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NOZO

Nozo one: The Plumber

     “I’m so tired of this shit,” said Nozo as he closed his textbook. Nozo went online, went to his favorite message board, and checked one of the threads to see if there was any feedback to his latest post. The only answer was a stfu from a scumbag that Nozo didn’t know. Nozo put on a reggae CD and entered the Hearts room. The usual wacky people were there, people that needed an escape from the bullshit of their offline lives. Yahoo had changed the interface too. But it wasn’t a  very useful change. Nozo started a table and invited three more players. Then he clicked start and the game began.  Nezil jumped up onto his lap. Nezil was his cat. Nezil was always ready for a good Hearts game too.
     The door opened and Nozo’s sister Janet, walked in. Janet was 19 years old, two years older than Nozo. She had already taken the university entrance exam twice and failed both times. Now, she mostly just hung out around the house, or spent time with her lesbian friends. Sometimes Nozo thought Janet was really straight. Her problem was she was so fat, boys never liked her. But girls did. She had found her niche. Janet’s “special” friends were always coming to the house, beautiful young women that Nozo would give anything to sleep with. It was some kind of clique Janet was in, and she was the only dyke. The rest of the women were goddesses. It was hard to believe they liked his fat slob of a sister so much. Sometimes Nozo wished he could be a fly on the wall in his sister’s bedroom. He wasn’t a voyeur or anything, but he was curious. He had tried drilling holes, but Janet always found them.
     “Hey, I thought you were supposed to be studying, you idiot,” said Janet. “Don’t you have a big test tomorrow?”
     “Don’t be such a hardass. What’s it to you if I study or not?”
     “I want to work on my blog. Don’t be so grumpy. Come on, let me use the computer. You’re always hogging it. Hearts is such a waste of time anyway. It’s just a stupid game.”
     “And if I let you use the computer, you’re going to write in your blog? Bullshit. I’m not stupid. I know how you spend your time online. I’ve seen all your dirty animated gifs and your gay movie clips. You’re a cyberslut.”
     “Why are you always so nasty, Nozo? Look, neither of us asked to be born into this shitty family. We both have to deal with the Borg.”
     The Borg were what Nozo and Janet sometimes called their parents. It was a suitable name for them. They were clueless workaholics. Nozo and Janet both hated them. They had a common enemy. The only problem was, the enemy always had the money, and they were always broke.
     “OK, OK, let me finish this game. This hand is going to be really tricky but I think I can win. Then the computer’s all yours.”
     Nozo finished his game.  Then he got up and went to the kitchen for a popsicle. Suddenly Nozo heard two gun shots. He ran into the living room. His parents had both been shot in the head. They were dead! Their brains were splattered all over the TV. The killer was standing over them. He had blue hair and he was wearing a tank top. He didn’t look human.
     “Why did you kill my parents?” asked Nozo.
     “It was a plumbing job,” replied the man. “Don’t be too upset.”
     Janet ran into the room and looked at her dead parents bleeding on the carpet. She had heard the gun shot blasts too.
     “Hey! Look at our TV. Who’s going to clean up that mess?” asked Janet.
     “Janet, this isn’t a prank. This sniper just killed our parents.”
     “You mean the Borg? They’re dead Nozo. You don’t have to flatter them by calling them parents. Don’t expect me to care. Anyway, who is this retro-cowboy guy? Is he a friend of yours?”
     “I never saw him before. He said he came here to do a job.”
     “A job? Are you a hitman? Were you paid to kill them?” asked Janet.
     “Not exactly,” replied the stranger. “They call me the plumber. I fix the quirks. Your parents were a quirk.  They were supposed to be dead. They should have had a car accident on their way to a catering job in this timeline. Your father died instantly and your mother should have been in a coma for three weeks before the doctors pulled the plug. But it didn’t happen and that’s the quirk. I can’t duplicate their accident, but I can correct the error by zapping them. That’s what I do.”
     “Timeline? You’re an alternative universe shifter?” asked Nozo.
     “Yes, I’m a shifter, but in your language, we prefer the word plumber. But you shouldn’t know we exist. It might strain the timeline. Usually the Mumas are very strict about this. But lately they are becoming more lax. I always wind up getting the worst jobs. How did you know about us?”
     “My friend Ted told me. But I thought he was just making it up. He even wrote a story about you people for his lit class.”
     “Who are the Mumas?” asked Janet.
     “The Mumas are the timeline beepers. You wouldn’t understand if I tried to explain it to you. Your brains aren’t capable of understanding advanced concepts like this,” said the plumber.
     “Don’t be so cocky,” said Janet. “We’re not as dumb as we look. Why do you call yourself the plumber? What kind of name is that?”
     “Our people view your worlds and times in a different way then you do. We think most of your worlds and timelines are shit. So our job is kind of like unclogging a toilet. Some shifters call themselves plungers, but I prefer  plumber. It has a better sound to it.”
     “Most of our worlds?” asked Nozo. “You mean there are some good worlds and timelines out there?”
     “Yes, there are masterpiece worlds. Worlds that need no correcting. Worlds that shifters crave to go to. But sadly we are stuck with the shit.We have no way to access those timelines. It’s not our function. Only the Mumas can go to masterpiece worlds.”
     Janet was standing behind Nozo. She whispered in his ear and told him to stall the plumber. Janet had a plan.
     “I need to take a piss,” said Janet.  “I’ll be right back.” Janet left the room and Nozo searched his mind for something interesting to say.”
     “Kaohisung isn’t such a bad place,” said Nozo. “Sure, we have some smog problems and life sucks here, but it’s not all bad. Sometimes when the Borg are asleep I sneak out and cruise around in their car. Last week I had a really bad accident. Do you want to see the dent on the car bumper?”
     “Not really,” replied  the plumber. “I have to get going. I have other shit to clean up.  Don’t worry, after I leave this timeline will correct itself and you won’t even know I’ve been here. Your parents will still be dead, but you will remember them dying because of the accident, not because of me.”
     “Wait a minute, can’t you stay and talk for awhile? Hey, do you want to see my bruise? I got a bruise on my leg from that accident. It’s pretty cool.
     “No, I have to go. I’ve already wasted way too much time here.”
“But we have a really cool pinball machine upstairs. You have to come check it out before you leave. I bet you never saw one like it before. It’s one of the first ones they ever made. Come on, you gotta try it out.”
     “Hey, is this a lame attempt to stall me?” asked the plumber.
     “No, of course not. By the way, I’m sorry the house is such a mess. My mother was a slob. If I knew you were coming I would have tidied it up.”
     “Why would I care about something so stupid like that? I killed your parents and…….Ahhhhh! Ughhhhh!! Ggggghhghg!”
     “It worked!” said Janet. “He’s dead.”
     “What did you throw on him?” asked Nozo. “What is that shit?”
     “Acid,” answered Janet. “You did a good job stalling him. It gave me time to pump some into this glass bucket from my supply in the garage.”
     “I didn’t know we kept acid in the garage.”
     “I believe in being prepared. You never know what might happen in Kaohsiung. Now, let’s look for the Borg’s bank books. I think this plumber guy just did us a big favor.”
     “Cool,” said Nozo.

Nozo two: Saving mr. Tsai

    
     Nozo lay in bed looking at the tangled hair of Doreen, the naked girl lying next to him. Nezil was in his bed next to his feet. Nezil always looked dead to people when he was asleep. He had a knack for startling people this way. But Doreen had just laughed when she saw him. It turned out Doreen was a cat freak too.
      Doreen opened her eyes and smiled.
     “Last night was great,” she said.
     “Did Janet get you to do it? Did she ask you to have sex with me?”
     “Well,” answered Doreen. “It was her idea to begin with, but I didn’t have to say yes. I did it because I wanted to do it. I’m bisexual. Don’t worry. When she asks, I’m going to tell her the truth. The sex was great. In fact, you were much better than your sister. I can’t believe it was your first time.”
     “Actually I was really nervous. I thought you were scamming me, especially when you pulled out that cordless dildo.”
     “It was a little awkward at first, but for a newbie you were great. Don’t be so paranoid. In fact, I think you……damn you’re still hard,” said Doreen.
     “How can I not have a hard-on when you’re lying naked next to me like that?” answered Nozo. Doreen laughed and got out of bed to take a shower.     
     Nozo went downstairs to eat breakfast. Janet and a new girl he didn’t know were sitting at the table drinking draft beer.
     “Hey, Nozo this is Leslie. She works at the university. She runs a suicide hotline and the work study programs for students on welfare. You should send her your high school transcripts. Maybe she can pull some strings and get you enrolled after you graduate. You know there are a lot of lesbians on the application committee and they’re flexible. They will even give you a one year deferment if you want.”
     “Thanks, but I don’t want to go to university. It’s just a lot of hype and a waste of money. Now that the Borg are dead, I can do what I want. Besides, aren’t you being a hypocrite? You’re not going to go to university.”
     “That’s because I failed the test. Nozo, get a life. You need a shrink. Are you just going to play Hearts forever? Can’t you see I’m trying to help you? College is important and you have the brains to do it. You’re a whiz at math and computers. Well, whatever. We can talk about it later. I heard you had a good time last night with Doreen.”
     “Yeah, thanks. But I can find my own women. I don’t need your help.”
     “Nozo, look in the mirror. You need all the help you can get.”
     Three hours later Nozo was outside, on his way to Ted’s house. With the Borg dead, Nozo rarely went to school. He just showed up for the tests. He didn’t need to attend the lectures. He could just get the excerpts online from one of his classmates. Ted usually skipped school too. His mediocre grades weren’t good enough to get him into a decent university, and he had other things to do, especially since Nozo had told him about killing an aus, an alternative universe shifter.
      Nozo arrived at Ted’s house. Ted’s parents were both at work and wouldn’t be bothering them. Nozo told Ted about Doreen. He wasn’t vague. He told Ted all the details. He told Ted making love was like multitasking.
     “Man, and you ate her out?” asked Ted.
     “Yeah, but that part wasn’t as good as I thought it would be. It was like fish. I had to gargle for 20 minutes to get the taste out of my mouth.”
     “Who cares about taste? I wish I had your mojo. If there’s a sequel, I want to be the first to hear about it. Man, you really lucked out.” Ted belched and let out a loud fart. Then he booted up his computer. “I’ve been going in and out of chat rooms all day looking for some info on the shifters. You would be surprised how many people out there know about them. But I didn’t find anyone that knew they called themselves plumbers or anything about the Mumas or about the masterpiece worlds. That’s all new shit to me. I found this guy in Argentina that has been trying to catch a plumber for years. But he really has no clue. His id profile says he is a scientist of the future. But if you ask me he’s slime. He thinks catching a plumber has got to be a solo thing, a one on one job. He doesn’t have much common sense and there’s no way everything he says is true. He’s incompetent. But in his webpage he talks about catching a plumber and figuring out how they do their time shifting. Just think about it. If we could catch a plumber, we could go anywhere and do anything we wanted. It would be cool,” said Ted.
     “I’d like to check out the masterpiece worlds he was talking about. They are utopias. I think the masterpiece worlds are where the Mumas live. You know, the ones the plumber at our house called the timeline beepers. But how are we supposed to catch a plumber?” asked Nozo.
     “We have to save Mr. Tsai,” answered Ted.
    “Mr. Tsai? You mean our hypochondriac math teacher? What does he have to do with catching a plumber? Why does he need saving?”
     “Well, you know about Mr. Tsai’s long ordeal with thinking he had cancer . Everyone knows that he’s on the verge of doing something drastic. I think he’s going to kill himself tonight. I saw him buying pesticide at Bert’s Garden Shop. Mr. Tsai doesn’t have a garden. We’ve both been in his house, and you know he doesn’t have any plants. Why else would he buy pesticide? It’s not like that stuff is a bargain. It’s expensive. He’s going to kill himself. If we stop him, it should create a quirk in the timeline. Then we just have to wait for a plumber to show up. The timing will be crucial.”
     “What if Mr. Tsai bought the pesticide for another reason? What if he bought it to kill someone? What if he just had a gift certificate from that store and not knowing what else to buy, he bought it for the dandelions in his lawn? You call that a plan?” asked Nozo.
     “Hey, cut me some slack, do you have a better idea? Maybe it won’t work, but it can’t hurt to try. Meet me at Mr. Tsai’s house tonight at 7pm. I know it’s a long shot, but you can’t deny that it’s feasible.”
     “OK, but let’s not meet right in front of his house. I’ll meet you at the swamp at 6:45. Now that the police put up those hazard signs, that place is always deserted.  We can go from there to Mr. Tsai’s house.”
     Nozo walked home and killed time by playing Hearts. Then he put on a jacket, and walked to the swamp. The weather was dismal but Nozo didn’t notice it. He was thinking about the plumbers. It was vital to catch one. Now that he knew they existed nothing else mattered.
     “It’s about time you showed up,” said Ted. “You’re 20 minutes late. These gnats have been driving me crazy.”
     “Sorry,” said Nozo. I didn’t think it would take me so long to walk here.”
     “It doesn’t matter. You’re here now. Let’s go.”
     Nozo and Ted walked to Mr. Tsai’s house. Both of them knew that Mr. Tsai’s backdoor was always unlocked. Students often used his backdoor to get in and steal test answers.
     Mr. Tsai’s house was dark. The only light was coming from the living room.  Mr. Tsai was at his cubicle. It was easy to stay hidden in the dark doorway and watch him. He looked like a wreck. There were dark circles under his eyes and his hands were shaking. On his desk was a large ziplocked bag of pesticide. Mr. Tsai poured himself a whiskey. Nozo and Ted waited. Would he add pesticide to the whisky? Was he going to do it?
     Three hours passed. But the only thing that happened was Mr. Tasi got drunk and Nozo’s feet fell asleep. It was boring just standing there, waiting for someone to kill himself. Nozo wondered if they were going to have to wait all night. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Mr. Tsai threw the pesticide into a garbage can.
     “I just can’t do it,” sighed Mr. Tsai to himself. “I don’t have the guts.”
     “Damn,” whispered Ted. “Looks like it’s time for plan B.”
     Ted pulled out a knife from the front pocket of his jeans. Then he ran across the room and stabbed Mr. Tsai in the neck. It happened so fast, Nozo didn’t have time to react. Mr. Tsai died quickly. Ted pulled out the knife and blood spurted out, spraying the nearby wall. It was like a bad horror movie.
     “Why?” asked Nozo. “Why did you kill him? I thought we were supposed to save his life?”
      “Plan B,” replied Ted. “Since he decided not to kill himself, I thought we could disrupt the timeline by killing him. It was our only choice.”
     “We? Our? Hey I didn’t kill him, you did,” said Nozo.
     “It’s not important who killed him,” said Ted. “The important thing is we did it. We disrupted the timeline. Listen, don’t worry. If a plunger shows up, we can let him save Mr. Tsai first, then we can catch him.”
      “What if the plumbers don’t save people? What if they only kill them? If a plumber saves Mr. Tsai he will have to go to the past to do it. We won’t see him in this time frame. What if Mr. Tsai was going to change his mind? What if Mr. Tsai was going to take the pesticide out of the garbage can and drink it later tonight or tomorrow?”
     “Damn, you ask too many questions,” said Ted. “Why do things always have to be so complicated with you. Shit, OK, you’re right. I screwed up. I guess plan B wasn’t a very good idea, but we can’t just give up.”
     “Don’t worry,” said Nozo. “I don’t plan on giving up.  It’s too bad about Mr. Tsai. But he’s still alive in other timelines so I guess it’s not really murder. You didn’t really kill him. You just took him out of this timeline.
     “Yeah, I wouldn’t call it murder,” agreed Ted.  “It was just timeline extraction.”
     

     “Geez. Why does it smell like piss in here?” asked Doreen.
     “It’s Nezil. He’s angry at me and he keeps pissing on my stuff. I’ve been sniffing everything, but I can’t figure out where he pissed this time. The Borg hated it when he did that. They would ground me. Where’s Janet?”
     “She went out. She has something important to tell you. She will be back in a couple of hours. She asked me to watch you until she comes back.”
     “Are you my babysitter now? Are you Janet’s slave? Why are you even here? I thought Janet was spending all her time with Leslie.”
     “No, she dumped Leslie. She told me she got tired of Leslie’s cotton candy fetish. You know, Leslie had some kind of chemical imbalance. She was always taking medication. Do you want to play Hearts while we wait?”
     “Actually I was hoping we could do something else.”
     “No, let’s go online. I’m not in the mood for sex.”
     “What, are you frigid now?”
     “No, I’m on the rag. I hate it when I have my period. I always feel like shit. Teach me how to play Hearts. I tried a few games earlier and I suck.”
     Nozo and Doreen played Hearts in the advanced room where it was more cutthroat. First Nozo took the mouse and played a game and then vice-versa. Then they discussed some different passing strategies and Nozo got out a deck, shuffled and dealt out some possible hands. Finally, after more than three hours, Janet showed up.
     “Hey Nozo, you look like a cyborg. Are you physically connected to that computer? It’s time to pull the plug. Get packed. We’re going to Argentina. I just got tickets and the plane leaves tonight.”
     “Argentina? Are you crazy? Why are we going to Argentina?”
     “I think we need to talk to Antonio Verravos. You know, the guy Ted found out about on the Net. That guy that’s been trying to catch a plumber. I’ve been talking to him online. Ted thinks he’s nuts, and that his plumber encounter was just a hoax, but I think Ted’s wrong. If we really want to catch a plumber, Antonio’s the guy we should see.”
     Nozo looked at Doreen and she smiled back at him.
     “Yeah, Janet told me everything and I’m going with you guys. Actually it was my idea to talk to Ted, and he told me about Antonio.”
     “Is Ted coming to?” asked Nozo.
     “After he murdered Mr. Tsai? No way. Wise up, Nozo. I know Ted is your friend and he’s not a space cadet, but he’s a goofball. We need a real strategy if we want to catch a plumber. Ted would just screw things up again like with Mr. Tsai. Haven’t you thought about it? By now the Mumas have figured out we started this new timeline by killing a plumber. Why haven’t they sent another plumber to stop us from killing the first one? Is this an illegal timeline now? There’s too many unanswered questions. I don’t think it’s safe to stay here. Nozo, trust me this time. I killed the plumber didn’t I? I want to catch an aus as much as you do. Time shifting would be the ultimate experience. If we play it smart, we might actually succeed.”
     “OK, I guess you’re right. I still can’t really believe this is happening. It’s all so surreal.  It seems like just a story to teach English, or something that some crazy teacher made up. What time is the flight?”
     “It’s at 4pm. We have to be at the airport by 2pm because of all the new security measures. There are more and more police out on the streets these days. To be honest, Nozo, I have no plans on coming back. We would only get in trouble here once people realized our parents are missing.”
     “What about Nezil?”
     “Don’t worry, Doreen’s mother is going to take care of him. We will drop him off at her house on the way to the airport.”
     “Okay, I’ll go pack,” said Nozo.
     “And I’ll get the wok out and make us some stir-fry. We still have time for dinner before we leave,” said Janet.
     While Janet cooked dinner, Doreen went upstairs with Nozo.
     “Doreen, what about your dot.com start up? You told me you loved it there and the perks were great. How can you just quit?” asked Nozo.
     “The job wasn’t as great as I thought,” said Doreen. “At first it was kickass, but then I found out that the boss is a weasel. He tried to stiff me on my last pay check. It’s all office politics there. Everyone is just trying to win brownie points with him. It was kind of a catch 22. If I sucked up to the boss I’d get a raise, but everyone else there would hate me. If I didn’t kiss his ass, I’d get screwed. Anyway, the boss is going to freak out when he finds out about the missing money.”
     “You stole the company’s money?”
      “Well, at first I was just going to take enough to buy my plane ticket. But then I got carried away and I took it all. I hate always using Janet’s money. Whenever we go out, it goes on her tab.”
     “How much did you take?” asked Nozo.
     “I took everything. It was about two hundred thousand. That’s one reason we have to leave tonight. The police will be looking for me when I don’t show up for work tomorrow.”
     “Man, you’ve got guts.”
     “Well, lets not talk too much about the police. You might jinx me.”
     “Nozo! Doreen! The food’s ready! Come down to eat!”
     Nozo and Doreen went downstairs. Janet was a pretty good cook and the meal was great. After eating Nozo finished packing, brushed and flossed his teeth, and then with Janet and Doreen, took a taxi to the airport.
     The flight to Buenos Aires took 14 hours. Janet spent the time drinking beer, and Doreen spent most of the flight in the john. It turned out that flying made her sick. The long flight took its toll on all of them.
     When they arrived, they were tired and cranky. They avoided the touts and took an airport bus to the downtown area. They walked out of the business district and found a quiet run-down hotel. As Janet had guessed, the manager didn’t even ask for their passports. This was important as they didn’t want to be traced in case the Kaohsiung police were smart enough to figure out where they had gone.
     It was early evening in Buenos Aires. Nozo got the bathroom first. Then Janet and Doreen took a shower together. While Nozo waited for them, he read the horoscopes in the local English paper that he had picked up at the airport. The hotel room gave him bad vibes, but maybe it was just because he was wired from all the coffee on the plane. Finally, Janet and Doreen came out of the bathroom.
     “Man, it’s about time. You were in there for almost an hour.”
     “There’s no hurry,” said Janet. “Antonio is not expecting us until tomorrow morning, and check this out. Doreen picked up this flier at that café we went to. There’s a rave near here tonight. Do you want go with us? Maybe we can get some E and mix with the locals. It might be interesting. We need to make some contacts.”
     “Why do we need to mix with the locals? I thought we came here to find a timeline beeper? What does dancing have to do with catching a plumber?”
     “Nozo, we need to make some local contacts and find a place to stay where the police won’t be able to find me so easily,” said Doreen. “The rave is the perfect place to do that. Trust your sister, she knows what she’s doing. Don’t be so negative all the time. It will be fun. You’ll have a good time.”
     “No, I’ll pass. I want to walk around the city a bit,” answered Nozo.
     Nozo left Janet and Doreen, took the Linea C Subway and got off at the Estación Avenue stop. Nozo didn’t want to tell Janet and Doreen the real reason he didn’t want to go to the rave. It was because he had other plans and he didn’t want Janet and Doreen to know.
     Nozo wanted to meet Gustavo Naviera, the world famous tango instructor. Finding a masterpiece world was going to be cool, but Nozo had another dream. He wanted to dance the Tango and Gustavo Naviera was the man to see. He wanted input from the master himself. Nozo had spent a lot of time dancing in Milongas in Kaohsiung, but the dances were a dud compared to what he had seen on videos.
      Nozo found Gustavo’s dance hall and walked in. Immediately he was overwhelmed by the catchy music and the dancers. The women were stunning. It was like a great void in his life was suddenly filled. He was surprised to find a young Asian woman among the dancers. He waited for her to take a break and walked up to her with a drink from the bar.
     “Hi, would you like a drink?” asked Nozo.
     “Sure. Thanks. You’re new here aren’t you?” asked the woman.
     “Yep, I just got here from Taiwan. I was hoping to meet Gustavo Naviera. Where are you from?”
     “I’m from Taiwan too. I’m from Kaohsiung. My name’s Sarah. Sorry but your timing is bad. Mr. Naviera is in Chile. He won’t be back for several weeks. Are you a Milonguero?” asked Sarah.
     “No, not really. I’m not that good. I guess you could call me a Tangueros. But someday I hope I’ll be good enough to be a Milonguero. I’m from Kaohsiung too. Have you been here a long time?” asked Nozo.
     “No, just a couple of months. But I have no plans to go back to Taiwan. I love it here. I’m supposed to take the university entrance exam next year but screw it. College is just a waste of time. This is real life here.”
     “What are the people in Argentina like?” asked Nozo.
     “They're very emotional and passionate. When someone is introduced to you, they kiss you and make you feel as if they've known you for years.”
     “Well, Taiwanese can be pretty passionate too,” said Nozo.
     “True, but they're more passionate in Argentina and the relationships between men and women are different. In Taiwan men have to be so politcally correct these days, but in Argentina a man is a man and the focus isn’t on what other people think. There are no mind games here and no guilt trips. Everyone’s happy-go-lucky and does what they want. No one judges anyone. If my parents only knew some of the things I’ve done they would kill me. I’m free here. In Taiwan it’s like I have a leash around my neck.”
     “Do you want to dance?”
     “You bet I do. Show me what you can do.”
     Nozo and Sarah danced for several hours. Then Sarah invited Nozo back to her apartment for a nightcap and they made love.
     Sarah was a talented dancer. But in bed she was a dynamo. Doreen had taught him what sex was all about, but it had just been a crash course. With Sarah, sex was a long journey, and Nozo didn’t want it to come to an end.

Nozo four: Mule City

     Life is a series of happy moments. But they never last very long. Shagging Sarah was great, but the next morning, Nozo noticed that Sarah had a hairy mole and a skin rash on her thigh. There were cum stains on the bed that appeared to be several weeks old, a plate of half eaten mashed potatoes on the floor, and piles and piles of magazines, books, and things that looked like they should have been thrown away a long time ago. Nozo turned to look at Sarah and her eyes were open. She had been watching him.
     “Okay, don’t give me any flak about this room or I’ll do the tit for tat. I’m a slob and a pack rat. I don’t like to waste my time cleaning. I came here to study under Gustavo Naviera, not to be a housekeeper.”
      “It’s not that bad,” said Nozo.  “Actually it’s a little funky. It has a kind of laidback feel to it. It could be the hotel room of a rock singer, a writer, or a deranged homicidal maniac. Which one are you?” asked Nozo.  Sarah giggled and gave him a light punch on the chin.
     “Well, maybe I’m a little deranged, but I’m not a killer. There is one snag however. I’m broke. I spent the last of my cash last night.”
     “Brrrrring, Brrrring,” the phone rang and Sarah picked it up, said okay and hung it up again.
     “Who was that?” asked Nozo.
     “That was the front desk. They always buzz me right before they bring up breakfast. They have croissants, granola cereal, some kind of marshmallow cake thing, and a pot of coffee. I hope you’re hungry.”
     “I thought you were broke.”
     “I am. The hotel bill is due at the end of the week and I have no idea how I’m going to pay it. I had enough money for a full year here but this guy I met scammed me. He got me to invest in this bogus tango school of his. I was a real sucker. I gave him almost all my money. I can’t believe I was such a schmuck. He even tried to make me a scapegoat when he got into trouble with the police. But luckily the police here aren’t so stupid. You know Nozo, my dream was to return to Taiwan and open up a Tango school. But now it looks like it’s just going to be a pipe dream.”
     “Maybe not,” said Nozo. “My sister and her friend are here and they have lots of money. They could give you a few grand to get you through the next couple of weeks.”    
     “That would be great. By the way, why are you in Buenos Aires? Are you on a tour or something?”
     “No, we just came here by ourselves to do some traveling. We were going to go to Brazil next, but we got side-tracked.” Nozo decided not to tell Sarah about catching a plumber. He knew she wouldn’t believe him if he did. It was easier just to lie.
     Breakfast came and Sarah got out of bed to answer the door. It didn’t seem to bother the porter that Sarah was in the buff, or that Nozo was also naked, lying on the bed. Nozo smiled. The scene made him feel like he was in a movie. The porter left and they ate breakfast, showered together, and got dressed.  It was going to be an interesting day.
     Nozo and Sarah left the hotel and went outside into the early morning haze, heat, and noise of Buenos Aires.  They caught a bus to go to Nozo’s hotel.  The traffic was insane. Some local star was filming a movie nearby and the paparazzi was everywhere. The driver had to swerve several times to avoid an accident. When they got to the hotel, the manager informed them that Janet and Doreen had already checked out.
     “They left you this note,” said the manager. “She was like, “hey give this to my dumb shit brother.” Man, your sister is one callous dyke.” Nozo took the note and read it. The manager had doodled on it and the ink was smudged.
                              Dear Nozo,
                       It didn’t take an epiphany or anything
                       for Doreen and I to realize that we don’t
                       need you. We have decided to look for an
                       aus without you. The fact is, we have the
                       money and you’re too much trouble so it’s
                       goodbye and good luck.
                                                Janet
                                              
     “I can’t believe this shit,” said Nozo. “How could she do this to me?”
     “Did she take all the money with her?” asked Sarah.
     “Duh!, what do you think,” replied Nozo.  “All I have is a few pesos in my pocket. Now what the hell are we going to do?”
     “Well, I didn’t want to tell you this earlier but I met this guy called Rollo at a dance hall a few weeks ago and he gave me his card. He told me if I ever needed money I should go see him. It might not be kosher but I don’t think he’s a pimp or anything. It can’t hurt us to check it out.”
     “Okay,” said Nozo. “Let’s go.”
     Sarah and Nozo took the subway to the southern part of the city and asked directions to get to Rollo’s place. It didn’t take them long to find it, this was gang territory and everyone knew Rollo. The whole neighborhood was his turf. They knocked on the door and Rollo’s bodyguard let them in.
     Rollo’s place turned out to be a dark, sleazy bar. The jukebox was playing ambient tunes and strippers were doing their pole dances even though no one was watching. Most of the customers looked like bums that you could cast in a movie about the homeless. They were spaced-out and lost, like drug addicts trying to remember where they had their cache. The bodyguard took them to a corner booth and told them to wait.
     “This place gives me the creeps,” said Sarah. “Maybe we should leave. I’m getting bad vibes. I think coming here wasn’t the greatest idea.”
     “Don’t be so fickle,” said Nozo. “We can’t afford to be so wishy-washy. We’re broke, remember? Let’s at least wait for this Rollo guy and hear what he has to say. Stay here, I have to take a piss.”
     Nozo got up to go to the bathroom. There were two doors but only one was a bathroom. It was unisex. The sign on the other door said, “off limits.” Nozo walked into the bathroom, slipped and fell down.
      “Damn! I’m a klutz,” Nozo said to himself. He got up and took a piss. The bathroom was sort of a paradox. There was a turd in the urinal, broken tiles everywhere and layers and layers of filth. “If Rollo has a lot of money, he sure isn’t spending it here,” thought Nozo. He looked around for some soap but found none. That always pissed him off. It was his pet peeve. He ran his hands under the faucet, wiped them on his pants and went back out to the bar. A man was sitting in the booth with Sarah. When Nozo got back to the booth, the man looked him over and spat on the floor in disgust.
     “Gimme a break, this guy looks like a wimp,” said the man.
     “Nozo, this is Rollo,” said Sarah.
     “I’m no wimp,” said Nozo. “Who are all these people? What is this place? Sarah said you told her if we needed money, we should come here.”
     “Welcome to mule city,” said Rollo. “All these people are mules. They help me fill my quotas.”
     “What do you mean mules?” asked Nozo. He had no idea what Rollo meant by that term.
     “Well idiot, I’m not talking about a fucking pack animal, what the fuck do you think I mean?” Drugs. Now let’s not waste time. You either tell me you’re interested or you get the fuck out. Which is it?”
     Nozo looked at Sarah and she nodded. He knew it was stupid but they needed the cash.
     “We’re interested,” Nozo said.

     Sarah and Nozo were sitting in what looked like a run down cafeteria with 6 other people. They all looked kind of dazed and out of place. None of them looked like the drug smugglers you see on TV. Obviously, If they had looked like the dregs of humanity they would have never made it past  customs.
     There was a couch in the corner of the room and three women guards wearing bikinis were sitting on it, nice and snug, sipping margaritas and watching TV. They all had machine guns on their laps. A fat man entered the room carrying a tray. He was so fat he wobbled more than he walked. His pants were held up with Velcro suspenders. He motioned for them to stand around a long table. Then he set the tray down.
          “Olive oil and grapes? Come on, is this our lunch?” asked Nozo. 
     “No, idiot, this is your training material. Now shut the fuck up. From now on stop thinking of yourself as individuals. When you sign on with Rollo you become a drone. You stop thinking and you start listening. You follow the course to see if you can hack it. If you make it you totally get the big bucks. If you fail, well, you get to meet Rollo’s twin brother.”
     “Rollo has a twin brother?” asked Sarah.
     “No, bitch. You see, Rollo is a Jekyll and Hyde type. You piss him off or fuck with the program in any way you get to meet the Hyde side. We call the Hyde side “The Twin”. The Twin only has one mode and that’s the go postal mode. You mess with him, he messes with you. Comprende?” Everyone in the room nodded.
     The room was quiet except for some crunching noises coming from the guards. They were eating potato chips. Nozo couldn’t stop staring at them. They were beautiful. He wondered what they were doing in a place like this and why with looks like that, they couldn’t find something better to do. The fat man noticed Nozo staring.
     “Don’t waste your time with those bitches,” he said. “And don’t think they’re just eye candy. They know how to use those guns. They’re here to protect us in case we get raided and believe me, it does happen. And anyway, they may look sexy but they’re diseased….. herpes, hepatitus….probably even AIDS. They’re former hookers. You don’t bother them, they won’t bother you. Now pay attention.”
     Nozo turned his eyes away from the guards and looked at the people standing around the table. He couldn’t believe he was part of this group. It all seemed so unreal. Just a few months ago he was a high school student in Taiwan, going to cram schools, taking tests, and saving Kentucky Fried Chicken coupons. And now here he was, training to be a mule in Argentina. The fat man had a roster with all their names and backgrounds on it. He flipped the pages quietly while they waited.
     “Don’t worry, I’m not going to give you a spiel. I just want to check who I have here and then we can begin. Now let’s see.  Hmm… a busker down on her luck, a hotshot soccer player dumped because of the new zero tolerance policy, a goody-two-shoes grandma who’s looking to get her son out of jail, a high school grad dude who wants the big money, a housewife, a laid-off worker from the steel mills, and two kids from Taiwan. The last eight people I trained all made it through the program. Looking at you, I’m not sure I’ll be so lucky this time. Now everyone, pick up a grape. Roll it in the oil. Now put it in your mouth and swallow it whole. Think of it as a vitamin pill or something. That’s right. That’s good. Very good. Now pick up another grape. Do the same thing. No, Mrs. Vanchez! What did I say? Swallow the grape whole. Jesus! Yeah, that’s okay. Now another. Try it again.”
     The first training session lasted six hours. Then they were forced to sit down and eat a meal. The food was slop. The fat man told them they had to eat because they would need to eat the food on the plane to avoid suspicion. When they got back to the dorm where they were staying, Nozo was so full of grapes and imitation airline food that he wanted to puke. But puking would get him a one way ticket out of the program. He had to hold it all in. The fat man told them that the grapes were early training for what would later be lubricated condoms full of heroin. Nozo was determined to make it through the program. He didn’t give up easily. There was a lot at stake. He needed to get enough money together to continue looking for the aus. If he flunked out he wouldn’t have jack and his life would be in danger.
     Four weeks went by. The soccer player had quit but the rest of them were still sticking it out. Nozo and Sarah were sitting in the bathroom in adjoining stalls waiting to take a shit. They had both taken laxatives.
     “I’m not sure I’m going to make it Nozo, I’m frazzled. I can’t think straight and I’m not sleeping well. My body can’t cope. It’s like I can feel the condoms inside me. I’m so scared.”
     “Hey, don’t worry. You’re doing a lot better than Nana. Getting her to follow directions is like pulling teeth. She’s a lush. I’m surprised the fat man hasn’t given her the ax. They must be getting desperate or something. Did you see the way she nuked those burgers? Man, it’s bad enough we have to swallow condoms, but the fat man making us eat those burgers she burned. That was too much.”
     “You are lucky you didn’t see those burgers before she put them in the microwave,” said Sarah. “They were fuzzy with mold. I can’t wait till the training is over. I’m dying for a good fondue or some fresh fruit. I feel like I’m in some sort of communist, big brother country or something. They’re always watching us,” said Sarah.
      “Yeah, I know what you mean. They even have cameras here. But they can’t see us in the stalls. You know Nana really hates us.”
     “Yeah, I noticed. I think it’s because she’s Catholic and she doesn’t approve of us sleeping together. It’s ironic that she’s such a prude considering she is willing to smuggle drugs. Go figure. Anyway, how goes it? I have five condoms out of ten out so far,” said Sarah.
     “I have seven,” answered Nozo. “It helps if you think about something else. Let’s ask each other trivia questions about Taiwan.”
     “Good idea,” said Sarah. “I’m going to take another laxative too.”
     Three more weeks went by and Nozo and Sarah were in the last part of their training. They were separated from the others and given their fake identities. They were supposed to be brother and sister hackers. A famous duo that were being extradited to the U.S.. Nozo had no idea what would happen to the original hackers. He was just told that the switch would be made at the airport. It was a brilliant plan. Because of some loophole in airport security, they wouldn’t even be checked. Why check handcuffed prisoners that were being taken to jail? It was going to be a cakewalk. Most of their identity training was with computers, something that Nozo was already good at. But it wasn’t so easy for Sarah. She had no clue.
     “Emoticons, spam, flames, worms, encryption technology, trolling, archives, netiquette, java….I can’t keep track of them all. Is it really important for us to learn all this stuff?” asked Sarah.
     “Well, you never know,” answered Nozo. “And don’t make such a fuss. This is a lot more fun than yesterday’s spin lessons. You are better at that than I am. I think you could talk your way out of anything. Now, tell me why this virus is flawed.”
     “It’s not flawed. That’s the one the fat man said was flawless.”
     “I think he was testing us. Just because he vouches for it doesn’t mean it’s not defective. Remember how he tricked us with the game theory questions? We had to start over from scratch three times. I think this is a similar trap. Now, look at this algorithm. It stems from the Abaticus function but the pattern is completely different,” said Nozo.
     “You’re right!” said Sarah. “It’s a test. That’s great, Nozo. When the fat man finds out we weren’t fooled we can milk it for all it’s worth. He might even let us finish the course early.”
     “Well, I doubt that,” answered Nozo.
     “Yeah,” laughed Sarah. “The fat man would never cut us any slack.”
     Finally, after two more weeks the program was over and Nozo and Sarah were ready. They swallowed their condoms full of heroin, got dressed, put on their handcuffs and said goodbye to the fat man.
     “Good luck,” said the fat man. “And remember one thing. You get busted. You keep your goddamn mouths shut. You’re on your own. You squeal and we take you out. We have contacts in the jails. It’s that simple.”
     “After all this time, that’s the best you can do for a goodbye?” asked Nozo sarcastically.
     “Well what did you expect? Some touchy-feely bullshit? Just remember what I taught you,” said the fat man.
     “Don’t worry. We won’t get caught,” said Nozo.

Nozo six: Post 9-11 Prison

   “Hiccup, hiccup, hiccup, Nozo, I feel sick,” said Sara.
     “Ditto,” said Nozo. “But that’s normal. You know you’re going to feel shitty. Just concentrate on holding it in. Remember the training. We’re not eating enough. They’re going to get suspicious. Here, I’ll finish your burrito and you eat my dessert. The Belgium waffles should be good for your stomach. Now quiet, the guard is coming back from the bathroom. He’s got a medical kit stashed under the seat. Ask him for some Pepto-Bismal or something and you’ll be okay.”
     Nozo and Sara were handcuffed on a plane to New York. The in-flight movie was an action flick starring Bruce Lee, the Hong Kong martial arts icon. It was dubbed into English. But the English was so bad it was mostly gibberish. The bad English made it seem more like a spoof than a real movie.  Nozo watched the guard as he played an online game called Incarnation on his laptop. Nozo thought it was pretty funny that the guard was using a young damsel-in-distress like women with a pink aura as an avatar. When he teased the guard about it, the guard told Nozo that he had gotten that avatar by default.  But Nozo played the game too and he knew that was bullshit. Nozo decided it would be fun to use his stalker avatar to stalk the young damsel. Nozo laughed to himself and memorized the portal number the guard was using. It would be easy to trace his avatar back to her house and kill her. She was carrying a magic elixir and a 5-point sword. Both would be useful to him in the game. Nozo leaned back in his seat. He was feeling kind of drowsy. It was more fun to play Incarnation then to watch someone else play it. Nozo decided to take a nap. He closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep.
     “Nozo, wake up,” said Sara. “We’re landing.”  Nozo looked out the window as the plane landed at JFK. This was his first time to New York City. He had expected sparkle and glitter. But the city looked cold and kind of grungy. It was drizzling. The plane taxied past a giant billboard that said:
                                    
                                       Welcome to JFK                                              
                                New York’s International Hub
                               Free Falafel’s For Everyone

     “Free falafels?” said Nozo. “That’s weird. It’s got to be either a gag, or some kind of promo thing.”
     “Don’t mention food,” said Sara. “I think something’s wrong. My stomach really hurts.”
     “It’s supposed to hurt. Come on, you know that. We’ve  been through all this during training. Don’t freak out. This is going to be a snap.”
     “I’m not freaking out, you moron. I know what it’s supposed to feel like. I’m not an idiot. Something’s really wrong.”
     The guard gave Nozo and Sara a strange look and they stopped talking. The stewardesses opened the doors and the passengers all stood up to disembark. The guard made Nozo and Sarah wait until everyone had left. Then they got off the plane and into a shuttle bus that was playing an old Rolling Stones tune. The shuttle bus was driven by an android. It was kind of cool but the design was tacky. The robot was dressed up to look like Bob Marley. But someone had forgotten to take the tag off of the dreadlocks wig he was wearing. That, and the colors were all too bright and fake looking. On the back of the android’s uniform was a computer screen flashing cartoon-like advertisments:                   





     “Nozo, I can’t stop sweating. I’m burning up. I think maybe one of the condoms must have burst,” whispered Sara.
     “If it had, you would already be dead,” answered Nozo. “Don’t worry, we’re both going to be okay. I know this sucks but there will be plenty of time to vent about it later. Stay calm. If we blow this we’ll end up with zilch, and neither of us will be going home for some time. Try to stay focused.”
     The shuttle bus stopped and Nozo and Sara followed the guard to the customs office. They didn’t have to wait in line. They would be processed by a special section responsible for extradition cases. A customs official motioned for them to take a seat and spoke to the guard.
     “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but our computer system is experiencing a snafu. It’s possible it was caused by someone hacking into our system. We have already called in a technician and he tells us he can get it fixed and have the firewalls up in about an hour. You’re going to have to wait before we can process you. Would you care for some coffee? We are boycotting Nestles but I can brew you up some organic stuff from Starbucks if you want.”
     “Yes, thank you,” answered the guard. “It’s okay, we’re in no hurry.”
     Nozo picked up a printout of a webzine from the coffee table and pretended to read an article about bootleg DVDs. But he was really watching Sara. They couldn’t speak to each other with the room so quiet and the guard sitting so close, but he was becoming more and more worried. Sara was really getting sick now. She was having trouble breathing.
     “Does she have asthma?” asked the customs official. “I have an inhaler she can use if that’s the problem.”
     “Yes, thank you. I think that will help her,” answered Nozo. But the official didn’t have time to give Sara the inhaler. Suddenly she started convulsing. She couldn’t breathe and her face was bright red. She was drooling and shaking. The official rushed over but it was all over in just a few seconds. Sara was dead. The guard was flabbergasted, but the customs official had seen this kind of thing before. He looked at Sara’s dead body. Then he looked at Nozo.
     “Come with me, you little prick” he said. “The party’s over and you’re screwed.”
     “Fuck,” said Nozo. Nozo followed the customs official to another section of the customs building. It was high security and Nozo knew he had no chance to escape. They gave him a laxative and waited for him to pass the condoms. Then he was read his rights, arrested and taken to jail.
     “Attention! Attention! All new prisoners please line up and remove your clothing. Then follow the yellow line to the showers. Please let us make your this as orderly as possible. There is no way out of here people, please follow the rules.  Don’t give us trouble and we won’t give you trouble.”
     Ten hours had passed since Sara had died on the customs office floor. Nozo had tried to think what had gone wrong. They were well trained. It shouldn’t have happened. It must have been the quality of the condoms. But then why was he okay? It didn’t make any sense. Nozo had refused to tell them who he really was. But they had taken his fingerprints. It was only a matter of time before they connected the dots. Now he was in prison. If he was going to survive in this place he was going to have to learn the ropes fast. Nozo glanced at the other prisoners and shuddered. They were all twice his size. He took off his clothes, tried to make himself invisible and followed the rest of the prisoners to the shower. He went over to a corner shower head and turned on the water. Suddenly a fat Chinese man with a body like a sumo wrestler and a ‘Jiang Zemin Forever’ tattoo over his left nipple grabbed Nozo’s arm and shoved him against the wall.
     “Hey, you Japanese shit. I got dibs on this one, man. It’s the only one with hot water. Take that one over there.”
     “I’m not Japanese. I’m from Taiwan and I was here first.”
          “Ahh, Taiwan. So you’re Chinese like me.”
     “No, I’m Taiwanese. Taiwan is not China. I’m Taiwanese. Never say Taiwan is China. Never! I’m Taiwanese, you asshole, and proud of it. Now shut up and get out of my way.”
     “Okay, okay, touche. Taiwan, China, it’s all the same to me, man. Don’t be such a grouch. Are you tripping? We’re both Asian. We shouldn’t be fighting. My name’s Da Lu Sz. We should stick together. You need someone like me. I’ve been in here before. I know this place. You can take me as a father. I will take care of you and make sure no one hurts you,”
      Nozo didn’t like what he was hearing. He tried to move away but Da Lu grabbed him from behind.
     “Whoops! I dropped my soap. Can you pick it up for me, my little Taiwanese Casanova? Come on deerie, pick up the soap for your daddy.”
     Nozo looked at Da Lu. He was huge. Nozo knew he wouldn’t have a chance but he also knew he would rather be dead than be another man’s bitch and that’s what Da Lu wanted him to be. Luckily, Nozo wasn’t totally defenseless. His friend Ted had taught him a lot about street fighting in Taiwan. Nozo turned suddenly and kicked Da Lu in the balls. Then before Da Lu could react, Nozo kicked him in the head. He could feel his toes break as they connected with Da Lu’s skull but he didn’t care. He had to kill the bastard. He had no choice.
     “Fight, fight, fight, fight,” yelled the other inmates. Da Lu recovered faster than Nozo expected he would, grabbed Nozo’s leg, and threw him down. But Nozo was fast.  He jumped up and connected again with his feet, smashing Da Lu’s balls a second time. Then he went for Da Lu’s eyes. He wanted to blind him. But the guards arrived and zapped him with their stun guns. Nozo took a double hit and collapsed onto the cement floor. The guards pulled him off and dragged him away.
     “Are you taking me to the infirmary?” asked Nozo. “My toes are broken. He attacked me first. It wasn’t my fault.”
     “He said, she said, whatever,” answered the guard. “You got twenty days solitary for pulling that shit in the shower. We’re taking you to the Hole.”
     “The Hole? Solitary? Isn’t that a little draconian?” asked Nozo. “Can’t I get some clothes first? Don’t I get a phone call?”
     “Are you kidding me?” answered the guard.“This is the post 9-11 era. You don’t have any rights.Thanks to Bush, we have the rights now. We have the right to do whatever we want with you. From now on, you’re just a number and we make the rules. Now shut the fuck up.”
     “Shit,” said Nozo. “Is this Ameriva?”*
    
 *(Ameriva is an intentional typo)                        

Nozo seven: Suicide Bombers 101

     Nozo spent the next four days naked in a small cell about the size of a cubicle. It was gross. There was shit smeared on the wall in what looked like an attempt at graffiti. The ceiling was so low he couldn’t stand up. For four days Nozo sat in the Hole. He could hear the guard lurking on the other side of the door, and he knew he was being watched through the one-way mirror, but no one showed their face or spoke to him. Nozo didn’t mind the solitary. The situation he found himself in was so bizarre, it was easy to pretend it wasn’t real. He imagined he was in a B-movie. He wrote the script in his mind and rambled through the cliché filled dialogues. He had one actor get flustered and flub his lines. “That will make a great blooper,” thought Nozo. “I can put it into an Easter egg in the DVD as a gimmick to increase sales.”
     Nozo thought about the Borg. He laughed, picturing their expressions if they could only see him now, in this jail. But then he remembered that they were dead. Or where they? Maybe they existed in another world where that plumber had never showed up.
     Then he thought about Janet. Had she realized her dream of catching an AUS? Would she make it to a masterpiece world? If she did, it would just be a fluke. Knowing Janet, she had probably dumped Doreen and was shacked up with some dyke soccer jock.
     Finally, Nozo thought about Sara. He pictured her voluptuous body and wished he could say some kind of hocus pocus and then PRESTO, she would appear naked in front of him. That idea stuck in his mind and he just kept repeating the word presto, over and over again, like some kind of mantra.
     At the end of the fourth day, a guard finally opened the door with a big smirk on his face and looked at Nozo lying on the floor in a pool of vomit, piss, and shit, blabbering like an idiot, “Presto, presto, presto….” The guard laughed and gave Nozo a megakick in the ribs to wake him up from his stupor.
     “Damn,” said the guard. “Lying there like that, you just gave me a major case of deja-vu. You remind me of my last boyfriend. He was pretty messed up too.”
     “Boyfriend?” asked Nozo.
     “I’m a prison guard, what do you expect?” said the guard. “We’re like the Backstreet Boys if you know what I mean. If you want to survive here you better jump on the bandwagon and get used to it like everyone else.”
     “I’d rather die,” said Nozo. “You’re going to have to kill me first.”
     “We’ll see,” said the guard. “In this joint we eat punks like you for breakfast.”  The guard gave Nozo another kick and told him to get up. “The warden wants to see you,” he said. “But first you need to get cleaned up.”
     “What does he want to see me for,” asked Nozo.
     “I have no idea. Maybe there’s been another glitch in the computer and he lost your file or something. You’ll find out soon enough.”
     An hour later, Nozo was escorted into the warden’s office. The warden was on the couch kissing a woman dressed in black lingerie. When he saw Nozo enter the room, he whispered something in the woman’s ear and she smiled and walked out through a side door.
     “I didn’t know this jail had female convicts,” said Nozo.
     “It doesn’t. That was my children’s nanny,” answered the warden. “She comes here to hang out when the children are at school.  I’m helping her deal with carpal tunnel syndrome. We do these stretching exercises.”
     “Yeah, right. Whatever,” said Nozo. “Why did you bring me here? What do you want from me?”
     “Take a seat, and I’ll explain everything,” said the warden. Nozo looked at the warden and hesitated.
     “I prefer to stand,” said Nozo.
     “Don’t worry, it’s not booby trapped. Come on, take a seat, Nozo. Yeah, I know who you are. Your fingerprints came in. So, you’re from Taiwan huh? No one knows you’re here and there’s no proof that you even entered the U.S. You’re perfect for our project,” said the warden.
     “Project?” asked Nozo. “What, do you want me to be some kind of guinea pig? I’m not volunteering for anything. No way. You’re tripping if you think I’m going to cooperate with you.”
     “Would you prefer spending the next twenty years sitting in a cell? Do you want to end up as some guard’s boy toy? The choice is yours.”
     “You have a good point there. Okay, what kind of project are you talking about?”
     “I’m not just a warden. I also work for the C.I.A. We want you to go to Afghanistan posing as a Muslim from Malaysia. You will infiltrate an al-Qaida terrorist school specializing in suicide bombings, find out as much as you can, and then escape into Pakistan where our operatives will pick you up and debrief you. Can you do it?”
     “Are you shitting me?”
     “I shit you not. I’m offering you a windfall here. Say the word and you will be out of this prison by 7 o’clock tonight. We will provide you with ample funds to buy what you need, and you will report to your first CIA class Tuesday morning. You will be learning things like encryption, nanotechnology, explosives, Bahasa Malaysia and a crash course in Islam. Do you accept?”
     “Yeah, I accept. It beats jail, although I get the feeling that this is Mission Impossible #3.”
     “Hey, Tom Cruise survived the first two movies, maybe you can too. It’s always fun to bet on the underdog, and by the way, don’t even think about running. You will be caught and you’ll disappear. I can guarantee you that. Consider yourself lucky and good luck.” The warden laughed, shook his head, and pushed a button on his desk. An old man came in and with a nod from the warden, escorted Nozo out of the warden’s office.
     Nozo was taken out through a series of doors to the back of the prison. There he was given an old Toyota, a false passport, three thousand U.S. dollars wrapped in aluminum foil, and an instruction book listing the things he would need to buy and the location of the class. Nozo slipped the money into his shirt pocket, tossed the passport and the book on the passenger’s seat and drove out of the prison.
     “Awesome,” said Nozo.  “Whew! I can’t believe I’m out of this jail.”
     Nozo decided to procrastinate a little and see some of New York. But his procrastination didn’t last long. Curiosity got the better of him and after a couple of hours he opened the instruction book. It was written by a pundit by the name of Phil Brokington. His picture was even on the back cover of the book. But maybe that was just a joke.
      Nozo found a cheap hotel with a 24 hour coffee shop. He checked in, went to the shop, got a cup of coffee and began reading the book. It was a good thing he was a night owl because it took him most of the night to get through it. “This is some hardcore shit,” said Nozo to himself. “If they expect me to pull a 007, at least I hope I get laid before I get wasted.”
     The next morning, Nozo bought the supplies he would need for Suicide Bombers 101, the name the CIA manual jokingly called the class he would be attending. He stuck to generic brands to make sure his money would last but he still ended up getting ripped off at several shops. In New York, caveat emptor was the rule, and discount shops were few and far between. Finally after several hours of shopping, he had what he needed.
     Nozo made the two hour commute to the CIA training center, checked in and was taken to what looked like a makeshift clinic for a physical.
     “Hey why so many injections? What’s all this stuff you’re shooting into my arm. Are you trying to turn me into a drug addict?”
     “Actually, yes we are. We want you to be addicted to heroin and you need to get used to a few other drugs. If you want to see the whole list, I’ll show you the overhead later. Now, I want you to sniff this glue.”
     “Sniff glue? I’m not going to sniff glue. Are you crazy?” Nozo grabbed the doctor and pushed him into the wall.
     “Stop your griping. You will be posing as a drug addict on the run. Getting you addicted to these drugs is necessary. If you want to get hyper on me I have an alternative. Do you see that red syringe over there? That’s for new recruits that cause trouble. It’s got the Ebola Virus in it. If we have to kill you, we might as well study you first. Now are you going to sniff the glue or not?”
     “Okay, okay. Man, I never knew the CIA was so warped.”
     “Well, did you think an organization that tried to kill Castro with an exploding cigar would be normal? Get used to it. This is the C.I.A. Hey, don’t worry. It’s not so bad. If you psyche yourself up for it, it’s a cinch. You get to take the drugs. At least you have some fun. For me, it’s a daily grind and they won’t even let me leave this building because of security reasons. You’re lucky. Now, try sniffing this paint thinner. That’s it. That’s right. It’s not so bad, is it?” asked the doctor.
     “Oh my God. My head’s spinning, I’m seeing all these colors.”
     “If you think that’s good wait till you try the ground scorpion injection,” said the doctor. “It killed the last recruit on the first try.”
 

Nozo eight: Varanasi

Agent Jacobson was in his office going over spreadsheets. He picked up the phone to tell his secretary he wanted to speak to Doctor Zarez. But instead of getting a dial tone, he got his secretary’s voice whispering an I love you to agent Stanson. The promiscuous bitch couldn’t keep her panties on. He decided it was time Miss Jenkins got her pink slip. He had heard rumors that she was sleeping with most of his staff. Now he knew they were true. Agent Jacobson hated phones. He preferred his walkie-talkie. Twenty minutes later, his secretary informed him that Zarez had arrived. Her voice sounded apologetic. She knew she was in trouble.
     “Tell him to come in,” said Jacobson. 
     “Yes sir,” said Miss Jenkins.
     The doctor entered the Jackobson’s office, handed him his prescription of Prozac, and sat down.
     “How’s he doing?” asked the agent.
     “It’s mind-boggling, sir. This is his fourth scorpion injection this week and he hasn’t freaked out yet. In fact, he’s going apeshit over the stuff. I think he actually likes it.”
     “That’s good doctor. He has a strong mind. It will be useful to him. The al-Qaida training camp won’t accept him if he doesn’t. It takes an interesting combination to make a suicide bomber. He must be a tragic hero, a lunatic, a gung-ho fundamentalist, but the most important is he must have nerves of steel. Recruiting from the prison population was a brilliant idea. We can’t afford another fiasco like last year. Not a single one of our well-trained, but ridiculously clean-cut operatives survived.”
     “Yes, but I’m worried. He’s starting to like the drugs too much. That could be a problem. If he focuses on the drugs instead of the mission, he could blow it.”
     “It’s good that he’s getting into the drugs. That will make him more believeable to al-Qaida. The way he treats his body will show he has no regard for his own life. It will give him an edge of desperation. Al-Qaida will be drawn to that. I like this Nozo kid. I think we have a winner here. But of course, there’s always Murphy’s Law. Nothing is certain. He’s going to need a lot of luck.”
     While Jacobson and Zarez were discussing Nozo in Jacobson’s office, Nozo and his roommate Alan, were in their dorm taking hits from a giant bong that Nozo had made with stolen test tubes from the lab.
     “This place gives me the jitters,” said Alan.
     “Take another hit,” said Nozo. “It should calm you down.”
     “I’m not supposed to be sharing drugs with you. The drug thing is your cover, not mine. I’m supposed to be memorizing the Koran. I could get in trouble.”
     “Don’t worry. No one in this room is a tattletale. Anyway, it’s just pot. It helps me to mellow out after the scorpion injections,” said Nozo.
     “You’ve got it easy. All you have to do is take drugs. I have to take these stupid jihad classes and go over endless hypothetical situations,” said Alan.
     “Yeah, but I think you have a better chance than I do. You’re a Kurd.”
     “I think of myself as an American more than a Kurd,” said Alan. I was only a kid when Saddam used ethnic cleansing on my people. You know, my whole family was killed. But I have no memory of it.”
     “Is that why you’re here?” asked Nozo. “Did you volunteer for this?”
     “No, I was in prison just like you were. I’m a kleptomaniac. They got me on the three strikes you’re out program. I got ten years. They had me cleaning prison windows eight hours a day. But I didn’t want to spend the next ten years with a squeegee in my hand.”
     “Ten years with a squeegee might be better than death in Afghanistan,” said Nozo.
     “I’ll take my chances. Who wants to die from Alzheimer’s? Anyway,  I have another reason for wanting out. Just before the cops nabbed me I was working on a killer-app for my brother’s software company. Now it’s become a cash cow and he’s raking it in. He promised me an equal partnership in the company. If I get through this, I’ll be set.”
     “Yeah, if you get through this,” said Nozo. “That’s a big IF.”
     “What about you, Nozo? Do you have plans?” asked Alan.
     “I used to have plans,” said Nozo. “But the AUS changed all that.”
     “The AUS?” asked Alan. “What’s that?”
     “It’s not important,” said Nozo. “It’s just something I used to care about. But not now. I don’t give a shit about anything anymore.”
     “Maybe that’s just the drugs talking,” said Alan.
     “Yeah, maybe. Whatever. I’m going to bed,” said Nozo.
     The C.I.A. training lasted six months. During the last few weeks Nozo and Alan were split up and Nozo was put into a small windowless room by himself. Nozo had no clue why this was done, but most of the time he was too drugged up to care. Then on the last day there was a big party consisting of a smorgasbord of requested food and drink. There was shish kebab, cottage cheese, salad with bacon bits and croutons, sloppy joes, pineapple cakes, pizza, spaghetti, plenty of microbrews to guzzle, and smoothies for the non-alcoholic set. It was customary for the C.I.A. to splurge on the graduation parties. Afterall, most of the recruits wouldn’t be coming back.
     Nozo was more than ready to start the mission. He had gotten burned out by the C.I.A. bigwigs in their ivory tower and their corny machismo. They were all just instructors. Most of them had never even been in the field. They were just wannabe agents playing G.I. Joe games. The ones that had been in the field were all has-beens. They had their success and took their reward in an office job, a little clout, and a cushy retirement. Nozo wasn’t like that. He didn’t plan on sitting through his life. He wanted more. Or maybe he just wanted nothing. Nozo was so messed up from the drugs he couldn’t think straight anymore. He just knew he wanted a change.
     The next day, Nozo was handed his assignment and driven to the airport.
     “Damn!” said the driver. “The car behind me is tailgating. He’s trying to maneuver around me but that truck is blocking him in.”
     “Varanasi?” asked Nozo.
     “Yes, the details are all in the file. You can read it on the plane,” answered the driver. “Here we are. Good luck.”
     Nozo got out of the car and walked into the airport. “Good luck?” he thought. “Yeah, right.”
     The trip to New Delhi took thirteen hours. Nozo watched a movie, read an article in the in-flight magazine on cold fusion, and then went to sleep. Nozo slept most of the way. Then, right before the plane landed, he opened the file and read his instructions. He was supposed to rent an apartment in Varanasi and pose as a Malaysian drug addict with a hatred for America. He was supposed to get high and walk around telling everyone how much he hated the U.S. “That shouldn’t be too hard,” thought Nozo.
     Nozo arrived in New Delhi and caught a bus to the train station. Then he jumped on a train heading to Varanasi. He didn’t have a ticket but a bribe to the conductor was all it took to get a second class bunk on the train. Nozo noticed his hand shaking. He was starting to suffer from withdrawal. He needed drugs. The sooner he got to Varanasi, the better. Nozo popped some sleeping pills and settled down onto the bunk. It was a 17 hour trip to Varanasi. The pills worked quickly and Nozo drifted off to the sounds of Chaivallahs.
     “Chai! Chai! Chaiiiiiiiiiiiiii!, Chaiiii!, Chai!, Chaiiiiiiiii!”
    Nozo woke up early, ate a few samosas from a station vendor and waited for the noon arrival time. When the train arrived, he got a rickshaw to the ghats and checked into a cheap hotel. Then he went out into the narrow stone passageways of the old city to score some crack. It didn’t take long to make a drug connection. Afterall, this was Varanasi.  But there wasn’t any cocaine, just opium and heroin. Nozo chose heroin. He needed the rush.
     Nozo sat in a dirty little room next to an old man, watching him prepare the injection. The room was a mixture of the people that came there. On one wall was an old Ouija board under a Jimi Hendrix poster. Another wall was covered with Bollywood pictures from the 50’s and some low budget indie film posters.  Lying on a couch was a blonde man. He was staring.
     “You got a problem?” asked Nozo.
     “No, sorry. I wasn’t staring at you. I was just spacing out.”
     “I guess that means you already got your injection.”
     “Yeah, that’s right.”
     “Is the stuff any good?”
     “For me it is. You see, I have inoperable lung cancer. This is my euthanasia. But I wouldn’t recommend it for anyone else. There was this British tourist here the other day. He tried it as a novelty and it fucked him up pretty bad.”
     “I think I can handle it,” said Nozo. “I have yet to met my chemical nemesis.”
         Finally, the old man was ready. Nozo stretched his arm out on a pink satin pillow and the old man gave Nozo the injection. It took a few minutes to take effect. Then it was like a Molotov Cocktail going off inside his head. The effect of the drug was intense. Nozo paid the old man and left. He knew he was walking but he couldn’t think about where he was going, or what he was doing. It was just a body walking. Finally, his legs needed a rest and Nozo sat down and closed his eyes.
     Nozo had no idea how long he sat there. It could have been minutes or could have been days. Finally, he opened his eyes. He was sitting on the ghats next to a Sadu.
     “How did I get here?” asked Nozo.
     “How do you get anywhere?” asked the Sadu.
    

     Nozo looked at the sadu and sighed. “I’m not really in the mood for your rhetorical bullshit and semantics,” he said. “Just tell me how I got here.”
     “Impatience is a sign of a hungry soul,” said the sadu.
     “Yeah, I’m hungry, you old geezer. But it’s not my soul that needs food, it’s my stomach. I have the munchies big time. Why don’t you skip the propaganda and tell me what I’m doing here on the ghats?”
     “You are these steps. Silence is the river,” said the sadu.
     “What? Do you want me to sit here with you and appreciate the aesthetics of the Ganges? Okay, it’s beautiful here and …….and …..it’s…it’s….”
     “Breath,” said the sadu.
     “It’s breath? What is that supposed to mean? Look, can’t you just use plain English and tell me how I got here?” asked Nozo.
     “My name is Yashvir,” said the Sadu. “What’s your name?”
     “I’m Nozo.”
     “Nozo, you took a shitload of dope and passed out in a ditch on a dead cow,” said the Sadu. “I found you slumped over the cow. You barfed all over it. I was afraid you would drown in your own vomit. I picked you up and brought you here. I’ve been taking care of you these last three days, giving you water and shading you from the sun. You were a gomer. The drugs are just a coward’s suicide.”
      “I wasn’t taking drugs to commit suicide,” said Nozo. “I was looking for an AUS, and then I got in some trouble and then it was necessary to….”
     “Ahhhh, you’re an AUS chaser,” said Yashvir.
     “You know about the AUS?” asked Nozo.
     “Of course. But Nozo, chasing the AUS is a wild goose chase. You will never succeed. Even if you catch one, the Mumas will just send another AUS to correct the mistake and you will never know you caught one.”
     “You mean all this has been for nothing?” asked Nozo.
     “Not entirely. You are here now aren’t you? You’re not a lost cause. Maybe you should stop letting things happen and start making things happen instead,” said Yashvir. “If you want to escape this world there are other ways. Become a sadu, not a pseudo-terrorist.”
     “Pseudo-terrorist? You mean you know about the CIA?” asked Nozo.
     “Of course. I know a lot about you Nozo. We all do.”
     “We?”
     “Questions can not be answered now. Nozo, now is the time to be silent. Quiet your mind and breathe. Become a sadu, learn from me. Leave your thoughts with your past,” said Yashvir. “Chill out and enter the zone.”
     “Okay,” said Nozo.  Nozo wasn’t sure what zone he was supposed to enter, or what mode of mind Yashvir wanted him in, but he decided to respect the sadu and try. Yashvir was no phony. Nozo knew he must do what Yashvir wanted him to do. He cleared his mind and stared at the water.
     Yashvir became Nozo’s mentor. It was baffling at first, but Yashvir taught him everything he needed to know, which was nothing. Nozo learned that everything is really nothing at all and that learning was really unlearning. After a year, Yashvir left him and Nozo continued on his own.
     Nozo stopped thinking. His brain became quiet. He just existed in the moment and lived a sadu’s life. His clothes became rags and then gradually disintegrated. Nozo became a naked sadu. He traveled around India with nothing but a wooden begging bowl. Seven years passed. Nozo was at peace. Maybe it was just malnutrition, but he felt he knew the answers to the questions that had once disturbed his mind.
     Then one day, while he was in Mumbai, Nozo looked up and saw Janet’s face on a billboard. Although the years had changed her, and her name was now Jan Rae, he was sure it was her. The billboard was an ad for an avant-garde Bollywood movie. Janet was in India? Janet was a movie star?  Nozo decided it was time for a reunion.
     Janet sat in her dressing room in front of her computer, downloading some open source software from the Net. She wanted to tweak with it a bit and optimize it into an archive for her search for a plumber. Now that Janet was making good money as an actress, she was using all her resources to continue her search. Janet wasn’t the kind to give up easily.
     “Kudos to Jan Rae for her hilarious performance in Ganga Jamuna,” said Ananda. “Honey, did you see this review? The critics love you!”
     “Well, they always root for the ridiculous hero,” said Janet. “Especially when she’s fat and she’s wearing a skimpy outfit. It’s comedy. But you know how it is, now they worship me, but next month there will be a backlash. I’ll get criticized and someone new will come along. It’s the same old scenario time and time again. Look at Pandita. She was the most famous actress in all of India just one year ago, and now she’s the laughingstock of Mumbai.”
     “That will never happen to you, honey,” said Ananda.
     “Do they mention you in any of the articles?” asked Janet.
     “No, but why should they? I only had a bit part. I’m insignifcant.”
     “You’re not insignificant to me, sugar.”  Janet smiled and groped Ananda’s breasts through her vinyl goth jumpsuit. Then she slid her hand into Ananda’s underwear and slipped a finger into her snatch.
     “I’m so hot. Let’s try out that new dildo you got me for my birthday,” said Ananda.
     “No, I’m tired of all these vibrating gizmos. How about something more simple? How about an ice-cube massage?” asked Janet.
     “Oh, you’re so kinky,” said Ananada. “That sounds perfect.”
     Janet and Ananda spent the next two hours in bed together. They were just about to get up to shower when they heard a knock on the door.
     “I’ll get that,” said Ananda. “It’s probably the champagne we ordered.”
Ananda went into the front room and opened the door. Then she jumped back in shock. Staring at her with a child-like grin, was a naked sadu!
     “I’m Janet’s brother,” said Nozo. “Can I come in?”
     “Janet’s brother? Bullshit! How did they let you in here? Get out of here or I’ll call security!”
     “Ananda? Is everything okay? Who is it?” asked Janet.
     “It’s a naked sadu claiming to be your brother,” answered Ananda.
     “A naked sadu? What the fuck are you talking about? Is this a ……oh my God, Nozo! What are you doing in India? You’re so thin. Why are you naked? Is this a disguise? Is this some kind of joke? How did you find me?”
     “Breath,” answered Nozo.
     “Breath?” asked Janet. “What’s that supposed to mean? Look I know you must be angry at me for ditching you like I did, but I can explain everything. It all started when I told Doreen a fib. There was this trekkie nerd we met at the rave that night, and he swiped Doreen’s purse. He was a geek. I grabbed him and he was a real wuss about it. But then……”
     “Life is an extravaganza of nothingness,” said Nozo.
     “Nozo what’s wrong with you? Are you nuts? Did you ever find an AUS? I have so much to tell you. Come in, come in and sit down. Ananda, this is my brother Nozo, Nozo this is Ananda,” said Janet.
     “It’s so nice to meet you,” said Ananda. “I kind of feel like I already know you. Your sister has told me so much about you.”
     “Sand,” said Nozo. “Jan Rae.”
     The door to Janet’s dressing room was still open. A woman came in.
     “Miss Rae, Ganesh wants you to go over the new script with him this afternoon. He told me to tell you to meet him at his apartment at 2pm.”
     “Shit! Why does it have to be at his apartment? I can’t stand his wife. She’s so prissy. Ganesh has been trying to coax me into playing the part of Rana instead of the gypsy queen. But there’s no way I’m going to do it. I hate going to his apartment. It’s such a fucking hassle.”
     “No shit,” said Ananda. “Do you remember how his wife freaked out in that mosh pit? I swear that woman is on drugs.”
     “No doubt. No doubt,” answered Janet. “Look Nozo, I have to go meet this asshole but we need to talk. There’s this cozy little organic restaurant Ananda and I like on Bharup Street called Vrum. Meet me there at 7pm tonight, okay?”
     “Janet, my sister. Janet. Jan Rae.”
     Nozo, here take these clothes. You won’t be able to go to Vrum looking like that. They’re vintage movie costumes. Most male actors here are on steroids to give them that macho-look, so they probably won’t fit you, but you can make do. Meet me at 7pm okay?”
     “7pm. Vrum. Meet, meet Jan Rae,” answered Nozo.
     Nozo left the dressing room. He wasn’t used to the concept of time. He decided to go to the beach to wait. He walked along the side of the road thinking about his sister.
     Suddenly a black car pulled over right next to him. The back door of the car opened, and someone grabbed Nozo and pulled him into the car. Then the car sped away. It happened so fast, Nozo just had time for one word…..
     “Car,” said Nozo.

     Nozo didn’t struggle. He was in a car. Someone had kidnapped him. It was an enigma. But Nozo had no queries. His mind was blank. This was fate. The radio was playing an indiPop mash up. Nozo knew he should speak but he couldn’t think of what to say. He racked his brains for several minutes as the car sped over the speed bumps. The car passed the beach Nozo was walking to and continued along an old highway.
     “Travel,” said Nozo. “Speed. Darkness. Light. Water. Death.” The man in the back seat with Nozo laughed.
     “Is that all you can say?” asked the man. “Don’t you know me?”
      Nozo turned to look at the man. It was agent Jacobson! He was a little flabbier, and he had a goatee, but Nozo immediately recognized him.
     “Agent Jacobson,” said Nozo. “Breath. Mumbai. Circle.”
     “Nozo, what happened to you? How did you become a caricature of a Sadu? Were you brainwashed? Why didn’t you complete your mission?”
     “I’m not a caricature of a sadu,” said Nozo. “I am a sadu. I’m on a quest.”
     “On a quest?” asked Jacobson. “It sounds more like a major brain fart to me. Why don’t you stop this bullshit? You’re not going to find any answers dabbling in Hinduism and living like a sloth. Wake up Nozo. I need you.”
     “Need me? Ha! You asshole. You don’t need me. You want to use me like before. What do you have planned for me now? More booze and drugs? Another impossible mission to a rogue country?”
     “Ahh, now that’s more like it. That’s the Nozo I remember… pissed off, stubborn, determined, a little idiosyncratic, but a guy you can……”
     “Fuck off,” said Nozo.
     “Whatever. Look Nozo, there’s no time for tantrums, petty squabbling, swapping barbs or a walk down memory lane. Let’s bypass all this crap and get to the point. Taiwan needs you,” said Jacobson.
     “Taiwan needs me? Needs me for what?” asked Nozo.
     “Obviously you haven’t been paying any attention to the news. Three months ago an alien virus in a meteorite fell from outer space onto a beach in Kenting and people started dying. The virus mutated the human genome. At first the DDP tried to gloss over the problem as just a temporary setback to ecotourism, but the virus spread. It was relentless. As far as we know, everyone died. WHO put a quarantine on Taiwan and the virus was contained. But then satellite photos revealed activity on the island. These people were dead yet they were moving around. We sent a probe in for a closer look, and, and, well, Nozo....everyone in Taiwan is a zombie.”
     “Are you shitting me? It sounds like parapsychology morphed into science fiction or the start of a bad sitcom. Is this for real?”
     “I shit you not. Taiwan has become a zombie nation.
     “Zombies? Taiwanese are all zombies? Do you work for a tabloid newspaper now? Do you expect me to believe this?” asked Nozo.
     “My laptop is connected to a government intranet grid. Here, see the pictures for yourself,” said Jacobson.  Nozo spent the next hour in the car looking at the information the government had gathered so far. There was an annoying lag with the warez software, but it didn’t take Nozo long to realize that everything Jacobson had told him was true.
     “Shit,” said Nozo. “What do you want me to do about it?”
     “We have to stop the virus from spreading. Some of the zombies are trying to swim to China. Others are boarding boats but they don’t seem to have the intelligence to steer them. They just drift around. We thought about nuking Taiwan but it’s too dangerous. The only way is to kill every last zombie and then keep the island under quarantine. We want to parachute you onto the island to kill zombies. Don’t worry. You won’t be alone. We are sending over 100 men and women.”
     “But I don’t know anything about killing zombies,” said Nozo.
     “Don’t worry. We have set up a training venue in Goa,” said Jacobson. “You will learn everything you need to know there. We need you. You’re from Taiwan and you know your way around there. If you help us, and you succeed, we will give you immunity from prosecution, an American passport, a million dollars and a female slave of your choice.”
     “A female slave?” asked Nozo. “I thought America was a free country.”
     “Not under president Bush,” answered Jacobson with a laugh.
     “What about the virus?” asked Nozo. “Won’t I get it too?”
     “We have a vaccination that will protect you.”
     “If you have a vaccination, why not vaccinate everyone?” asked Nozo.
     “Because the alien virus keeps mutating,” answered Jacobson. “The vaccination will only work for a certain period of time. The danger is if this thing starts spreading, we won’t have the equipment or the time to manufacture new vaccinations. That’s why we need your help.”
     “Okay, I will help you,” said Nozo.
     Nozo sat in the car and stared at a cheap hologram sticker of an old slapstick cartoon character stuck on the back of the seat. Then he watched the milestones go by. They arrived at the training camp two hours later, in time for dinner. The ZKT or Zombie Killing Trainees as they were called were having a late dinner. Agent Jacobson introduced Nozo to the other trainees and left the room. Each table in the mess sat six trainees with the grub spread out on a lazy Susan. Nozo sat down and helped himself as the other trainees filled him in on the training and the lingo of the ZKT.
     “Quiche and steak?”asked Nozo. “Is this standard ZKT food?”
     “Well, beef might be taboo in this culture,” said a sexy woman across from Nozo, “but here we get what we ask for and I sure as hell aint a vegan.”
     “They even get me my favorite magazines,” said another woman, “Vogue and Rolling Stone.”
     “And they promised to get me back into M.I.T.” said one man. “I got kicked out for plagiarizing.”
     Nozo told them about his slave woman and everyone laughed. He was glad the trainees were so upbeat. Killing zombies wasn’t going to be a cakewalk. A positive attitude would be important.
     The training lasted only three weeks. It was a crash course. There were several important hurdles to get over and Nozo and the other ZKT learned everything they needed to know. There were classes on zombie biology, zombie behavioral characteristics, zombie reanimation, survival tactics in a zombie world, Tai Chi, and weaponry. At the end of the course all one hundred of the ZKT became OZK, Official Zombie Killers. Then they were given their area assignments and dropped over Taiwan.  Nozo and two other OZK were assigned to Kaoshiung.
     Nine months passed. Nozo sat in his hideout, eating canned peas and thinking about the past. He had wanted to catch a plumber but instead he had become a zombie killer. It all seemed so surreal. Nozo had seen a few zombie movies, but it was all just fluff compared to the reality of killing real zombies. It was hard work. Nozo was exhausted. He had imagined zombies to be slow walking, but these Kaohsiung zombies could really hustle. Still, he had managed to kill thousands and thousands of them. He had shot them, blown them up, axed them, set them on fire, cut off their heads with a sword, beat them with a baseball bat, and harpooned their brains.
     The other two OZK that had been sent with Nozo to Kaohsiung were killed in the second week. At first Nozo had thought that it really would be possible to complete his mission. But then he realized that he was just the first of many recruits. No one expected him to live as long as he had. They had just expected him to kill as many zombies as he could before the zombies killed him.  New recruits were sent in every three weeks. But there had been something wrong with the last batch. They got sick and died just two days after they were dropped in. The virus had spread to the outside world! After that no new recruits were sent in, and there was no communication. As far as Nozo knew, most people in the world were now zombies. Previously, most people had believed that becoming a zombie was impossible. They thought it was just science fiction, but now zombie life was the mainstream. Nozo figured he would get the virus too, what with all the blood splattering and daily gore, but it hadn’t happened. He just went on killing zombies. But Nozo knew he couldn’t hold out forever.
     Three years later Nozo found himself in what used to be Kaohsiung Boys Senior High School. He was trapped in the gym and the place was full of zombies. There was no way out and he only had one bullet left in his gun. Nozo knew it was the end.
     “There’s no way in hell, I’m going to be a zombie,” thought Nozo. “It’s better to kill myself.” Nozo put the gun in his mouth and got ready to pull the trigger. But then he looked up and saw a young girl. She was only about five years old and despite being dead and a zombie, she looked different from the others. She had an innocent look on her face. She was almost cute. Nozo took the gun out of his mouth and pointed it at the girl’s head. He decided it was better to give one last zombie its freedom. Maybe someone one day would do the same for him. Nozo fired his gun and the girl dropped like a rock. Then Nozo dropped the gun and let the zombies close in for their meal.
     Darkness………then sound and the touch of someone’s hand on his forehead. Nozo opened his eyes. He was lying in a bed and Yashvir the sadu was staring down at him.
    “What happened?” asked Nozo.
     “You were a zombie,” answered Yashvir. “But you’re not a zombie anymore. A plumber has taken you out of that world. My name is not Yashvir, Nozo. I am Incolopolo. I am a Muma.”
     “You’re a Muma?” asked Nozo.   
     “Yes. Congratulations, Nozo. You passed all our tests. We knew you were good enough to be an aus, but only I believed you could go all the way. Nozo, you are a Muma now. You are one of us and this is a masterpiece world.”
     “Am I really a Muma now?” asked Nozo.
     “You sure as hell are,” answered Incolopolo.
     “And is this Nozo story finally over?” asked Nozo.
     “It sure as hell is,” answered Incolopolo. “Now move on to better things.”