Take the Fourth
by
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She heard tires squeal, the roar of the engine, and looked in that direction. A dark car could have been blue or black, hard to tell with the sunlight and shade of the trees during this afternoon. It was one of those old muscle cars, Nova, Camaro, again hard to tell, she wasn’t an expert in automobiles; they got her from point A to point B; that was all that mattered, even though she drove the top of the line Mercedes sedan. The car she saw had big fat tires, that she remembers and a vinyl roof – black, nothing else stood out in the mind. She watched it as it sped down the street, five maybe ten seconds it was gone. “Humph,” such an asshole she thought, “speeding around a children’s playground, should string him up, they should have put in speed bumps”. She was pissed.
As the echo of the car wafted in the summer air, her ears and mind came back into focus. She heard children crying, startled by the sounds of the loud asshole no doubt. She turned to her little ones, picked up Samuel who was crying and looked for Ripley who was playing on the gym, fort thingy that was bigger than some people’s house – cost more too. She scanned the horizon and Ripley’s pink tee shirt was nowhere to be found. She scanned again, looking at the swings, then to the sliding board, still no luck. She moved closer to the fort area hoping to get a glimpse that she was inside.
“That’s an unusual name?”
“She was named after Ellen Ripley.”
“Who?”
“Well actually after Sigourney Weaver.”
“Sorry I still don’t follow you.”
“Sigourney Weaver’s character in Alien; one of my husband’s favorite movies, he just loved the name Ripley.”
And so the questioning by the detective continued
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About the Book
Buying gummy bears and a porn magazine plus living alone could classify you as a pedophile. Living in 90210 and working within the fortune 500 could classify you as upper class. What you buy, where you live, what you do, who you know, all creates a demographical portrait of you as an individual. As that individual you can be compared to the various groups within society deemed necessary by insurance and marketing companies, financial institutions, law enforcement, and even the government. Welcome to the information age where even the most mundane or trivial data stored on a computer can and will be used against you in a court of law. Everyday your rights granted to you by the 4th amendment are violated without your consent. Through the Patriot Act, the Electronic Communications Privacy Act, and a slew of other laws on the books, your rights to your own information are being stripped away. Your data, whether private or public, is searched for analysis, is searched for segregation, is searched for probable cause, again, all without your knowledge. Your information is constantly being seized for your potential as a Nike sneaker wearer, a food stamp user, or even a would-be killer. Both government and business think as long as you are a law abiding citizen, how they use your information should be of no concern. You should be concerned, you should be worried for in this day and age, information is money, it’s power, and those who control the power, the information, control you.
About the Author
Jeffrey Walton whose age is the answer to life, the universe, and everything plus one, of no relation to Sam, a Magellan of sorts, studied Fibonacci and Pythagoras, prospered within the financial webs of the world, and has been slinging alcoholic concoctions almost as long as Peterson and Clavin sat on some bar stools. His diversions include saving Hollywood ephemera, testing his palate on vintage juice discovered by Dionysus, and attending social events held to honor the methods of transportation created by a famous Ferdinand. During his rare downtimes and vacations, he took inspiration from his experiences to pen his first cerebral download and has already embarked on his second.