thermodynamics of ideas

Easy Money

When Babcock was a good bit younger during the 1970’s, he’d met someone who paid him good money simply for throwing rocks at rooftop solar collectors. There’d been an energy crisis going on and Federal subsidies and grants into renewable energies were there for the taking. He was never caught and he learned from that experience that causing havoc could be fun and profitable if you knew the right people.

He liked the nickname Bobcat because he thought of himself as sleek, swift, and agile. Or at least he wanted others to think that he was sleek, swift, and agile. “Hey Babe! I’m the Bobcat. What’s your name?” But a man’s reputation – and by extension, his nickname – is not always under his own control. In grade school the older boys started calling him Bobby Bob followed by endless iterations of additional insults. He learned early about the power of associating with like-minds. Other children who were abused or bullied welcomed the opportunity to exact revenge on their tormentors. Babcock could gain ample retribution while staying an arm’s length from the act by manipulating the others to do his handiwork for him.

By the time he left college with a degree in Criminal Justice, he was beginning to understand that storming into a social situation as the center of attention got him just that – attention, the kind he didn’t want. Behind the scenes, back-stabbing, and name-calling were better ways to influence those issues and people he wanted to manipulate. Information was power. So he learned to quiet his bravado and heighten his analytical skills.

He left his first real job as a Los Angeles police officer shortly after a bit of unpleasantness. He introduced himself to a group of new police recruits, “I’m Babcock, but call me Bobcat.” Someone said, “What, you say you want us to call you Bad Cop?” Everyone laughed and, despite Babcock’s best efforts, the insult stuck. Babcock left that assignment shortly after the offending recruit was mugged and beaten savagely in a dark alley with a tire iron. The assailant was never identified. Not formally, that is.

Babcock left his next job after coming under intense scrutiny for shooting a young man on the street. The public was outraged. The media demanded an immediate inquiry.

“Why on earth did you shoot him?” the Police Chief demanded angrily.
Standing at a respectful attention, Babcock gave his textbook reply. “He was threatening bodily harm with a deadly weapon.”

The Chief sank back in his chair in resignation. There wasn’t likely any good to come out of this. “That’s the best you can come up with? You couldn’t have just winged him?”

“My options were limited,” Babcock protested. “I had to act fast.”

But the eventual conclusion was that shooting to death a would-be suicide when the distraught young man pointed a gun at himself on a public street was excessive force. Despite Babcock’s defensive protests, he was reassigned to deskwork and covertly informed that his career prospects were limited or nonexistent. Babcock decided to move to another city to continue his ambition with a fresh slate.

Like a virus, a rumor can wait patiently for an opportunity to spread. It multiplies itself easily and exponentially from host to host without any conscious (intention/effort) on the part of the rumor. It is very energy efficient in that way. A rumor is not alive, but interacts with living things. Its only motive is to survive and multiply. A nickname or a reputation (are/is) sort of like a rumor. It might be harmless or disparaging. It makes no difference to the nickname.

“You knew Babcock before he came here?”

“Oh, I knew him alright. There’s a reason they call him Badcop.”

That reputation for ruthlessness trailed him like a dust cloud wherever he transferred in pursuit of some police or security role; first to a rapid succession of smaller towns and cities; then to the larger urban centers of Chicago, New York, and finally, to the nation’s capital. Eventually, the annoying nickname arrived at the DC police station where he overheard snickers at his desk or in the locker room. Such a nickname as Badcop might have altered an officer’s behavior and motivated exemplary and honorable conduct in order to counteract the destructive force of the name. But Babcock felt the opposite; that the name gave him power. His nature and his nickname worked together to both foster and maintain a persona that communicated “Don’t mess with me. You’ll do as I say and you’ll like it.”

Easy Money, the Renewable Resource

Babcock caught a cab out in front of the Walkers Building. He preferred using taxicabs to his own car downtown because parking was such a nuisance during the day and he could charge his fares to any assortment of clients he was working for at any given time. He gave the cabby an address off Dupont Circle and settled himself in the back seat to take a more careful look at the materials Amika had given him. He’d already glanced through the DC Herald enough to be unimpressed with the newspaper. Amika hadn’t given him much. A photo of the principle players would have been nice. But at least there was a phone number and a home address. That could be useful… (It looked like the man in charge, at least according to the rental application, was named Elliot Zinkle.)

His cell phone rang in his jacket pocket. “Babcock Consulting. Robert Babcock speaking”, he answered and was suddenly reminded of his new American Flag lapel pin. Blast! Now what? He had to assume that Amika could hear everything he said, so he’d have to mentally screen his words. But he was an expert in surveillance technology, and knew a lot about the operation and sensitivity of small microphones. There was a good chance that Amika’s system wouldn’t be able to pick up the voice calling on his cell phone, as long as he kept the speaker off and the earpiece sufficiently shielded away from the flag pin. He’d have to research better ways of interfering or blocking his speech.

The caller said, “Mr. Babcock. It’s good to speak with you again. This is (BozoBrain) calling from the Mayor’s Office, and I’d like to inquire about employing your services again for the upcoming Primary election.”

The mayor’s main flunkey. Babcock went into multi-tasking mode. He would have to think first and mentally picture what he was about to say before he actually said it. If he needed more time to think, then he had an arsenal of techniques at the ready to use as filler, such as, “Yes, excellent.”

BozoBrain continued, “As you know, TheMayor has been serving the residents of Washington (successfully) for over fifteen years. He has decided to sacrifice his planned retirement in order to continue leading his people through these dangerous times by serving for one more term as Mayor. We hope that you will assist us in this righteous endeavor.”

Babcock heard the words, but his mind was buzzing a mile a minute over his predicament. Did Amika have access to cell phone surveillance technology? Would the microphone pick up his caller’s voice? He’d have to run a test to be sure. This new relationship with Amika could be quite lucrative it seemed. But he couldn’t afford the uncertainty of her listening in on him. “Of course,” Babcock said, trying to minimize what Amika might overhear while maximizing the amount of information coming from the caller.

BozoBrain said, “Your work for us in the past has made a vital contribution to TheMayor’s commitment to building a prosperous and safe community, and we’re confident that, as part of our team, you can proudly continue to support both TheMayor and his dreams for our city…”

“I understand,” Babcock mindlessly intoned as he juggled the three main points before him: say nothing of consequence, put off BozoBrain for now while leaving the door open, and work through his test of Amika’s electronic listening abilities in order to determine where his greatest benefit lay. If Babcock ended up having to chose one relationship or the other, he’d probably go with the Mayor’s Office because that was the longer lived, and thus more predictable, association. But, if anything, Babcock had an open mind. If his dealings with Amika proved to be more profitable and beneficial with her than without her, then he could be an enthusiastic advocate. Playing one client against another didn’t bother him a bit. If anything, that could be one of the most entertaining elements of his professional repetoir (?).

BozoBrain was going on and on about TheMayor’s personal sacrifices and supreme devotion he had for ThePeople, when all Babcock wanted to do was get off the phone. Babcock had dealt with BozoBrain several times previously and it always amazed him how many words it took for the man to communicate the simplest idea. He must be paid by the word, or else simply liked to hear himself talk. Not an uncommon weakness in this town.

BozoBrain asked, “So when can we meet? I’d prefer to come to your office or someplace out of range of the press. You know how it is. Like TheMayor always says…”

Babcock interrupted saying, “I’ll have to call you back. I’ve still got your number. Give me a couple of days.”

“Oh,” said BozoBrain, taken aback a little. Typically, people flop all over themselves to get an audience with him, being as close to TheMayor as he was. “Very well then. I’ll expect to hear from you by, let’s say, Thursday?”

“That would be fine,” said Babcock. “Thank you for calling.” And he hung up. Babcock recorded all of his phone conversations. He’d review this one later surreptitiously to confirm that he hadn’t divulged anything in the slightest way hinting as to the identity of the caller. That way, he could test whether or not Amika had the ability to monitor his phone calls.

The cab stopped in front of a renovated row house a block from Dupont Circle and he handed the driver a twenty. “Keep the change,” he said as he jumped out and fished for his key to the building.

This is probably too much work, he thought. His job was hard enough without worrying about Amika’s surveillance. But then he realized that he was cautious with what he said anyway out of habit …

(Babcock has to find a technique to shield his voice from Amika when he wants to, but also be able to let her overhear what he wants her to overhear.)