11. Jamie

It was about a year prior.

"So I got a message from the health insurance department. They told me that the reason they won't pay for my gene therapy is because they don't pay for cosmetic procedures. Cosmetic! You believe those assholes?"
Ransom was sharing a table with David McGinty, whose over three hundred pound frame didn't leave much room for Ransom's relatively thin build. David was a fellow officer at General Telepresence Resort Security. They would both be working at Fantasy World theme park that day. Ransom had met many fat people who claimed that the reason they were fat was genetics. David was the only person he knew who could make that claim legitimately. He suffered from a gene defect just recently isolated by scientists.
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen." Dexter Anjou, the Sergeant for the day walked to the front of the briefing room "A couple thing, folks. Today at Matrix Quest, they're having a competition between two warring game tribes. Many members of the two tribes will be out in the parks today. So keep an eye out for confrontations. And for those of you who have not encountered these tribes before, it's kinda like the tension we had with the Florida, Florida State football team fans, only more intense. These people are constantly fighting each other on the Net. And now they are meeting face to face, on our territory."
David leaned over and whispered to Ransom, "I'm a member of Clan Warlock. After my shift is over, I'm gonna go fight in the tournament. It'll be so cool!"
"Good luck, Dave."
Anjou cleared his throat. "Also, corporate intelligence tells us that there will be a protest outside the Grand Seahorse Convention Center. It's a pro-life group. They are picketing the Cytological Doctors' Convention, held today. In fact, there are a few protesters out there already.
The blackboard turned into a live telecast of the front of the Grand Seahorse. The security servers had the ability to produce realtime video of every square inch of General Telepresence property. Now, they were looking at about half a dozen people standing on the side of the road. They were carrying telescreen signs with bible verses scrolling across, interrupted with an occasional picture. One of them had brought a holographic projector that was able to suspend a twenty-foot-tall, translucent, dead, mutilated fetus. After a few seconds the fetus transfigured into the face of weeping Jesus.
"We already have a officer stationed out there. Now this is unlikely, but just in case they start rioting or something we will be calling in officers from surrounding areas like Fantasy World and the shopping district. So you guys and girls keep you ears on, especially the mobile units."

The day was uneventful up until about noon when Ransom's wrist server began to chime.
Officer Archer. Go to Arabian Nights. In front of Aladdin. Lost juvenile.
Okay. It would have been helpful if they specified whether it was the parents who lost their child, or the lost child. Whatever. Children got lost all the time here.

When he crossed over the bridge that connected Mother Goose Land with Arabian Nights Land, Ransom saw something that he would never forget, not as long as he lived. The most pathetic thing he'd ever seen in his young life. A little boy crying. A pretty young woman was talking to him, consoling him with very little success. Ransom knew that this five or six-year-old boy wasn't crying because his sister slapped him, or because his mother wouldn't buy him an ice cream pop. The tears came from being alone and scared. And to make things worse, the kid was in a wheelchair. The sight of his skinny fragile body wouldn't be so bad if he would stop bawling.

It was silent all around Ransom in this part of the module in the space city. The terrorists must be looking for him at the other end of the module. But the threat was no less imminent. His life was still in danger. So why was Ransom wasting time reminiscing about some little disabled kid he met almost two years ago?

One regret that Ransom had when he took the job at a Seventh Day owned hospital, he was afraid that being around all those sick, or injured people would make him depressed. But now he realized that he saw much worse things working for General Telepresence owned vacation resorts. It wasn't just the beautiful people who wanted to spend the day at one of GT's world-class theme parks, like the ads portray. Ransom got to see every disability, every deformity, every defect, every example of a little body ravaged by disease or tragedy come through the turnstiles. These children were just like any children. They just wanted to have fun. And in their case, adults are more willing to oblige them. General Telepresence, in fact, all of the corporations were constantly setting up free trips for these "special" children.
Ransom always marveled. Medical technology had supposedly come so far in the past fifty years. Snowbirds were now regularly breaking the 120-year mark. But it was still powerless to help so many.

Obviously the child does have an interest in this. He could possibly benefit from Beatrice, just like millions of others worldwide. But there was something else. Something that buzzed around in Ransom's mind and annoyed him like a gadfly. He cursed his memory for being so unreliable at such a crucial point.

He got on his knees to face him. "Hello, Sir. What's your name. Kids usually got a kick out of being called "sir." He stopped crying and told him that his name was Jamie.
"He said his parents were supposed to meet him here." The girl was dressed like a member of some G-rated harem, the official uniform for females at Aladdin's Magic Carpet Ride attraction. "My shift is already over, and I have to catch the Mag-lev." She bent down closer to Jamie. Her voice got about three levels cuter. "Don't worry, Jamie. The officer will take care of you."
"Bye, Kate. Thanks for your help." said Ransom. He had read her name tag and made a mental note to remember in case he want to come back and talk to her another day. She was nice and looked pretty good.
The boy was no longer crying. For some reason, Ransom had a calming affect on him. Maybe it was the uniform. "Well Mister Jamie, we're gonna wait here for your parents. They'll prolly come here looking for you soon. So we'll just stay here and relax until they do. So just relax. Okay, dude?"
The boy studied Ransom intensely, looked over him over with wide eyed curiosity. Finally, he spoke, "Um, excuse me, officer, can I ask you a question?"
"Of course you may, Sir."
"Have you ever shot anyone?"
"What? Shot anyone? No."
"Do you have a gun?"
"No." said Ransom. "No guns are allowed in the park."
"Well do you have anything?"
"Yeah, sure. I have lots of things. I've got a hat. See?" He took off his hat and showed it to him.
"No! I mean weapons and stuff. Do you have handcuffs?"
"Um, I carry some plastic tie restraints. As for weapons, I carry a collapsible baton."
"You mean, for hitting people with?" said Jamie.
"Yes. Well, I've never had to hit anyone before. The baton also has a built in stun gun. To shock people."
"Cool! Can I see it?"
"You wanna see it? Ransom hesitated. The baton stays hidden under his shirt. The rule book for park security told him never to take the baton out unless it was an emergency situation in which he intended to use it. Understandably, the company didn't want park security to resemble a police force, and would rather most guests not know that security carried any weapons. But Ransom was really winning this kid over.
Fuck the rules.

Half an hour passed, and Ransom was beginning to hate a pair of parents he'd never met. He decided to take Jamie to the front of the park, into the air-conditioned Guest Services building. Dispatch put out a BOLO to every employee for Jamie's parents. They also ordered the security server to search the cameras for his parents, after having found their picture through a government database. But with over sixteen thousand guests in the park, even the pattern-recognition engine in Fantasy World's powerful server couldn't be trusted to find them.
"Officer Ransom, can we go to the place with the cars?"
"What? The bumper cars?"
"No, the place where they park the cars."
"Oh, the garage." said Ransom. "No, you're parents aren't out there. They wouldn't go to their car without you."
"How do you know?"
Ransom couldn't help but laugh a little at his response. Jamie began to pout. At least he had gone this long without crying again. Ransom abruptly stopped laughing when he noticed something.
"Jaime, where is your hand stamp?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Well didn't they stamp your hand when you went through the turnstile?"
"No."
Ransom called Sergeant Anjou and told him about this new discovery. He took Jamie backstage, that is, an employees only area, and found a telescreen disguised as a painting of the Fantasy World castle. He verbally commanded it to link with the Sergeant in the security office. Anjou's face appeared on the screen.
"Ransom, take a look at this."
The security server searched it's database and found the video record of Jamie entering the park that morning. The camera was pointed towards a bank of turnstiles. It was unusual because the turnstiles were not being used at the time and there was no attendant. Jamie was there. He just stayed there for a while, looking at something to his right. Then he rolled up to the turnstile, opened the handicapped access gate and went right through.
He sneaked into the park without a ticket! Ransom was crestfallen, finding out that this sweet innocent broken angel was capable of such a thing. Still, he couldn't help but admire the kid's chutzpah. He knew that the admissions people wouldn't question a crippled kid hanging around unattended turnstiles. Jamie wasn't so helpless.
"Jamie, you sneaked into the park without a ticket. Your parents aren't even here, are they?"
"They said they would be here." He looked like he was about to start crying again.
"Hold on. I'm not angry, man. Now tell me, where was the last place you saw your parents?"
"At the seahorse hotel."
Ransom addressed the video screen. "Sergeant, I think we should check the Grand Seahorse. Jamie says..."
"Already ahead of you, Ransom. The guys at Seahorse just called me. They say that a couple of the protesters can't find their kid, who is in a wheelchair."

Ransom stuck around. He wanted to see for himself these fine Christian people, these paragons of parenthood. The mother was the first to arrive. She looked like she had been attractive once, but now she was a fat cow of a woman. Her hips were so thick and splayed that she appeared to waddle like a duck when she walked. "Oh, Jamie. You scared us so much." She leaned down, with some difficulty, and hugged him.
Jamie's father arrived backstage a moment later. He carried in his hand a brightly colored children's wristwatch, which prolly also contained a server. He looked pissed. Ransom was expecting him to lay down the law and instill some old-fashioned fear of God into the kid.
Ransom was surprised that the father spoke with a British accent. Neither Jamie nor his mother had one. Ransom assumed that the father was one of those Europeans who visit CenFlo and then get the crazy idea of living here. "Jamie, what did I tell you? I told you never to remove your wrist-computer. Don't you understand that this keeps you safe?" Jamie said nothing. His father raised his voice even louder. "Jamie, this is rubbish! You are in so much trouble. Your mother and I have been worried sick. What were you thinking?"
Ransom saw none of the crying that he saw earlier. The boy looked completely calm as his father yelled at him. He looked bored even. He didn't answer his father, just shrugged his shoulders.
The father's anger quickly deflated. He got on a knee and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Jamie, my love, why did you do this? Do you want to be a criminal? I told you that today was the protest and tomorrow we would go to Fantasy World. Did you think that I would lie to you?"
Jaime looked down. "No, Daddy."
"Why did you leave the picket line?"
"It was hot out there, Daddy."
"Now, Jamie. We brought the fan attachment for you chair, and plenty of cold juice boxes. Everyone was wondering where you were. I thought you said that you wanted to be in the protest. Your mother had to get someone else to hold your picket sign."
What? Did Ransom hear that correctly? Jamie's parents wanted to put this little kid, who couldn't possibly understand the abortion debate, out on the street as a protester? Ransom was aghast.
"My son, the protest is over, and you've missed it. Did you not say that you wanted to help with the protest? Did you not say that you wanted to help stop those doctors from killing little babies?"
Jamie couldn't look his father in the eye, "No. But I wanted to ride Aladdin's Carpet so bad. I'm sorry, Daddy"
Ransom shook his head. He couldn't decide whether Jamie should be punished for disobedience, or commended for temporarily getting away from his wacko fundy parents.
"I'm very disappointed, Jamie. I have a good mind to cancel our holiday to Fantasy World for this."
"Oh no!" said Jamie. "Please, no, Daddy. I'll behave. I promise."
"All right, son. We can still go. But you must promise that either I or your mother will be with you at all times."
Ransom was disgusted. He realized that it must be difficult to discipline a handicapped child. But still, it must be done. Jamie's parents didn't even appear to be trying. Why are people like this allowed to breed? What kind of lousy parents are they?
Ransom answered his own question. The same kind of stupid parents who would take two hours to realize that their kid was missing. And what kind of parents would misplace their child so easily? The same kind who would take their child to an anti-abortion protest and waste time that could be used for school studies, or just for playing and having fun. Just so he can stand on the side of the road and have strangers gawk at him, cars honk at him, politicians use him as a pawn. These are the kind that's everything wrong with Christians. They're what's wrong with people in general.
Ransom was busy hating them when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Are you Ransom?" He turned. It was Jamie's father. He grabbed Ransom's hand and shook vigorously. "My name is Matthew Bradford. My son thinks very highly of you. He said that you were very kind to him. You, Sir, have my undying gratitude."
"Uh, yeah. No problem."
Ransom spent a few moments chatting with Matthew and got to see Jamie's father up close. At first, he thought that Matthew was maybe fortyish. On closer inspection, he realized that he wasn't much older than Ransom. It looked as if he were aging and his body was deteriorating faster than normal. He was a fat ass, and his posture was terrible. He had the swollen face of an avid beer-drinker. His eyes were dull. And also, the top joint of his middle finger on his left hand was missing. Life must have beat the shit out of him. Ransom found his disgust gradually replaced by pity.
A fellow security officer named Garcia escorted the Bradford family out of Fantasy World. On the way back, Officer Garcia ran into Ransom. "Hey, Ransom. How's life treatin' ya?"
"Can't complain."
Garcia was a marvel, a retiree who worked part-time just to stay active. He was ninety-two years old and he still volunteered to work twelve hour shifts patrolling the parks. He said that he owed his health to positive thinking and a calorie-restricted diet. "You know, when I see a kid in a wheelchair like that, sometimes I want to get so damn depressed."
"You do?" asked Ransom.
"I'm a member of The Shriners. We do fundraisers and stuff like that."
"Oh wow. That's cool."
The next day, Ransom didn't get a chance to see Jamie again because the security department assigned him to work at Animal World theme park.

"Hey, Jamie. How're you doin?"
"Fine. Do you still work at Fantasy World?"
"No, I work in a hospital now." Ransom looked around to see if he could spot Danny Rodriguez. "So... did you like the church service?"
"They talked about Daniel in the Lion's den. And they had a real lion in a cage!"
"Wow! That's awesome. You know, when I used to work at Animal World, we had lions there too. And do you know what we would feed them?"
"What?"
"Little boys who sneaked into the park without a ticket."
Jamie scrunched his nose trying to look angry. It just made him look cuter. "You're crazy! My mom said that I should apologize. She wanted me to write an apology letter, but I forgot."
"I see."
"I'm waiting for my Dad. Will you wait here till he gets here?"
"Um. Yeah, sure." Ransom knelt down in case Jamie wanted to talk some more. He wished his father would hurry up.
"I remembered something when I saw you. You were in my vocabulary lesson a few weeks ago." Jamie reached into the knapsack on the back of his chair and pulled out a scroll notepad. He unrolled it and touched the screen a couple times. He handed the notepad to Ransom and then said the word "ransom." It appeared on the screen. "Tell me if I do this wrong. Ransom, r-a-n-s-o-m."
Ransom nodded.
"A price paid to set the captive free."
"Very good, Jamie."
"My Dad says I'm good with words. I wanna be a writer some day."
"How are you with your studies, Jamie?"
"I'm at the top of my class!"
"Really?"
"Well, it's a really small class. Only four people including me."
"What school is this?"
"Um, Inner-session City Bible Academy. It's a small school. My Mom and Dad say that the big schools lie about history and evolution and stuff."
He meant Intercession City Bible Academy. No doubt a wonderful institution for learning the basics of creation "science." "Jamie, does your father still take you to protests?"
"No. He says he doesn't have time for that anymore. I wish he would, though. I don't like those people."
"Who don't you like?"
"Those doctors who do abortion. And those people who like abortion. They wanted to kill me."
"What?" said Ransom.
"My Dad told me about it. God makes everyone different. But they wanted to kill me because I was different. Some people are born and learn how to walk, but then become handicapped because of a car accident, or something. But I was different, because I was handicapped before I was born. That's why they wanted me to die." Jamie's eyes were wide, like a kitten's frightened by a loud noise. "My Dad says that God hates them."
"Oh, I don't think God hates them. Maybe He's disappointed in them. But He doesn't hate them."
"Then who does God hate?"
"Um..." Ransom should have immediately said no one. But he hesitated for some reason. Before he could say anything, Jamie's father, Matthew arrived.
"I remember you. The security guard from Fantasy World. I didn't know you were interested in prophecy."
"Well, you know." Ransom shrugged. Surprisingly, Ransom almost didn't recognize him. He looked really good compared to before. He had lost a ton of weight. Not just that, he appeared to carry himself differently too. Behind Matthew, he could see Danny approaching.
"So do you live here in Orlando?"
Danny butted in, "No, we're from Baseball."
"Ah. Well I live in Haines City, probably not too far from you. You should consider coming to my prophecy bible study group that meets at my house."
"Hey, that's a great idea." said Danny. "Ransom, I've been thinking that you and me should do something like that. Hey, dude, are you from England. I know a few movie producers from England."
"Yes, I was born in Europe, an ungodly place. I moved to the States as soon as I turned eighteen.
"So what do you say, Ransom? It's good fun, really. We have about twenty people so far, including some cute single Christian girls." He winked at him. "We meet every other Sunday. And the food is brilliant. Pot-luck dinners. You two don't have to bring anything fancy. Just a bag of crisps or a gallon of chocolate milk."
"Uh... Yeah. I'll think about it."
Matthew spoke into his wrist-server. "Computer, send Ransom a map to my house." He looked up, "Very well then. Jamie, let's go find your mother."
Ransom could see Misses Bradford across the lobby. She had lost weight also since Ransom had last saw her, but she was still kinda fat. She was standing alone, not talking to anyone, silently submissive as a good fundy Christian wife should be. "She's over there. Can I ask you a question, Matthew?"
"Of course, Ransom."
"Does your wife have the same opinion of abortion as you do?"
"No, she doesn't. It's been a source of contention between us now and then. But we compromise."
"She doesn't?"
"No, she believes all abortion is wrong, while I think some concession should be made for rape or incest."
"Oh. Okay."

Ransom went to Matthew Bradford's Bible study exactly twice before he couldn't stand any more. He didn't know why he decided to go in the first place. Maybe he thought that he could make some friends there. Maybe he just wanted to check on Jamie. He did get to hang out with Jamie before the study began.
He was hoping that the meeting would be different from the "revival." It wasn't. Just more of the same millennial dispensationalist tripe that he's heard so many times before. The group was mostly comprised of college students and young adults, even a few high schoolers. They all found the subject of biblical prophecy terribly interesting. Which Ransom didn't understand. Or maybe he did understand, he just wanted to have more faith in his generation.
At the second meeting, it was more of the same. Only this time, Matthew had a chart that mapped out the different dispensations of human history. Ransom had to bite his tongue to keep from yelling, "This is bullshit!"

"Awesome meeting, bro. I can't wait for the next one. This time it's gonna be in three weeks instead of two, right? Oh man. That's a long wait."
"Uh... Yeah, Danny. Three weeks." Ransom decided that he would wait till later to tell Danny that he wasn't going back there. Ever.

The sadness had set in again. After he dropped off Danny, Ransom just kept on driving. past Orlando, heading east. He drove until he couldn't drive anymore. He was at the ocean, Port Canaveral. He parked his car and began to walk. Overhead, a transorbital jet roared into the great beyond. He walked on the beach. He could stared at where the horizon would be, if he could see it. He looked at the black water below, and the black indifferent void above. He thought about lots of things. He thought about Ken Cedars and his self-destruction. He thought about Jesse, raped by a bullet. Mostly, he thought about the kid.
It's probably a good deal, being a handicapped child in America. They're treated like princes and princesses, with free trips to amusement parks and visits from celebrities. How many young people, when asked what they want to do with their lives, say that they want to help little handicapped children? They're so cute and helpless, who wouldn't want to help them?
What's going to happen Jamie when he goes through puberty in a few years? Will everyone still treat him so well when he's lanky and greasy and not so cute anymore? Ransom could still vividly remember his own growing pains. The self-consciousness. The insecurity. Once, when Ransom was twelve years old, he got into a minor car accident and scraped his face up on the asphalt. He remembered how viciously the other kids mocked his appearance. Every teenager obsesses over his body. He can't imagine what it will be like for Jamie. He's in for a rude awakening when all those bleeding hearts stop paying attention to him and turn their cares to a new generation of crippled kids. And what about girls? How long will Jamie have to wait before the girls mature enough to look past his wheelchair? Will he have a single date in high school? Will his parents be there for the hardest stage of his life? Or will they be too busy teaching him creation science and apocalyptic nonsense.
Was Ransom cynical, or realistic?
Everyone works, plays, and lives on the assumption that the universe is a good place and that life is fair. But it's a lie. And Ransom couldn't lie to himself. Not tonight.
The old worship song says, oh, for a thousand tongues. Ransom couldn't stop saying it over and over in his head. Life is unfair. If he had a thousand tongues, he still couldn't express how unfair it is. He could see before him. The uncaring black void was infinite. And then he remembered that question Jamie that asked him. "Well, who does God hate?" And he realized why he hesitated that day and couldn't answer. Now he can.
Who does God hate? God hates Jamie.