use for a password. They might know your favorite baseball team or your pet's name. So they have a better chance of guessing your password than a criminal who did know you."

"So she wanted to hide something where only certain people could find it?"

"I guess so. It didn't make much sense to me at the time but then I didn't know too much about her project. The work Ram had us doing was completely unrelated. And then she died in the terrorist attack. Talk about bad luck."

I had hoped to have dinner with Suzy and my daughter that night, but they had plans until the following afternoon. So I took the bus heading east down Carson. I treated myself to a carnitas platter at a Sinaloan taco shop.

Then I visited the tavern where I used to drink every day during the final months before I left LA. Davis, the handsome, calm bartender was behind the counter exactly where I remembered him.

He looked so honorable and dignified pouring draft beers for losers like me. I think his cool, self-assured vibe was the thing that attracted customers in the first place.

Davis remembered me.

"You were pretty down the last time I saw you," he said. "You'd just lost your friend. I was worried when I didn't see you after that."

"I am OK. I had to get away for a while."

I told him about visiting my friend's grave.

What the heart has known it shall never forget.

"My friend believed that we all live on in memories."

"She was right. That's the only thing we have some times."

"My problem is memories aren't enough. When she died, I didn't know how to handle it. I ended up throwing away all the things I still had to live for. I lost my wife, my home. I lost my relationship with my baby daughter. I don't know if I can ever get them back."

"Maybe you can't. But maybe you can get something new instead."

After a couple beers, I stumbled back onto Carson Street. I turned left at Vermont and headed north until I reached the old Passion Building on 190th Street. I recalled the last time that Gina and I travelled these streets in the computerized landscape of the Second World through our avatars as an Aztec warrior and an Egyptian queen.

Gina dressed us up as mythological heroes in her virtual reality. The hero's journey has meaning in the storybooks. In real life, the only meaning is the one we make up to console ourselves.

The Passion Building was pitch-black, except for the top floor. I knew the call center and the other departments were completely empty now. There were security guards in the lobby and the corporate suite was lit up, so I had reason to believe that Chet Castle might be in town and working late.

I remembered my conversation with Chet as we studied his pictures of the chimpanzees in the Congo. He talked about how the monkey DNA set the limits in our brain, blinding us to the bigger vision of the humanity. He said this was a world where the tribes had scattered. It was a world where we were all wandering. I would have an advantage in this new world, he predicted, because I never had a tribe to begin with.

As I approached the lobby, I recognized the guard on the ground floor was Sampson. Chet had decided to retain hourly-wage security for the lobby. The highly paid bodyguards probably stayed close to the boss up in the executive suite.

Sampson noticed me through the glass. He remembered me.

"Hey, good to see you, Temo."

"Chet's here, isn't he? Let me go up there and talk to him. I want my old job back. I want my old life back." I realized I was drunk.

"Are you OK, Temo? You seem a little buzzed or something?"

"I haven't worked since I left Passion. Please, Sampson. Chet made a place for me before. He'll do it again."

"He's not hiring here, Temo. The positions are all in India and the Philippines. And Chet doesn't want to move anyone from the States over there after what happened to Gina."

"Let me talk to him. I can convince him."

"Sorry, Temo. Can't do it."