Escaping My Life Ch 02

Continuation of the congressional hearings.

Senator Maxine McMichael : OK, so if somebody leaves MyLife and then rejoins and asks MyLife 'Can you re-create my past?'...your answer would be?

Charles: If they delete their account, the answer is no. That is why we now offer deactivation, which allows you to shut down, or suspend the account but not to delete the information.

You can also delete your account, which is dumping everything. If you do that, then you can't get it back.

Senator Maxine McMichael: You can't get it back? It's gone from your archives?

Charles: Yes

Senator Maxine McMichael: But is it ever really gone?

***

8 months.

Charles walked into a small coffee house called Kreuzberg California. He had asked a guy on the street, a SLO local, and found this place had good 'street' reviews. Plus, it had a unique storefront with an Art deco feel to it.

It had been an interesting 'ride' so far. He realized quite early that the fantasy of escaping his life...was just that a fantasy. The reality sucked in most ways. Here he was living in San Luis Obispo, SLO Town to the locals. He was living in a rented room in a house full of college students. The only saving grace was they were graduate students and were past the 'party till you drop' stage of their lives.

He had lied and told them a cover story of also being an older doctoral student that needed to get away from an old girlfriend. His story was she was a great fuck but crazy as hell. He had to get away so he could polish his dissertation and 'look to the future'.

Absolute bullshit, but normally every guy had an old girlfriend that was great in bed but crazier that a loon.

It made for perfect cover.

Always, in the back of his mind, not 30 minutes north was a beautiful house, 3 car garage, pool, hot tub, and so on and on. He had had designed the house and property to be his perfect getaway.

All the expensive creature comforts and 'toys' a person could want, on 5 acres, in the middle of a winery he owned. Secluded, secure and his slice of heaven on earth. And he could not touch it or go anywhere near it. His palatial 'cottage' in Paso Robles was as far away as the moon, for him.

He sat back on the porch in an old lounge chair that had seen better days with his laptop on his knees. The computer was originally pedestrian but was functionable for his limited purposes. Right out of Best Buy, and then customized with parts bought with cash. It looked like a basic 'Toyota Corolla' but the inner working of his non-descript laptop flew like a front-line Ferrari.

His travel to SLO Town had not been uneventful. First to Florida to access certain accounts where no one would ask stupid questions. The reddening of that state had provided additional pathways to 'protect' identity and financial ventures of the rich and famous.

The 'where is Waldo?' that followed him, was fascinating to watch on social media and old print avenues. There were many people, groups and organizations that wanted a piece of him. He had become the boogieman and hated symbol for all 'the evils' of social media. There were lots of people that wanted a piece of his skin.

They did not like that he had gnawed off his foot and escaped their trap. THEY, whoever 'they' were, wanted him hunted down and castrated for all wrongdoings of the world

But gnaw and escape he had. He then he spent countless hours watching and listening to the talking heads pontificating over scenarios where he may have been kidnapped or killed. Of course, he helped this idea along, by placing fake news comments on a variety of sites through bogus and proxy accounts.

Alleged sightings in Bolivia or Paris added to the hysteria. An alleged escape to Moscow to be protected like Snowden. It hit the web, and spiraled out of control

As he sipped his 'coffee of the day,' he had to remind himself that he had created the trap he was now in. Or as he liked to think of it, Frankenstein's Monster. And just like in the original story, his monster had come back to try and kill its master...Him.

In Florida he could feel the monster getting closer. So, he went completely off-grid, cash-economy, begging rides to New Orleans. Once there, he found a job in a local tavern, washing dishes and close-out cleaning for cash, meals, and a room above the office to sleep.

Charles dyed his hair dark black, a huge change from his light brown/blonde. He had not cut it since his disappearance and the shaggy look he now sported, made him look older. He let his beard grow and become unruly. The clunky glasses he was now wearing made a huge difference in his appearance. His uber expensive contacts were put safely way.

From New Orleans to Austin Texas, he did a repeat of the same action. The underground economy was doing fine. It was the above ground economy, especially MyLife that was hemorrhaging. MyLife was being thrashed, and devastated by the continuous lawsuits, senate hearings and denigration on social media.

He had to sit and sip, knowing the millions of dollars of his financial worth that were pouring from his investments.

San Diego was just a rest stop on his travels. Then the ghost of what Charles had morphed into, arrived in San Luis Obispo by Amtrak. After ensconcing himself at Motel 6, he took an Uber to Target and cleaned up his wardrobe.

It was time to shift his personality and profile and make the Monster lose track of him again. It was time for a shift closer to the reality of where he wanted to end his travels. Time to step into the sunshine and not be on the edge of society 7/24.

Charles had no interest in shining like the diamond he once was, sparkling in his own perceived brilliance. He had no intention of bringing the attention, he realized, he used to crave. He no longer enjoyed the hunger of the monster he created.

He just wanted to be himself again. And so,

Chuck

came out of the dark, opened his arms and took a deep breath of the air of SLO Town. He did this all, while sipping a coffee along Main Street.

***

Chuck sat at the well-worn dinette typing away at his laptop. He was still using the Senate and NSA contacts MyLife were paying for. While they were trying to find him, he was using the surrogate employee ID of a non-existent staffer. Like some Cold-War game, he acted as one of the MyLife minor programmers by bouncing his requests through a proxy-server in Poland.

He did this while lounging in a worn Steelers t-shirt, worn Levi's and vans. He listened to the rest of his roommates talk of wine, women, and song. They were trying to push the quietest member, Jon, to go out parting that night. Already 10PM, tall, thin, quiet Jon was thinking of the next workday, not getting quick female action.

That just egged the others on, but Jon stood fast, and the others boisterously piled out of the house and into and Uber heading for parts unknown.

"Chuck, I have been wanting to talk to you." Jon said quietly as he took a seat across the table from Chuck.

"How so Jon?" Chuck replied, his radar antennae coming alive and his paranoid quotient jumping several levels. This approach from quiet Jon, was not normal.

"Are you NSA?" Jon asked quietly and with a lot of hesitation.

"No Jon," Chuck chuckled but the hair was up on his neck, "Why would you even think that?"

"The guys and I don't talk about it. Well, because I made them promise not to. But I spent a summer internship with the CIA. All I did was low-class gopher stuff," Jon paused, "I saw enough Dark Site pathways on the main staffer's computers to know I saw the same on yours."

"I just want to make sure you are being up and up with me and the rest of the guys," Jon paused again.

Chuck could tell Jon was very uncomfortable with this line of questioning. Before Jon could continue his line of questions, Chuck put up his hand and stopped him.

"Jon, you know,

IF

,

IF

I worked for NSA, I could not admit to that?" Chuck tried to pause, and he had been ready for this question.

"Jon, you understand that...right? You know the phrase 'need to know' right?" Chuck asked.

Jon just looked at the tabletop shaking his head in affirmation.

"Jon, I assure you I am not working you or your friends. I am just escaping from a personal situation and trying to stay clear of further drama."

Charles

stated slowly in a very different tone/inflection than Jon had ever heard from him before.

"Well...if what you are saying is true...there is an opening in my company for an App designer and programmer." Jon paused again, "I could get you an interview if you are interested."

Chuck rolled back on the rear feet of his chair and stared at Jon. He shifted his eyes past Jon through the living room windows to the street beyond. He watched an older woman try and squat down to clean up after her dog.

"That would be great Jon. I would be grateful if you could help me get the interview." Chuck replied and he could see Jon's shoulders relax.

Tall, thin, Jon uncoiled from the dinette chair nodding his head and wandered out of the living room.

Chuck finally let out a huge breath. He had not realized he had been holding it all in. He tried to get the muscles in his back to release. He could feel that the tight knots at his neck and shoulder blades were not giving up any time soon.

*

Chuck arrived at the interview location and had to chuckle. A business strip mall with everything from a sign shop to a pastry bakery. This was a long way from his offices in downtown SF and other metropolitan areas around the globe.

He entered the offices at the rear of the complex and found and empty desk. His first reaction was to get upset. He looked around in each direction looking for someone to acknowledge his presence.

'How dare there be no one to greet him at the door!' he thought to himself. 'First impressions are a must in a business,' he added to his first mental concern.

Chuck caught himself, paused and smiled. Then he mentally smacked himself on the back of head. "Not my monkey and not my circus," he whispered to himself, smiling at his own irrational control issues.

'I am just here to apply for a Roadie position,' he reminded himself.

Chuck heard giggling and several female voices from behind a partition that separated the reception area from the front of the office. The tinkling of female voices had a lilt and pleasure sounding tone.

A slightly rotund cherub rolled around the visual barricade, all smiles, and dimples. Young, blond hair streaked with pink added to the cherub visual. She stood a little over 5 feet tall and had a large piece of cake balanced in one hand and a cake chunk being forced into her cherub maw with the other.

The cherub sputtered and almost tripped when saw Chuck waiting in the small lobby.

"I am so sorry I did not know you were here! We were just celebrating our Bosses' birthday and we must have lost track of time." Again, she paused briefly, he assumed to see how he took the apology.

"I am a bit early, a habit of mine." Chuck paused to see her cake incrusted smile burst forth. "I have a one o'clock with Ms. Petty. A job interview?" he commented leaving it a question.

"Jeanne will be ready in just a second, she had to go the little girl's room. Then I'll take you back." And she ended with a huge smile, as she wiped of smudges of cake with her hand and then sucked the sweet remains off her fingers.

In one second, he went from the stern boss and looking at the receptionist's inappropriate actions on cleaning her face, in front of a potential new hire, to a bit of a turn on how she sucked her finger. And it was not lost on her, she was performing and enjoying the tease.

He had been struck before the interview how the names were the same. Jeanne can be spelled multiple ways and it just struck him as odd that the name was spelled the same, his potential new boss and his old 'fiancé'.

He had to shake his head, the old Jeanne, he now referred to as Mega Jeanne. In her desire to be the center of attention, had used his disappearance to bolster her internet influencer status. She was in huge demand for the talk shows and POD casts. Like he had deduced long ago, she was with him for the fame and fortune, not love.

The situation made him feel surprisingly vulnerable and alone. He hoped this Jeanne was not as shallow as the last one in his life.

"Sir?" he heard from the cherub. He turned and saw her beckoning him away from the widow that looked out into the parking lot.

"Ms. Petty will see you now," the cherub stated as she waived him forward trying to act more formal and losing the battle quickly.

"It's Chuck by the way," stated Chuck trying to lessen the formality of his first interactions. He knew when she breezed in stuffing cake in her mouth, he must have seemed like he had the preverbal stick up his ass.

"Kristina with a K," she stated with a smile.

He furrowed his brow, and repeated "with a K?"

She sidled up closer to him, with a hand to her mouth, presumably to channel her voice. "Yes, with a K. All the girls I know that are Christina with a 'C' are sluts and I try to be a good girl." She conspiratorially told him and then broke out in tinkling laughter.

The woman that greeted him in the small conference room was beautiful. Chuck was a bit taken back at his immediate reaction and it bothered him. He knew to keep it "Business is Business' but in the first few seconds he felt off kilter.

She did not rise but looked at the tablet in front of her. She finally looked up and he knew he was lost. He just fell into her eyes. There was something else...he felt he had seen her before...but where?

She looked to be around 5'-8" with brunette hair, relatively straight well past her shoulders. No rings on her fingers. Classic small earrings. No heavy necklaces. No visible piercings or ink.

Even sitting, he could see the womanly curves and the portioned body. Just a hint of lightly freckled cleavage showed. Not enough to push boundaries but enough to let others know she was all woman. Her designer clad thighs were sleek and shapely. Her shoes were sensible an slightly worn.

"Do you go by Charles?" she asked, as she shifted her body and extended her hand.

He was flummoxed, he hesitated until he saw a shift in her eyes questioning him.

"My apologies, Its Chuck...I go by Chuck." He paused, "Have we met somewhere before?"

She smiled and he liked how her eyes smiled with her face. But since the first of his personal chaos, he could now see the tiredness in her beautiful eyes. He could see it in the slight crows' feet at the edges of her eyes and deeper in the grey blue tint of her irises.

"I doubt it. I don't travel much and according to Jon, you have been in SLO only a short time. I spend all my free time keeping our little ship afloat." She responded and Chuck just nodded.

"Jon seems very impressed by you, and we are in need a strong App designer. Do you mind if I ask some questions and see if we are a good fit?" Ms. Jeanne Petty asked, pulling a list of questions she had found on-line.

"Please do," and they spent the next hour going over basic Tech interview questions. He knew them well, he had been part of writing them years ago to help HR in his then fledgling corporation.

"Where do you find inspiration?" ...

"How did you design your portfolio?" ...

"Tell me about the projects you're most proud of and why. ...

"What software do you use?" ...

"How do you work cross-functionally with developers, copywriters, project managers, etc.?"

"What are some of the mobile apps you've developed? ..."

"Tell me about your worst experience creating a client's mobile app. ..."

"What development platform do you recommend for our mobile app? ..."

"Tell me about your development methodology."

He finished his interview in under the allotted hour. Hands were shaken and thanks given. He stepped out into the parking lot and called an Uber. He could walk or ride a bike, but that would come after a decision was made.

Chuck smiled, he had to tone down his responses because he hated a couple of platforms they used. But again, not his "monkey or circus."

He was glad he liked Jon, but Jon would never make it in sales. He had already told Chuck that they were desperate. That the local talent was non-existent. But he would be a good little geek staying in the shadows. He would try and help them grow, but he knew he would do it selectively. They had their hands in some good startup companies like MindBody and two local drone companies, one tied to Lockheed Martin.

He could not escape the inner feeling that he had seen this Jeanne before. It continued to scratch in the back of his mind, but Chuck just ignored the need to scratch the itch he wanted to silence.

By the next morning, the offer for the job was sitting in his in-box. Electronic signature transmitted and the deal was done.

He puttered around and even went to play golf with the roommates at the local 10-hole pitch-and-putt the city owned. How he missed his Calloway's. He toned down his game and promised himself not to be too competitive. He did not keep score and had more fun playing golf that afternoon, on the goofy little municipal course, than he could remember in a long time.

Chuck turned in his rental clubs and looked at his younger roommates pushing and shoving in the parking lot. They looked like a pack of preschoolers. But the reality was, they were acting their age. Mid-twenty males, full of energy and hormones. They were not yet in the real work force where it was dog eat dog.

Chuck realized he had missed that phase in life. He went seemingly from the Highschool angst of being a geek, to a hunter-killer of the Tech industry. I am the "CEO bitch", he had screamed at an older employee's face when the man had stated and pointed out an obvious error that

Charles

had made.

The realization on how far over to the dark side he had gone...just made him...uncomfortable. It was not a feeling he was used to dwelling on. He was not comfortable with introspection. He had always thought that he did what he did. He presumed that like the Carnegies and Rockefellers of the past, humanity would endear itself to him in the end.

Not that he had given a rat's ass about society and humanity's opinion.

Charles

, the leader of industry. Railroads, steel, shipping or Tech...it made no difference. He had been the King of his industry.

'Business was business,' he remembered the teaching of his father. So why did Chuck not feel like he had when he was

Charles

of MyLife? A sudden vision of the maw that was his father's grave. He shook his head to clear the feeling of foreboding.

'Did the money his father make during his career leave a legacy? Did his political connections make life better, other than for himself? Was there anything 'left' of his father other than a void in the ground? What was the point?'

These thoughts rattled through Chuck's head in rapid fire order.

He was starting to realize he was thinking of himself in the third person. Or at 'best' a split personality. He did not disappear from his previous life, to transform himself. He had disappeared so he did not have to put up with the bullshit being spewed by others against him.

'So why did he feel like he was being changed? Why these odd thoughts about the past and interreflection on stuff already done?' he wondered.

He snapped at himself, 'this is just pain bullshit' and his mind snapped shut.

*

Monday was full of forms to fill out and introductions to new team members. He was given some tasks. He knew it was test and to judge his competency. His ego pushed to be let loose. Chuck kept it bottled tight and did what was asked, with only slight pinch and twist to make it better.