#39 : William -The Ghetto

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The young black man had grown up in the ghetto. He knew nothing else. All day and everyday he was subjected to the propaganda of hate. He was told that he was a victim. That he was being unfairly taken advantage of, etc. etc. etc.

He had been told all of his life that his only option was to steal from the white man. He was justified in doing so because the white man kept him down. yadda, yadda, yadda

From radio, from TV, from BillBoards, from the pulpit. He was told that he was a victim and the white man was to blame.

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William De Leet was working the cash register. He was wondering why he still bothered. A month or two ago he had received a MagicWand and the consequent Daemon. As a result of the Daemon he was sane for the first time in his adult life. He had been born and raised in the city with predictable results. He realized that now. Being a sane person in the land of the not-sane was a bit scary and somewhat disgusting.

The MagicWand was capable of making him anything he wanted. He could even have it replicate currency. He still needed money to pay the government. He had to pay taxes, fees, licenses, and permits. Without a doubt the Magic Wand could duplicate money that was identical to the original. It MIGHT even be able to change the serial numbers.

Undetectable or not that would be counterfeiting. It didn’t matter that banks did effectively the same thing every second with the fractional reserve system. William wasn’t sure why but he didn’t feel right stealing, even from a thief. He wasn’t ready to take that step, not yet.

He was thinking.

Someone walked in the door about then. He looked up to see a young black man pointing a gun at his face. He held the gun sideways, like a TV thug. The safety was very clearly “on”.

Jaclyn, his daemon said “Oh goodie, another one. What’s that make, two this week?”

“That’s the nature of this neighborhood” William said tiredly “I wonder why I stay here. Maybe I should take what money I have and run.”

“Gimme all yo money honkie!!” the poor boy shouted. He was really nervous.

Jaclyn some times used an avatar about the size of a kitten. It looked like one too, kinda. She used it to walk in front of the ‘youth’ and speak. “Are you a special kind of stoopid? The safety on your gun in still on!”

sigh It looked like this was going to be one of those days. The poor ignorant child was startled and took his eyes off William long enough for William to casually swat the gun backhanded. The kid had such sweaty palms and such a poor grip on the gun that it went flying out of his hand. Then William punched the kid in the throat. The putative robber went down like a rock, gasping for air.

“Did I kill him?” William asked the kitten.

“Dunno, let me see.” The robot kitten jumped down to the floor and strolled over to the wannabe crook who lie gasping on the floor.

“Hold still kiddo.” It said, then stuck it’s paw down the kids throat. It gave a slight shove then pulled it’s paw out. “There, you might survive. You’ll have a sore throat and might talk funny.”

“He’s gonna live?” William asked in the same tone of voice that he would use if he was talking about the weather.

“Yeah, I think he is.” the cat replied. It jumped back up on the counter.

William looked around to see how the other customers reacted. He was surprised to see that there was no one else in the store. That gave him an idea. He locked the door and put the “Closed” sign in the window. Then he kneeled down to have a chat with the young man.

“What should I do with you Bub?” he asked.

“gasp” The young man was having a very difficult time breathing. William wasn’t particularly worried. Jaclyn knew what she was doing. She did it often enough lately. The fact that the punk could still breath at all was a good indication that he would probably live. If he didn’t live then that was too bad.

So sad.

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