Read Something for Nothing for Free Online

“Now you’re talking. Let’s hear it.”
    â€œWell,” Ludwig said. “What about something like the
Westworld
thing? But something where people can get money? Or steal it? You know, a pretend thing. We set it up, and they pay us lots of money. But not with robots. I mean something more realistic, like with actors. The actors play along, let you call the shots, but it feels really real, you know what I mean?”
    Martin looked over at him, then back at the road. “Like what?” he asked.
    â€œWell,” Ludwig said. “I don’t know. What about a fantasy thing, like in
Westworld,
but where you rob a bank? Or where you pull off a jewelry-store heist? Maybe even a liquor store. It doesn’t matter. It’s just, you know, a robbery camp. You get to plan it out, do the robbery, the whole thing. The camp takes like three days. Or maybe it’s a week. I don’t know. But you sign up, pay your money and everything, and you get to plan and do a robbery of some sort. With some other people. But the catch is that it might not work. You’ve gotta do it right or the cops’ll get you. And maybe, if you do a really good job, if you don’t get caught or whatever, you get some kind of prize, or some actual money.”
    Martin nodded. It was silly, of course, but funny and interesting just the same. He knew—or was pretty sure, anyway—that Ludwig wasn’t serious. Not seriously serious, anyway.
    â€œLike Patty Hearst,” he said.
    â€œYes!” Ludwig said, hitting the dashboard with his palm. “That’s it! Patty Hearst meets Yul Brynner. Think about it! It’s brilliant.”
    Martin pictured himself charging into a bank, clutching a machine gun, jumping up on a table, maybe shooting off a few rounds to get people’s attention.
    â€œEverybody down on the ground!” he’d yell. Loud—really loud. “Keep your fucking hands where I can see them!”
    He’d always wanted to do something like that. Scare the shit out of everyone, send them sprawling, cowering. Maybe Ludwig was onto something. He thought about the security-camera pictures of Patty Hearst on the news and in the papers (which was ironic, because herfather owned the
Examiner
). They were the images of her in the Hibernia Bank she and her nut-job SLA crew had robbed in San Francisco. She was holding a machine gun and it looked like she was shouting orders at the customers and employees (the gun was an M-1 carbine, he’d read, though he wasn’t sure why he remembered this random detail).
    â€œDo you think that’s why she joined the SLA?” Martin asked. He switched lanes again. Why did people drive so slowly?
    â€œWhat?’ Ludwig asked, clearly not following him.
    â€œPatty Hearst,” Martin said. “Do you think she joined the SLA for that kind of thing? For the excitement? You know, to show everyone she was in charge, and they’d better listen and do what she says.”
    â€œI don’t know,” Ludwig said. “But I think I’m onto something. It could work. You might be surprised. All we need is some start-up money.”
    â€œYep,” Martin said, his mood changing. “All we need is a little bit of money.”
    They were quiet for a while after that, lost in thought as they sped down the highway. Martin thought about money and how he didn’t have any. He assumed that’s what Ludwig was thinking about, too. But maybe not. Maybe he was thinking about his BankRobberyWorld. Or Patty Hearst. Maybe he was imagining meeting her in secret. She’d be in disguise, sick of the SLA freaks and desperate for help. Martin could see the two of them, huddled in some restaurant and plotting how to steal a plane from Martin and fly away to Canada or some other safe country, one beyond the reach of U.S. law. Eventually (because now of course it was Martin’s fantasy), she’d make contact with her