chaos part 3: where it all went wrong
The job was laid out plain and simple: toss all five trackers into the abyss, five miles out where the ocean swallows secrets whole. But fate had other designs.
best film noir voice The job was plain and simple: tie Donald, Daisy, and the other three to weighted bottles and toss them into the abyss, five miles out where the ocean swallows secrets whole. But fate had other designs.
Daisy (I told ya last week) she wasn't one to go quietly into the night. Two miles from our mark, she started squawking, her protests cutting through the thick fog of our plans. I tried sweet talk, even slapped her around a bit, but the lights never came on.
So there was only one option left. Abandon them all to the merciless sea, little over a mile from the shoreline. They washed ashore like driftwood, close-knit as a family of misfits, still buzzing with life. Huey, Dewey, and Louie, with their batteries still humming at ninety-five percent, like apples ripe for the picking.
But then came the twists, sharp and unexpected like a dagger in the back.
Piet, a name whispered in shadows, snatched Huey and ran north. When I finally caught up the sad sack had spent a miserable afternoon shoved in a post box covered in seaweed.
Donald found himself in the hands of a man named Ed. We worked out a deal and Ed left Don behind a gas station vacuum cleaner for me to pick up on my return from my daily labor.
Dewey and Louie, they fell into the hands of spring breakers, their fate uncertain as the shifting sands of a beach at high tide.
Louie, he's still at the hotel. Still pinging in the night, a signal of hope amidst chaos.
But Dewey... Dewey found himself in the clutches of a man named Mike who shoved him in a backpack and headed for Minnesota. Last I heard from Mike he’s planning to toss poor Dewey into the Mississippi.
And Daisy, that enigmatic dame, vanished into Florida‘s suburban embrace, a ghost haunting the edges of my conscience. Did she orchestrate this chaos, a grand deception to scatter her brood and secure her own sanctuary? Was her rebellion merely a ruse, a means to an end where obligations evaporate like morning dew?
As the smoke clears and the echoes of betrayal linger in the air, I'm left to wonder:
do the chaotic systems of the natural world even begin to compare to the chaos of mankind?
