In a Flash

Eric Walters

orca currents

Copyright © 2008 Eric Walters

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Walters, Eric, 1957-

                   In a flash / Eric Walters.

(Orca currents)

ISBN 978-1-55469-035-0 (bound).--ISBN 978-1-55469-034-3 (pbk.)

I. Title. II. Series.

PS8595.A598I5 2008 jC813'.54 C2008-902647-0

Summary:
Is an event involving a mob ever a good thing?

First published in the United States, 2008

Library of Congress Control Number:
2008927296

Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

Cover design by Teresa Bubela

Cover photography by Dreamstime

Orca Book Publishers              Orca Book Publishers
PO Box 5626, Station B                          PO Box 468
Victoria, BC Canada                 Custer, WA USA
V8R 6S4                            98240-0468

www.orcabook.com

Printed and bound in Canada.

Printed on 100% PCW recycled paper.

11  10  09  08  •  4  3  2  1

Technologies like the Internet, Facebook, MSN, cell phones and text messaging aren't just forms of communication but types of raw power. We stand on the verge of a revolution in how they can be used, and I believe this generation of technologically literate people—people primarily under the age of twenty—will discover how to use this power to create social justice, spread information, break the monopolies of power interests and overthrow totalitarian governments. And maybe, have a little fun along the way.

“What do you think?” I asked Oswald.

“She's wearing a baseball cap. She could be part of it.”

“Lots of people wear baseball caps,” Julia said. “That doesn't mean she's part of anything—she might just have
terrible
fashion sense.”

“Which reminds me,” I said, “where is
your
cap?”

She smirked. “I forgot it...I guess that means that I won't be able to partici—”

I whipped out a cap I had tucked away inside my jacket. The smirk on
her
face was replaced by the smirk on
my
face as I handed it to her.

“I don't know why I have to do this, Ian. How about if I just do the taping instead?”

“Nope. You've been making fun of us for doing this, so you need to take part instead of just watching. Put on the cap.”

She took it from me and settled it on her head, trying not to disturb her hair. When had she become so concerned about her hair...and her clothes...and her makeup?

“Wrong way,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“Your birthday is in September,” I said.

“Which is an odd month, not an even,” Oswald said. “You have to put your cap on backward like mine.”

Before she could think or react or speak, I reached over and spun her cap around, deliberately smushing her hair in the process.

“Look, there's three people over there with baseball caps,” Oswald said.

“Three is good. Thirty would be better.”

The last thing I wanted was to fail. I wanted a crowd, not just to show Julia what it was like when it worked really well, but because I was more than just a participant this time—I was the organizer.

“What time is it?” Julia asked.

I looked at my watch. “It's ten forty-one.”

“So it's supposed to start in ten minutes.”

“Twelve minutes,” I said.

“
Exactly
twelve minutes,” Oswald said. “It all starts at the stroke of ten fifty-three.”

“Yeah right. You two make it sound like you're planning an armed robbery.”

I looked at Oswald. “An armed robbery might take less coordination than this,” I said. “We better get into position. Are you going to tape from up here?”

“Perfect spot. Great view of the whole area and far enough away that nobody will even notice me.” He looked around. “And some nice escape routes.”

Julia suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Escape routes? Why would he need an escape route?”

“We
all
need an escape route,” Oswald said.

“You just stay close to me,” I said. “Wherever I go, you go. Understand?”

“I understand that I'm not letting you out of my sight, but that doesn't answer my question. Why do we need an escape route?”

“It's just planning. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.”

“Great, you're quoting fortune cookie slogans. Why do we need an escape route?” she repeated.

Persistence was one of her strengths.

“Well, sometimes, somebody might object to what we're going to be doing.”

“And who might that somebody be?” she pressed.

“The usual suspects,” Oswald said. “You know, security guards, police.”

“Police! You didn't mention that we could get arrested?” she snapped, stabbing a finger at me.

“We're not going to get arrested,” I said, trying to reassure her. “Nobody ever gets arrested...well, hardly anybody.”

“And what exactly does
hardly anybody
mean?”

“It means that we don't know anybody who's been arrested, but I heard about one that went wrong in London last year, and a couple of people were arrested. And I think maybe a few people in Madrid this year.”

“And there were, like, twenty arrested last month in Los Angeles,” Oswald said.

I wished he hadn't mentioned that one.

“How can twenty people be hardly anybody? Twenty is at least eighteen people more than hardly anybody.”

“But that one doesn't even count,” I said. “They stuck around and argued with the police. We're not arguing with anybody, and we're not sticking around.”

“That's
why
we have escape routes,” Oswald said. “It's not like this is our first time.”

“Where should we meet when this is over?” I asked.

“Head for Dundas Square and we can approximeet.”

“Approximeet?” Julia asked.

“It means we'll meet in that approximate area and hook up by cell phone,” I explained.

“You two even have your own special little language now?”

“Not just us,” I protested. “Lots of people use that word. There's almost a whole new language.”

“And what do you call it, Geek Speak?”

I ignored her taunt.

“Look, more people are starting to drift into the area,” Oswald said.

There were at least a dozen kids off to the side and another nine or ten wandering through the bedding section of the store.

“They might not even be involved in this,” Julia said.

“Yeah right, teenagers always look at bedding in stores.”

“Either way, you two better get going or you'll miss it,” Oswald said.

I looked at my watch. We had six minutes to get down the escalator and into position.

I pulled two whistles out of my pocket and handed one to Oswald.

“I'll start things off,” I said. “And you finish.”

“How many minutes do you want?”

“Three...no, make it four.”

“Why not five?” Julia asked.

“The longer it goes on the more chance something might go wrong. You know, police might show up.”

She didn't look any happier with the idea than she had before. “How about three minutes?”

“Four,” I said. “Four minutes. No more, no less.”

Oswald held his wrist close to mine. “Let's synchronize our watches.”

Julia shook her head. “You two really have been watching too many spy movies.”

We ignored her. “When I blow the whistle, just mark the spot on your watch and then go four minutes.”

“Which is exactly how much time you
two have to get down there,” Oswald said. “You better get going.”

“Come on.”

We hurried toward the escalator and started down. As we traveled I pulled on my baseball cap. I aimed the bill forward. I was born in April—an even month.

“Do you really think we should do this?” Julia asked.

“If you're too frightened, you don't have to do it.”

“I'm not frightened,” she protested. “I just don't get the point of it.”

“You will. Just stop complaining.”

“How do you even know that anybody is going to show up?” she asked.

“Look around. It's clear that some people have shown up. It's just a question of how many we'll get.”

“It still only looks like a few to me.”

“You don't know that. You'll see.” Actually I was hoping that both of us would see. You could never tell with a flash mob. Some were amazing, fantastic, gigantic. Others were just amazing, fantastic, gigantic flops.

“I don't see them yet,” she said as we started across the floor of the store and headed toward the bedding section.

“You won't see them until it starts... that's the way it happens,” I explained— again hoping that would be the way it went down today.

“But wouldn't they have arrived already?”

“
We
haven't even arrived yet,” I said. “That's the way it works. You have to get in and out at the exact time. If too many people hang around before it starts, it would give security a chance to be there.”

“We keep going back to this security and police thing. If I get arrested, I'm going to kill you.”

“If you kill me, you
would
get arrested. Murder is a crime. This isn't...well, not really.”

We cut through the women's clothing section, and suddenly I was surrounded by racks and racks of colorful lingerie and bras. I felt strange and lowered my eyes. I didn't want Julia to see me staring at them...but I didn't
want her to think that I wasn't interested in them...but I didn't want her to think I was
too
interested in them in some sort of strange, cross-dressing, perverted way or—I bumped into a rack and it almost tipped over.

Julia snickered. “You know if you break it, you gotta buy it.”

“Funny, really funny,” I said. As I steadied the rack, a few bright orange and pink bras fluttered to the floor. I thought about picking them up, but I really didn't want Julia to see me handling bras. Besides, there wasn't time.

“Come on,” I said. I pushed past Julia, and she fell in behind me.

Breaking free of the lingerie, we came to the homewares, and off to the side was the bedding section. There were beds and blankets and sheets and duvets and, best of all, bins filled with pillows.

And that wasn't all. There were kids wearing baseball caps standing around in the section—and more coming from all sides, converging on the beds.

“And you thought nobody was going to show up,” I said.

I looked at my watch. The second hand was sweeping up toward twelve—twenty seconds to go. I walked over to the bins holding the pillows and stopped.

I started to count. There were at least fifty, no sixty, maybe seventy and more still streaming in. About half had their baseball caps on backward; the rest wore the bill to the front. Perfect. There was almost exactly the same number of people on both teams.

I looked at my watch again. Five seconds. I popped the whistle into my mouth and blew as loud as I could—and then I was smashed in the back of the head.