Chapter 15 - Philosophy

Missed a chapter or two? Catch them here: Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14



Loading the weapons delivery system into the U-haul truck was a feat none of them looked forward to. Jake realised that everything he assumed should be “the easy part” actually turned out to be the hardest. The three men hoisted the large and considerably heavy hunk of metal onto a trolley that Jake had pinched from the hardware store the night before.


So this was what everything was all about. He thought about his father, and how there is always “a guy for something”. The stuff in movies, where the ominous-looking weapon of mass destruction arrived in a truck for delivery now so easily, from out of nowhere seemed false, the complex and high-tech labs from sci-fi movies a complete exaggeration – they had built an extremely complex weapon in the crummy Coroner’s office with barely enough power supply to keep Jo’s thermo-scan running.

Funnily, he thought of the supposed terrorists that looked incredibly villainous and mean. Poor things – the world disrespected them for what they manage to create time and time again in almost awful circumstances, with harsh surroundings. They should be applauded for their sheer genius. Of course, what they did was completely wrong, but the world should not insult their intelligence, under estimate them. It took brains to plan attacks and build bombs. Bombs can be made just about anywhere, with just about anything, and they were incredibly resourceful people.

Need to build a nuclear weapon? Why not build it in your backyard with the help of that cool guy at the video store with a funny accent who has a PhD in particle physics? Need to procure a rocket- launcher? Why not call the neighbourhood Jihad-ists? The Americans complicated things by saying things like, “research facility” instead of “lab”, “surveillance” instead of “violating privacy”, “mutually assured destruction” instead of “you kill me, I kill you” – which was exactly what was going on with the terrorists he figured, “insurgents” instead of “people we really don’t like”, “terrorists” instead of “people who know how to do the same things we do at a cheaper price with a lot more publicity” and strange abbreviations like “CHECMATE” to name a stupid electric gun.

The Americans also claim to be the best at “catching” bad people. There is a fat, bald guy who sits at his computer checking through every single internet search done worldwide to find “terrorists” – he really never finds anything, another fat dude sitting and watching a television screen showing satellite images of supposed “terrorists” – he’s actually watching the elaborate birthday party of some poor family in Iraq, trained militia beating the crap out of some poor chemical engineer who bought 10kgs of copper in some hut in the middle of nowhere, a lab technician who dusts mobile phones for prints and then there was Jake - some guy, from Somerset who was building a weapons-delivery system with three other people and the government did not know about it? They did – they approved of it. It saddened Jake.

To top things off, it seemed almost stupid to expect that someone was watching them, that they were under some kind of surveillance. No one, nothing – not even a weird-looking mechanical fly fitted with cameras was watching them build a delivery system for nuclear weapons. He knew it was because what they were doing was “government-approved”. Gone were his disillusioned days of Jason Bourne, dead was idea of James Bond, demolished was the story of a sovereign man who fought to free his people. The government chooses whom to watch, how to watch them and when to watch, and they allow the people they choose to win – the people who bring benefit to them.

Feeling angry and hurt, he asked himself if he was part of the “American Dream”. He used to believe in the constitution his country was built on. Now it all seemed very silly for him to think that patriotism had anything to do with wars fought. Now it was clear that he too was part of the problem. Now he knew that there was nothing noble about the people who ran the country. They were fancy “terrorists”, with cool looking medals worn on their lapels and shoulders.

He recalled things that Fallon and the other two had said, things like “everything is done for land”, “Dynaco is owned by the spooks”. It really bit into him that he actually felt anything for Dynaco’s plight - if it could be called a plight. America fought for nothing but land they could claim. Land for resources, land for government facilities, land for nuclear weapon testing – land for everything. Only they wanted nothing to do with the people on the land, the people that actually owned the land.

While he silently applauded himself for being able to think for himself, it was quite an effort to push the trolley into the truck. Everything locked and loaded, they were prepared to set off for Nevada. Where exactly Jake did not know, but he was sure James did. Still feeling angry and a little upset, Jake went to grab Jo from the kitchen.

“Phoooaa. I’m tired just watching you fellas load that thing into the truck! Iced tea? Hootch is in the loo, he’ll be ready in a minute. You okay, Jakie-poo? You look a little... uh, angry?” Jo asked, making Jake wonder if he was really so easy to read.

“I’m okay, maybe just a little tired,” he said trying to avoid eye-contact with her. Now that he knew how he felt about her as opposed to how he felt about everything they were doing, he was determined to distance himself from her – and Fallon. But could he really sever ties with James?

He would not allow himself to feel like “part of the team” anymore. He really did not want to go to Nevada anymore. He did not want to participate in the damned “sell” or the stupid “test”. He did not want to see Dynaco’s headquarters in Prague. He wanted nothing to do with Dynaco, and even though it seemed ungrateful, he wanted nothing to do with America.

She grabbed the keys to her truck and called for Hootch. He watched her through shuttered eyes. She really was beautiful, and quite possibly she was an innocent party in all everything – he thought futilely. He really did wish she was, but she was too smart and philosophical to be an innocent party. Fallon was too honest to play coy and James was far too involved to even be close to innocence.

He waited while she locked up the “facility” and powered down the “surveillance” system. James and Fallon were already seated in the big truck, eyeing each other suspiciously. Jo hauled a huge plastic bag with her. She gave Hootch a pat on the bottom and he jumped into the truck, placing himself comfortably in the front middle seat. Jake was actually comforted by the fact that a canine will be separating Jo and himself.

Before getting in, she lugged the plastic bag to the big truck and passed it to James and Fallon. Jake was seated and ready.

“Seriously Hootch, someone should give you a tic-tac, you’ve got bad breath and you smell like... uh, a dog,” Jake said quietly to him while scratching him under the chin. Hootch was obviously enjoying the attention Jake was showering on him, and moved even closer to breathe even more on Jake. Jake tried to gently push the smelly dog away, but Hootch would not have it. He wanted to sit almost right on top of Jake and he was going to have his way.

“Now, now, Hootch. The only person who should snuggle up to big ‘ol Jakie-poo here is me! Back off!” Jo said as she got into the truck. “What do you feel like listening to, Jakie-poo? I’ve handed food to the heathens, so they shouldn’t kill each other just yet.”

“Could you not call me that anymore? I hate it,” Jake said gruffly. He dared not look at her, knowing that he had hurt her feelings. The name was affectionate and he did not want to get any closer to her.

“Uh, yeah, okay, whatever. Jake. What would you like to listen to? We’ll be driving with only pit-stops for the next twelve hours, so let’s just let my Ipod shuffle the tunes, shall we?” she said tersely.

“Okay” was Jake’s only response. Jo turned down the volume to an acceptable level which did not make him want to strangle her and they set off behind the U-haul truck, travelling at a decent speed. It was going to be a really long trip and now that he had successfully hurt her feelings it was going to be a long and painful trip.



Keep reading Reading Raynes! Thanks for all the support so far, much love! Am jones-ing to write a horror flash-fiction piece, so chapter 16 is going to have to wait, okay? Leave me a comment, damn you.

DISCLAIMER:  This is a fictional story and serves with all intentions and purposes for entertaiment. Any concept, idea or person mentioned in the story of The Builder is completely fictional. Any similarities, apart from scientific facts and historical events, are purely unintentional.