Meyer felt that he needed to escape the police interrogation. He had always hated being questioned. Questions like "Did you finish these candies?" or "Did you wear these shoes?" or "Did you put too much sauce?" had fed him up enough throughout his family life. In a world where he couldn't even enjoy a pasta or even a candy, what was happening to him seemed normal, moreover.
He looked at the bar tables, the windows, and the television whose volume was turned down by the bar owner's son with the sexy shirt and amber eyes. When he was young, especially when he first got his ID, he had wanted to be caught by the police very much. Back then, beneath this instinct was the urge to grow up, to wage war against someone of a higher rank, and to be the center of attention. Well, back then, his ID card was fresh. He was an innocent child; naturally, it was impossible for the police to catch him back then. Unless he found a corpse or something.
It hit him. But now a corpse had been found. A corpse belonging to a young woman. And a corpse belonging to Grace Huyger at that. He felt the tingling in his body; he suddenly remembered he was sixty-four years old. His appearance was not that of an old man; he looked thirty at most. Despite this, his inner voice was saying, "You've overturned 64 years." Like Captain America coming out of the ice. He knew that the best transitions belonged to him.
Soon, he saw the long-nosed policeman approaching him in an avant-garde style suit. "Let's have your ID!" the policeman commanded.
Meyer uneasily repeated this command internally and fumbled through his pockets. The situation was even worse; the possibility of the ID card being in his pocket was zero percent.
While he searched until he emptied his pockets, the policeman's gaze was entirely on his striped denim pants.
As long as the policeman kept throwing those ridiculous looks, that ID card was never going to come out. He knew this and couldn't say "whatever." Was he now going to go to the police station with these policemen who looked like members of an innovative music group?
"I-I'm sorry. I don't have my ID!" Meyer said, and when he felt his back arching like a hunchback, he straightened his shoulders.
The policeman looked at the guy who straightened up in front of him. The logical move to make in front of the police was to kneel, to bow one's head, or even to stand a bit hunched.
The impression he got from Meyer was not pleasant.
"If you don't have an ID card, you're coming to the station with us," he said. Meyer nodded and said, "Of course, sir." The surroundings had emptied; Meyer realized he was alone with the policeman's dark eyebrows. The policeman standing behind him was two meters tall and was chewing his gum, stretching it out in his mouth.
Meyer thought about how on earth he would get away from these policemen.
Then internally, he said, "Wait a minute, damn it!" "Why am I scared as if I left the body there? I'll go with the police. At least I'll see how the system works. This idea is valid as long as I don't get thrown into jail or something."
"Is—is there a drug raid here?" Meyer said fearfully, as the policeman pushed him toward the exit of the bar.
"Drugs are legal, haven't you heard? How old are you?"
"64," Meyer said.
"Huh?" said the policeman, his eyes bulging as he looked at the man who appeared twenty-five at most. "You certainly can't be more than 30. What is your name?"
"Steve Meyer."
"Well, Steve Meyer... Hmm... This news sounds familiar from somewhere. Were you ever hospitalized after having a major accident?"
Meyer was stunned by these sentences. At a loss for what to say, he stopped. "Yes, in the past I was stabbed by a swarm of spiders. Afterward, I thought I died, but I woke up."
"Now it sounds familiar. My grandmother was lying in the intensive care unit's side compartment at the hospital. From cancer. A girl was constantly wandering the corridors and crying. I was thinking she must be his girlfriend. I observed the girl for a long time, but then one day she disappeared. The intensive care staff were talking about the patient in the next room dying. So that patient was you: Steve Meyer."
He suddenly revived as if realizing a terrible truth. "Well? How did you come back to life and are now standing like a fiddle in front of me then?"
"Unless!" the policeman shouted.
Then, remembering he was an officer wearing a uniform, he said, "Never mind." "Let's go."
The police vehicle waiting at the door was white and shiny. Its front ends were pointed. Not like a sports car, but like a high-heeled car. The moment Meyer realized his joke was very bad, he gave up on his inner voice too.
The police officer sitting in the driver's seat watched Meyer get into the car. He immediately turned off the music that played while he was making love with his wife on their anniversary and cleared his throat. As if someone had reached his thong under the uniform.
"Look Meyer, since when have you not been coming to the bar?" The policeman asked as he closed the doors and the engine started.
The police officer started the car.
Meyer felt a bit of an ego boost, thinking the policeman was approaching him with such familiarity.
Just then, he recalled the existence of something. "The Devil's Chip is not ready to stay silent for this long. You were supposed to go to the Tower, but you didn't fulfill your duty. Doesn't staying stuck at this level bother you? Moreover, Code 43 got angry at this situation. When his anger reaches the heavens, good things do not follow."
As soon as the Devil's Chip finished its sentence, a truck coming from the opposite direction entered Meyer's field of vision. The light of day was being cut off, and the only thing he saw was the shadow of the truck. The officers' loud talking made his ears ring. Everything in his mind froze in that short time frame. The blaring of the horns froze in his ears. The last thing he saw was a giant spider shining amidst the opposing lights. "It's all over," he thought. "Everything is over once again."