Dot Com Vroom

A Story by Ajay Kaakarni

The Dot Com Bust of the early 2000's leads a man to the edge of a cliff.

                Marty King coughed amidst his words. "Its treated me well. Hell, a kid my age with all that money is nice. I'm in my early twenties driving a new car, owning a house..."
                "We did have some great times there," Tim forced. "Are you sure this needs to happen?" Perspiration sped down his long face.
                Marty King and Tim Rothsted rose to riches through the Dot Com Boom, a steady and constant improvisation of the internet that made many very rich. They both ran one of the biggest companies providing internet access at the time, as well as several chat channels, practically pioneering the idea.
                It was a hellish day, one seen in gimmicky news casts on heat waves, with children sitting miserably in kiddy pools, as sweat collected around their sore grimaces. The gas pedal seared the pads of Marty's bare feet, and the sun scorched his naked torso and exposed legs stuck to the leather seat. His swim suit sported tacky, deep red patterns with yellow and blue zig zags marching down the sides. Marty had picked today, of all days.
                "I've thought about it more than you know. Every answer has been temporary, and I need absolute. Something final. It really f***s with you, ya know."
                "What? The money?"
                "Oh, yeah. Money gets you anything, man. Anything at all. I've seen and experienced so much because of it. I was minted young, and never had to learn s**t for myself. I always had money. Why learn anything other than what I already knew?" Marty's voice became increasingly angered and forced. "You think, oh, this internet stuff will be around forever. Well, it is. It's 2001, for chrissake. You'd think a web company would be in its prime."
                Tim grinned. "Yeah, you'd think. But we're criminals now. Playing with the books wasn't such a great idea while we were going under, either." They approached the rocky mountainside. The deep and heavy darkness of the lake lay far below. The reflection of the sun from the water blinded them as Marty lit a cigarette.
                "Why the swim suit, though? You aren't actually swimming, are you?"
                "You know as well as I do that that's a stupid question. I just think it's funny, is all. Besides, when my parents pick up that paper and check the reports, it'll be over anyway. Best to end it now before things get sticky. It's so shameful and..."
                "So is this, and I don't get how that's funny," Tim interrupted. "Marty, wanna talk about tomorrow?"
                "Why? It's pointless. " Marty's eyelids fluttered and just before they shut, he jerked violently, as if to catch himself, and his eyes shot wide open.
                "I dunno. It just makes me feel better. Finally catching up to you?"
                Marty leaned his head back and braced his hands on the steering wheel. "Yeah. Has been for a while now. Well, this is your stop, partnah."
                Tim quickly steps out of the car, shutting the door behind him, and immediately rested his arms on the door and peeked in. "You know, it doesn't have to be this way. I know you've got it all figured out and you're dead set on this, but I can get back in the car and we can turn around. Hell, I'll even drive, on account of all the downers."
                "You've been a great friend, man. You take the high road, and I'll stick to the low. I'd take my ten steps and forget about it."
                Tim turns his back to the car as Marty turns the key. Tim counted his steps loudly.
                "One... two... three..."
                Marty opens the glove compartment, and takes the .44 and bullet. He loads the gun.
                "... four... five... six..."
                Marty steadies his aim amidst his drowsy panic.
                "... seven... eight... nine..." Tim pauses, and guffaws.
                "Tim, why'd you stop counting?"
                Tim steadied himself from his disconcerting giggles. "Say, Marty, that is funny! You're driving, but you're about to be wet in the la..."
                The bullet tore through Tim's skull, and he collapsed.
                "Yeah, Tim. I'm about to be sopping."
                Marty's weakened grip dropped the .44, and he pushed ever so slightly on the gas pedal. The car lurched forward. As he got closer, so did his foot on the gas pedal to the floor. The car edged over the cliff and it dove into the dark waters below. Marty's head cracked on the steering wheel, and his body went limp.
                The car slowly filled with water as it rose past Marty's calves, wetting the bathing suit. He never felt a thing.