The Boy Scout and the Hacker

The romance has reached the level of a typical teenager. The mystery begins. They are off to Europe.

Marriage? - Chris

Sam and I have been getting to know each other. I fell in love with her at first sight and even told her early on I was going to marry her. I now needed to reconsider. She was so too good for the likes of me. If Sam thought Shay was a force and her husband was inconsequential, then I was in trouble. Sam's force rivaled Yoda's. I was even lower on the brains totem pole than a lawyer. It would have required two of me to exceed her IQ. She had job offers from around the world, and the only people pursuing me wanted to kill me. But gosh, it was a delightful dream for a few days.

Sam broke into my inner monologue. "I'm tired of talking about me. You really skimped on details in your bio. True, I only asked for a hundred words, and you were reasonably close. However, if I'm going to marry you, which is highly unlikely, I need to know more. Why are you interested in my computing expertise when you obviously know zilch about computers? What is all this secrecy disguised as 'consulting?' Why haven't you tried to kiss me yet?"

"Whoa! I'm taking it slow and easy so I don't scare you away. You definitely expressed a lack of interest in men, so I figured I might ease into some romance down the road a bit, maybe moving on to the next step someday. Maybe immaculate conception if we wanted kids. I expect having kids with me will put a big knothole in your family tree. And Idodrive a Mirage."

"Surely--" she began.

"Uh, uh. The name is Chris, not Shirley. And yes, I was kidding. No self-respecting alpha male would drive a Mirage. I need inconspicuous yet capable vehicles in my work. I drive a Hyundai Seltos. The turbo provides plenty of zip, it's small enough for city driving, and it has all-wheel drive for sticky situations. Also, I often need to carry various work-related equipment and sundry other things." I didn't mention that the equipment was often specialized weaponry and the "sundry" often included bodies--generally alive. That was information I'd release later when our relationship had developed to a more appropriate point. I would also have to explain why her computer expertise and my, shall we say,murkyexpertise might be compatible.

Sam huffed--and snorted. Not easy to do concurrently. "I don't know why I haven't kicked you to the curb yet, but I sense something lurking in there that intrigues me. Lurking is the right word to use, since you are hiding in the shadows. You aren't as dumb as you pretend to be."

"Actually, I am." My social intelligence was definitely sub-par, though I did have an M.S. and had outsmarted many who mistook my modesty and silence for incompetence.

"Also, I don't understand the electricity I felt when we shook hands. Both times. I have never experienced anything like that, even while doing a 180-degree 'moonshiner's turn' at eighty mph. And I can't help wondering what I might feel if we made lip contact. I think of myself as a logical thinker, a scientist, yet I was stumbling around after the party wondering, 'Huh?' And I don't care if you can answer my stupid Turandot questions or not!"

I blushed. "I felt the same thing. Weird, huh?"

"I'm sweet twenty-six and never been kissed. Shay tells me I'm missing out on a lot. I can't imagine why she thinks that, but I dare you to prove her right."

So I did.

Several minutes later, she commented, "Interesting. Please, sir. May I have some... mooore?"

And another point for Samantha, though she bore no resemblance to the little waif fromOliver. I was nothing if not obliging, so I granted her request. I was aiming for a bit more positive feedback as we continued our interaction. Instead, I got, "More," every few minutes. I'd consider that a win. We were in public, so tongues stayed sheathed, but I don't ever remember being so turned on.

Well, dinner was cold by now, and people were staring. The prudes seemed to feel PDA was something scandalous. I used to think that, too. Anyhow, we had one more kiss for good measure and good night, and she said, "See you tomorrow for dinner at Cida Thai."

"Sounds like a plan." Oh, God. She truly was perfect. She liked Thai food. And she was not a shrinking violet. I hadn't asked her to dinner tomorrow. An adjustment in my perspective might have been in order.

Tuesday night, we met at Cida. She did, indeed, drive a Tesla. Interestingly, both our cars were red. Would that be a plus on eHarmony? Did they ask questions on dating sites like, "What is your favorite color of car?" It was a moot point since I would never have a dating profile. I did like her red Tesla, though.

We sat at a table eating the M&M table decorations while we waited for our food. I'd been there before, and my favorite dish was yellow curry. She ordered her usual--Evil Jungle, a stir-fry dish. I tasted hers, ventured a somewhat negative, "Eh.Comme si, comme ça." I included the waggly hand gesture that usually accompanies that French phrase.

"Oh, no! You don't like what I like? Could it be that we are incompatible?" She then tasted mine and said, "OK, I concede! That's my new go-to. I need to spread my wings more, anyhow. Next time we come here, I'm getting this, and you can get whatever you want."

We? Next time? Although I was still unsure whether these dinners were dates, I had been promised more. Suddenly, I had a dark thought. I had faced danger multiple times over the years, and that wasn't going away if I continued my "consulting." How would I keep her safe, since she was not afraid of anything and had no common sense? That was the only way I could explain her Drift Plus driving and her having any interest in me. Then my mind drifted further, and I had a mental image of Sam floating above me and spreading her wings. Unfortunately, they were angel's wings. Some religions might interpret that as a bad sign. These kinds of thoughts were not conducive to clear-headed action.

Oh well. I'd play it by ear. That was my normalmodus operandianyhow, and I was still alive.

Once again, my mind was wandering, and Sam was looking at me with a puzzled expression. "Why do I keep losing you? I thought you were totally into me, and yet I'm here, and you are somewhere else."

"I was one hundred percent thinking about you," I assured her. "In fact, I've thought about little else the past few days. I'm working on how to develop a long-term plan of action, which will include a wedding, a honeymoon, and 'then out of the woods and happily ever after.' That is fromInto the Woods."

"Stop the mansplaining. Did you think I wouldn't know that? It's the second-to-last line in the show. The last line is, 'I wish.'" Sam sang that--off-key--with a triumphant look.

"Tell me what you wish, and I'll answer, 'As you wish.'"Princess Bride. Two could play at that game. Even though she had tied the game, I was going to give it my best shot and not give up.

Unfazed, I kept the game going. "Speaking ofPrincess Bride, I think I rank our kiss, or more properly our kisses, at dinner last night close to that of Buttercup and Westley. Do you have any comment?"

She replied with a sly smile, "I don't think they were a total waste of my time."

"On that note, what say I pay the check, and we head somewhere awesome for after-dinner conversation? How do you feel about the Bean?" I asked.

With a frown on her face, she said, "Magic beans? I generally like beans, but not for dessert!"

"Har, har! If you don't know whattheBean is, shame on you. If youdo knowthat its proper name isCloudgateand you're just messing with my inadequate mind, shame on you again. I thought a quick trip into the city, walking around Millenium Park, mingling with the crowds all ooh-ing and aah-ing, and perhaps partaking of one of the Park Grill's amazing desserts would be a fitting end to a wonderful evening."

"Sold. And I apologize for being wittier and quicker than you. By the way, dinners are fun but fattening. Let's switch things up for our next date and come here for a Grant Park Symphony program."

I stared at her. "Date? Are we actually going to call our next meeting a date? This seems so out of character for someone with such professed disinterest in the opposite sex. Not that I'm complaining. I accept your invitation wherever it leads. Tell me when you want to pick me up and I'll be there with bells on my toes."

"And rings on your fingers? I loved that nursery rhyme as a child.ThatI want to see. Yes, we can call it a date. 'Outing' sounds too much like something a home-school mom does with her kids. And I never said I was anti-male nor gay. I just haven't had the time or energy or interest to enter into a relationship with anyone yet. I will check the Grant Park Symphony schedule and decide what we'll see while you drive. Do you need directions to the Stevenson?"

I groaned. "Why do you assume I'm helpless? Other people think I'm the best thing since sliced bread, and they rely on my almost infallible nature, including finding where I am and where I'm going. First, I have lived in Chicago for most of my life. Second, I drove limos during grad school to earn money. Third, I have voice-activated GPS andtwomap apps on my phone, which I use when necessary. I prefer to rely on the map in my head when I'm in a familiar area, though I will consult both paper and computer maps when I'm traveling for my job in unfamiliar territory.

"In summation, fie on your directions--and on goodness. I get a point for that. FromCamelot, sung by the knights of Arthur's Round Table."

Sam ignored my response, and we drove in silence until we got into the city. Then she jabbed me with her elbow and said, "Hurry up and get parked. I haven't strolled Millenium Park in ages and want to splash in the reflecting pool of the Crown Fountain with the other kids."

I parked in the Millenium Park underground, and we went up to absorb the beautiful surroundings. The first thing we came to wasCloudgate(the Bean). Everything seemed much better than on any previous visit. Could it have been my companion? Yeah, that was probably it.

Said companion bubbled with enthusiasm. "Isn't the Bean fun? People walk all around, laughing at their own and others' distorted images and marveling at the reflections of the buildings. It's just so interactive and nobody holds unhappy thoughts while here."

I just stared at her for a moment. "I have no unhappy thoughts when I look at you."

She got flustered. "Let's head down to the fountain. I think the heads are spitting. I'll bet there are some very wet children with doting parents attempting to stay dry while protecting the kids. Portland is the one other place I have seen with fountains as attractive and welcoming to kids. We'll spend thirty minutes there. Then we'll go to Park Grill, order our desserts takeout, and come back to watch a little longer. Then we'll head back to the suburbs for sleep. I have a regular job and aim to be there by 8:00 after a short, five-mile run. Move it!"

I had no choice but to reply, "Yes, Boss." I was usually much more in charge. What happened? Answer: Samantha happened. She was a veritable tornado, and I was a large object being lifted off the ground to whirl around her. I hoped I didn't end up in Kansas, though even Kansas would be tolerable if she was my Toto. I decided I'd better keep thatWizard of Ozimage to myself. Most women preferred not to be compared to dogs.

"At some point before we get home, I might want to test the kissing thing again. For scientific reproducibility, you understand. Oops, donotlink that to reproduction, human. Not yet. I only recently had my first kiss. Don't push it!"

"What? I haven't opened my mouth in twenty minutes. This is all on you! I would never push you--except in the self-defense classes I intend to give you. I want you to be able to repel any guy or gal but me."

"Another oblique reference to your hidden talents. Of course, you already demonstrated your martial arts on poor Buddy. I mean, Bruce! Now you have me doing it! He has not tried to contact me since that night. Seems a shame, since he was really trying--verytrying. Ba-dum-TSH! You are a bad influence, Mr. Tyler."

"As I have said before, you are brutal! Luckily, I have thick skin. Suffice it to say you won't be able to get rid of me as easily as every other male you have relegated to the junkyard. I'm made of sterner stuff, and I think the prize is worth every effort I can bring to bear."

This was going well. However, I would soon have to reveal some "interesting" facts about me that could shut down both the romantic and the business plans I aspired to.

What's Chris's line? - Sam

"I concede half a point for theCamelotreference. It was pretty sloppy, and you didn't sing it. And you keep talking about your job but not revealing anything of substance to me. Remember that TV show calledWhat's My Line?,which ran for many seasons beginning in 1950? Consider yourself the guest and me the panel."

He pondered. "In that vein, let me first start by telling you what I amnot. I am not an assassin, architect, or airline pilot. Not a banker, broker, or baron. Not--"

"Move it along. Skip ahead. This isn't helpful," I said impatiently.

"I'm not a nuclear scientist, narcissist, nor ne'er-do-well. Not an ornithologist, optometrist, orphan, or ombudsman. Not a poet, porter, or polo player--"

"Stop! You're driving me crazy. Wait... did you say orphan or often?" I said in a plummy Kevin Kline English accent. "This sounds like a Gilbert & Sullivan patter song. Skip to the end."

"Oi!Pirates of Penzance, movie version. Besides Kevin, it also starred Linda Ronstadt and featured the iconic and inimitable George Rose as the modern Major General. That was too easy. Since you have asked so nicely...

"Z. I am not a zoologist. End of list, spoilsport. I really could have come up with a longer list of nots if you weren't so grumpy."

I wondered if he was purposely avoiding my inquiry. What was he hiding? I would pry it out of him, eventually. I was quite stubborn.

He segued away from profession. "Let me tell you my hobbies, and I promise it's a list of things Idolike to do when I'm not working. Ask questions if you're curious.

"Music is life to me, so I sing. Working in my workshop satisfies my artistic side and I love the smell. Backpacking. There is no more religious experience than being in the backcountry looking at the night sky and smelling pines all around. Playing, but not watching, various sports, particularly lacrosse. I predict that you and I will play pickleball. You get off on high speed driving, while whitewater rafting is my adrenaline rush. Oh, and I forgot my newest and most enjoyable hobby yet. Making out."

I tried to suppress a smile without success. "What a coincidence! I just took up that hobby and also find it... interesting.

"Continue. Give me more details. What do you sing and where? What have you made, and will you make me a hutch? Where are we going for our backpacking vacation this year? You still play lacrosse? How old are you, anyhow? Can we go rafting on the same vacation as the backpacking?"

He raised his hands in a "Hold it!" gesture. "Wow. Shades of the Inquisition. I sing at church and in the Apollo Chorus. I make various furniture--slowly. I can pop out a shoehorn or backscratcher in short order, but I prefer using my hands to scratch your itches." I blushed as the implications sank in.

"I'm not that old. At thirty, I prefer to think of myself as seasoned regarding lacrosse. I even scored a goal last year.

"Let's do Rocky Mountain National Park. It's beautiful and has rafting and zip-lines nearby. We can backpack and skinny dip... "

I hurriedly cut him off. "Slow down, you're movin' too fast." (Simon & Garfunkle) "Cart before the horse, etc."

I kept pressing for more information. "Do you read?"

"Well, sometimes I read technical stuff related to my job, but mostly I read thrillers and detective lit. Not highbrow, but there is a lot to be said for escapism. I attend a couple of book groups, which take me outside my comfort zone and force me to think. Those books are often non-fiction and offer no escapism at all. The world is a cruel place, and humans are the reason. By the way, you're a woman. Why are most book groups predominantly female?"

I had no answer.

He waited for a few seconds. "Did I cover your questions to your satisfaction?"

I had so many more questions, but for the moment I would cease fire. I merely said, "For the moment. But it appears I will need to spend a lot of time with you to get every question answered. Maybe years. Will you make it worth my while?"

His answer? "Just you wayte, 'enrietta 'iggins, just you wayte."

That impressed me. "Cute. I love the guttersnipe accent and the clever wordplay around the name Henry. My comeback has to be, 'In 'ertford, 'ereford, and 'ampshire, 'urricanes 'ardly hhhever 'appen.' If you think you can stump me with a quintessential line fromMy Fair Lady, you've got another think coming. Perhaps we need to devise a contest," I mused.

Chris pretended to shiver. "No brain contests. You have an unfair advantage. Still, it would be fun to discuss the musicals we have seen. I actually acted--I use the term generously--inPajama Game, Music Man,andMeet Me in St. Louisin my younger years."

He let out a big breath. "You now know almost as much about me as my mother does. Tell me about Samantha. Let me into your... mind. I'll bet you thought I was going to say something different. Shame on you."

"I'm an open book, though perhaps difficult to read, as it's in a programming language. And you still haven't told me what you do to earn a living."

"You can't handle the truth!" he shouted. People in the vicinity looked at him funny.

I caught the reference. "Jack Nicholson inA Few Good Men. Is kissing you the only way to shut you up?"

He grinned. "I believe so." He moved in toward me... and I poked him in the chest.

Millenium Park - Chris

"Then start talking, 'cause I ain't kissin' afore you tell me what you been holding so close to your vest," Sam threatened.

"You drive a hard bargain. I was hoping to have a more solid relationship with you before delving into my seamy underbelly. My NOT list contained a couple of veiled references. Though not an assassin, I have on occasion had to kill, though not recently. I'm not a ne'er-do-well, though I have the skill set and a lot of people hate me. While I am able to fly a plane, I'm not an airline pilot, and I'm an optimist, not an optometrist."

She growled. "Riddle me not, Joker."

How to best present my profession? "I suppose some would describe me as a bounty hunter, though that carries somewhat unsavory undertones. Private investigator is another relevant description. I find lost souls, miscreants, and even objects that rich people or the government--police, alphabet government agencies, etc.--want found, and I fetch them. The goal is to deliver them alive, but some resist fiercely and make that difficult. So far, I haven't consulted anyone to death."

Sam looked intrigued and perhaps nervous. "What skills does that require?"

I listed a few. "The Army discovered that I quickly developed skills in weapons and hand-to-hand combat. As a result, I received extensive training, grooming me for Special Forces. However, the CIA delved further into my intellectual qualities and snapped me up to be a spy. I aced all the spycraft stuff, but when they sent me on a 'wet job' mission, I quit. I was all trained up with nowhere to go. I can pick locks, climb rocks, and darn socks. I'm also a whiz at rhyming. So, I went to grad school on Uncle Sam."

The Boy Scout and the Hacker Ch. 02

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