“How do I know she’s safe?” you say to Chet.
Chet shows you a Polaroid of Julia holding that day’s newspaper. You note the fear in her eyes, then you look closely at the newspaper. The headlines all scream about environmental catastrophe and growing hostility from the Middle East and there’s a big picture of the winner of a hot new reality show where people have to stay in a room that smells like piss for a really long time.
“Jesus this world’s going to shit,” you say. “What’s the point of saving a girl from kidnappers when I’m just gonna make her endure a coming apocalypse.”
“Now’s not the time to be a doomsayer,” Chet says. “If you don’t get us the cash, we will murder her today and we will make sure it hurts.”
“Will it hurt more than if she’s enslaved by lawless tribes who maraud the scorched earth for gasoline so they can make the journey to a mythic water source that hasn’t been poisoned? Should I let her live so that she can watch the oceans turn to fire like in that Al Gore movie?”
“Liberal horseshit,” Chet says. “You’re just trying to duck your responsibility by embracing anti-big business rhetoric. A life is in the balance.”
You endorse the back of the check. “Here’s your ransom money. If you can cash the check, fine. If not, it’s on you. I won’t be held responsible for making that girl live another day on this miserable, plague-ridden planet.” Then you turn your back on Chet and walk away.
DO YOU WANT TO BUMP INTO JULIA FIFTEEN YEARS FROM NOW, AFTER THE APOCALYPSE?