“You want to see our plan?”
“Sure.”
“Show her. Wait.” Jared stands right over me, his crotch in my face. “You can’t tell anyone.” He wags a finger at me.
Spencer opens his briefcase. His computer is inside.
Jared takes a step closer. “Promise.” He extends his hand for a shake.
I take two of the fingers and shake them.
“Ok, show her.” Jared sits cross-legged next to me.
Spencer starts showing me their plan.
There is and there isn’t novelty in heinous acts. Things just seem novel when we forget to expect them. After something bad happens we focus on it as though it was the worst thing that ever happened. The sensible thing would be to realize that right before it happened we never expected it. And to live each moment knowing that our expectations are wrong.
“Are you gonna leave a note or a video or something?”
“Why?”
“What’s the point if people don’t know why you’re doing it?”
“It’s not important that they know.”
“This is our world. We know why we’re doing it. That’s their world. They don’t need to know and if we told them they wouldn’t understand.” Jared looks completely satisfied with this. To him, the question has been answered.
“Ok. But what is the point of doing it?”
“The point.” Jared says. “Is that we’re smarter than them. They are focusing on this and focusing on that and they’re not really focusing on what needs to be done.”
“So you’re punishing them?”
“No. You don’t get it. We don’t care about them. You don’t punish people you do not care about.”
“We don’t care about anything about them. We don’t care about punishing them. They can do that to themselves. In their own ways.”
“You only punish people you love. If you didn’t love them, you would leave them alone. You wouldn’t punish them. You just wouldn’t talk to them.”
“But people you don’t love—you blow up?”
“It’s not.”—“About them.”
“We’re not—in a sense we’re not blowing them up.”
“It doesn’t have anything.”—“To do.”—“With them.”—“It’s not.”—“Aimed.”—“At them.”—“They’re there.”—“But we don’t care.”
“They’re on a different plane.” Jared adds.
Thanks. Yeah. That clears everything up. “I get that. But why are you gonna kill them?”
“We’re not.”
“I thought you said you have explosives in the school.”
Jared and Spencer look at each other. Caution.
“Yes.” Jared says.
“So you’re setting them off for visual effect. If it happens to hurt someone, that’s extra?”
Jared says. “Our intention isn’t to hurt people. But it’s not for visual effect. We’re destroying things.”
Spencer says. “Do you see?”
“Yes. I think I do.” And I do. It’s bullshit. It’s complete bullshit. But if they want to sit here and talk semantics, that’s fine. Those people are on a different plane. Clearly Jared is a little bit crazy. But he’s also a little bit smart. I’ve always known that about Jared. Most people would think that Spencer was the smarter of the two, just because of grades. To most people Jared just seems like a punk. A disruptor. They tried to suspend him for coming to school with a shirt that said “pussy.” He turns around and on the back of the shirt there’s a drawing of a cat. They couldn’t suspend him. It’s freedom of speech. I don’t know what the exact rules are but he convinced Mr. Shapiro that if they suspended him he would sue. And knowing Jared he probably already knew he would win. I don’t know what the rules are on what you can wear, and believe it or not I haven’t read the Constitution, but somehow I think Jared probably has. Most people see him as a disruptor but he definitely does some authentic thinking. I admit it’s hard to detect through the slurry of language. Dyson’s not Jared-smart. But he’s definitely manic.
We’re playing football with a lopsided clump of Styrofoam and duct tape. I’m asking them questions about their plan. I really didn’t believe them at first. It sounded ridiculous. Now I’m starting to think that parts of it might be true. “Where did you get the—what did you call them?”
“Tac-mines.”
“Where did you get the tac-mines?”
“There are some parts of the plan, dear, that you do not want to know. Suffice it to say we bought them discreetly from someone we know. If that’s all you know about it, that’s the best thing for you. We don’t gather that this someone wants to be involved with us in any way except discreetly.”
Your science fair project. I knew there was something up with you earlier. Damn you, William.
Jared and Spencer are watching me. “See, I told you he would say something.”
“No, I get it. So you bought them off the internet.”
Jared is definitely reading me to see what I know. “We can’t trust the internet. I mean we don’t care about our privacy. Our privacy isn’t the concern. But this person. He’s not planning to die tomorrow. So he does care about his privacy. Anyway you can’t trust the internet for things like this.”
“So where are these supposed land mines? Are they already in the school?” Damn you for having anything to do with this.
“Don’t worry about where they are. It is advisable not to know. And they’re not land mines, they’re tac-mines.”
“When are you gonna do it?”
“Maybe tomorrow. Maybe never. I don’t actually know. We’re using a dice roll to figure it out.”
I laugh. A snorty laugh. A dice roll? “You’ve been playing too much Magic The Gathering.”
“Magic The Gathering.”—“Doesn’t use dice.”—“You mean.”—“Dungeons and Dragons.”
“Whatever. You’re gonna do a dice roll?”
“Military commanders, when they choose the time of an attack, use random numbers. Coin flips, things like that. They use a dice roll to choose the time when they’ll actually execute a maneuver. That way they can’t be spied upon, they can’t be figured out in advance. Even if you know what the general knows, you still know nothing. Even he doesn’t know when the attack will happen.”
“Where are they? Not where are they now but I mean—”
“Where will you be safe?”
Right.
“Write down your class schedule. Give it to me.”
“Or stay at home tomorrow.”
“That’s ok. I’ll take my chances.”
“But you can’t tell anyone. Like warning the whole school or anything. Is there anyone you want us to save?”
“No one comes to mind.”
“And no warning everyone.”
“I won’t.” I’m looking from Jared to Spencer to Dyson to Spencer to Jared. Chess prodigy/thug. Blubbering eccentric. Hyperactive maniac. And what am I?
“Do you think we’re crazy? For doing this? What are you thinking?”
“I don’t think you’re crazy.” I look Jared in the eye. “I’m thinking what took you so long.”
Jared looks convinced.
I might be convinced myself.
Jared says. “So. You’re good at math, right?”
“This coming from Bobby Fischer.”
“That doesn’t mean I can add.”
“What kind of math are we talking about?”
“I don’t know what to call it. Angles?”
“Show me.”
“Ok.” Spencer turns the computer in my direction.
Jared explains. “The lethal blast radius of one mine is two hundred feet. That doesn’t mean that anything within two hundred feet of the mine is gonna die. That just means that anything within two hundred feet of the mine could die. We’re gonna have three mines here.”
“Why three? Is that the amount it takes to kill everyone in the lunchroom?”
“Three is just the number we decided on. Based on how many we could get. To kill everyone in the lunchroom for sure we would need 10 or 12 mines. I mean to absolutely guarantee that everyone in the lunchroom was killed we’d need that many. But these placements will maximize the lunchroom.” He points to their diagram on Spencer’s computer. “Maximize damage. Given the mines we have.”
“That’s very interesting gentlemen.” I stand up. “Which lunch period are you doing this?”
“Random. Might not be lunch. Might not be the lunchroom. Dice roll remember?”
“Right. Well I have lunch fifth period so if you can swing it fifth period that would be great. How many of us can you get with three?”
Spencer zooms out the map. Clicks in an overlay. “This.”—“Is the estimated sure-kill.”—“Region.”
“But you might want to check our math. Are you good at angles?”
“Angles? You mean geometry. I’ve reached my quota on angles for the day. Anyway this is physics.”
“We think this thing is wrong about the blow-back ratios. Obviously it’s not gonna be exact. It’s just a best estimate. I mean we might get fewer than this number. We might get more.”
Jared reaches in and taps a control sequence on the keyboard. In the lower right corner, a total updates. 271.5. He taps another sequence. Circles adjust. “Those represent the blast radius.” The direct blast area is shaded red. The blowback area is shaded blue. Press return. 304.9. “This placement might give us more effect because of how—you know how those kids clump the tables.”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because the tables are gonna move around. Pieces of the chairs. Stuff is gonna fly through the air. That’s actually what kills people. Part of it. I mean there’s the main blast, there’s heat shock and air shock and pieces of the mine flying through the air. That will be what kills you if you’re near the mine. If you’re within here the explosion and those chunks of metal will definitely kill you. But there’s also the secondary wave. That’s basically pieces of—in this case—tables and chairs—”
“And people.”
“Yeah. People, tables, chairs. That stuff’s gonna be flying through the air. Anything that’s within here, when that stuff flies through the air, that will kill you too.”
I point to a spot on the screen. “Make sure you include this area.”
“Who sits there?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Who is it?”
“Me.”
Jared moves one of the mine icons. The blast radius changes. Now it totally overlaps the table I pointed to. But this configuration pushes the death toll down to 201.0. “How’s that?”
“It’s lovely. Seriously, which placement are you going with?”
Jared hits the control sequence. It toggles between their candidate configurations. 271.5. 304.9. 271.5. 304.9.
“I guess you want to go with the larger number.”
“But we’re worried about this wall.”
Spencer and Jared both leaning in touching the screen.
“See this wall.”
“This is where they stack.”—“The clean lunch.”—“Trays.”
“That might block this blast from here.”
“The trays might.”—“Blow apart.”—“We’re not sure. They could.”—“Fly.”—“Around.”
“Show her the alternate model.”
“We’re not sure if this 304.”—“.9.”—“Is correct.” Spencer clicks something. “See.”—“It could be 238.”—“.6.”
I look from Jared to Spencer. “Uh-huh.”
Jared is rubbing his tiny bit of chin stubble. Spencer is staring at the screen. Blue light reflects in his eyes. He looks tired.
“Where did you get this program?”
“We downloaded it.”
“Well.” I say. “It sucks.”
“Why? Show us.”
“First of all. What’s this .5?” I’m tapping the keys. “What’s this .9?” I’m laughing. “Right? If you’re this .6, what does that exactly mean? Does that mean you’re otherwise ok but missing your arms?” I close the computer and set it in the briefcase. “Good luck boys!” I’m standing and brushing off my ass.
Spencer closes his briefcase. “It was free.”—“What do you expect?”
I’m going away from them, down the hall. I lean against the cinderblock. Stretch my arms. They’re camped twenty feet away. The mop bucket fire is out. “What about the mines? Were those free too?”
No answer. I continue down the hall. Something people never understand: You do your investigation. You get answers to all your questions. You still never figure it out. There’s no satisfactory explanation to shit like this, not even inside the heads of the people doing it. The best story you can tell about it, the closest one to the truth, everybody knows instantly. Some kids got mad at their classmates. Some kids felt they were out of options. Some kids were scared, so they did something stupid. That tag line is as close to the real story as any investigation can produce, and the tag line is cheaper. I can’t explain what these guys are thinking. Or what I am for that matter. I’m just telling you what we did.
Jared at my side. “You have to understand. If you say anything about this. We’ll have to take you down with us.”
“Don’t worry.” I’m smiling. My god I’m really smiling. “I won’t say a word.”
“Not if Mr. Shapiro comes up to you and asks about it point blank. Not even then.”
“Not even then.” I say. I’m ahead of Jared and I twitch my butt. “Not in my wildest dreams.”
The universe is basically an explosion. It is. If these guys are gonna blow up the lunchroom, what am I gonna do? They probably won’t even get it right. And what if they do? The force inside a gun is an explosion. When people have sex that’s an explosion. When things become popular we say that they “blew up.” The spreading of an idea is, essentially, a bomb. That we blow things up is only natural. I’m gonna have to have a talk with you, though, when I see you next. Simply because I don’t want you to go to jail. They do track things like this back you know.
“Let’s go have some fun.” Jared is on his bicycle, his deep voice booming. “All work and no play makes me want to kill a motherfucking cop.” He puts his foot on the high pedal, his body huge under dark clothing. “Meet me in the auditorium.” And he’s off, bike rattling into the tunnel.
Spencer latches his briefcase.
Dyson on his bike going the other way. Squealing “wwwweeeeeee!” as he disappears.
Spencer stands. “You coming?”
“I’ll meet ya.”
“Show starts directly at midnight.” He says. “If you care.”