Omniscient: John The Genius Part 2: A Life Worth Living

CHAPTER ONE

TOMORROW IS JULY 4th, 1984, and my birthday. I'll turn eight years old. My name is John Wayne Cook, I have a photographic memory, a documented IQ somewhere above 170, and I'm omniscient.

Earlier this year I gained the ability to remember future events. Events where alternate future versions of me go anywhere and do practically anything. The things they experience and learn I can remember. There is no practical limit to what they can learn, experience, or discover because there are no limit to the number of them. Sometimes the memories of those futures that will never happen talk to me.

Right now I'm having losing a fight with my Mom. I am desperate to go to Ft. Worth Texas for the US Chess Open tournament. It starts on August 4th, and ends on the 12th. I wanted to go and win. Winning is not the hard part. Five weeks ago I played 200 skilled chess players, 40 at a time, simultaneously. I won every game but one, and that was a draw with an internationally ranked chess grandmaster.

"Mom, it's my only chance. If I don't go there is no telling where they will hold it next year. It's just Ft Worth, that's hardly far at all," I complained.

"I just can't take you. It's a week long tournament, I just can't take the time. I have to finish packing, and we have to get settled. Mattie starts her new school on the 13th, the day after it ends. I'm sorry but there is just no way," Mom said with finality.

"If I find a way, can I go?" I asked.

"I'll consider it. Until then, please go do something outside," Mom requested.

Following Moms orders, I went outside and got on my bicycle. I went down to the river, where I stopped and did Tai Chi. As I focused and relaxed into the moment, the tension left me. The voices of the future came.

"You know there is a way."

"Mom is going to be so mad if I do it," I responded to the voices.

"We know exactly how mad she will be. The choice is yours, it's not particularly important."

"It impresses the right people at the right time."

"The question is how important is it to you? Do you do it for the plan, or do you do it for the glory, or do you do it for the fun of pulling it off, no matter how mad everyone gets? Why do you live the life you're living, what makes it worth the effort?"

"I like the idea of flying my plane the best, but if I do that I'll get grounded, literally, for years."

"The choice is yours, as always," the voices concluded.

"I'm going, but I'll fly commercial," I said, making the decision out loud.

There were currently three viable options. One, not go. Two, take a commercial flight from Tulsa to Ft. Worth. Three, take my brand new Pterodactyl pTiger ultralight airplane. The problem with number three is that it comes unassembled as a kit, and has not yet arrived. Still it would have been so cool to fly myself to the competition.

My family was planning their normal birthday/holiday celebration. This year my grandparents would be coming to join the celebration. I would be getting a lot of presents this year. I wasn't getting extra presents for turning eight.

I was getting presents because I had just graduated from high school and been accepted to start at TU, The University of Tulsa, this fall. I was getting lots of presents because I had sent a letter to my Grandma Beth with winning lottery numbers, which she used to win millions of dollars. I was also getting presents because I had instructed my Grandpa Joe on how to invest in the stock market, and he had tripled their winnings in the last month.

I did have some money of my own. I had two thousand dollars that had come as an advance on a book I wrote while finishing high school. One thousand dollars for the book in its original French, as it had been a school assignment, and an additional one thousand dollars for the same book in English, which also was a school assignment.

My party on the 4th went well. Dad, as on every fourth, acted as safety officer and master of ceremonies.

"All right, for those of you who don't know our traditions," he said, nodding at my grandparents who were standing in the back yard with the rest of the family just after sundown. "Johnny launches the first rocket. Then, everyone else will get a rocket to light. Since it’s an even year, the order is youngest to oldest.”

“I’ll be helping Mattie again this year,” Mom added.

I stepped up to my rocket, and pointed the lighter at the fuse. Dad had already set the rockets up for firing. It whooshed into the air and exploded a brilliant red starburst.

“Yay! My turn!” Mattie shouted, and ran to her rocket. Mom took the lighter from me, and holding it with Mattie’s help, lit it, then hurriedly backed away with her.

This one was a brilliant green and blue.

Mom did hers next followed by Dad. Grandma preceeded Grandpa, and finally it was my turn again.

“Every year,” Dad explained, “I look for the biggest rocket I can find for the birthday boy.”

He stepped away, and came back with a truly massive rocket. “This year I think I got something extra special.”

Grandpa helped him set it down, and then watched as a trigger cord was unrolled, “Rules on this one, is everybody has to stand on the other side of the house in case of a misfire. Joe, can you take everyone around? Johnny and I will just go around the corner of the house to hit the trigger button.”

Grandpa eagerly directed everyone around to the front yard, where they all stood looking up. Dad set up the trigger, and once we were both around the corner, showed me how to fire it.

“Five, Four, Three, Two, One,” I shouted loudly so everyone would know it was about to go. I hit the trigger, there was a pop, a hiss, and a huge roar. It was rapidly visible overhead, and seemed to climb forever.

It disappeared into the night sky, then it became bright like daylight as it exploded. The sound could be felt, and I could hear all the neighborhood dogs howling. Birthday traditions are awesome.

“Amazing, Dad. You get a better rocket every year.”

“Happy birthday, Johnny.”

"I'm eight, Dad. Time to start calling me John."

He gave me a look, grinned, and picked me up, setting me on his shoulder, as he walked around to the front of the house, "No promises, but I hear you."

There were more fireworks, carefully supervised by Dad after the birthday cake and ice cream. Once the fireworks were gone, we headed inside so I could open my presents. There were lots of new clothes, and a card with cash from Grandpa. It was cash I'd won playing chess months earlier. The card had a little loose note from Grandma, 'Your pterodactyl is in Tulsa.'

I gave them both hugs, then Mom sent Dad to their room to get a present, and Grandma sent Grandpa to Mattie's room to get a present.

Both men met in the living room, holding big, unwrapped packages, and Mom was not amused, "You got him a computer too?"

"He said he needed a computer, so we got him one."

She looked at me, and I had a big grin on my face, "He told me the same thing!"

"Thank you so much, it was exactly what I wanted! They are two different kinds, and I plan to write computer programs for them both."

Mom was unconvinced, "What do you need two computers for? You've got two arms and two hands, not four!"

"The two computers work differently, what runs on one doesn't run on the other. I can't fix that unless I have one of each," I tried to explain.

"You think you can just program a computer?" Mom started to question.

"Okay," Dad interceded, "I think it's all right. Johnny, you've got a good plan, but if one starts collecting dust, we'll get rid of it."

That mollified Mom, and Grandpa just grinned at her reaction. I started unboxing the Apple //e and setting it up on the dining room table. I left the Macintosh on the floor. While I was working Grandpa came over to watch.

He asked, "Why do you need three computers?"

"I explained it already, none of them can share software, I'm going to fix that."

"And, you need the machine to do that?"

"Right, and the new IBM doesn't come out until next month."

"Well don't let anyone know I knew about all the different computers," Grandpa whispered.

"I'll keep it secret Grandpa, you're safe from Mom."

The following day I left with Grandma and Grandpa to go to Tulsa. They had purchased a building, what had been The Mayo Hotel. Before Grandpa bought it, it had been stripped and abandoned. Construction crews were already at work cleaning the place up.

"I'm so excited to see the space for the first time," I told Grandma as we passed thru the construction entrance.

"Welcome to The Mayo," said the site foreman, Peter Nivens.

"Just going to show the grandkid his new playroom on the 16th floor," Grandpa said, shaking Peter's hand.

"It's a bit industrial for a kids playroom," Peter responded.

"Sorry, I'm making a joke and you don't know the story. We are fitting it out as a multi use area for John."

"It's my mad science laboratory!" I crowed excitedly.

"Well, come on over to the elevator, and we'll go up to the 16th floor."

When the doors closed, the elevator started ascending. Because of its age, it made some noise. Grandma flinched, when it made a heavy thud, and I took her hand.

"You are just the best," she told me, and trying to smile.

"Are you afraid of heights Grandma?" I asked her.

"I'm afraid of falling,: she said with a chuckle.

"No fear of falling, the elevator got a fully safety check, and all back up systems are in full working order," Peter assured us.

The doors opened on a very large, high ceilinged space and we exited looking around.

"This used to be the Crystal Ballroom, back in the day," Peter explained. "about 13,000 square feet of space, double height ceilings, and double height windows."

"They don't look double height anymore," Grandma said, as she looked around at the plywood walls.

"Well," Peter said, chuckling, "You can't see the windows because of the plywood walls."

"That's just over the original walls, right?" Grandpa asked.

"Right, we put plywood up on a frame along the outer walls, and ceiling. The original is perfectly protected behind it."

"It's going to be very dark in here when the lights get turned off," Grandma mentioned.

"The walls and ceiling will get a sealant and get painted and it's going to be a very bright white. Once that is done the Electrician will be in. He'll run the conduit on the plywood, and install all the plugs and switches, and such."

"The lighting isn't very nice," Grandma said.

"You just see the temp lighting we put up. The original chandeliers are in storage. My crew changed them out for these overhead lights, after putting plywood up to protect the ceiling."

I smiled, and ran into the space, and around the corner. It was perfect. I was checking out the new industrial flooring as they came around the second corner to find me.

"Do you think you'll have the room you need?" Grandpa asked, teasingly.

"It should be enough room for a while, then this will all come down and the Ballroom will get restored."

I saw pictures of the original, it was a beautiful space," Grandma said.

"Don't worry Grandma, everything in here will come right out, and it'll be a gorgeous space, with amazing views."

Peter nodded eagerly, "The views are amazing up here. It was a shame to cover the windows. Even better upstairs, though."

"Lets go upstairs then," Grandpa said.

We didn't have to wait for the elevator, as Peter had used the override key. It was just a short trip up one level.

"Oh my!" Grandma said, as she looked out at the view.

"This is being renovated as the new bar area. It used to be a penthouse suite," Peter explained.

"Elvis Presley stayed here," Grandpa told him.

"Yup, lots of celebrities back in the day. We can't go too far in, as it's still being renovated."

"Is that the roof?" Grandma asked.

"Yup, we are extending the penthouse bar area, but more than half the area will remain an open space for good weather dining."

We all looked out the windows at the bright sunlit space.

"Might be a little warm in the summer," Grandpa said.

I told him, "There's a nice breeze this high up."

"Is it safe?" Grandma asked.

"It will be. We are installing safety fencing along the parapet. Nobody will go over the side."

"Okay, I'm ready to go down now." Grandma said.

"Lets go look at our living level," Grandpa suggested.

We went down two floors to level 15. The crews were working hard here, and the noise levels made it hard to talk.

"This is the family level," I loudly told Grandma. "You'll have a space here, three bedrooms, kitchen, living room, everything."

"Why do I need a three bedroom house? Do you know how much cleaning that will take?"

"It's a hotel, Grandma, the staff will clean for you. You can have people come visit."

"If they visit, why can't they stay in one of the hotel rooms?"

I just smiled, as we headed back to the elevator, it was just too noisy, and not safe to wander around looking.

As the elevator dropped, Peter said, "Your architect put together four three-bedroom apartments, and two two-bedroom apartments on that level."

"I want a two-bedroom then. That's what I have in California, and I don't need somebody else to clean up after me."

"What ever you want is fine with me. One of the two-bedrooms will be my office space."

"Probably better to use a three bedroom Grandpa. You'll need room for your staff to work."

"Um, the architect drawings show the office space is on level 14," Peter interrupted.

"Right," Grandpa said. "A short commute, and the family level stays private. I forgot that."

"How many rooms will there be?" Grandma asked.

Peter smiled, happy to have the attention, "There were 600 tiny rooms in the building originally. When we are done, there will be 65 two and three bedroom luxury apartments, and 200 luxury hotel suites."

"What makes it luxury?" Grandpa asked him.

Peter laughed, "Thats what the Architect put on the plans. You'll have to talk to him and the decorator about that. I'm just foreman for the renovation and upgrades."

"Oh? What upgrades?" Grandma wanted to know.

Peter started listing them off, "We are installing sound insulation, and replacing the windows for not only energy efficiency but noise control.

"All the plumbing, electrical, and H-Vac is getting updated. I've got some very specific design details from the Architect on the general interior. Especially the Lobby. According to him, 'We will fully restore the Booz Arr charm of the building.'"

"I thought it was Art Deco," Grandpa said.

"Beaux-Arts, Grandpa. It's a French classical modernism, and was big here in the US before the 1920's. Art Deco came around as it ended."

"Aren't we doing Art Deco in the lobby?" Grandpa asked.

"The late 1800's and early 1900's were the 'gilded age'. that's the Beaux-Arts era. It is similar to Art Deco. Your Architect is a fanatic about both styles, so we'll see what he does. Even if he does a mix of the two, it'll be beautiful and awesome," I said.

Peter gave me a look, and Grandpa hurriedly asked, "Whats the time frame on the renovations."

"The family level, offices, and the Mad Science Lab," he said with a chuckle, "will be done first. Then we'll move to the bottom and start working up.

"Kitchens, and the pool will come next, then the restaurants, and all the while we will move up, renovating the rooms.

"It'll take a year to have a hundred rooms ready, and maybe another year for the rest of the building."

"When will the restaurants be open? The OneOK building across the street is almost finished, and we want to be preferred formal dining spot for all those office workers," Grandpa told him.

"Should be by this time next year," Peter said.

"Thanks for the tour Peter, we need to grab his bags, and move him into his room," Grandpa said, sticking a thumb out to point at me.

Grandma went with me down to the car, while Grandpa got off at level four, where our rooms were.

I set my stuff down in one of the freshly cleaned original hotel rooms, Grandma and Grandpa were next door.

"Everything has been cleaned and it's all new. Beds, bedding, and furniture," Grandma said, as I looked out the window.

That afternoon I grabbed a bag of fresh coffee and went to find Grandpa. "Grandpa, we've got an important errand to run while Grandma takes a nap."

"Okay, I'll grab the keys."

Once we in the car, he asked, "So whats the errand?"

"This is one of those times where you are going to have to really trust me. Are you ready for that?"

He waved up at the building, "I've trusted you this far, and it's been good."

"Okay, but this will be a bit different."

I gave him the directions, to a nearby pharmacy, "Ready Grandpa? Just go to the drive up window, and ask for the prescription for Wolowitz." I handed him the cash for the purchase.

He was visibly nervous, not sure what I was getting him into and I didn't tell him.

He sighed in relief driving away from the window with the prescription. He promptly found a parking spot and just stared at me.

I gave him a grin, "Excellent work Grandpa, you just need to do it one more time."

He muttered under his breath but followed my directions to another drive up pharmacy.

"I'm picking up a prescription for Koothrappali," he told the woman at the window.

"One moment," she said, then gave him the total. He passed the cash over, and she gave him the prescription, then asked, "Do you need to go over the prescription with the pharmacist?"

He quickly glanced at me, and saw my shake of the head, "No, I'm good. Have a nice weekend!" he said, and drove off.

I didn't have the heart to tell him it was Thursday. He grumbled about how much trouble he was going to be in, as I directed him North out of town to a small house in a bad neighborhood.

There I turned to Grandpa, "Grandpa Joe, this is very important. The future gets very difficult and I need the man in there. You must not talk at all while we are in that house. Do you understand?"

"Sure I'll let you talk."

"No Grandpa Joe, you can't say a word, no gasping in surprise, no interruptions, no questions. This only works if you stay completely silent."

He took a deep breath and let it out. "I'll stay silent."

I walked up to the house, as he followed. The front door was unlocked, and I entered as if I lived there. I looked around at the mess. Empty bottles, mostly Jack Daniels, littered the floor and couch.

Amidst the bottles on the couch was a very tall, heavily muscled black man. He was completely out of it.

I gestured Grandpa in after me, and carefully closed the door. I put a finger to my lips to remind him to be quiet, and he gave me a wide eyed nod. He looked on the verge of panic.

I took my bag of coffee grounds and went into the kitchen, and started the coffee maker. Grandpa went in with me, but stood so he could keep an eye on the guy in the living room.

When the coffee finished, I poured a cup, and dropped in a few grams of a powder I had created a couple months earlier in Organic Chemistry. After stirring with a questionably clean spoon I walked back into the living room with the cup of coffee. I gestured to Grandpa to stay where he was.

Standing in front of the quiescent man, I yelled, "Matt. Wakeup! Sergeant Preston open those eyes!"

One eye opened, "Who the hell are you? What are you doin in my house?" he slurred.

"I'm making coffee," I said handing him the cup.

The other eye opened. He reached for the cup and took a sip. With gusto he drank down the rest of the cup.

"I'm out of coffee," He told me.

"I brought it."

"Who are you kid?"

"I'm John Wayne Cook. I'm here to recruit you Sergeant."

"Not a Sergeant any more."

"Once a Marine, always a Marine."

"Ha, move out of the way I gotta pee."

He stumbled out of the couch and down a hallway. Laying on the couch was his Remington M1911A1 service pistol. I picked it up, put the safety on, and set it on a side table. It was a couple of minutes before he returned, I stood there waiting. Eventually he returned, noticing Grandpa for the first time.

"Who are you?" He asked him.

"He's with me. Sergeant you have three problems, and I'm here to fix them."

"I've got more than three problems kid."

"No you only have three, sit on the couch," I told him.

He slowly walked back to the couch, moved some bottles from the floor to a side table. He noticed his gun, but didn't reach for it.

After he finally sat, I continued. "Problem number one, no job. Solution, you will work for me. I need a bodyguard and driver, I'll pay you 25,000 a year plus food and housing. Two weeks paid vacation after one year, and full medical.

"Problem number two, you're very sick, and it's not the alcohol. You picked up a disease just before you discharged." I tossed him the package of antibiotics from the pharmacy. "Solution, take those, it'll clear up in a week, but take the full 18 days."

"Problem number three, you're depressed, drunk, and contemplating suicide. Solution, a job and medication will help some, but you're low on testosterone." I pulled a small bottle and a syringe out of the second pharmacy bag. "I'm going to give you a shot. Stand up, drop just your pants and sit back down."

He did so, not really understanding why he did so, while I filled the syringe from the bottle. A quick check for air bubbles, I stepped toward him. I wiped a spot with an alcohol wipe halfway between his left knee and crotch, and stuck the needle into the muscle just outside of the centerline. He just watched.

Grandpa was looking dizzy, but had stayed quiet as I had asked. Injection complete I pulled the needle out, and dropped it into a empty bottle.

"One injection a week for the rest of your life. Problem solved." I pulled out a twenty dollar bill, and set it on the table. I put a piece of paper over it, with instructions.

"This is for a cab and your breakfast tomorrow. Be at this address at 8 am with all your belongings, you're not coming back to this sty again. Now get up, go to the kitchen, take your first dose of antibiotics, and go to bed," I told him forcefully.

He stood up, pulled his pants up, walked past a frozen Grandpa into the kitchen, took his pills with a glass fo water and walked down the hallway to the bedroom. He dropped into the bed and fell immediately to sleep.

In turned to Grandpa, "We're done, let's go." He turned around and practically fled out the door. I followed locking the front door before pulling it closed behind me.

Once we were back in the car, doors shut, and seatbelts on, and doors locked, Grandpa started to tremble. "That was the scariest thing I've ever seen! What the hell were you thinking!"

"I'm thinking that because I hired Matt, you won't ever have to do stuff like that with me again."

"Thank God! Can we go home now?"

"Carry on Macduff."

"What was that powder you put in his coffee?" Grandpa asked a few minutes later as we got to the highway.

"A little something that helped him follow directions."

The next morning I met Matt at the front door five minutes to eight. Unlocking the lobby door, I let him in.

"Come on in Matt, just in time."

"So it wasn't a dream. I wasn't sure I hadn't dreamed it."

"You'll see a lot of strange things in the next 10 years." I told him.

"What happens in ten years?"

"I'll be 18, you'll want a new job so you can be with your family, and your daughter will need your time."

He started to ask questions when my Grandpa came into the lobby. "Don't bother asking, Matt, the kid's a genius and just knows stuff. I'm Joe by the way, we didn't get introduced yesterday."

Matt shook his hand, "Matt Preston. I sort of remember you from yesterday, but it's a little fuzzy."

"Who's this?" Grandma Beth asked as she came from the elevator behind Grandpa.

"My new driver." I told her. "Grandma Beth meet former Sergeant Matt Preston, of the US Marines."

"My you are big, aren't you," she said as she reached out to shake his hand.

"Do you have your list of supplies?" I asked Grandma.

"Yes right here. I've never done such a big renovation before."

"You have the architect dimensions of the kitchens, and I know you'll negotiate a good price, just make sure they stick to stainless steel appliances, and no granite counter-tops!"

"But granite looks so lovely," Grandma said.

"It's nothing but looks, it's a terrible counter-top surface. Basic geology Grandma, granite is porous, polishing it does not change that. If you want stone ask for quartz."

"Ok, and I'd like to see butcher block for the islands," she continued.

"Sounds good, have fun with the designer, we'll see you back here for lunch."

"Be good boys, see you later," she said as she exited the building.

"Will you be getting the minivans today?" I asked Grandpa.

"Yes, shiny black as requested."

"Great, I'm going to show Matt his room, then my lab and the rest of the building."

"Follow me!" I said heading for the grand staircase.

When we reached the mezzanine level, I looked over the balcony.

"Matt, this lobby will be restored back to near original. The hotel check in desk is over there, and the restaurant and dining room are that way, I said pointing it out."

He just listened, and looked around as I described the coming changes.

"Okay, next stop, the fourth floor."

I showed him where Grandma and Grandpas room was, then mine, and then his, directly across from mine.

"Just drop your stuff here for now, you can come back later to get unpacked."

He dropped his stuff after a brief look. I gave him his key, and a key to the building, then showed him my room.

"Wow, you have two computers?" he said, finally beginning to open up.

"Do you know much about computers?"

"No."

"I'll be using them for school work and other projects. Let's do the grand tour and start at the bottom and work our way up."

"Okay."

We rode the elevator down to the basement level.

"The primary kitchen is down here. It'll serve the restaurants and food service for the hotel rooms."

We went through a set of door into the underground garage, "Were are only keeping a few of the parking spaces for the Hotel shuttle vans. the rest of this space will be the new indoor pool."

"Cool," he replied.

As we rode the elevator up, I told him, "These will be hotel rooms, and then above them will be apartments. Some of the apartments will be rented out, and some will be managed by the Hotel."

We exited on level fifteen, "This is what we call the family level. When this renovation gets finished, I'll live here with my parents and sister in one apartment. Grandma and Grandpa will have an apartment up here too."

"Will I be up here too?" he asked, looking around.

"Yup, two-bedroom apartment all to yourself, plus maid service, and room service."

He nodded, "Nice."

We went up to seventeen. "There's no crew up here right now, so lets go out on the patio," I suggested. We walked out to a hot day, and a stiff breeze.

"Wow, what a view!" Matt said.

"There's a big list of celebrities who stayed in the room up here. It used to be the penthouse suite."

"Like who?"

"Elvis loved his stays in the Presidential Suite," I told him.

"Wow, really?"

"Really," I said with a grin, "But the remodel is removing the suite."

"What's going to be now?"

"A rooftop bar."

He asked, "Are you going to name it the Penthouse Bar?"

"My Mom didn't care for that name, though Dad liked it. I like 'The High Bar' but nobody has settled on a name yet."

Finally it came to the denouement, the important moment. I led him back down the elevator one floor. The doors opened into the elevator lobby. I used my key to open the door to the darkness of my lab area, I stepped in and flipped a switch turning on the lights.

"Kind of a big spooky space," he commented.

"This is my lab space. I'll be working here on projects for myself, and the University."

"University? What University?"

"I'm starting at University of Tulsa this fall. That's why I need a driver, somebody to take me back and forth. It's also why I need a bodyguard, somebody to keep me from being shoved around, or kidnapped."

"If you're serious, I'm not trained for kidnapping, I can drive you around easy enough but I'm not sure if I'm the guy for the rest of it."

"Don't worry, you're going to a training center in a couple weeks, you'll come back ready to do your job."

"You talk like my former CO. It's hard to believe you're just a kid."

"Matthew James Preston, listen to me very carefully," I said loudly, using the command voice he knew from the military. He stiffened to attention and I continued: "Someday you will save my life. I know that, like you know two plus two is four. Our relationship will never be just employer and employee. I'd like to think of it as more Feudal Lord to Vassal, but there are implications that I can't explain right now. Just remember this, just as you have an obligation to me, so I have an obligation to you. I will meet my obligations to you always, this I swear! Not just because you save my life."

"What do you know, you're eight," he said, but not harshly.

"Go get the deck of cards from your duffle downstairs. Shuffle them till you're satisfied, then bring them up here. I'm going to show you what I know."

He turned and went to get his deck of cards. It took a few minutes, when he returned I was sitting on the plywood floor, waiting for him.

"Here, sit across from me, and place the cards face down."

He sat, a few feet from me, and crossed his legs like I had mine crossed.

"Now, is there any way that I could know what order the cards are in?" I asked him.

"No."

"We will proceed this way. I will name a card, you will flip the top card over. Do you understand?"

"Yeah I get it."

"Three of clubs."

He flipped the card over, it was a three of clubs. He went very still. I called the next card, he flipped it over. Correct again, I kept calling out cards, he kept flipping them. After the ninth card he quickly backed away, until his back hit the wall. The terror on his face was difficult to see.

"Sergeant Preston, did you stop to think about how I knew where you were yesterday? Did you stop to think about how an eight year old kid came uninvited into the home of a drunk 254 lb six foot eight black Marine with a loaded and cocked gun and made him coffee?

"Why do you think I did this?"

"Because someday I'm going to save your life?" he asked.

"But first I had to save yours," I said and waited.

It took him a bit, but eventually he softly said, "Yeah."

"Two hours later and you would have woken up, found no booze, no coffee, and put a bullet in your head."

He looked intensely guilty at that statement.

"But," I continued with a smile that belied the seriousness of the conversation, "that was three problems ago. We've solved those, so I think the question now is if I tell you something, will you believe me? Will you act knowing what I say is true? Will you rely on me for answers when you have questions?"