Joey Cloudy online

       

Isaiah Jones vs the Sea: The Freshman (Beware the Boys)* -JD Cloudy 

Tuesday, September 25th, 2018, Dallas, Texas 

Southern Methodist University 

Dedman Science and Engineering Campus 

‘Big Dawgz’ 

“A worldwide sign that we face closed curtains 

(Closed curtains) 

Out here, yo, nothin’ ever certain 

Only thing that’s promised is that promises are broken 

(That promises are broken) 

Yeah, so we findin’ ways to cope then 

Only thing I’m breaking is her back with emotions” 

-Hunamankind & 

The scarlet-colored Cadillac CT5 Blackwing stopped in front of Isaiah and rolled down the tinted window, the stereo blasting Kendrick Lamar ‘Humble’ just as he was about to cross Hillcrest at University Blvd after leaving the Dedman engineering labs. 

“Hey, Baby Boi! Need a ride, cutie?” 

Izzy looked up to see his self-appointed “campus sherpa,” Penelope Stockard Bedowitz, grinning at him from the driver’s seat. 

“Sure,” the gangly, 6-foot-tall green-eyed Black boy in the blue-grey SMU hoody and baggy khakis said, a plaid Converse-covered left foot casually resting on his longboard as they spoke. 

“Do you have any more classes today?” the perpetually Dior-clad, blue-eyed Californian asked, her platinum blonde hair in a neat French braid. She wore a Dioriviera Toile de Jouy Soleil silk top in white and coral over ivory cotton bell-bottoms with a pair of Christian Louboutin slingback pumps; the sun motif dyed into the fabric of the off-the-shoulder silk poncho-styled top gave the Beverly Hills native a neo-hippy look. 

“Nope, done for the day.” Izzy grinned easily, always happy to see his best friend, as he absent-mindedly tapped the board with his toe. 

“Just finished my labs. He replied as he adjusted the leather shoulder strap of the vintage leather backpack hanging across his right shoulder and drummed his fingers on the left side of his leg, keeping a silent rhythm as they talked. I was thinking about heading over to Mockingbird Station to grab a Philly cheesesteak for lunch.” 

“Coolness!” Pen exclaimed. “Throw your stuff in the backseat and get in; some of us are meeting for drinks at the Lakewood Landing. You’re welcome to tag along if you like.” 

He pressed down hard on the back of the longboard with his toe the nose of the skateboard popped straight up into the palm of his left hand with a practiced ease. 

“I won’t be drinking anything stronger than root beer,” he grinned, as he climbed into the passenger seat, fastening his seatbelt as she eased the Caddie into the lunch hour traffic on Hillcrest. 

“But they do have a fantastic kitchen, so sure, count me in.” 

Penny leaned over and gave Izzy a hug once he was in his seat. She knew he hated people touching him and he knew she loved hugging her friends so he said nothing when she did these sorts of things.

“God, I am so glad I caught you before you ate, she looked at him a sly look on her face. Someone I know you like will be there, but I’m going to leave you in suspense until we get to the bar.”

Pen gave Izzy a mischievous grin as if she held some secret knowledge to his universe that he did not possess. Isaiah thought about Zulika, his lab partner’s hair, the way her hair always smelled like tropical fruits and flowers when she stood near him when they studied together. He liked her thick carbon colored pigtails worn in loose, large hoops. He hated when strangers asked to touch his hair, despite the hypocrisy, he found himself wanting to touch her hair. 

Zulika was from a conservative family of engineers in India, and this was her first time being away from home, alone in a foreign country, attending a school that wasn’t all girls. They both were math nerds but she had won more math prizes and science awards and even been published first at a younger age than he had, she was the first person he met whose favorite Billie Eillish track was ‘You Should See Me in a Crown’ too, and she was already ASA 108 sailing. 

The main reason they got along so well was that while she had been trapped attending all-girl academies in India. Like Isaiah, this was her first time away from home. Even though he had lived in Dallas for the last 7 years, being home-schooled his entire life, he had never attended formal classroom settings. At home, their schooling was more building cedar decks and greenhouses, installing irrigation pipes and repairing aging plumbing, soldering and welding, and electronic and internal combustion engine repair.

Math was drafting budgets for projects, his parents, neighbors, tutors, and Aeon, his best friend and neighbor, were the people he spent most of his time with during the day. All of the skills he acquired during his homeschooling would be useful during his solo sail from Galveston to Ghana, after graduation. 

He could navigate by the stars with only a compass, a sextant, and a chronometer, but he wasn’t ASA 108 yet. He would take the test next summer. His bedroom walls were covered with his collection of antique maps and star charts throughout history. Other than counting to quiet his mind, he took his parents’ advice when dealing with people. He became an anthropologist who walks and lives amongst the apes, learns their languages, studying homo erectus, to emulates their primitive ways in order to be welcomed into the troop during this “quiet period of our punctuated equilibrium”. 

Isaiah loved reading books about anthropology even though it wasn’t his field. He read everything Stephen Jay Gould wrote he could find just to hear the man’s thoughts on anything. He studied the works of Leakey, Fossey, and Goodall, absolutely fascinated by their process. Being the introverted type who preferred the silence and solitude of the sea, he had enjoyed the first half of his freshman year so far. 

Nine minutes later, Penny put the CT5-V Blackwing into park in the bar’s pothole-dotted lot, the three-year-old mural of their old punk band, Death Pixel, still covering the wall of the two-story cinder block building. Inside the upscale dive bar, they immediately spotted a bakers dozen of their classmates already seated together at a long table made by shoving several smaller tables together on the far side of the dimly lit tavern. Izzy grabbed a seat next to Omar so he would be sitting facing his lab partner, Zulika Jindal, an exchange student from Chennai, while Penny stopped at the bar to pick up their drinks and order their food. 

By the time she sat down next to him with a fresh pitcher of beer for the group and root beer for Izzy and Zuli, the others were already drunk enough to start talking about the thing no one dared mention on campus. But after a few drinks in a tavern off-campus, away from the eavesdropping video cameras, they all spoke in hushed tones about the 27 scientists and inventors who had met gruesomely violent ends convenient car crashes, lethal beatings, or simply disappearing shortly after announcing the creation of a device or any technology that would interfere with the profits of the oil, gas, and big pharma corporations. 

“What do you think, Izzy?” Penny asked her best friend. “You’re the math nerd. Are we being paranoid, or is there more than just smoke here?” 

Isaiah took a sip of his root beer, glancing around the table at his classmates as Penelope picked up the pitcher, proceeding to top off their mugs of Miller Genuine Draft as the others, ages 16 to 26, sipped their MGD and listened to what the 13-year-old high-functioning autistic math prodigy had to say. Zulika slid her bare foot clandestinely beneath the table up his inner left leg until he felt the warmth of her bare sole rest lightly on his crotch, while she sat sipping her drink and looking around at their friends innocently. Even though some of them were more than a decade older than the gangly six-foot-tall Black boy who always wore his hair in cornrows, everyone listened intently whenever the notoriously reclusive young mathematician spoke. 

“The disappeared have 2 possible outcomes: 1- they approach you with a big pile of money to buy your invention, and you sign a contract/NDA that lets them have all rights to your tech, and they bury it. They tell you to take your big pile of money and leave the country. You live to a ripe old age in the tropics, that’s the happy ending. Number 2 is the not-so-happy one, you turn down the big pile of money, refuse to sell your invention, and quietly disappear, then one day you simply vanish.” 

“If any of you should ever create anything that could possibly cost a powerful government or a major corporation millions, possibly billions, annually in revenue and profits, do not tell anyone.” He took a moment to sip his root beer, then continued. “I read the Wiki whistleblower page, and it looks pretty bleak even if you aren’t ‘Spirited Away’.” 

“There is a pattern that keeps repeating; besides getting ghosted, they blacklist you, so there goes your source of income as well as your career in your field, harass you on the phone, cyberstalk, and real-world stalk to intimidate your family and friends, and worse. Cases like Silkwood and Snowden are just the tip of the iceberg. There is a long list of dead reporters, lawyers, political prisoners, whistleblowers, and scientific innovators.” 

“Statistically, we should all have better odds of being struck by lightning multiple times over the course of our lifetimes.” He looked around the table at the students from all over the nation and the world, then grinned. 

“The math says… shhhh.” 

The group of Southern Methodist University students from every discipline, from physics to law, all laughed nervously, but not because it was funny—rather, to mask their fear that was the unspoken truth they were all afraid of. This was the statuesque 6-foot-tall, platinum blonde Californian’s junior year. At 19, Penelope Stockard Bedowitz was at the top of her class, majoring in corporate law. She picked up the half-full pitcher and topped off her beer as she chimed in expertly. 

“We’ve studied a lot of these types of cases; You know that they all met a similar fate to those whistleblowers at Boeing and others.” 

The rest of the group nodded in agreement between drinks of MGD on tap. 

Isaiah listened intently as he looked around the table; none of these people were ignorant or poorly educated; in fact, quite the opposite. They were mostly law students like Penny or physics and engineering majors like Izzy, although he was the only one enrolled in the Dedmans dual degree program in physics and engineering offered at SMU. 

They were not conspiracy theorists, but they all possessed exceptional pattern recognition abilities. At that moment, they all silently decided that if they ever invented anything that would disrupt the profits of any major international corporation, they would go into hiding first in a neutral country before sharing their discovery with the world. 

Penelope Bedowitz smiled. “This is not new at all; our boy right here’s parents are both retired veterans that did black site work for 20 years before they retired at age 38 and started teaching at our campus.” Izzy grew up hearing his engineer and biologist parents, Kennedy and Helena, talk about this sort of thing with their friends. 

Isaiah shrugged. “That’s true; this stuff was normal dinner table talk when I was a kid.” There were a few chuckles from his classmates when the 13-year-old sitting at the table, drinking root beer, spoke as if he were no longer a kid. There were some murmurs as some of the students talked amongst themselves; a few were surprised that his parents were professors. Others had read about the savant in the People Magazine 30 Under 30 article four years ago, with Izzy’s face on the cover for being the youngest winner of the Fields Medal, as well as a laundry list of math and science prizes before he reached age 12. All knew the story of the death of his twin Emily. 

After a few drinks, the conversation would inevitably drift to the deaths of numerous doctors whose breakthroughs would have bankrupted big pharma, conveniently dying after announcing their discoveries. An automotive mechanic from Texas was found beaten to death in his home after creating a new fuel for the internal combustion engine. Physicists and engineers from America and Europe all died in mysterious car accidents, unsolved murders of men found bludgeoned to death in their homes with no sign of forced entry, and the old classic: the disappearing scientist. 

They all laughed nervously, occasionally looking around to see if anyone suspicious was in the bar. Penny raised her glass as she spoke. 

“PSA, people: keep hard copies of all of your important paperwork locked in a safety deposit box or a bus locker, mail it to yourself at a PO box in the US Postal Service post office, and leave it there. So that if they try to erase you by removing you from existence, the way they attempted to do with the records of Dr. Lazar, you have a way to prove who you are.” 

There was more nervous laughter as they drank and considered the wisdom of Penny’s suggestion. 

Come on, Zulika said as she stood, let’s shoot some pool. 

Isaiah followed her scent to the pool table in the opposite corner of the bar near the TV and the jukebox. He relaxed, calculating the angles to make the shots, he found the geometry of the game almost meditative. Zulika was a 16-year-old freshman majoring in Industrial Engineering. Izzy was into her dark academia look, everything from the large black plastic rectangular glasses to the navy school blazer over a white Stafford with her favorite pair of beat-up old Docs and a plaid pleated school uniform skirt. 

Zulika could see that her lab partner was getting a little anxious, sitting at the table in the crowd. He was good at covering it up, but she could see the wheels turning in his head, the constant flow of data, equation after equation, as much a prayer as a meditation. She understood what it was like to have calculations motoring through your mind nonstop, that lack of control as it simply took over a section of your conscience for its own reasons. 

Zulika had read that he lived in the city, but when she decided to attend university here, she never dreamed she would run into the king of the geeks here on campus. Zulika bent over the pool table wearing only the sheerest of noir colored leggings to take her shot. Penny looked up from her drink to see Zuli giving Izzy an eyeful as she ignored the rising skirt to lean across the table to take her next shot. She smiled, watching the two nerds. She thought it was cute the way he followed her around with those big puppy dog eyes. 

Penny walked over to the jukebox, found Zulika’s favorite song, ‘Big Dawgz’, she sat down at the table in the corner near the pool table and jukebox to get a good view of the game and watch Zulika dance. As soon as the opening notes of the song began, she stopped and laid her pool cue across the table. Dance with me, Izzy. He did as she commanded, as Zulika wrapped her arms around his waist and guided as they danced, Zuli leaned over and grabbed Penelope by the hand, pulling her out of her seat. She joined her dancing with Izzy sandwiched between them as they swayed together, slowly serpentine limbs entangled to the synthesized rhythm of the music. 

“Wait a minute, get it how you live it 

Ten toes in when we standin’ on business 

I’m a big stepper, underground methods 

Top-notch hoes get the most, not the lesser 

(The most, not the lesser) 

Straight terror, product of your errors 

Pushing culture, baby, got that product you can’t measure 

(Got that product you can’t measure) 

Trendsetter, the one who get her wetter 

Swervin’ while I’m bumpin’ Project Pat, uh 

Yeah, rollin’ through the city with the big dogs 

Fuck the laws, lawyer with me, we ain’t gotta call 

Celly on silent, but the product end up hella loud 

That’s how you make the money pile for everyone involved 

And if you don’t deserve a cut, then we gon’ cut ’em off 

(Cut ’em off)” 

‘Big Dawgz’  

-Hanumankind & Kalmi 

Isaiah was silent about his AGI (General Artificial Intelligence), breakthrough until he sailed to safety in Ghana. 

Mundian To Bach Ke 

Panjabi MC 

[Verse 1] 
Nivi’an tu kuch der pa ke rakh le 
Pale vitch mukhra luka ke rakh le 
Nivi’an tu kuch der pa ke rakh le 
Pale vitch mukhra luka ke rakh le 
Aave kari na kise de naal pyar 
 
[Chorus] 
Mundiya to bach ke rahi 
Nahi tu hun hun hui mutiyar 
Mundiya to bach ke rahi 
Nahi tu hun hun hui mutiyar 
Mundiya to bach ke rahi, yeah 
 
[Verse 2] 
Tera ki kasoor je nashili nain ho gaye 
Sikh ke adava sharmile nain ho gaye 
Tera ki kasoor je nashili nain ho gaye 
Sikh ke adava sharmile nain ho gaye 
Saanb ke rakh ni eh jovan butari 
Saanb ke rakh ni eh jovan butari 
Hun mur ke na aauni bahaar 
 
[Chorus] 
Mundiya to bach ke rahi 
Nahi tu hun hun hui mutiyar 
Mundiya to bach ke rahi 
Nahi tu hun hun hui mutiyar 
Mundiya to bach ke rahi, yeah 
 

[Verse 3] 
Chardi jawani tera roop tatha marda 
Patla jaha lak na hulara vi saharda 
Chardi jawani tera roop tatha marda 
Patla jaha lak na hulara vi saharda 
Gora gora rang ute mirgani tor 
Gora gora rang ute mirgani tor 
Hai tera jaye soni koi naal 
 
[Chorus] 
Mundiya to bach ke rahi 
Nahi tu hun hun hui mutiyar 
Mundiya to bach ke rahi 
Nahi tu hun hun hui mutiyar 
Mundiya to bach ke rahi, yeah 
 
[Verse 4] 
Mundiya de bula ute teriya kahaniya 
Channi ni ta khanne diyan galiyan pachaniya 
Jovana de bula ute teriya kahaniya 
Channi ni ta khanne diyan galiyan pachaniya 
Janjua te hoya tera roop da diwana 
Janjua te hoya tera roop da diwana 
Chal sakiya na husan da ba 
 
[Chorus] 
Mundiya to bach ke rahi 
Nahi tu hun hun hui mutiyar 
Mundiya to bach ke rahi 
Nahi tu hun hun hui mutiyar 
Mundiya to bach ke rahi, yeah 

Translations 

Panjabi MC – Mundian To Bach Ke (English Translation) Lyrics 

[Verse 1] 
Keep your face down 
And hide it with a scarf 
Keep your face down 
And hide it with a scarf 
Don’t just give your love to anyone 
 
[Chorus] 
Beware of the boys 
You’ve only just grown up 
Beware of the boys 
You’ve only just grown up 
Beware of the boys, yeah 
 
[Verse 2] 
It’s not your fault that you’ve got beautiful eyes 
As soon as you realize it, you’ll become shy 
It’s not your fault that you’ve got beautiful eyes 
As soon as you realize it, you’ll become shy 
Look after for your youth 
Look after for your youth 
This time won’t come again 
 
[Chorus] 
Beware of the boys 
You’vе only just grown up 
Beware of the boys 
You’vе only just grown up 
Beware of the boys, yeah 

[Verse 3] 
As you are growing up people are becoming aware of your good looks 
Everyone is looking at your thin waist 
As you are growing up people are becoming aware of your good looks 
Everyone is looking at your thin waist 
Light cheeks walking like a peacock 
Light cheeks walking like a peacock 
I didn’t see anyone like you 
 
[Chorus] 
Beware of the boys 
You’ve only just grown up 
Beware of the boys 
You’ve only just grown up 
Beware of the boys, yeah 
 
[Verse 4] 
The boys are talking about you every day 
The streets are full of stories about your looks 
The boys are talking about you every day 
The streets are full of stories about your looks 
Janjua is completely crazy about you 
Janjua is completely crazy about you 
Don’t let the attention drive you crazy 
 
[Chorus] 
Beware of the boys 
You’ve only just grown up 
Beware of the boys 
You’ve only just grown up 
Beware of the boys, yeah 

About the author: 

JD Cloudy’s poetry has disappeared in the literary journals: Fatfizz, Mad Swirl, Texas Beat Anthology, Danse Macabre, Du Jour, and Death List Five. He has won no literary awards, entered no slam competitions, and never completed college. He lives to write in Dallas, Texas.