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Saturday, September 26, 2020

Night At The Think Tank, Part 1


Part One: A Familiar Face


Despite the biting cold winds and fading light of the sun, despite having to cut through a neighborhood that has seen better days, and despite having five different forms of transportation (six, if the blasted teleports were ever repaired), James Finchner still walked to work. As a boy, he never understood his father's strange quirk of walking to work, calling him "Old-fashioned" as they strolled together but Finch slowly inherited the desire to feel and view his nearly daily commute up close, choosing to be part of the scenery while seeing it. Only on days where the weather or time wouldn't permit it did he ever use another means of transportation.


His shop, The Think Tank, stood near the old downtown district and managed to keep its doors opened during various neighborhood crime sprees, protests and rejuvenations. As the years passed, most of the shops in the district had closed their doors, leaving the Think Tank and a few others remaining long enough to be declared historical city landmarks. His commute from his apartment took him down old streets he had walked with his own father and as consequence, Finch had his route so well timed that as he passed certain street lights, they turned on. Unfortunately, due to the unexpected chilling winds, his commute was less peaceful than he had wished . 

He reached his shop in time for a sharp cross breeze to hit him as he unlocked the door. He pushed through the door and slammed it shut. The soft light seeped into the waiting room of the Think Tank, silently greeting him as he warmed himself. 

A dark cherry wood counter separated the lobby and the corridor which led to the booths and office hidden away in the back. Finch’s office was the only room in the shop that he could truly call his own. His grandfather had a small room in the back that he’d used to count the money and hold the old logs and receipts. As the years passed and the owners changed, two booths were converted into an office, just large enough for a comfortable night of working late or the rare business meeting. 

In the early millennium, scientists discovered ways, not only to extract memories from people, but to clone and even imprint them on another person. The discovery was met with mixed reactions from exuberant celebration to the protests of zealots, the fearful, and the reluctant. 

Once the state started issuing extraction licenses, Isaac Finchner found an old tattoo parlor and liked the idea of using a sort of kin house of disreputable business as his shop. After 52 years, the shop’s humble beginnings remained evident throughout. Memories extractions remained a sensitive subject long after Congress passed the bill to legalize it years later. Finch himself had been cornered by the occasional Extraction protester at charity events or the odd letter, condemning the Tank for its crimes and atrocities it had "committed" over the years, but he quickly learned to ignore them and to send them unread to the FBI offices.

He was restocking one of the booths when he heard the front door open and shut. "Finch, are you here yet?" 

"No, Tab, this isn't Finch. This is the crazed burglar who has broken in and killed Finch." Footsteps echoed down the hall coming towards him. 

"Does that mean I get the Tank now?" 

He finished up and walked into the booth across the way. 

She gasped when she entered the room. "Finch! You're alive. It's a miracle." 

He chuckled and started on the supplies in the room. Tabitha walked in behind him. "Good evening, Tab. I thought Mariel was the only one here tonight. What happened?" Tabitha Waller and Finch met when they were apprentices for Finch's father. Fresh from college with a double major in computer engineering and neuroscience, she quickly made a name for herself in the business, becoming one of the best extractions technicians in the country. Despite constant job offers, she declined them all in favor of being co-owner with Finch.   

"I got overbooked for Friday night so I moved the more time-consuming appointment to a later day. Since Wednesday is usually the slowest night for us, it seemed like the best time." Tab replied as she shed her layers of clothes.  "I've got an accountant for a court ordered extraction, a gleeful divorcee and a very interesting sampler for tonight. The guy's a groomsman in his sister's wedding and described the groom as a ‘Slimy, disgusting, egotistical waste of a human being.’ He's looking for peaceful memories to keep from snapping the groom's neck, so I came in early to get some retrospects for him. "

Finch laughed. "That sounds like fun. Let me know when the groomsman comes in. I want to hear stories." 

"Absolutely. You didn’t need my help, did you?"  Tab sat at her work desk, holographic images quickly popping up as she searched through their database. 

"No, I mostly came in just in case any walk-ins happened. I'm just covering the front and doing some paperwork to pass the time." 

He left Tab to her work and perched himself on a barstool at the front counter. Time flowed past him as he waded his way through email and the latest tech updates. He didn't bother to look up when the door chimed, announcing the newcomer. "Welcome to the Think Tank. How can I help you tonight?" He gave the newcomer a passing glance but did a double take once he saw an elderly black woman.  

Her hair gray hair hung loosely around her ears and wore black trousers with a simple white dress shirt under her winter jacket. She walked with her hands in her pockets, exuding a sense of ease and confidence that Finch's patrons rarely had, moving around the room as if she were in a museum, pausing at different pictures with a deep appreciation before moving to the next one.

"Looking for something specific, ma'am?" 

She smiled, never taking her eyes off the wall. "Not for anything special...." She trailed off into a chuckle when she stumbled upon a particular picture. Finch's curiosity got the better of him and he walked from behind his counter to her side. He followed her line of sight to an old picture of his grandparents. They stood in the front of the shop's window along with another woman, her head thrown back in silent laughter as Grandpa Finch smirked mischievously. 

"This picture was taken in 2027 while The Think Tank was being furnished. The man in the middle and the woman to his left are my grandparents and the original owners, Isaac and Margo Finchner." He explained. 

The woman responded with a low hum so he went on. "Rumor has it that before the picture was taken, Isaac snuck in a joke. That's why he's smirking while they're laughing." The woman laughed lightly. 

"He always was cheeky. " 

"Ah, you met him." 

She gave him a knowing look. 

"Oh, yes, many times. Who do you think suggested the name The Think Tank to him?"  He pulled the picture from the wall and studied the second woman. The difference between the woman before him and the woman in the picture was about 50 years and a once raven head of hair was now a muted gray but there was no doubt in his mind. He finally met her. 

"You're L.P? The L.P?" His eyes widened as he marveled at her. 

"L.P.? Well, back then I was Lauren Price.  Now, it's Mrs. Campbell." Finch clapped his hands together and laughed. 

"I can't believe it! I mean, I've heard so many stories about you! First off, my granddad telling a dirty joke before the picture was taken. He always said that I was too young to hear it. What was the joke?" He leaned down to her, eager to hear. 

She chuckled and patted his cheek. "Oh son, you're still too young." He groaned, slumping his shoulders. 

"That's so unfair." He complained, a smile peeking out from his mouth. 

"Don't knock unfairness, kid. If the world was fair, you'd probably be out of business." They fell into a comfortable silence before Finch spoke again. 

"These aren't the only pictures I have. These are just some of my favorites. I have most of them in my apartment but I do have some in my office."

"I actually didn't just come to reminisce about the past. I also have a bit of business I want to discuss with you." Finch nodded silently and led her to towards his office.


Click for part 2!


1 comment:

  1. Off to a great start!! I love the premise, setting, & character interaction so far; I actually laughed out loud when Mrs. Campbell told him he was still too young. I also liked that you didn't get bogged down in exposition early on. I will be watching to see what happens next!

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