GPs, the Garbage Pickers, tore open every plastic bag and scattered its contents all over the sidewalk, looking for something. Every morning the sidewalk was covered. Also, people shit and pissed in crevices and doorways. This was especially true of the crackheads who had given up on certain elements of social training and drug dealers who didnât have time to find a bathroom. The whole sidewalk stank. Most difficult for Docâs own sense of personal integrity were the homeless guys with paper cups opening and closing the doors at various cash machines all over the city.
âYou gotta tip me,â one of them told Doc, as he pulled out his twenty dollars. ââCause I donât have one of those cards.â
âItâs not the card that gets you the money,â Doc told him. âYouâve gotta have an account. I mean, you can only get back the money that you put in there in the first place.â
âYouâre kidding,â the guy said, smelling awful. âI thought you just needed the card to get the cash.â
That afternoon, Doc started counting and discovering that eight different people stopped and asked him for money. With each one he had to make a moral decision. But he didnât know how. He didnât know which set of values were applicable. If he gave each person some reasonable, humanly respectful amount, he wouldnât have enough for himself. If he gave each a token amount, they wouldnât have enough. Then Doc realized that even if he gave each person a reasonable amount every time they asked for it, this still would not help them. It would not get them off the street. He could not figure out the difference between right and wrong. So, he gave each one something.
Yes, it was Christmas and Third Street looked great. The Hellâs Angels outdid themselves by being tasteful for a change. Their decorations were arty and conceptual in alternating geometrics. The whole block of tenements was draped in plain light, lush and dripping like kudzu. No Santas, Baby Jesus, or reindeers. The Angels dumped the kitsch and gave everyone frozen foam blossoms in
green, red, and white. Of course, the Angels were bullies, and not heroes, so there was a vast complication to this beauty because Doc was dependent on vicious killers to get it.
Overwhelming news and overwhelming personal confusion. Plausible deniability, extreme money funneling, circuitous routes. Not telling people or telling people that youâre not telling.
Face it , Doc thought. From the first divided cell to the last pump of the respirator, a group of people is the most dangerous force on earth .
Chapter Two
Anna came home from the temp agency early. They had promised to send her out but they didnât. What was wrong with her? It used to be that stockings, heels, and combing her bangs forward were the only prerequisites for employment. Now she had to know Word Perfect, too. Feeling inadequate and inappropriate, she splurged at the newsstand and then made a beeline home, running the gauntlet of beggars and people handing out circulars, business cards, and discount flyers. She clutched their offerings to her chest and ran up the stairs.
The first thing Anna saw at home were three roaches hanging out by the dish drain. Vengefully, she put out the Combat and waited. Those assholes at American Mutual were too much to take. Thank God she didnât have to go back there. In three days she had typed up all the correspondence pertaining to a group of workers with asbestos poisoning trying to sue the company. Then there was the puny executive who cornered her at lunch.
âHow can you live with yourself knowing that youâre fighting poor people who are dying from asbestos?â sheâd asked.
âMost of them were heavy smokers,â he said, satisfied, and then asked her out for the second time.
Later in the office the old Italian guy who had worked for the company for twenty-four years was
âYou gotta tip me,â one of them told Doc, as he pulled out his twenty dollars. ââCause I donât have one of those cards.â
âItâs not the card that gets you the money,â Doc told him. âYouâve gotta have an account. I mean, you can only get back the money that you put in there in the first place.â
âYouâre kidding,â the guy said, smelling awful. âI thought you just needed the card to get the cash.â
That afternoon, Doc started counting and discovering that eight different people stopped and asked him for money. With each one he had to make a moral decision. But he didnât know how. He didnât know which set of values were applicable. If he gave each person some reasonable, humanly respectful amount, he wouldnât have enough for himself. If he gave each a token amount, they wouldnât have enough. Then Doc realized that even if he gave each person a reasonable amount every time they asked for it, this still would not help them. It would not get them off the street. He could not figure out the difference between right and wrong. So, he gave each one something.
Yes, it was Christmas and Third Street looked great. The Hellâs Angels outdid themselves by being tasteful for a change. Their decorations were arty and conceptual in alternating geometrics. The whole block of tenements was draped in plain light, lush and dripping like kudzu. No Santas, Baby Jesus, or reindeers. The Angels dumped the kitsch and gave everyone frozen foam blossoms in
green, red, and white. Of course, the Angels were bullies, and not heroes, so there was a vast complication to this beauty because Doc was dependent on vicious killers to get it.
Overwhelming news and overwhelming personal confusion. Plausible deniability, extreme money funneling, circuitous routes. Not telling people or telling people that youâre not telling.
Face it , Doc thought. From the first divided cell to the last pump of the respirator, a group of people is the most dangerous force on earth .
Chapter Two
Anna came home from the temp agency early. They had promised to send her out but they didnât. What was wrong with her? It used to be that stockings, heels, and combing her bangs forward were the only prerequisites for employment. Now she had to know Word Perfect, too. Feeling inadequate and inappropriate, she splurged at the newsstand and then made a beeline home, running the gauntlet of beggars and people handing out circulars, business cards, and discount flyers. She clutched their offerings to her chest and ran up the stairs.
The first thing Anna saw at home were three roaches hanging out by the dish drain. Vengefully, she put out the Combat and waited. Those assholes at American Mutual were too much to take. Thank God she didnât have to go back there. In three days she had typed up all the correspondence pertaining to a group of workers with asbestos poisoning trying to sue the company. Then there was the puny executive who cornered her at lunch.
âHow can you live with yourself knowing that youâre fighting poor people who are dying from asbestos?â sheâd asked.
âMost of them were heavy smokers,â he said, satisfied, and then asked her out for the second time.
Later in the office the old Italian guy who had worked for the company for twenty-four years was
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