A slender McCloskey stood swaying in front of Douglas and his friends in the bathroom of a big-box store.
He wore a knit cap and gray hoodie, had a thin, rat-like face with buck teeth, and gave off an evil glare.
Douglas and the others grimaced at his mocking laughter.
"Hey Douglas, Harry and Brian. The Cinderella boys look like they're doing all right. Picked up by a rich man and still sly and living it up in high society."
Harry clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"You're still as rude as ever, Kinney Guy. You were the one who told him where we were, weren't you? And Douglas helped you."
"Huh? I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just a witness," McCloskey sneered.
Douglas hissed and waved a dismissive hand.
"It was self-defense. You know that. You're just jealous of us, aren't you?"
Harry crossed his arms.
"Blackmail again, Yusu? Is that your plan? You're nothing but a petty thief. No one takes you seriously."
Brian chimed in angrily.
"You filthy sewer rat. Get lost."
McCloskey slowly pointed his index finger at each of the three, grinning and showing his yellowed teeth.
"You too. Your nuclei are dirty. Ha ha ha."
＊＊＊＊
Douglas and his friends secretly received Society-style training in self-defense, martial arts, and marksmanship from Belza and other members.
As planned, Harry passed the entrance exam and entered the police academy.
Brian worked as a waiter at the Folk Café while also serving as Christine's bodyguard.
Douglas got his driver's license and started working as a private taxi driver.
His first fare was Belza. Douglas got out, opened the door of his black Ford and invited him in. The car was also a gift from Belza, and Douglas always kept it shining.
He drove Belza to the next town as instructed. As they drove through the tree-lined streets of the large city of Pretendia, Douglas glanced at Belza in the rearview mirror.
"You are a great driver, Douglas. I feel comfortable when you're behind the wheel," Belza said.
"You drive while thinking ahead, with plenty of time to spare. Just like everything else - keep your mind neutral."
"Should I go on like this for a while?"
"Yes. Try to blend into the city. You may have some bitter experiences in this job at times, but don't get angry. Stay calm and listen to what people are saying. It will help you gather information. Watch the town carefully. The stories are all connected. And don't stand out. I'll give you more instructions soon."
At first the young taxi driver stood out and attracted attention, but over time people began to describe him differently. With his round tortoiseshell glasses, scruffy beard, plain old clothes, and colorless demeanor, he was considered naive and boring.
Customers were often selfish and said whatever they wanted.
"How old are you, brother? Can you at least say the weather is nice? You're so quiet."
For those brief moments, in that small room, the dynamic between Douglas and his passengers became one of master and servant.
"Did you start this business so young? Are you from a rich family? How did you get the money?"
"Taxis don't make much. Look at that building over there. You should work at Muffin Electronics - they pay 1,000 an hour."
"This town is thriving because of Lorenzo. He's loaded."
The passengers talked constantly about money, job grievances, relationship problems, and the war.
"You're well built and have a lot of energy. Don't bring shame on the men fighting for the country."
"Yes, that's what I think," Douglas replied, nodding politely.
He explained to some sympathetic female drivers that his developmental disability, which prevented him from participating in group activities, exempted him from the draft.
"My husband has a phobia of mycoplasma, but his stamina is incredible, so they drafted him anyway," one woman said.
Another teased, "Oh, if I were twenty years younger! Do you have a girlfriend?"
"I'm obsessed with that husky voice of yours - it's strangely soothing," commented another.
"Big Bro Douglas, you'd be more popular if you dressed up a bit. Try smiling more!"
The older women talked endlessly.
They often mentioned that their husbands were serving in the military and they had to work in their place. They joked about people who didn't speak going to hell and claimed they were on their way to heaven.
Douglas forced a smile in the mirror, smoothed his hair and stubble, and went on without complaint.
---
The war finally ended.
The men returned from battle with inconclusive results. The heavy rain stopped, but the songs on the radio carried tones of emptiness and regret.
What did you see with those clear eyes?
Blood smeared on blackened branches.
Deafening thunder and alarm.
Women engulfed in flames.
Children crying in trembling hands.
Men scarred by guns, insults and tragedy.
And a smiling rainbow after the rain.
Lay down your weapons.
Let go of the hate.
This is a war between fools.
A battle no one can win..."
---
In the taxi, Douglas witnessed countless lives unfold. Anger, jealousy, sadness, and dramas of love and hate played out before him.
A movie director vowed to kill his cheating wife.
A campaign to promote or suppress a mayoral candidate.
Prostitutes with piercing, menacing eyes.
A young outlaw confessing to murder over a joke.
An elderly mother clutching the hand of her one-legged son, just back from the war.
Even when the taxi was empty, the radio carried stories of life. The music spoke of compassion and sorrow.
Douglas often felt he was traveling through the lives of his passengers. And strangely, he felt he understood them.
He learned that the best way to heal people was to listen and nod.
For two years, Douglas lived an outwardly ordinary life, drifting night after night und
er the neon lights of the city.
Then, one evening, with Belza once again as his passenger, he was given his true mission.
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