Chapter 7: Mr. Plant - Lucidity

NOT LONG AFTER FREMMER CALLED MORTON, HE HAD A VISITOR. Two uniformed officers escorted what looked like a homeless person over to the holding cell, but didn’t put him inside the room with Fremmer. Instead, they handcuffed him to one of the cell’s bars and left him outside, sitting on a bench.

The guy had many of the attributes you’d expect from someone who lived his life on the streets. Long hair. Body odor. A layer or two of extra clothing. Bushy beard. Fremmer could barely see his face. What stood out was a red bandana he was wearing around his head and a pair of brand new high-top basketball shoes. His right wrist was ringed with a variety of colored rubber bracelets. Judging from the white in his beard he appeared to be in his late fifties or early sixties, though Fremmer suspected that if they cleaned him up, he might drop ten years.

“How long I gotta stay here?” he called after the two cops as they walked away. When they ignored him, he turned his attention to Fremmer. He spoke through the bars, which also had a layer of thick mesh wiring covering them, so there was no way to throw anything or poke anybody through them.

“Who are you?”

“The book doctor,” Fremmer replied. “Who are you?”

“I am the prophet who could not convince anybody of anything.”

Fremmer let out a laugh.

“You think that’s funny?” the prophet asked, leaning up against the bars with his shoulder.

“No. Well, yeah. In a way.”

“You think it’s funny to have eyes that see into the world when no one listens? You think it’s funny because you rely on the media and the government for the purpose of deciding the truth. Well, they deceive you. They spread falsehoods.”

Fremmer nodded in agreement. He wasn’t about to dispute that.

“So, why are you in here?” the prophet asked, suddenly sounding quite coherent. “What’d you get pinched for?”

“Didn’t pay a parking ticket.”

The prophet lifted an eyebrow. He wasn’t buying it.

“If you don’t want to tell me, don’t tell me,” he said. “But don’t lie to me. I don’t like to be lied to.”

“I’m not,” Fremmer said, suddenly thankful for the bars between them.

“Yeah, OK. Fuck you and your fucking parking ticket, you double-down dick.”

Fremmer didn’t get the double-down reference immediately, but then realized it had been lifted from his T-shirt. Duh.

He braced himself for the tirade to continue, but it didn’t. The prophet turned away aloofly, which Fremmer found interesting. He wondered what his story was. His speech pattern seemed educated. So what had derailed him? Garden-variety mental illness? Probably, but maybe there was a Hollywood hook to his life’s arc. Perhaps a plunge from great heights. It was worth a check.

“How ’bout you?” Fremmer ventured after moment. “What they have you in for?”

“They say I pushed a lady in front of a car.”

Fremmer felt his back straighten. Holy shit. It’s him. They got him.

“Did you say ‘push’?”

“They say they have a video of me pushing a lady in front of a car and that it will be in the media soon. It will become a virus. It will be everywhere.”

“Viral,” Fremmer corrected him. “It will go viral is what I think they meant.”

The prophet gave him a hard look. “The media is a virus.”

Fremmer weighed a response to that, but didn’t think anything constructive would come out of it.

“So many people want to tell others how to live,” the prophet went on. “They make a profession out of it. Nobody came to the planet to hate, to be angry and be miserable. Why bother to incarnate if your motivations are hate and anger?”

“Did you push her?” Fremmer asked.

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you didn’t mean to.”

“Because someone offered me money? Hah. Money is a prison.”

“So, someone offered you money to push her? Who?”

No response. Instead, the prophet looked upward into Fremmer’s cell, peering up at the ceiling, scanning the corners of the little room. Fremmer wasn’t sure at first what he was looking for, but then he figured it out: a camera.

“They said you were him,” the prophet said. “But you’re not him, are you? You’re a plant. Well, Mr. Plant, I didn’t push anyone.”

Fremmer stood up and moved closer to the bars. “I’m not a plant. Or at least no one told me I was. Who’s him? Who’d they say I was?”

“The Oracle.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The man who took my picture. He said he was The Oracle. And that I was going to become famous. It was my destiny. He saw it. It was foretold.”

“He offered you money to take your picture?” Fremmer imagined a tourist asking him for a picture, then offering him money.

“Listen,” the prophet said. “Hear me as I’m intended to be heard.”

“I’m listening. But I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What are you talking about? A parking ticket. Hah. Who do you take me for?”

Christ, Fremmer thought. We’re back to that.

“Look,” he said, “I’m not a plant, and you’re in a shitload of trouble. There’s a woman in intensive care right now. I know her. She’s my client. And if she dies, you’re going to be up for murder. And you’re going to find out real fast that money isn’t a prison. Prison is a prison.”

The prophet stared at him blankly. It took him a few seconds to absorb what Fremmer had said, but he did seem to absorb it, for all of a sudden he seemed quite distraught.

“I didn’t push her,” he said. “They just want to put me away again. They always have. It’s OK, though. You know why it’s OK?”

Fremmer didn’t know.

“Because we’re all best when we are challenged. Look at disabled people. They are bound and determined to face their challenge. It’s part of the human instinct. When you face a challenge, you face something you really don’t like. You get points for trying. We all get points for trying.”

“What’s your name?” Fremmer asked.

“Ronald.”

“Ronald, you sure you didn’t do this? Because if it was an accident, if you did something by accident, you need to tell them. They will give you some points for that.”

“If there was an accident, I would have said there was an accident. I did that once. I saw an accident. I gave a statement. I’m an incredible witness.”

“Credible,” Fremmer corrected him.

“Yeah, that, too,” Ronald said.