Chapter 12: Saving the World

Chapter 12:  Saving the World

            Quincy woke up the next morning and went through his morning routine.  At school that day he noticed many things that he was sure he had been overlooking.  For one thing, he realized that the students treated the teachers horribly.  After discovering what cuss words were, he couldn’t help but notice the multiple times that teachers were cussed out by students.  Luckily the desks were too heavy to throw far or the teachers might be much less likely to survive a day.  He could not believe how awful the students were.  And yet it was clear the teachers were expected to just accept this behavior and go on with their attempts to teach the students. 

            All day long he heard students talking about sex and drugs.  And the teachers heard these conversations but did nothing to stop them.  It was as if everyone accepted that the world was messed up and that there was nothing anyone could do about it.  He wondered if there were still people who wished they could fix the problems he saw. 

            After the school day ended, Quincy decided he would stop by the college near where he lived.  He had always heard what a wonderful school the University of Pennsylvania is, and he hoped he could find someone there who could get him started on his mission to save the world.  The only problem was figuring out whom to talk to.  He thought about all the different departments and finally decided that the History Department was probably the place to start.  He figured they studied all the problems of the past and how each was overcome and so possibly they would have an answer. 

            The first office he came to had a gold plated sign on the door reading: Dr. Rush.  Quincy figured this would be as good a place as any to get started, so he knocked on the door.  From within came an old and frail sounding voice, “Come in.”

            As he opened the door, Quincy observed an elderly, thin looking man.  His face looked weathered, but there was something hopeful in his eyes. 

            “What is it that I can do for you young man?  You don’t appear to be old enough to be in college, so I assume you are not a student that I haven’t noticed.”

            “No sir, I’m still in high school, but was in need of some help.  I’ve come to the realization that the world had gone to hell and I want to do something about it.”

            “You remind me of my old friend Mr. Adams and I.  We spent the entirety of our lives trying to ensure the world would be a better place when we died.  My first piece of advice to you is don’t expect anyone to thank or appreciate you.  If you are doing this to win the goodwill of others, you will surely fail in that pursuit.  People never appreciate those who dedicate themselves to the betterment of others.  Though, they do worship those who claim that the betterment of others is their goal while truly being nothing more than self-serving meglomaniacs.  Being sure that this is not your goal is a good first step.”

            “I don’t care if anyone appreciates me, nor do I want fame.  The truth is, until yesterday, I was under the impression that we live in a perfect world.  And when I realized that it is far from so, I knew I had to do something about it.”

            “You should read Candide.  This world is far from the best of all worlds.  But there is hope. I must admit I lose hope from time to time, but then something like this happens.”

            “Something like what?” asked Quincy, who was wondering where he had put his rescued copy of Candide.

            “You come in and remind me that there are people who are willing to try and make a difference in this world.  If more people like you were to step forward and try to help out, things would get better.  We may never have a perfect world, but we can do our best to get as close to such as possible.  And people like you restore my faith that we might still get there.”  Dr. Rush smiled, but then remembered that Quincy had come for guidance. 

            “Well, my young friend, you want my advice on how to save the world?  Start small.  Imagine you are traveling with a large group and are trying to get somewhere and then a mountain got in your way.  If you decide to try and eliminate the mountain but no one will help you it will seem hopeless.  But if your goal is simply to clear as much dirt as you can per day, you will never lose hope because you will always achieve your goal.  And you will find that others desire to clear the mountain as well, but simply believed that there was no point in even trying.  What you will find is that people will feed on your strength.  Despite what many believe, people would like to make this world a better place, they just don’t realize that their little part could make a difference.  What they need is a leader, someone to demonstrate that every little effort helps.  And if that doesn’t work, at least you’ve done your part.   And that is the sure fire way to die content.  And you could even set off a chain reaction.”

            “I think I know what you mean.  It’s easy to get discouraged by the big picture, the realization that there is so much left to do.  And then it seems easier just to give up rather than to fail trying, but at least you have a chance of succeeding if you try.  If you don’t try, you’ve already failed.  You’ve failed to try.”

            “Well, seems like you needed my help less than you thought.  I wish I could chat longer, but I have a meeting with the brilliant Dr. Larkin in a few minutes, but I wish you the best of luck.” 

            Quincy left Dr. Rush’s office feeling inspired.  He was ready to take on the world.  Now he just needed to decide exactly how to get started.

Chapter 11: The Falling Out of the Old Friends Who Had Just Met

Chapter 11: The Falling Out of the Old Friends Who Had Just Met

            Quincy and Shaquana had almost forgotten the fact that their journey began with a few gunshots in their direction.  Still, so much had changed since then.   The world had been rediscovered by Quincy, but the nightmare had only begun.  Realizing that the world is a terrible place was the easy part.  Deciding what to do with this knowledge was where the trouble started.  He felt his heart telling him that he could not simply join the masses in ignoring the tragedy unfolding around him.  He had to do something about it.  Despite this commitment, Quincy had no idea how to do this, or where to begin even thinking about such a mission.  He was sure of one thing, his first goal was to recruit an ally or two.

            “Want to help me save the world?”  Quincy said in a casual manner?

            “I wish.  Actually I need to get back to my base.  If I don’t sell my stash I’m going to be in serious shit.”

            “After what you just went through?  Someone out there is trying to kill you!  And you are just going to go back to work.  Plus, I thought you had realized that what you were doing is wrong?” 

            “Well, I don’t have no choice.  It’sa only way I gonna be able to feed my kid.  I’m sorry.  I wish I could help fix the problems of the world.  But I don’t have the luxury of commiten to that.  I gotts to take care of my kid.”

            “So you are gonna go sell drugs?  I can’t believe you!”  Qunicy eyes betrayed his disgust for the girl before him.

            “Well, I didn’t ask you to follow me in the first place, and I sure don’t need you approval!  Go back ta ya lil’ bubble and piss off!”

            Quincy tore off her backpack which he had realized was on his back.  He threw it down into a garbage can and looked Shaquana in the eye and said, “have fun screwing the world.  People like you aren’t part of the problem, you are the problem.  You know how horrible this city is, and yet you don’t even try to fix it.  You just join in and make it worse.”

            “Well, the city is full of people like me, so get use to it.  It ain’t neva gonna change!”

            Quincy shook his head and then walked back to the subway.  He had just been through the most traumatic day of his life and needed to get home.  The subway ride back simply added detail to the nightmare that had begun.  He realized that the conversations going on around him were further proof the world had gone to hell.  He heard one young girl talking about her boyfriend forgetting to pull out.   He heard another group of kids talking about being so drunk while another group joked about being high.  Suddenly he realized that these conversations went on around him everyday.  And drunk was not just the past tense of drank, and high was not code word for we went mountain climbing.  He was surrounded by a moral vacuum.  What was wrong with society that children were engaged in and blatantly proud of their stupidity?  His answer came in the form of more conversations.  He heard one woman talking about her husband getting caught selling cocaine, another woman talking about catching her man in bed with her sister, and another talking about her husband being arrested for drunken driving.  It was a cycle of stupidity.  The stupidity just seemed to trickle down from one generation to the next.  And it didn’t matter how wealthy one was, or what race one was.  The stupidity seemed equally prevalent in all creatures of the giant zoo known as Philadelphia. 

            Quincy arrived at his station, and made the walk home while noticing all the various flaws of his city.  When he finally arrived at his apartment he was so exhausted he ran straight to his bedroom.  Unfortunately he had forgot about the wall of glue traps that he had created.  Having grown tired of the mice that constantly used his hallway as a racetrack, he decided he'd do something about it.  Rather than live with such an annoyance, he had purchased a dozen glue traps and stretched them from one wall to the next.  Remembering this would have resulted in a pleasanter end to his day.  Instead, now he had a glue trap stuck to his foot, and to make it a little more exciting, a mouse had beat him to the plot of land.  So his foot had now become the co-resident on a .0001 acre of glue.   His first reaction was to shake his foot free of the trap.  This resulted in an extremely aggravated mouse. 

            Quincy finally relaxed enough to pull his foot free of the trap and then sat and stared at the mouse in the glue trap.  The harder it tried to pull itself free, the more it ended up getting itself stuck to the glue.  It wasn’t that the mouse didn’t want to get free, his situation just didn’t allow him or her to get free without the help of a friend.   Quincy decided he had to free the mouse.  But before he acted on the metaphor he has just made for life, he figured he'd actually help this mouse.

            At first he tried tugging at the tail of the mouse, but with each tug he noticed the mouse’s leg seemed to stay stuck in the glue and were getting yanked.  Fearing he would pull the limbs clear off, Quincy reassessed the situation.  Quickly he concluded that pouring water on the trap might help.  But then he realized that the makers of the trap must of considered the possibility that the mouse might have to pee and so they would have installed safe guards against wetness.  After long and careful thought, Quincy concluded he had only one option.  He would have to cut the mouse free.  No, he wasn’t going to do surgery.  By god, the mouse would keep his legs.  Instead, Quincy decided he would simply cut out around the mouse’s feet.  Quincy dug out his old hamster cage, and got a sharp knife.  After several minutes of careful use of his cutlery, the mouse was free of the trap, that is, aside from his new thick black paw-pads. 

            “I don’t know if you are a boy or a girl, but I will call you Shaquana.”

Chapter 10: The World Unmasked

Chapter 10:  The World Unmasked

            Quincy continued walking, trying not to pay any attention to Shaquana.  He found himself walking through the hallway bathroom for blind people.  As Shaquana caught up to him she blurted out, “God I wish people would stop pissing in this hallway!”

            “Well, maybe your magical little pills will help them see!”  Quincy retorted without attempting to hide his contempt.

            “What da hell you talking bout?” 

            “I said, maybe your magic pills will help the blind see so they will realize that this is not a toilet.  Oh that’s right, your pills don’t do that, do they?” 

            Shaquana began laughing so hard that she didn’t even bother to try and pretend that she was still angry.  She laughed so intensely that tears poured down her cheeks and from time to time she chocked.

            “What is so funny.  Last time I checked losing one’s eyesight is not something that brings a little cheer to my heart.  By God, if they’d just put up a Braille sign notifying the poor sightless souls that this is not a bathroom I’m sure they would stop.”  Hoping this would make Shaquana feel guilty enough that she would order a cease and desist on the laughter, Quincy was sadly disappointed.  Shaquana laughed so hard she had to fight through her cackles to breathe, and she had to hold her sides to keep herself from flooding her pants.   She was certain that she had never met such an optimist, someone so truly sure that it was a great world that he could create such an explanation for the urine on the floor and walls of the subway corridor. 

            “You really think that there are blind people who mistake this for a bathroom?”

            “Are you trying to tell me that it’s not?  Why else would this smell like urine?  Surely people don’t just decide to go to the bathroom in a hallway that others must use?”

            “Quincy, you have so much to learn.  It’s much more likely that some crack head or a drunken bum took a leak here.  In fact, you can safely assume that blind people are just as disgusted as we are that anyone would use this hallway as a bathroom.” 

            “Why?  Why would anyone be so messed up, so rude as to pee in a public hallway?  Have they no decency, no respect?”

            “They probably have nothing, no home, no stuff, no pride, no respect.  This will come as a shock to you, but there is a lot of people in this city who spend most of their time trying ta figure out how to get their next fix.  They lives is empty of concern for others, and they care very lil’ for theyselves.  In a perfect world, they’d get help and get off the streets and off the drugs, but this world sucks and life is messed up.  And the best way to deal with life is to hide from it.  At least then it can’t hurt you.”

            “You mean, at least then you don’t realize that it hurts you.  These people destroy themselves rather than allowing the world to destroy them.  I guess at least then they have control over one thing, their own downfall.”  Quincy felt his eyes come a little more and more into focus. 

            “You'ze probably right, and I guess I am part of the problem.”  Shaquana had fully confronted that she may not be the executioner, but she had definitely made sure the electric chair was wired properly and the power was ready to flow. 

            “Then why don’t you stop dealing drugs?  Begin the process of fixing this world by removing a piece of the problem.”  Quincy hoped in his heart of hearts that she would give up her life of dealing.  But this day had braced him for the reality that this isn’t a perfect world.

            “I wish I could, but I don’t be having any choice.  I has to makes a living.  I gots a son that is almost two, and I can't be affording ta take care of em if I stop.  Plus, Raymon wouldn’t be happy if I tell him I ain’t sellin no more.”

            An eerie feeling came over Quincy.  His father’s name was Raymon.  In his head images of the weird tasting sugar flashed through his mind.  And the several times that the police officers had come over to look through his house came to his thoughts.  Maybe they were a special branch of the police that came to set mouse traps as his father had told him.  Maybe his father was a drug supplier.  Maybe Shaquana’s supplier was his father. 

            “What does Raymon look like?”  Quincy asked.

            “Why?  You planning to turn him in?  You’ll end up getting me killed.  Raymon wouldn’t think twice about having me killed.  My dad learned that the hard way when he tried to get me out.”

            “I just need to know, I promise I won’t tell a soul.”  Quincy appeared far too genuine for Shaquana to doubt him. 

            “He’s a few inches shy of six foot, dark black hair, he has a long scar on the tip of his nose that almost looks like he has two equal halves of his nose.”

            Check, check and check.  Feeling almost certain, Quincy fought his desire to deny the apparent truth.  So, he blurted out “that’s my dad.”

            Quincy continued, “Why did my mother tell me that the world was such a wonderful place?  Why didn’t she tell me that my father was a drug supplier, or that people are completely messed up?  Did it do me any good to think that everything wrong with the world had a positive explanation?  Did she think she could keep me locked in an apartment my whole life and hide me from the brutal reality?  Why didn’t she prepare me for the truth that the world is such an awful place?”

            “Maybe she couldn’t afford to move out of the city, but she couldn’t bear to let her son grow up in such a hell hole.  And so she did the best she could to create a perfect world for you to live in.”

            Quincy felt an intense hatred for his parents burning in his heart.  He despised them for bringing him into this world.  No decent human would have brought a child in to a world such as this.  He also found himself hating the city of Philadelphia.  What a god-forsaken place.  He was sure the condoms on the sidewalks were not there to promote safer sex after all, they were probably there because the people of this city were disgusting assholes who didn’t have the decency to find a trash can after they finished with the prostitute.  And he wanted to collect all the trash and litter on the streets and find the family he had seen dropping the chip bags and pour it into their house.  And as for the people not smiling on the subway and the guy he had purchased the drink from earlier that day, there was no justification, there was no secret game or reason for their behavior.  He accepted the fact that the people of Philadelphia were just rude, inconsiderate, devoid of respect, mean spirited, self-centered, worthless beings that existed solely to destroy what little hope that existed that the world could be a decent place. Point for the bastards, they had succeeded.   If a giant bucket of gasoline were to be spilled on and coat the city of Philadelphia, Quincy was sure he’d only have one question.  Who’s got the match?

Chapter 9: Death to the Pagan God of Optimism

Chapter 9: Death to the Pagan God of Optimism

            “Quincy, you okay?  Can you hear me Quincy?” 

            Shaquana tugged Quincy on the arm hoping his eyes would pop open.  Then her body locked up.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw a police officer coming towards her.  She was not sure how to explain to the police why she was sitting next to a unconscious boy.  Then she realized if he questioned her, they might search her backpack.  She was not sure what to do with it, as it was loaded with a cornucopia of drugs.  Her first thought was to put it on Quincy, but then a feeling of guilt came over her.  It had been a long time since she had felt guilt, and was a bit startled by the sensation.  But the police officer seemed to be looking for something.  He would definitely notice Quincy.  Brushing the guilt aside, she slipped off her back pack and managed to maneuver it onto Quincy without making it too noticeable.  Moments later the officer approached her.

            “Excuse me, I was wondering if either of you had…” but he cut off as he noticed that Quincy was unresponsive.  “Is that boy alright?”

            Not sure what to say, Shaquana fumbled her words and was sure she had just cost herself a backpack full of goodies.  “Um… we’re not together, but I’m sure he’s okay.”

            The officer squinted his eyes disbelievingly, and tapped Quincy on the shoulder.  “Ma’am, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to detain you until we can make sure that he…”

            Just then, like Christ on the third day, Quincy rose again.  His eyes slowly fought off the darkness and his eyelids separated steadily.  Partially aware of the last few moments, Quincy’s instincts fought their way to the forefront and he pushed out the words, “What a great nap.”

            The officer forced a quick smile onto his face.  “Sorry ma’am, I was just doing my job.”   

            Feeling a bit embarrassed the officer decided he’d inquire elsewhere and walked off.  Shaquana took a deep breath and steadied her leg, which had begun to shake a little due to the adrenaline pumping through her veins.  Quincy asked what the officer had wanted, but then was quickly lost within his own thoughts.  Shaquana’s voice echoed in his ears, but his brain failed to process what he heard.  Instead, he found himself replaying the conversation that had led him to the recent realization.  Maybe it was not such a wonderful world.  His thoughts bounced back and forth replaying pieces of memories of his mother talking about how great a place the world was.  Then these memories collided with thoughts of a young drug dealing girl being chased and shot at.  His brain, like a computer, ran through every possible combination that would allow the two memories to coexist without forcing him to change his view of the world.  Possibly this was one of very few flaws Philadelphia had.  He had discovered the one thing wrong with the whole city, and had simply overreacted.  Yet, while he considered that possibility, he found other memories of the city creeping forward, and hints of evil seemed to be bubbling out from under his optimistic view of the world around him. 

            Slowly coming back to his senses, Quincy felt Shaquana tugging at his coat.  “You still in there?”

            “Yeah, I’m just having a hard time adjusting to the fact that you are a drug dealer.  How old are you?”

            “Please don’t be judging me.  You don’t know me, you don’t know how it is.”

            Quincy was not exactly sure what she was saying, but he assumed she was trying to say that he could not understand her situation.  Still, his whole view on life had just been shattered, so he felt compelled to pry into her mind.  “Can you at least try and explain your situation to me.  I really don’t mean to be rude, I just assumed that drug dealers lived in horrible places filled with poverty and crime.”

            “And where do you think we are?  This ain’t some small town in New England.  This is Philadelphia.  More crimes happen here in a day then some small states have in a year.  Don’t you ever watch the news or read the newspaper?” 

            Quincy remembered seeing parts of the TV news once or twice, but the channels that he saw the news on were usually locked when his mother was not around.  And he had not even thought to check his father’s TV, to see if he could watch the news.  In fact, he had never felt any desire to watch the news.  Though now he was aching to find the nearest TV and confirm the horrible accusations being spouted by Shaquana.  But Quincy figured he would use his resource to find out some more about Philadelphia.  “What other kinds of things are wrong with Philadelphia?”

            “Your eyes just aren’t open, are they?”  Shaquana was about to continue, but a perplexed look came over Quincy’s face.  “Whaz wrong?”

            “Some old man said almost those exact words to me earlier today… but anyway, what were you going to say?”

            Shaquana continued, “I’ze juz be going ta say, you need to takes a look around you and almost every where you turn there are problems to be seen.  But there ain’t nothing nobody can do abouts it.  It’s just the way it is.  And when I hear people on TV talking about how America is the greatest country in the world, I just looked around me and laugh.  I’d hate to think this is the best of all possible worlds.”

            “But don’t you realize that you are part of the problem, dealing drugs is a horrible thing to do!”  Quincy realized he had let the wrong words slip from his mouth the moment they had escaped, but this fear was solidified when the anger exploded in Shaquana’s eyes.  Her nostrils flared up and pumped out gusts of air.  Not knowing how to retreat from the war he had begun Quincy spit out an apology.  But a mouse’s tear drop would have had a better chance of putting out a Colorado forest fire.  Shaquana was ready to pounce, and Quincy could do nothing but brace himself.

            “Oh no you di’ent!  You think you know me, you think you know what it’s like to be me?  You don’t know nothing.  Your sheltered little existence couldn’t have given you the faintest hint as to what it's like to be me.  Besides, there ain’t nothing wrong with what I do.  I ain’t forcing people to buy drugs.  I ain’t knocking on their door and holdin them at gunpoint and putting the drugs in their mouths.  I ain’t no different from a soda machine, people put in the money and I put out the drugs.  Simple as dat.”

            And of course Quincy did what any gentle kind hearted boy would do in this situation, he fought back.  Before he was sure what he was going to say he felt a new sensation come over him.  He was pissed, and he was ready for war.  “Spare me your lame tirade.  You can’t justify your criminal actions by saying you’re just a means of achieving drugs.  Last time I checked, soda is still legal to buy, and drugs aren’t.  People are basically coming up to you saying, ‘hi I’d like to destroy my life, my body, and my mind, possibly ending in my own death’ and you provide them with a means of achieving that goal.  AND YOU THINK you’re no different from a soda machine.  My mother always told me that if I didn’t have something nice to say, I shouldn’t say anything at all, but she lied about the kind of world I live in, so maybe she was wrong about that as well.  Cause I think you need to know that you disgust me!  What if some ignorant boy, hey, like me, came along and thought, sure I’ll try what this girls offering.  My life could have been destroyed and you think your role in that is insignificant.  I guess you would say the Devil is a good guy, other than that part about tempting people into burning in a fiery hell for eternity.  He’s just like the soda machine of damnation.” 

            Quincy was tempted to go on, but through the stone cold look on Shaquana’s face he sensed a tear forming.  Sure it was not visible, but he still sensed that a mental tear had formed in her mind.  He had struck a cord and was unsure if he should proceed with his Charles Sumner-esque denunciation of what he saw as the modern crime against humanity.  While the Thirteenth Amendment may have outlawed slavery in a literal sense, millions of people in the world, in the world closer to Quincy than he had ever dreamed, millions of people were just as much slaves to various drugs as any slaves of the past.  These people may have initially had a choice in whether they took that first step towards becoming a slave, but once chained, the bonds of drugs become just as real as the bonds of slavery.  The slave driver with his whip had been replaced by an internal slave driver who twisted the mind of the user.  He made the user feel as though he wanted, needed and could not live without his drugs.  Though many were tempted to run from their slavery, breaking away and escaping the cravings for drugs was as hard as running from Alabama to Maine.  The addict feared life without drugs, since they had long forgot the feeling of thinking and living without the crutch that drugs provided.  Reality, real life, was a scary place, and a hard place to return to when chemicals had allowed you to hide from it for any period of time. 

            Fighting back the desire to continue his condemnation of Shaquana, Quincy deferred to silence and turned away from what he believed to be the cancer destroying the soul of mankind: the drug dealer.  He looked out the window of the subway train and starred at the spray paint that coated the walls of the underground.  Maybe the paint wasn’t some primitive cave writing that had been discovered when digging out the subway.  Maybe some ignorant people devoid of respect for their fellow man had attempted to destroy the walls simply because they lacked the skill and mental capacity to do anything better with their time.  Rather than fix their lives, they tried to destroy the lives and world of those around them.  Wouldn’t it be awful if such were true, he thought to himself?

            Shaquana sat for a long time not saying a word.  From time to time she would let the anger slip from her face, but upon realization she would republish it for the world to see.  Inside she was torn, she wanted to attack Quincy on the one hand, but couldn’t help but acknowledge that he had simply pointed out the truth that she had long buried inside her underneath the shield of ‘it ain’t my problem’.  She had begun to believe her justifications for her actions and he had torn them to sheds with little effort.  For the first time in her life, she felt evil. She confronted the possibility that she was a part of the reason the world was messed up. 

            At the next stop, without a word to Shaquana, Quincy got up and off the subway car.  She quickly followed after him.  She had no desire to continue being slammed, but the boy had her backpack and she would have hell to pay if the contents were lost to her.  Despite what one might assume, drug suppliers do not like it when their dealers are unable to pay for drugs because they lost the stash.  

            “Quincy, wait up!”