I Finally Understand Those Songs on the Radio

Jude had been sitting thinking about his wife, Cassandra. There had been some news story or a blip on the talk radio he had accidently picked up while driving through Idaho, but there it was in his head, or there she was in his head again. Jude didn't want to think about it. It had been raining, though, and about two cups of coffee in, he couldn't help reminisce about those old times in Kentucky when they were both younger and happier. He could sit back in those memories like a good jazz beat.

There was a knock at the door, though. The rain had stopped, which he had not noticed. Jude wasn't expecting anyone, but he rushed to the door perhaps to entertain a work colleague (he had never called in sick before, so maybe they were checking on him). When Jude opened the door, it was not a work colleague, but one of the security guards for his community. He had never seen this model before, but they were always making changes; the whole "to be one step ahead of cybercriminals" line, which had attracted Jude to The Grove in the first place.

"Afternoon, officer, what seems to be the problem?" he said and slicked his hair back. Jude needed a haircut and a shower. He was thankful these security drones could not smell. They were mostly devoid of emotion, but had bio-med scanners, so "smile and wave" didn't really work.

"A complaint has been filed, Dr. Ewing. As pursuant to the Housing Authority Charter, section 18, sub-paragraph B, I hereby inform you of this current investigation."

"Sub-paragraph?"

"You must sign this," the drone said, and handed Jude a form.

"What if I refuse?" Jude was still unsure of what was happening. He had heard stories of these security drones doing random searches and other erratic behavior -- the things you see in old sci-fi movies -- but never thought he'd be staring at one on his front porch.

"Signing is purely a formality, Dr. Ewing. It is a courtesy, really. You will be informed of the results of the investigation within the next two weeks."

"Wait. Who filed a complaint?"

"Complainant has been redacted."

"What do you mean?"

"Complainant has been redacted."

"Thanks," Jude said and handed the drone the form. It scanned his copy and then walked away. Jude watched it move down the road.

Once it was gone, he closed the door. Jude crumpled the notice and launched it at the trash can. It bricked and landed on the floor, as though Fate had something to say. He picked it up, flattened it back out as much as he could, and set it on the small round table in the kitchen next to the cactus he barely kept alive. Jude wanted to go back upstairs and continue to think about Cassandra; however, the magic had faded, so he sat at the table and wondered what will happen now.

***

"You know the damnedest thing just happened this morning?"

"I'm sure you are going to tell me," Florence said, and set the wet bowl on the towel; she had been washing the bowl nearly all morning.

Rick had become used to her quirks, but this one was new, and he was unsure what had caused it to manifest. He quickly sniffed his armpit and turned his focus to his wife who was once again washing the bowl. "You know that Jude Ewing?"

"Our neighbor?" Florence asked and passed the bowl through the water once and then once more before shaking it and placing it on the towel to dry again.

"Yeah, our neighbor."

"Did he talk to you about those robots again?"

"No. Remember, I got some of his mail yesterday."

"Not mail!" She threw her hands up in mock shock. She was drying her hands. Rick could see them red, puffy; they were almost reptilian like he had married a Gila monster instead of a woman.

"Well, there's more to it."

"Continue with your report, chief."

"We're MacAllister's darling, so we need to take this more seriously."

"You sound like your dad, which you know, is such a turn on." Florence said and hung the towel up. She walked past Rick and plopped on the couch.

"Don't start that. Do you want to hear what happened or not?"

"That dude is a loon, honey. He's never been right in his head since his wife died, but from what I gather from Hank and Shelley and the other neighbors, especially the Popes down the way, Jude Ewing has always been that way."

"Pshaw. The man is a respected professor at the university. Those Popes are old; some would say too old. Fuck, they are still driving even after Katherine ran that kid over," Rick said, and leaned against the dining room wall. Florence and he didn't have much. They had only been married a few years, and they were also the youngest couple in the community. Rick wanted to work at the university, but was just an adjunct at Guilford Technical Community College, for now, as he liked to put it.

"The Popes are nice people. They've never come out of their house bare assed yelling about robots or some crap. I mean, whatever he's smoking give me some," she said and moved a pillow so it was more in line with the seam of the couch cushion.

"Look, I'm just saying it was weird what he did."

"Weird doesn't really cover it with Jude Ewing."

"You'll get a kick out of it, though."

"Just tell me," she said pretending to yawn.

"I went to bring him the mail and he kept asking me about filing a complaint."

"Who filed a complaint?"

"No one. Jude kept asking me about who filed the complaint. I don't know what he was talking about, but I just handed him the mail and walked away."

"I told you he's weird, honey."

"Yeah, I get it, but I think something else is going on."