The Book
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The Book
As far as watches went, this one was pretty good. Guarding The Anchorage in San Francisco Bay was not a job for the weak of mind or those of lesser will. It was a lesson in counter-intuitiveness. It required essentially no physical or mental exertion–only the ability to look as if one did indeed know what they were doing. It was a cakewalk, an actors job. A position suited best for trained professionals. A job very well suited for George Dickinson. And Georgie did his job quite well.
Crime was of no consequence to Georgie. It was a matter of happenstance. It came and went like the seasons of the year, maybe more so here or less there, but in essence it was a natural part of life. People were born in blood, raised in chaos and buried in shit. It was natural selection at its rudimentary level, and those that died–well, they simply must not have belonged! Georgie liked things simple, and that was a simple philosophy–one that had endured the long and excruciatingly painful 33 years of his existence on this planet. And if God had a word in it, he would be so buried with it.
Georgie had been in security since the early 90s, and if anyone knew their job better or could delegate responsibility more effectively (like the politicians he watched on TV–now they were good!) he had yet to find that person. An employment agency had recruited him in the summer of 1991 and for once in their miserable lives they had made a match in heaven.
He gave in to the fact early in life that he was not destined for much, and when the opportunity arose for this position he gladly accepted The Anchorages offer, feinting a passion for justice and the willingness for altruism. He got to carry a gun, wear a badgewhat honor! What privileges! He was the John Wayne of the politically correct decade: valiant and courageous, with just a hint of mock sensitivity. He wore a uniform. The fake silver of his badges was so polished it made that old over-the-hill prick Eastwood look like an Injun. And thus so he would arise above the petty ambitions of the lowly derelicts of the world and make his mark on the world.
That was the idea, anyway. But everyone had to start somewhere. And as far as Georgie was concerned, The Anchorage was a damn good place to start. And no one gave a rats ass about him