Eating with Beats – Part II

Last post for a week. Getting away from the city – 3 year anniversary. So this is the morning that I will remember the echoes of the garbage trucks doing their thing. Perhaps I can put it down on a notebook or in a notebook. So then, let’s see where I can leave it off. Oh yes, the police – that’s where I had it. We need a name for a detective out there in old San Francisco. Someone to tell the rest of the story – not all, just pieces from their part. How about Sylvia Park. I kind of like that.

Sylvia Park

These guys were unbelievable in their planning and faith. A good part of me believed most of what they said in regards to how the working class of the city was being forced out. I mean, who were we protecting these days? We had rounded up all of them and been questioning them for a few days straight to get them loopy, then, someone in the department had the brilliant idea that perhaps someone should join up  and work from the inside. Now most of the department doesn’t really have the looks that I do. I think it’s the bullet proof verst that really slims me down. We released them and let them know that we’d give ’em all protection for a price. After all, there had to be some grand leader in all of this and the chief was convinced that there was a huge drug connection that was using this group as a front. Now for me, and for most detectives here, we really wanted to focus on murders as drugs and this city just kind of blend together.

These orders though came from a little higher up. Seems that there was a development company out there that wanted the little arcade or whatever they called it out over the Cliff House. They wanted to build a gas station that extended into a parking lot where the Sutro Baths were. Now I had a little nieces and nephews I used to take out there all the time – to the arcade, not the baths, or what was left of the baths. They always went to the video games in the back, but for me, there was something about those old machines that I really enjoyed. There were no guns or shootings. Each quarter you dropped in started up a world. I wasn’t too hot on shutting it down, but it was my job, and I liked my job more than my desires.

We let them all go together and told them we’d be calling them from time to time – and not to worry about paying off the Parking police anymore. Gaining confidence is a fantastic thing. Now, reading over these reports, it’s interesting to look at all of their stories and their family history. It’s amazing how much information people give you when they’re trying not to tell you anything. Valerie Streiker was my favorite to read, but that’s because I used to work the area around the O’Ferrell theater a few years ago before I made detective. Seeing those girls come in and out for work always gave me a slight reflection of the What if’s. I guess you can’t really help it.

Alberto Orca

I felt very awake when they let us go. All that we had gone through to put the events together, to start some type of world that could exist without machines looking back at us, was not only working, but it would now be unstoppable. All you need is the law on your side and things usually turn out well. Nobody ever thinks of turning against the police. Still, we had to be very careful not to loose our edge, and to keep that, we had to make the people attending the events believe they were doing something wrong and dangerous. There had to be the hint that at any moment, the police could barge in and arrest everyone. It was a delicate balance of safety, but planning it out was fun. After all, it was our jobs. How much time do you spend thinking about work – on the way there or on the way back it doesn’t really matter – you give tons of yourself. So, our work was this movement.

Even thought that detective had told us to let the Parking Police people go, we decided to keep them all on the payroll. After all, getting a ride in one of those little cars out to the cliffs of the Pacific ocean through the night fog was the perfect pulling back of the curtain. Thing was, now that we had protection, there was room to move. Room to expand. Not always the best of ideas when you have all of these people working as one.

Peter had a bad look in his eye when he knew the cops were no longer a problem. He had been the one with all of the connections to the speed and powders, and though the heat was off just a little bit, I knew that to bring that junk into the picture was not going to keep us clean. Somehow, it just makes people act strange. I was interested in something pure – something very human that rose up from the minds of men and women, and if you brought that crap into the picture, it was going to destroy the messages we tried to broadcast. No good. Not what we are looking to do. Were looking to do. Only thing was that there was no real leader of the group. I didn’t want that – and though I think Pete did, he knew none of us were followers. How could I speak out against what he was thinking though? It was because of those late night deliveries that I was able to find these people who, I have to say, I really started to love. The connection of friendship is tough to find and it really only occurs at rare moments in life. Each call and movement, you think about making with your extended family and everything outside of that circle is a foreign object made to either be ignored, fought or incorporated into your beliefs.

Things with Lila were going well on the surface, but the love was fading. She didn’t like the fact that I didn’t call her when the police picked us up. I tried to explain that it wasn’t like the movies where you get this one phone call and things work out when the scene jumps to the next frame, but she wasn’t having it. For her, I think her only thoughts would have been on me, but I was with these other folks now. I thought that. I had made the mistake of thinking that friendship was love.

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