The Absolutely Awesome Adventures of Internet Ed
A Class-Sourced escapist novel, written and/or read by millions of people all over the planet. Internet Ed travels through the internet having absolutely awesome adventures that always end when Ed gets bored, yelled at, threatened, or otherwise has his "mellow" harshed. Three volumes of Internet Ed are currently available on Amazon.com. We invite you to help write the fourth volume.
Friday, July 1, 2016
Help Write the Sequel to "The Absolutely Awesome Adventures of Internet Ed."
The First three volumes of The Absolutely Awesome Adventures of Internet Ed are now available on Amazon.com.
We are now in the process of writing a Sequel and you are invited to submit.
All you need to do is read the first chapter, and you (or your class, if you're a teacher) can be in the next edition. Email me at jaycrehak@gmail.com if you need more information.
Read chapter 1 right below this entry to get a flavor for the book. Your chapter can be anywhere from one to ten pages. If I accept your chapter, you'll be featured in the The Additional Absolutely Awesome Adventures of Internet Ed which will be published in 2016. You can do it!!!!
Monday, August 19, 2013
Chapter 1 of a Class-Sourced Adventure
Everyone knows about The Absolutely Awesome Adventures of Internet Ed. His story's been told a million times by a million different people. At least. But just in case you're one of the nine people on the planet who hasn't heard of Internet Ed, and his absolutely awesome adventures, and how it all started, here's the story:
Growing up, Ed Wilde, aka "Internet Ed" loved surfing the web and hacking into government websites so much that he often forgot to eat, sleep or do his homework. His mother, Anne, who was raising Ed alone, worried about him, but found Ed's obsession with the internet a good way to keep him out of trouble while she worked double shifts as a waitress at Vicarri's, the best Italian restaurant in Freeport, IL. and studied acting at the community college. This arrangement worked fine for a while, until Ed was twelve and his life took a bit of a turn.
When Special Agent Mike Fizerone of the National Security Agency (NSA) came to Ed's 6th grade classroom and asked to speak with a "Mr. Ed Wilde" a big "Ewwwwww!" went up in the classroom. Everyone looked at Ed like the criminal he was about to become. Realizing that jumping out the window would be futile, Ed murmured, "That's me," raised his hand and then quietly walked to the front of the room. Minutes later, Special Agent Fizerone none too carefully put Ed into a borrowed FBI special task force squad car and drove Ed to Chicago, put him on a plane to Washington, DC and drove him to an undisclosed location for questioning. When Ed returned to class three days later, everyone asked him what had happened.
"This Fizerone guy accused me of stealing government information," he said shakily.
"Well, did you? everyone asked.
Ed shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe I did, I don't know. But if I did, it was by mistake. All I saw was a bunch of numbers that made no sense to me," he said with an odd look that no one could quite decipher.
"So are you going to jail?" Leslie Mann-Tillar, the love of his life asked, with tears in her eyes.
"Nah, it wouldn't be good for anyone if I got busted. The government would look bad because some 6th grader got through the NSA firewall, and I'd be spending the rest of my life in prison. So we made a deal. I'd stop hacking into government websites, and they'd let me go. Of course, Fizerone told me he'd be keeping an eye on my computer usage."
"What else did he say," others implored.
"Nothing much really," Ed shrugged. "He told me to forget the numbers I saw; they didn't mean anything."
"So what were the numbers?"
"I forgot." Ed lied.
"What else did he say?"
"Nothing. Really."
"Did they hurt you?" Leslie asked with profound concern in her voice.
"Not really. They kept asking me questions I didnt know the answers to, but they asked me over and over again, for like, hours. At one point I was so tired I passed out and when I woke up my leg was numb, but I don't think it was them, I think it was from sitting in a chair for so long."
"Then what happened?" someone else asked.
"I told Fizerone I would do everything he said and they let me go. The last thing he said was, 'We're watching everything you do on the internet, Ed.' "
That was it. Rumors flew that Ed Wilde was a spy. Everyone at Freeport Middle School started calling him, "Internet Ed." Mostly to tease him and rub it in. The name "Internet Ed" became a cruel reminder that Ed was being watched very closely by the NSA and anything he did could conceivably be interpreted as against the government interests and as a consequence, Ed could find himself in jail for life.
Yeah, Ed pretty much fell in love with Leslie back in 6th grade when he saw the look on her face when he came back from the FBI interrogation. He knew then that she would be the love of his life. What he didn't know was she had feelings for him and perhaps more importantly to the story, that she was a fairly good programmer herself. It sort of never crossed his mind that she might have feelings for him or that she might know a bit about programming. Never considered it. Maybe they were too great of possibilities to consider, because Ed honestly believed a girl like Leslie was way too amazing for him. So Ed spent his days alone in his bedroom of the tiny apartment he shared with his mother. All he did for hours was program.
And so it was, until that one June day, after many hours of non stop programming and thinking about Leslie, Ed put the NSA computer sequence together with"control, shift, command, 42, meaning of life, J,K,J,K, J,K,R, control, command, option escape, escape, escape" and realized by doing so he would be transported through his computer and into the body of some random person on the planet. When Ed put it all together, he was stunned and a bit overwhelmed by the power at his finger tips. He realized he could change his life in an instant. All he had to do was hit those keys and he would literally become someone else, while at the same time, still know who he was. It was like he would become a person within a person. At first he loved the idea of becoming someone else. He thought of all the cool things he could do. He could be anyone, anywhere, and, if he didn't like it, he could tap his way out of it. The possibilities were endless. He couldn't wait to try it. But then one very big problem with becoming someone else occurred to him like a boatload of bricks. The problem was this: although he knew how to become someone else, he didn't know how to get back to being himself. That part he hadn't even come close to figuring out.
Now under ordinary circumstances, Ed would have waited to figure out how to get back to being himself BEFORE hitting the final "escape" button that turned him into Internet Ed. But three things happened that June day that threw him off his better judgment.
The first thing that happened was he went to the refrigerator and discovered he was out of strawberry-banana yogurt, his favorite food. That morning, his mother had left him twenty dollars to go shopping for groceries after school, but he had accidentally left the money on the kitchen table when he left for school. Now that he was home, he didn't feel like going out again. Being out of strawberry-banana yogurt when he was ravenous put him in a terrible mood.
The second thing that happened was this: Ed had just gotten word from Mr. Glistendorf, his Honors II American Literature teacher, that he had flunked second semester English and he’d need to go to summer school.
Now as almost any Freeport High student will tell you, it’s virtually impossible to flunk Mr. Glistendorf’s class. Almost impossible. You have to try to fail. If it were up to Mr. G., no one would fail. You could hand in a piece of paper with your name on it on the last day of school and he'd probably give you a "C". Rumor had it he didn't even read the research papers at all. He just looked at the first page, put a grade on it and called it done. He was just that kind of a teacher. But because the Board of Education demanded that every student hand in a research paper or fail, students knew they had to hand in something. Otherwise, Mr. G had to fail you, no matter how he felt. In this case, Internet Ed failed because he refused to write the measly five pager or hand in a paper with his name on it. Not only that, students had five weeks to write the paper. What a joke. Ed could have written it in about an hour and a half. And to top it off, the topic of the paper was “Censorship and the Internet,” a topic Ed had written about in eighth grade. Ed hated censorship and he loved the Internet. It should have been easy. But he couldn’t do it. Ed found writing any kind of formal paper boring. And Ed wouldn’t do boring. A fact everyone in the world now knows. So despite the fact Mr. Glistendorf continued to beg Ed to write his paper days after the deadline had passed, Ed wouldn't do it.
"Find a way to make it exciting, Ed.” Mr. G. pleaded.
“I’ll try.” Ed had said at the time. But he didn't. Near the end, when it appeared he would flunk, Ed's mother offered him what she thought was a pretty easy solution.
“Why don’t you just recycle part of your old grade school paper?” Anne had asked Ed, after Mr. Glistendorf had called earlier in the week and explained school policy to her. Anne trusted Mr. G and she knew that he’d do anything to keep Ed from academically self-destructing, but in the end, she knew Ed's academic fate rested with her son.
In the heat of his mother’s passionate pleas, Ed had promised he’d consider writing the paper, but that was Monday and by Friday the assignment was barely in the back of his mind. Ed just wouldn't do boring. Period. Mr. G made one last plea, calling Anne on Friday and saying anything with Ed's name on it would save him, and that grades were going into the system the following Tuesday. Ed probably didn't want to flunk Honors II, but only he knows for sure. If anyone reading this ever bumps into him, they should ask him and send everyone an email and let them know. Most people would love to know Ed’s thinking on that. Anywho....
The third thing that happened to him was this: Leslie Mann-Tillar announced that she was moving to Rockford and would not be returning in the fall. It wasn't her choice. Leslie had been a ward of the state since shortly after birth when her mother was unable to care for her. Apparently, the group home in Freeport where she was living was closing due to a lack of government funding, thus necessitating the move to Rockford. Ed was beyond devastated. Even though he had never actually had a meaningful conversation with Leslie, he was fairly certain that all the world's joy was contained in her kiss. Not that Ed had any experience in that department. He had never actually kissed anyone (not counting polite pecks on relative’s cheeks). Despite this lack of firsthand knowledge, Ed was convinced that a moment in Leslie's arms would be the highlight of his life.
Before reading where he landed after he hit the NSA numbers and "control, shift, command, 42, meaning of life, J,K,J,K, J,K,R, control, command, option escape, escape, escape" (because you know it's coming), here's a quick review about Internet Ed. You’ll need to know all of this if you're going to be able to follow the story. It’s not that much, but there are a few things.
All you really need to know about Internet Ed:
•
He’s
open to any adventure until or unless it seems painful
•
He
misses his mother but he doesn’t like to talk about it
•
He
wishes he was better looking (even though he looks like any typical person)
•
He will not consider his life complete until or unless he kisses
Leslie Mann-Tillar
•
He
doesn’t do boring
When he hit the last "escape," Ed was instantaneously sucked into the screen of his laptop computer and found himself transported into the heart of downtown Philadelphia. Strange as that might have been to some people, what struck Internet Ed as odd was not the teleporting, but this: when he got sucked into his computer, it was 7:17 PM in Freeport, IL. When he came out on the other end, in the middle of Market and 15th Street, it was 8:18 Eastern time. Almost a full minute. This, despite the fact that he traveled through the internet on high speed broadband, that quite frankly, should have gotten him there a lot faster. Not only that, and perhaps this is slightly less astounding than the poor internet connection, but Internet Ed found himself a herself.
As he considered this, he was surprised to note that everyone was staring at him and for some reason, that didn't bother him, er, her. Strangely, she was perfectly calm and collected. She was even pleasantly surprised. She'd overcome his shyness and her acne was gone! At least while he was a her and standing there stopping Philadelphia traffic.
By the way, he was fully dressed, so that's not what was stopping traffic, if that's what you were thinking. No, no. He was fully clothed. In a nice blue and yellow flower patterned cotton dress. Perfectly at ease, Internet Ed, now Lucille Brimstone from Broomall, Pennsylvania, was immobilized in traffic, not because he was stunned to be someone else, but because he was unfamiliar with the nuances of walking in heels. It caused him to struggle to get over to the sidewalk. When he did finally get there, he adjusted himself, checked his makeup with a compact in Lucille's purse, and moved on.
Now, most people might have panicked at that moment, but not Internet Ed. No, he knew, or rather she knew, that although he had never been a woman before, he possessed all of Lucille's prior knowledge and instincts, and all of it would immediately kick in and he'd be perfectly at ease as Lucille. And he was. In fact, when he realized he was a woman, he thought to himself, “Awesome.” Lucille was a pleasant enough woman of 30, single, and about to meet a blind date she'd arranged through Makemeamatch.com. Internet Ed hoped, as Lucille did, that it would be the beginning of a great relationship.
Ed was ecstatic. He was no longer himself. He had a better life! Lucille was no Leslie Mann-Tillar, but she was good looking enough, certainly far better looking than Ed, which was a start.
And so Internet Ed, now Lucille Brimstone, found her way to the Starbucks at 15th and Market. She hoped her date would know how to make pleasant conversation. She was nervous almost to the point of throwing up. Ed hated the feeling but couldn't understand why. The fates hadn't cursed Lucille with acne. Why was she so worked up? When she arrived at the Starbucks, she ordered a latte and stood near the door. Moments later, there he was with a smile and a yellow daffodil in his hand, just as they had arranged.
He ordered a double espresso and they found a table. He wasn't bad looking, Lucille decided. Ed was impressed at how easily he began to think like Lucille. Ed never would have gone for him, but as Lucille, Ed found "Phil" to be somewhat interesting. He dressed well enough and seemed to have a lot to say. Ed decided it was best to just listen for a while, and Phil had no problem filling the silence. Evidently, Phil was a 31 year old lawyer at a big Philadelphia law firm, and not very long into the conversation, it was clear to Lucille that he thought a lot about himself.
"I went to Penn and was on the Law Review."
"Who cares?" Lucille thought, but instead said, "That's amazing." Then, to keep Phil from droning on about how successful he thought himself to be, "What do you like to do on the weekend?"
"Mostly, I work on Saturdays. But on Sundays, I like to sail."
"Sail?"
"Yes, I have a boat."
Ed liked to sail and considered whether or not he could date Phil until Sunday.
"Would you like to come sail with me this weekend?" Phil asked, clearly smitten by Lucille's dual ability to listen and say little.
"That would be nice." Ed heard himself say.
"I've got a BMW convertible; if it's nice, we can put the top down as we head to the beach." Phil said proudly.
Ed had never been in a BMW before and found himself strangely excited by the prospect. On the other hand, he'd have to share the car ride with Phil.
"That sounds like fun, Phil." Ed said in Lucille sweet voice. Phil was loving it. He leaned over, as if to give Lucille an unexpected peck on the lips.
Ed pulled back, somewhat out of surprise but more particularly because of the smell. "So you smoke." Lucille said abruptly, clearly not pleased. Phil tried to laugh it off, admitted he did, and promised to quit if they hit it off. But the damage was done. Phil tried to recover by starting to tell a bad joke about three guys stranded on a desert island, (which Lucille had heard) and Lucille pulled out her cell phone to attempt a quick exit. As he pulled out the phone, Ed was horrified to note that it did not have internet access. Evidently Lucille had't see the need or couldn't afford to spend the extra money for wireless service.
In a slight panic, Lucille looked up at the suddenly amorous Phil. All she could think of was "Too soon, too soon!"
"Excuse me, Phil, but my cell phone seems to have lost its charge. Any chance I could borrow yours? I need to check in on my sick little sister."
Phil looked at her for a moment and then, calculating his chances, said, "Okay, but how about a little kiss first?" He leaned in as if the terms had already been negotiated.
Lucille did not want to kiss Phil and the ashtray in his mouth. But she needed his phone. She sighed and said, "How about this, after I make my call, I'll give you a big kiss."
Pleasantly surprised by the better offer, Phil quickly handed over his phone. Lucille looked at it but was frustrated again as incredibly, Phil's phone also didn't have internet access service. Maybe Phil was a liar or perhaps he and Lucille were destined to wind up together after all, as they each seemed to be unaware of the value of staying connected.
"I'll be right back." Lucille said, quickly getting up, leaving Phil's phone next to her latte.
"I'll be waiting." he said, full of expectations. She scurried towards the lady's bathroom when she bumped into a young woman named Nancy who appeared to be playing a video game on her iPhone.
"Any chance I can borrow your phone? Mine's dead and I need to make a call." She said rather breathlessly.
Nancy seemed a bit put out and was considering whether or not to be generous to a stranger, when Phil came running up (huffing and puffing) with his phone in hand, "Hey, I thought you needed to call your sister. You forgot my phone."
Confused by the situation, Nancy immediately decided she wanted no part of Lucille and whatever game she was running. "Use his." she said flatly as she began to put her phone in her purse.
"Rather use yours." Lucille said, snatching Nancy's phone out of her hands.
Nancy was about to reach out and smack Lucille but before she could, Lucille had tapped out the magic "control, shift, command, 42, meaning of life, J,K,J,K, J,K,R, control, command, option escape, escape, escape" And she was gone.
Internet Ed woke up and found himself a sophomore in high school at a west side high school in Chicago. He was about to reach into his pocket and hit the magic sequence when something stopped him. The recognition that the person he had become was interesting and potentially about to provide him an awesome adventure.
CHECK BACK FOR UPDATES OR SEND ME A CHAPTER @ jaycrehak@gmail.com. You get the idea.
If I accept your chapter, I'll send you a release form. (You keep the copyright on your chapter, but you allow me to use it in a volume of The Absolutely Amazing Adventures of Internet Ed.) I'll publish it and let you know when it's available.
Chapter Two The United States government had spent billions trying to develop a program that would allow true internet surfing as Ed had evidently achieved. The National Security Administration had arrested hundreds of renowned hackers throughout the world, implanted microchips in each of their left legs and "accidentally" given those hackers the half finished code that Ed had stolen from the NSA, in the vain hope that someday, somehow, someway, the code would be cracked and government agents could literally embody others throughout the planet. Only weeks earlier had the President of the United States herself determined that the program was a complete failure and a colossal waste of taxpayer money. The very department that Mike Fizerone had headed for a number of years, suddenly defunded, had been scheduled for closure by month's end. All of the data indicated that internet surfing of the kind Ed had achieved was not possible.
And so it was the happiest day of Mike Fizerone's professional life, a day he dreamed might happen, but was never sure it would. As he sat in his bland NSA office, tossing sharpened pencils into the ceiling tiles above his head, trying to make them stick, he suddenly heard the shrill sound of his computer alerting him to the stunning news that Ed Wilde, aka Internet Ed, had cracked the code no one in the FBI, CIA, NSA or any other government agency in the world had been able to crack. Ed Wilde, that annoying little 12 year old with so much promise, had done at age 15 what no one thought could be done. Ed had learned how to travel through the internet and become someone else. How he had done it was still a mystery, but one that would soon be discovered and exploited not only by the NSA, but also every US government agency that had a need to know everything. Thanks to his own genius, Mike Fizerone was about to transform the world's investigative abilities. True, Mike Fizerone knew painfully little about computer programming, in fact, Mike freely admitted he didn't know the difference between .html and .http or any other damn thing about coding.
And so it was the happiest day of Mike Fizerone's professional life, a day he dreamed might happen, but was never sure it would. As he sat in his bland NSA office, tossing sharpened pencils into the ceiling tiles above his head, trying to make them stick, he suddenly heard the shrill sound of his computer alerting him to the stunning news that Ed Wilde, aka Internet Ed, had cracked the code no one in the FBI, CIA, NSA or any other government agency in the world had been able to crack. Ed Wilde, that annoying little 12 year old with so much promise, had done at age 15 what no one thought could be done. Ed had learned how to travel through the internet and become someone else. How he had done it was still a mystery, but one that would soon be discovered and exploited not only by the NSA, but also every US government agency that had a need to know everything. Thanks to his own genius, Mike Fizerone was about to transform the world's investigative abilities. True, Mike Fizerone knew painfully little about computer programming, in fact, Mike freely admitted he didn't know the difference between .html and .http or any other damn thing about coding.
What Mike did know how to do, however, was to monitor
anyone who did know how to program and anyone who was particularly good at
hacking. When he picked up Internet Ed
three years earlier, he realized he had found someone who might someday crack a
code the government had been working on for years and only recently abandoned
as impossible.
When the shrill sound came through his computer, Fizerone
was temporarily stunned and momentarily skeptical that a computer glitch had
occurred. Because that shrill tone from
his computer indicated that the small microchip Fizerone had had inserted into
Ed Wilde's leg three years earlier had somehow traveled through time and
space at internet speed. This meant one of three things: 1) either the
microchip had malfunctioned or 2) Internet Ed had cracked the code and he had
discovered how to travel through the internet and temporarily enter the mind
and body of someone on the planet or 3) Only Internet Ed's leg had travelled
through the Internet on it's own and left Ed in Freeport down an appendage.
Naturally, the first thing Mike did was call in the computer technicians to check on the malfunction he feared had
occurred. Because the government had so recently proclaimed Mike's monitoring
of Ed Wilde and countless other individuals as a colossal waste of time,
particularly as it related to time travel, and Mike did not want to prematurely announce that he had been right all along,
only to discover that he had discovered nothing more than a flawed
microchip.
So, as excited as he was, Mike did the right thing and
called tech support. Moments later, two
young tech people, Louise Glanz and Leon Wuznewski, came strolling in to
check the various elements of Fizerone's computer.
"How long's
it going to take to make sure it's working properly," Fizerone impatiently
demanded to know.
Louise looked at
Leon and Leon looked at Louise. Fizerone
immediately understood that his tone was going to slow the whole process down.
"Hours."
Louise said slowly.
"Maybe a few days." Leon added after
a moment.
"A few days? Are you fricking kidding me?" Fizerone
said, looking a little too intently at
Louise.
"Maybe a
week."
Louise said.
Realizing that if he protested
further, the two would take longer, he said nothing.
"We'll need to take it back to
our offices." Leon said.
"Can't you leave it here?"
Louise shook her head and Fizerone knew well enough not
to say anything.
As the two
technicians moved towards the computer, Fizerone suddenly yelled, "Wait!"
The two looked at him with a look that said, "maybe
we should come back when you're not insane," but instead they looked at
him blankly.
"Before you pull the plug out and test it, could you
tell me what the code on the monitor says?"
Louise tapped the computer a few times and the word
"Market Street, Philadelphia" came on the screen. "It says, 'Market Street,
Philadelphia'" she reported blandly.
"Market
Street, Philadelphia. You’re
sure."
“Read
it yourself if you don’t believe me.” Louise said, certain that Fizerone
had no idea how to read heavily encrypted computer data.
“Okay,
Market Street, Philadelphia. I see
that. I see that.” Mike said, then
added, out of an overabundance of caution, "Forget what you just
read. This
is a need to know document. You don't
have the security clearance to discuss it with anyone. Understand?"
"Oh,
yeah, we hear you loud and clear." Leon said as Louise nodded in agreement. We'll get this back to you as soon as we
can."
"Great."
Mike said, completely oblivious to the fact that he had just irritated Louise
and Leon beyond measure.
Even
as the two were carting away his
computer, Mike was on the phone calling the contact number he had kept
in his wallet for one Ed Wilde of Freeport, Illinois. Much like a probation
officer, Fizerone had periodically called Ed to check up on him, and it was a
condition of his "permanent probation." that Ed answer Fizerone's
phone calls wherever and whenever. The
fact that Ed had not picked up could be the result of a 15 year old blowing off
an adult's simple request just to be annoying, but it could also mean the kid had
done it. When no one immediately picked up the phone, Fizerone found that his heart leaped because it was suddenly at least possible that the wonderboy had
figured it out.
Mike
decided not to wait for the results of the testing of the microchip. He jumped a plane to Chicago and then on to
Rockford. He rented a car at the airport
and drove to Freeport. He could have
just as easily called in a favor from the Rockford FBI offices, but he didn't
want to look the fool in case the microchip was faulty and, more importantly,
this was his moment. This was not to be
shared. He would get all the glory, if
it turned out there was glory to be had.
Meanwhile, Ed's
mother had finished her shift and had made her way home. When Anne arrived at home she was shocked to
find Ed wasn't there. Recognizing he was
gone, she immediately headed to the refrigerator. Discovering an absence of strawberry-banana
yogurt, she immediately deduced that Ed had gone to the local 7-11. It bothered her that her son had not called
to let her know he was doing this, as she had often asked him to keep her
informed as to his whereabouts, even as she let him live his life freely. Because he spent most of his time in his room, working on elaborate computer
programs, he rarely had the need to call.
After half an
hour, Anne picked up her cell phone and decided to call Ed and find out where he
was. She knew he hated it when she did this because he insisted he was never
doing anything interesting anyway, so there was no need to check up on him. But
enough was enough. A half hour out and
not even a phone call was not like Ed, but it was rude and irresponsible. As soon as she dialed his number, she was
surprised to hear his phone ringing in his bedroom. While ordinarily she was not allowed into his
room, in this case, she felt justified in entering. If he was rude enough not to text or call her
with his whereabouts, then she was entitled to go into his room and check his
phone. She knew he'd be upset, but no
matter. She was still his mother and that was that.
The room was a
mess and she was afraid she'd have trouble finding his phone. She didn't want to go rummaging through his
possessions. She dialled his number
again and was relieved to hear it ringing right next to his computer. She
picked it up and looked at the phone log.
Three phone calls had been recorded.
The last two calls were from her.
The one before her phone call made her heart race with fear. It was from a number Ed had programmed into
his phone three years earlier, and it had come from the person in the world she
feared most: The phone read "Fizzer-phoney."
Scared out of
her mind that her son had made the catastrophic mistake of misusing the
internet, and the government had somehow discovered this and arrested her son,
she instinctively thought to hit the call back number and reach out to Agent
Fizerone. Fortunately, just as she was
about to hit the number, it occurred to her to think first as to what Ed would
do. She knew the answer to that. He had told her many times. "Mom, no matter what, never, ever tell
Fizerone anything." He had made her
promise. She had agreed. Now that her son was missing, it occurred to
her that Agent Fizerone might know his whereabouts or he might not. Either way, calling him would probably not be
helpful. Not if she were to believe her
son.
Against so much of her maternal instinct, she decided to wait and do nothing. She was afraid to call Fizerone for fear that her son had been arrested. She was afraid that by not calling her son was in deeper trouble than he might otherwise be in if she quickly intervened. Mad with fear and anxiety, she instinctively wanted to clean Ed's room, but knew that it would vex him no end if she cleaned his room and there was the possibility that all of this were nothing. Perhaps he’d gotten up the nerve to ask that Leslie girl out on a date and she had accepted.
Against so much of her maternal instinct, she decided to wait and do nothing. She was afraid to call Fizerone for fear that her son had been arrested. She was afraid that by not calling her son was in deeper trouble than he might otherwise be in if she quickly intervened. Mad with fear and anxiety, she instinctively wanted to clean Ed's room, but knew that it would vex him no end if she cleaned his room and there was the possibility that all of this were nothing. Perhaps he’d gotten up the nerve to ask that Leslie girl out on a date and she had accepted.
She looked around and tried not to touch anything. She saw notes everywhere. Notes with letters, numbers, computer coding,
all in seemingly endless different sequences.
None of it made any sense to her, much the same as her son's passion for
computer programming had always been a mystery to her.
Fifteen minutes passed and suddenly Ed's phone rang. It read "Fizzer-Phoney". She did not answer it. Fifteen minutes later, it rang again. Again, it was the NSA agent. She knew now that her son was in
trouble. Again, she did not answer, but
this time she made the executive decision to clean Ed's room. She gathered up every note she could find and
placed it on the desk. She reasoned
that if she were wrong, and the NSA didn't have her son, and if Ed did waltz in
with a handful of strawberry-banana yogurt, she could tell him of her concerns
and point out that none of his notes had been destroyed, but merely gathered.
As she placed the last of the notes next to the computer,
she reached to turn off his computer. As
she reached around the back of the screen, she felt a multi-folded piece of
paper that had been carefully taped next to the off/on switch.
She pulled it off the computer, even as Ed's phone yet again,
with Fizerone's nickname lit up on the screen.
She put the phone down and unfolded the note. Her heart almost stopped
as she read:
"Dear Mom,
We ran out of yogurt and
I was too lazy to get more. My fault, not yours.
I flunked English II 'cause I couldn't write the research paper. My fault, not yours.
Leslie Mann-Tillar is moving out of Freeport." The government’s and the universe's fault, not yours.
Figured
out the thing Fizerone didn't want me to figure out. Had to try it.
If you don't see any trace of me, I tried it and it worked. I'll be back as soon as I can.
Love,
Ed.
PS
Don't let Fizerone see any of my stuff. Any
of it. ANY OF IT. Burn it.
Ann didn't understand any of it except, "Burn it ." That she understood. Her first instinct was to burn everything in the parking lot in back of the apartment, but she realized that would look too obvious to Fizerone when he did come snooping around. And she presumed now that he was on his way. Not knowing what to do with it, she put the note in her purse and sat immobilized with fear. Suddenly, Ed's phone rang and the familiar name adorned the screen. Almost instinctively, Ann picked up the phone and screamed, "What have you done with my son?"
Chapter Three student interlude
Chapter Four
"Calm down, calm down."
Agent Fizerone bleated into the phone.
"You took my son. Give him back."
"I did not take your son."
Fizerone retorted, measuring the anxiety in Mrs. Wilde's tone.
"I'm going to the police, I'm going to the press,
I'm going to tell everyone what the
government is doing to 15 year old boys."
"The
government does not have your son, Mrs. Wilde.
As a matter of fact, I am just outside of Rockford on my way to seeing you about the disappearance of your son."
"If you didn't take him, where is he, and how do you
even know that he's missing?"
Not wanting to get into it with her over the phone, he
said simply, "He didn't answer
his phone and when one of our permanent probationaries don't answer, we presume
they've skipped out. That's why I'm on
my way to your house."
"I want him back by the time you get here, or I'm
calling the police and the press and I'm going to expose your whole shady
operation to the world."
"I'll be there in an hour. If he comes back, keep
him there and neither one of you will be in trouble."
"And if he's not back by then, you're in
trouble." Ann said, slamming down the phone.
Not sure what to do next, Anne packed up every note of
Ed's she could find and looked for a place to temporarily hide them all until
she could think of a proper way to dispose of them. She assumed, quite rightly, that Fizerone
would soon have the area crawling with agents.
For now, she needed to find somewhere safe for the notes. After twenty minutes, she finally decided on
the bottom of her dirty clothes hamper.
Two minutes later there was a knock on the door.
"Who is it?"
"Agent Fizerone, open up."
"I thought
you said you'd be here in an hour.
"I drive fast."
She opened the door with an anger that was palpable. "Where is he?"
"I told you, I don't have him."
"If you don't, who does?"
"Can we sit down and talk about it?" Fizerone
suggested, surveying the apartment as he talked.
"Make it quick, Fizerone."
"That's Agent Fizerone to you, Mrs. Wilde."
"Ms. Wilde."
"Fine, now that we've got
the pleasantries out of the way, can we
move on?"
Guiding
him to the dining room, Anne kept mumbling how she was going to call the police,
the Freeport Press and the New York Times if her son wasn't back with her
pronto.
"All
right, now let's talk about this, Ms. Wilde.
When did you notice Ed was missing."
"When
I came home from my shift at about 8:15. I work at Vicarri's downtown."
"I
know where you work, Ms. Wilde."
"Of
course, you do."
"Okay,
you came in at 8:15 and your son was gone.
How did you know he was gone?"
"I
called him on his cell phone and it rang in his room."
"So
you went and checked his room."
"Of
course I checked his room. He wasn't there. "Then
what did you do?"
"I called him again so I
could find his phone."
"His room is a teenage
mess, I suppose, huh? Clothes and school
papers all around, unmade bed, that kind of thing?"
Realizing that in her panic
she had cleaned up, perhaps a bit too much, she lied. "Ed is not a particularly messy guy,
Agent Fizerone, in my panic I just called the phone again."
"And?"
"That's when I found it,
right next to his computer. I checked
the log and discovered three phone incoming calls. Two of them were from me, and one of them was
from you. That's when I realized you
must have taken my child. Now I want him back or I'm..."
"Yes, yes, going to the
police, the Freeport Gazette and the New York Times. I heard you the first time. Why don't we finish our chat first, and if
you still want to do all that, I won't stop you."
"Oh, great. Good to know I still have my constitutional
rights."
"For now, yes."
Agent Fizerone said ominously.
"What's that supposed to
mean?" Anne pulled out her cell
phone.
"Calm down, Ms.
Wilde. Like I said, after we're finished
talking you can do what you'd like."
"I think I'd rather not
wait." Anne calmly started to dial.
Agent Fizerone stood up, walked over to Anne, snatched the
phone from her hand and slammed it on to the kitchen table, breaking the phone
into a number of worthless pieces. He grabbed her purse and spilled all of the contents on to the table. Then he
slowly walked back to his chair, sat
down, and resumed a tone of militaristic precision.
"I'm sorry you dropped your phone during this informal
interrogation, Ms. Wilde. I'll see about getting it replaced. You
may or may not need a phone
after we're through talking. Now, can we
get back to your narrative of how and when you knew your son was missing."
Anne was stunned by Agent Fizerone's cold efficiency. She immediately affected a tone of
subordination, which she knew would please Fizerone and perhaps lull him into a
false sense of confidence. "What
else can I tell you?" she pleaded.
"That's all I know."
"Did he leave you a note?"
Anne was about to lie when she saw Fizerone eying the folded note on the table. Knowing there was little else she could do, she quickly reached for the note. "Why, yes, here's a note he left.
"Did he leave you a note?"
Anne was about to lie when she saw Fizerone eying the folded note on the table. Knowing there was little else she could do, she quickly reached for the note. "Why, yes, here's a note he left.
Agent Fizerone read the note slowly nodding with pleasure at each sentence. "I'm going to have to meet this 'Leslie Mann-Tillar' person." Now quite confident that whatever Anne had to tell him would come out in short order, Fizerone gently commanded, "Let's go take a look at Ed's room, shall we?"
She
obediently led him to Ed's room, careful not to suggest, in any way, that she
had anything more to hide. Instead, she
provided a tone that suggested a deep fear and respect for the power Agent
Fizerone had demonstrated. Now, when she
talked, her words came out like mumbled fear and tearful obeisance.
"When
I saw that you had called, I thought immediately that you had taken my boy for
whatever reason. Maybe he had gone on
the internet and done something bad, like he had done when he was 12. I didn't know what was going on. Then you called and I screamed into the
phone demanding you give Ed back to me. I'm not screaming any more, Agent Wilde, I'm
asking, begging for you to give me back my boy." And with that, Anne got on her knees and
grabbed on to Agent Fizerone's leg. "Please!"
"Get
up, Ms. Wilde. I know you don't believe
me, but I want him back as much as you do and I'm going to do everything in my
power to find him. Everything within the
government's power, which believe me, is considerable. We'll find him."
"Thank
you." she said.
Convinced
that he had her where he wanted her, he helped her up from the floor, and said,
very gently,
"It would help if I could see any other notes he might have left."
"I've given you the only note he left."
"So
you
looked for more?"
"Of course I looked. I looked everywhere. But there was
nothing."
"What
about homework assignments?'"
"Ed
wasn't big on doing homework, Agent Fizerone. You read his note. He just got word from his teacher that he had flunked
sophomore English because he refused to hand in his five page Research
Paper."
"Research
paper?" Fizerone's eyes lit up.
"Where is it?"
"It
doesn't exist. He just didn't do
it. Or if he did do it, he didn't finish
it. Whatever he did do is probably on
his computer."
"I'm
going to have to take his computer."
"Of
course."
"Do
you mind if I look around?"
"No,
of course not, whatever you want.
Whatever you need. You're the
boss."
"I
didn't mean to scare you before, Ms. Wilde.
I really didn't. It's just that
we have to take these National Security issues very seriously and we can't be
scaring the public with matters they have no reason to know about or be
concerned with. You understand, don't
you?" Fizerone said as he tore
apart Ed's room.
Anne found that by acting scared and respectful of Fizerone he trusted her
more. She realized the only possible
chance she had of keeping him from tearing apart her room was if she could
somehow convince him that she was a docile woman who could be intimidated into
being scared of her own shadow.
"Yes, sir. I just want him back. If you can do that, I don't care what you do
to me or my apartment."
"Oh, this is just a
routine search, Ms. Wilde. We'll be coming
back for a more thorough one soon enough.
That is, of course, unless I'm able to find what I think is sure to be
here somewhere." He said as he cut
open Ed's mattress, dumped everything out of his dresser drawers and overturned
his desk. Finally, as he felt behind the
backboard of Ed's bed, he yelled a triumphant "Yes!!!!!" and pulled
out a folder that read on its cover, in big bold letters, "Mom, if you
can't find me, read this and then destroy."
Ann's heart sank as Agent
Fizerone pranced around the room as if he had just won the heavyweight
championship of the world. She was angry
with herself for not finding it. She
didn't know what it all meant, but she assumed it was the answer to the riddle
of why the government cared about her
son that much. She knew that whatever that folder contained
was the reason he was gone and the reason Ed had written her that note.
"So, Ms. Wilde, now that I've gotten what I've
come for, I think it's time you and I had a real heart to heart. Please, come and sit down at the kitchen
table."
With a
profound sadness, Anne looked around Ed's destroyed room and silently headed to
the kitchen table. She tried to control
her sobbing, but was unable to do so.
"What does it all mean, Agent Fizerone? What
did he do?"
"Mike" he said gently, "Call me 'Mike'" he insisted as he guided her to
a chair.
"Mike, what did he do and can you bring him
back to me?"
"You really don't know what he was doing?"
"He tried explaining it to me, but I didn't
know what he was talking about.
Something about literally surfing the internet. It made no sense to
me."
Well
aware that it would not serve the government to have the general population
aware of the fact that surfing the internet was literally possible, Fizerone
chose a different tack. "Your son stumbled on some secret
government program and I think he has vanished out of fear of the
repercussions. How about we work
together to convince him to come back.
If he turns himself in, I'm sure
we can relocate both of you to somewhere pleasant. I give you my personal assurances. I want him back here alive and well, living with you
as much as you do."
"But when is he coming
back?" she asked innocently.
"I don't know, Ms. Wilde,
I don't know. With your help, it will be
sooner rather than later."
"What do I do now?"
"I think you should call
the local police and fill out a missing person's report. '
"You do? But I thought you didn't want me calling the
police?" she looked over to the remains of her cell phone.
"No, I think you should
call the police. Let them know your son
is missing. They may be of help. What I don't want you to do is talk about
this with the press. No one needs to
know what Ed was working on. It would
only breed unnecessary fear in the general population. Your son is definitely missing, Ms. Wilde.
That much we know for sure. With your
help, we'll find him soon." And
with that he handed her the phone and she called in the missing person's report
to the police.
Chapter Five interlude with Ed somewhere interesting (written by a student)
Chapter Six Although it was late, Agent Fizerone drove immediately to the Freeport group home where Leslie Mann-Tillar was living. He rang the bell and was met by Daisy Temkin, the state social worker who was the acting guardian of the 9 young women who lived in the home. After providing extensive government credentials, Agent Fizerone was allowed in and allowed to speak with Leslie. It was clear from the moment of the interview that Leslie had no idea what Ed had been working on and what he might have done. Fizerone was coy with the details, but tried his best to determine, what, if anything, Leslie understood about Ed's disappearance.
"So you had no idea what Ed was working on?" he asked.
"No. We hardly ever talked. I don't know why you're even here." Leslie said groggily.
"He mentioned you in his 'farewell' note to his mother."
"Me?" She seemed pleased but surprised. "Why me?"
"Oh, come on, Miss Mann-Tillar, you must know he was in love with you."
"In love with me? What are you talking about?"
"Oh, please. I'm sure you knew." But she didn't know. Secretly she hoped, but she sure didn't know. He loved her! Her heart leaped, but she didn't let on.
"So you have no idea about the numbers he stole from the government three years ago? He never told you what they were?"
"No. Why would he? I thought he'd go to jail or you'd hang him or something if he told."
Then Fizerone did something strange. He passed her a piece of paper with the numbers. Deliberately. He watched her face as she did.
"Why are you showing me this?" Leslie said, pushing the paper back at him. "I don't want to get involved. Please keep me out of it."
"Too late for that."
"Why? I don't know anything." Leslie pleaded.
"So you say." And with that, Fizerone jabbed Leslie in the left leg with something sharp. Momentarily stunned, she screamed in pain.
Daisy Temkin came hurrying into the room and announced that she didn't care who he was or what agency he worked for, Agent Fizerone had to leave. Message delivered, Fizerone tipped his hat and left.
Chapter Seven interlude with Ed somewhere interesting (written by a student)
Chapter Eight The students at Freeport High were right about Mr. Glistendorf. On the last day of school, if you hadn't written your research paper, but you subsequently mailed him something before he had to post final grades, he'd pass you. Rumor was he never actually read your paper, but he would put a handwritten letter grade on the top page and, if you sent him a self-addressed stamped envelope, he'd mail your paper back to you.
As Owen Glistendorf sat as his desk, he fumbled about with the new iPhone his wife had given him, despite his protestations that he had no interest in such a phone. Mr. G. had no idea how to actually use it, completely clueless about the various "apps" that had been installed on it. All he knew was how to dial the phone and answer it. He insisted that was all he ever wanted to know. "All else was super flux " he would insist. All of his students knew he was befuddled by the latest technologies, and they always assumed that his attempts to get them to write about "censorship and the internet" was a way of masking his tech deficits.
When he finally put down his phone, as hewas about to put in final grades for the semester, Mr. Glistendorf was pleased to see that he had received two research papers in the mail that day, and he was very pleased to see that one of them was from Ed Wilde, a boy he thought was extremely talented and extremely lazy. He put a grade on the first page of Ed's paper, which Ed had playfully entitled "Top Secret, Yeah, Right." Without so much as a glance at it, Glistendorf gave Ed a "C" on that paper in an attempt to motivate the young man for the following year.
The second paper came from Leslie Mann-Tillar, one of his favorite students, whom he knew was transferring out of Freeport High and moving to Rockford. He knew she was a ward of the state and the move had something to do with budget cuts, and he also knew that he would miss her. She had been one of his best students and it had surprised him that she was handing her research paper in so late. He dutifully placed a grade on the first page, stuffed it into the self-address stamped envelope she'd provided, and sent it back to her. Only days later, when he had to post grades, did he realize that something was amiss. He had already given Leslie Mann-Tillar a grade for her research paper. He was puzzled as to why she would send an "extra" research paper to him, but considered it the result of Leslie's strong intellectual drive. In any event, he forgot about it until much later.
By the time Mr. Glistendorf had gotten Ed's paper, however, Ed was front page Freeport Press news, which is to say the weekly addition of that publication had listed him as a missing person. Because it was a small town and Ed had made headlines three years earlier with his spectacular arrest in 6th grade, the current headline read, "Ed Wilde, aka "Intenet Ed" Missing." The article later went on to report that Anne Wilde, Internet Ed's mom, did not think the government has arrested him. Instead, she believed he had "temporarily left Freeport on an unapproved road trip, embarrassed about his poor school performance and irritated at the lack of strawberry-banana yogurt at home." The dairy reference an effort to keep local citizens from being too concerned about the absence of Ed. If a mother could joke about the causes of a teenage son's absence, chances are Ed would surface at some point in the near future. At least initially, none of the locals save one were worried about the whereabouts of Ed.
Mr. Glistendorf, however, realized that is was somewhat strange that the paper he received from Ed was postmarked after the point in time when he was missing. He called Anne Wilde and told her that he had received the research paper and asked her to come in and pick it up.
Before Anne had time to consider what to do, Agent Fizerone called Ed's cell phone (which Anne was now using as her own, as Fizerone had yet to replace the one he had smashed.) and Anne picked up.
"I'll meet you at the school in an hour."
"For what? Oh, you know about Ed's research paper? I was just getting ready to call you. I just got a call from Ed's English teacher." She said nervously.
"Yes, I know about his paper. Let's go see what it says."
Annie realized her phone calls were being monitored, but she was surprised that Fizerone was that on top of the situation. She realized that if Ed ever did call, it would be somehow problematic for Ed. As she drove to the school to pick up his research paper, she wondered how she was going to be able to get Ed a message without alerting Fizerone.
Almost at the school, the phone rang. Anne assumed it was Agent Fizerone, checking to make sure she was on her way to the school, but instead, it came from ____________________. A strange voice she did not recognize said, "Hello, mom?"
"I'm sorry, you must have the wrong number." she said, not recognizing the voice.
"No, mom, it's me. Ed. I'm in __________________.
"You don't sound like Ed," Anne said, convinced it was her son but afraid and aware that Fizerone was listening in. She was trying to think of a way to let Ed know that all of her phone calls were being monitored, but she couldn't think of a way to do it, so she decided to act as if she had no idea what was going on. She hoped Ed would understand.
"Mom, it's a long story and I don't sound like me because I'm not me. I'm ________________. Mom, it's too crazy to explain, but I love you and miss you."
"I'm sorry, whoever you are, but you have the wrong number." and she hung up, huge tears rolling down her face. Pulling herself together, she immediately dialed Fizerone. "I think Ed might have just called me," she said in a business like tone. "He didn't sound like himself, but he called me 'mom'."
"I heard the whole thing. Thank you." And Fizerone hung up and called the local police in___________________. He had a name and he had a location. If they could get to _________fast enough, they'd have their guy.
Anne realized her son was possibly in grave danger, but far more likely Ed had called her and given her all that information just to see how quickly Fizerone's people worked. If she knew her son, she assumed Ed had pretty much set up the phone call for a reason.
When she arrived at Freeport High, she went directly to Mr. Glistendorf's room. He was sitting at his desk, reading the Freeport Press. Noticing her, he put down the paper, stood up, and extended a hand. "Nice to see you, Ms. Wilde. Any word from Ed? I'm sure you must be very worried."
Aware that she was not allowed to speak to anyone about Ed's situation, she merely said, "Yes, I'm worried. But I know Ed will be home soon. I can't say when, but I know it will be soon."
"I certainly hope so."
"Can I see Ed's paper, please?"
"Surely." Mr. Glistendorf said, and handed Anne the paper Ed had evidently sent in.
"It's well written."
"Oh, Ed's a good writer, Ms. Wilde. No one has ever doubted that. It's just that…"
"He's lazy."
"I wouldn't say that, Ms. Wilde. I'd say it's more that Ed doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do."
"Ed doesn't do boring. I know that."
"No, he doesn't." And with that, the door to the room opened and Agent Fizerone entered slightly agitated.
"Excuse me, sir, but I'm in the middle of a parent teacher conference. I'll be with you in a moment."
"It's all right, Mr. Glistendorf, I know Mr. Fizerone. He's....."
"Working with the FBI to find Mrs. Wilde's son." Fizerone quickly jumped in.
"Oh. Well, we were just talking about Ed's research paper." Mr. Glistendorf said, producing it as he spoke.
"Mind if I take a look?" Fizerone swept his hands over the paper and looked at it as if it might contain magic. It quickly appeared that it did not. The paper was all about how censorship of any kind was very bad and destructive to society. It railed against government intrusion, blah, blah, blah. After quickly reading the paper, Fizerone, using a false tone of sincerity, asked if he might keep the paper as "evidence."
"Of course." Anne said quickly.
"And what do you know about Leslie Mann-Tillar?" Fizerone quickly asked Mr. Glistendorf.
"What about her?" Mr. Glistendorf responded. "She's a talent student in my class, that's about all I know."
"Seems Ed was quite sweet on her." Fizerone said with an air of superiority.
"But I don't think she liked him." Anne said weakly.
"I wouldn't say that. She seems to care a lot about him. It was pretty clear, from our conversation, that she liked him quite a bit."
"I had no idea."
"Parents are often the last to know."
"Do you think she can help us find him?"
"I'm banking on it." Fizerone said with a superior attitude that he knew was annoying. Then, turning to Mr. Glistendorf he said, "Now, if you hear anything from either Ed or Leslie, you'll be sure to let me know."
"Yes, of course."
"Thanks. Here's my card." and with that Fizerone started to walk out, Ed's research paper in hand. He would have the tech people analyze it for possible code. As he reached the door, his cell phone rang. It was Lucy Temkin.
"Leslie's gone missing." Lucy stammered.
"Really? Isn't that a surprise." Fizerone said with not a hint of surprise in his voice. "I'll be right over." And just as he hung up his phone, it rang again. This time it was his office in DC.
"Agent Fizerone, I thought you should know…." came the voice of Louise Glanz.
"Another alert from a different chip?"
"Yes, how did you know?"
"Where is this one coming from?" Agent Fizerone asked, ignoring Louise's question.
"It's coming from….."
Chapter Five interlude with Ed somewhere interesting (written by a student)
Chapter Six Although it was late, Agent Fizerone drove immediately to the Freeport group home where Leslie Mann-Tillar was living. He rang the bell and was met by Daisy Temkin, the state social worker who was the acting guardian of the 9 young women who lived in the home. After providing extensive government credentials, Agent Fizerone was allowed in and allowed to speak with Leslie. It was clear from the moment of the interview that Leslie had no idea what Ed had been working on and what he might have done. Fizerone was coy with the details, but tried his best to determine, what, if anything, Leslie understood about Ed's disappearance.
"So you had no idea what Ed was working on?" he asked.
"No. We hardly ever talked. I don't know why you're even here." Leslie said groggily.
"He mentioned you in his 'farewell' note to his mother."
"Me?" She seemed pleased but surprised. "Why me?"
"Oh, come on, Miss Mann-Tillar, you must know he was in love with you."
"In love with me? What are you talking about?"
"Oh, please. I'm sure you knew." But she didn't know. Secretly she hoped, but she sure didn't know. He loved her! Her heart leaped, but she didn't let on.
"So you have no idea about the numbers he stole from the government three years ago? He never told you what they were?"
"No. Why would he? I thought he'd go to jail or you'd hang him or something if he told."
Then Fizerone did something strange. He passed her a piece of paper with the numbers. Deliberately. He watched her face as she did.
"Why are you showing me this?" Leslie said, pushing the paper back at him. "I don't want to get involved. Please keep me out of it."
"Too late for that."
"Why? I don't know anything." Leslie pleaded.
"So you say." And with that, Fizerone jabbed Leslie in the left leg with something sharp. Momentarily stunned, she screamed in pain.
Daisy Temkin came hurrying into the room and announced that she didn't care who he was or what agency he worked for, Agent Fizerone had to leave. Message delivered, Fizerone tipped his hat and left.
Chapter Seven interlude with Ed somewhere interesting (written by a student)
Chapter Eight The students at Freeport High were right about Mr. Glistendorf. On the last day of school, if you hadn't written your research paper, but you subsequently mailed him something before he had to post final grades, he'd pass you. Rumor was he never actually read your paper, but he would put a handwritten letter grade on the top page and, if you sent him a self-addressed stamped envelope, he'd mail your paper back to you.
As Owen Glistendorf sat as his desk, he fumbled about with the new iPhone his wife had given him, despite his protestations that he had no interest in such a phone. Mr. G. had no idea how to actually use it, completely clueless about the various "apps" that had been installed on it. All he knew was how to dial the phone and answer it. He insisted that was all he ever wanted to know. "All else was super flux " he would insist. All of his students knew he was befuddled by the latest technologies, and they always assumed that his attempts to get them to write about "censorship and the internet" was a way of masking his tech deficits.
When he finally put down his phone, as hewas about to put in final grades for the semester, Mr. Glistendorf was pleased to see that he had received two research papers in the mail that day, and he was very pleased to see that one of them was from Ed Wilde, a boy he thought was extremely talented and extremely lazy. He put a grade on the first page of Ed's paper, which Ed had playfully entitled "Top Secret, Yeah, Right." Without so much as a glance at it, Glistendorf gave Ed a "C" on that paper in an attempt to motivate the young man for the following year.
The second paper came from Leslie Mann-Tillar, one of his favorite students, whom he knew was transferring out of Freeport High and moving to Rockford. He knew she was a ward of the state and the move had something to do with budget cuts, and he also knew that he would miss her. She had been one of his best students and it had surprised him that she was handing her research paper in so late. He dutifully placed a grade on the first page, stuffed it into the self-address stamped envelope she'd provided, and sent it back to her. Only days later, when he had to post grades, did he realize that something was amiss. He had already given Leslie Mann-Tillar a grade for her research paper. He was puzzled as to why she would send an "extra" research paper to him, but considered it the result of Leslie's strong intellectual drive. In any event, he forgot about it until much later.
By the time Mr. Glistendorf had gotten Ed's paper, however, Ed was front page Freeport Press news, which is to say the weekly addition of that publication had listed him as a missing person. Because it was a small town and Ed had made headlines three years earlier with his spectacular arrest in 6th grade, the current headline read, "Ed Wilde, aka "Intenet Ed" Missing." The article later went on to report that Anne Wilde, Internet Ed's mom, did not think the government has arrested him. Instead, she believed he had "temporarily left Freeport on an unapproved road trip, embarrassed about his poor school performance and irritated at the lack of strawberry-banana yogurt at home." The dairy reference an effort to keep local citizens from being too concerned about the absence of Ed. If a mother could joke about the causes of a teenage son's absence, chances are Ed would surface at some point in the near future. At least initially, none of the locals save one were worried about the whereabouts of Ed.
Mr. Glistendorf, however, realized that is was somewhat strange that the paper he received from Ed was postmarked after the point in time when he was missing. He called Anne Wilde and told her that he had received the research paper and asked her to come in and pick it up.
Before Anne had time to consider what to do, Agent Fizerone called Ed's cell phone (which Anne was now using as her own, as Fizerone had yet to replace the one he had smashed.) and Anne picked up.
"I'll meet you at the school in an hour."
"For what? Oh, you know about Ed's research paper? I was just getting ready to call you. I just got a call from Ed's English teacher." She said nervously.
"Yes, I know about his paper. Let's go see what it says."
Annie realized her phone calls were being monitored, but she was surprised that Fizerone was that on top of the situation. She realized that if Ed ever did call, it would be somehow problematic for Ed. As she drove to the school to pick up his research paper, she wondered how she was going to be able to get Ed a message without alerting Fizerone.
Almost at the school, the phone rang. Anne assumed it was Agent Fizerone, checking to make sure she was on her way to the school, but instead, it came from ____________________. A strange voice she did not recognize said, "Hello, mom?"
"I'm sorry, you must have the wrong number." she said, not recognizing the voice.
"No, mom, it's me. Ed. I'm in __________________.
"You don't sound like Ed," Anne said, convinced it was her son but afraid and aware that Fizerone was listening in. She was trying to think of a way to let Ed know that all of her phone calls were being monitored, but she couldn't think of a way to do it, so she decided to act as if she had no idea what was going on. She hoped Ed would understand.
"Mom, it's a long story and I don't sound like me because I'm not me. I'm ________________. Mom, it's too crazy to explain, but I love you and miss you."
"I'm sorry, whoever you are, but you have the wrong number." and she hung up, huge tears rolling down her face. Pulling herself together, she immediately dialed Fizerone. "I think Ed might have just called me," she said in a business like tone. "He didn't sound like himself, but he called me 'mom'."
"I heard the whole thing. Thank you." And Fizerone hung up and called the local police in___________________. He had a name and he had a location. If they could get to _________fast enough, they'd have their guy.
Anne realized her son was possibly in grave danger, but far more likely Ed had called her and given her all that information just to see how quickly Fizerone's people worked. If she knew her son, she assumed Ed had pretty much set up the phone call for a reason.
When she arrived at Freeport High, she went directly to Mr. Glistendorf's room. He was sitting at his desk, reading the Freeport Press. Noticing her, he put down the paper, stood up, and extended a hand. "Nice to see you, Ms. Wilde. Any word from Ed? I'm sure you must be very worried."
Aware that she was not allowed to speak to anyone about Ed's situation, she merely said, "Yes, I'm worried. But I know Ed will be home soon. I can't say when, but I know it will be soon."
"I certainly hope so."
"Can I see Ed's paper, please?"
"Surely." Mr. Glistendorf said, and handed Anne the paper Ed had evidently sent in.
"It's well written."
"Oh, Ed's a good writer, Ms. Wilde. No one has ever doubted that. It's just that…"
"He's lazy."
"I wouldn't say that, Ms. Wilde. I'd say it's more that Ed doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do."
"Ed doesn't do boring. I know that."
"No, he doesn't." And with that, the door to the room opened and Agent Fizerone entered slightly agitated.
"Excuse me, sir, but I'm in the middle of a parent teacher conference. I'll be with you in a moment."
"It's all right, Mr. Glistendorf, I know Mr. Fizerone. He's....."
"Working with the FBI to find Mrs. Wilde's son." Fizerone quickly jumped in.
"Oh. Well, we were just talking about Ed's research paper." Mr. Glistendorf said, producing it as he spoke.
"Mind if I take a look?" Fizerone swept his hands over the paper and looked at it as if it might contain magic. It quickly appeared that it did not. The paper was all about how censorship of any kind was very bad and destructive to society. It railed against government intrusion, blah, blah, blah. After quickly reading the paper, Fizerone, using a false tone of sincerity, asked if he might keep the paper as "evidence."
"Of course." Anne said quickly.
"And what do you know about Leslie Mann-Tillar?" Fizerone quickly asked Mr. Glistendorf.
"What about her?" Mr. Glistendorf responded. "She's a talent student in my class, that's about all I know."
"Seems Ed was quite sweet on her." Fizerone said with an air of superiority.
"But I don't think she liked him." Anne said weakly.
"I wouldn't say that. She seems to care a lot about him. It was pretty clear, from our conversation, that she liked him quite a bit."
"I had no idea."
"Parents are often the last to know."
"Do you think she can help us find him?"
"I'm banking on it." Fizerone said with a superior attitude that he knew was annoying. Then, turning to Mr. Glistendorf he said, "Now, if you hear anything from either Ed or Leslie, you'll be sure to let me know."
"Yes, of course."
"Thanks. Here's my card." and with that Fizerone started to walk out, Ed's research paper in hand. He would have the tech people analyze it for possible code. As he reached the door, his cell phone rang. It was Lucy Temkin.
"Leslie's gone missing." Lucy stammered.
"Really? Isn't that a surprise." Fizerone said with not a hint of surprise in his voice. "I'll be right over." And just as he hung up his phone, it rang again. This time it was his office in DC.
"Agent Fizerone, I thought you should know…." came the voice of Louise Glanz.
"Another alert from a different chip?"
"Yes, how did you know?"
"Where is this one coming from?" Agent Fizerone asked, ignoring Louise's question.
"It's coming from….."
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