The New Adventures of Amber!

[Oscar DeBarataria]

Rachel ended up setting up a conversation with an old friend of hers from when she was in whichever spy agency she worked for (I'm still trying to coax a story or two out of her, though she's flatly refused me so far, saying she's already said too much), and he flew in for a meeting at a restaurant down the street from the airport.

He said he would possibly have some ability to work on the Amber problem, but we just didn't have enough to go on.

And that was the real tragedy of the thing. Based on what Rachel was telling me, I could afford to bankroll an extraction. I could also afford to pay a ransom or, otherwise, to buy her out of captivity. But with only the paucity of information that Nacho gave us and what was on that cruel video her captors sent - and Rachel's hacker friend who looked at the email with the video said it was bounced through so many proxy servers on its way to me as to make it impossible to identify its source - we weren't even at a starting point for either course.

And then there was the threat that any action made toward finding her or contacting her captors would engender retribution. Already there was the broken-finger assault on my girl, Rachel's friend Tank (who led Nacho's abduction) getting run over in a hit-and-run, and Rachel getting unceremoniously bounced from her job thanks to someone in the cartels leaning on her bosses. That was more than enough to indicate that whatever our next moves would be had to be silent - Amber's captors couldn't know what we were doing until it was done.

Which was simply depressing. Here I was, flush with money from selling my business, and I felt more powerless than when I was broke.

But it seemed like I suddenly had an overflow of female attention coming from a number of directions. For example, there was Kim - who insisted on coming over and making me dinner.

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"Because I know you're not eating well right now. I don't blame you, but fast food is no way out of a crisis."

"Kim, I appreciate it, but really, I'm doing OK."

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"Oh, I doubt that."

"Sweetie, I had pork chops and green beans for lunch at the place down the street."

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"Hmmm."

"What's up with the hair, by the way? Not long ago you told me that you were part of the Dude Hair tribe forever."

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"I never said I was gonna have Dude Hair. Come on."

"No, but you had Dude Hair, Kim. Let's not BS each other."

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"OK, my hair was fine. But I did do a little thinking, and I decided that maybe I needed to make myself a little more interesting."

"Interesting?"

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"Yes, Oscar. To men. More interesting to men."

"How so?"

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"Well, let's consider the Story of Kim."

"Ooh, let's do that."

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"Oh, you're such a smartass. Keep it up and you'll get a spanking."

"Is that so?"

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"Can you be serious for a minute? I'm trying to tell you something."

"Fine, fine. So - the Story of Kim. Poor little rich girl, and all that."

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"OK - I'm not some poor little rich girl. I'm a numbers nerd. I manage my parents' investments, and I'm damn good at it. We did a 19 percent return on the portfolio last year. That's in a crappy economy."

"Nobody doubts that you're good at your job, Kim. When are you going to get your Series 7 and the other things and open up a little hedge fund? I now have money to invest, you know."

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"Well, I don't know that I want to take all that on. Because of all the non-profit and charitable stuff I do. Which is a lot, by the way."

"Yes, I'm aware. You are cancer's single most vicious enemy in a three-state area, and there isn't a stray cat or a patch of grass in the whole city which isn't indebted to your fundraising efforts."

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"I'd be offended by your backhanded compliments if they weren't so funny, you know."

"I see where this is going. Which is that the things you spend your time on get you nowhere near any eligible men."

[Oscar DeBarataria]

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"Exactly. And I refuse to do Tinder. I don't do hookups. So I'm around women pretty much all day, I'm not exactly going to make it rain in the club..."

"Kim, when was the last time you set foot in a bar?"

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"Unless it was attached to a restaurant? Probably college. I'll drink a glass of wine or have a margarita here and there, but I'm not a drinker. And I'm way too awkward to try to hook up."

"Right, right. Poor little rich girl."

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"I think I'm cursed to be the girl guys like as a friend. But that's my fault. I don't think like guys think, or like I need to think to attract a guy."

"Which is why you thought chopping all your hair off as though you'd just passed menopause was a good call."

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"Oh my God. You are so mean."

"I'm just trying to be brutally honest with you."

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"So OK - does Big Red work? You seemed to like it when Paula wore her hair like this when she was doing ... whatever it was she was doing at your house. And Amber said you liked it when she tried it."

"Wait, stop."

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"What?"

"This hair is for my benefit? Is that what's going on?"

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"What would make you think that?"

"What would make me think that? How about every word you've said since you walked in here?"

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"Oh, come on."

"Kim. Please. You just said you're trying out this red hair, which is nothing whatsoever like anything you've ever had, because you thought I liked it on two other women."

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"I mean, no. No, of course not. I'm trying it out because it's different from my short pixie cut brown hair that you said you hated."

"It seems like this discussion keeps coming back to my opinion about your hair."

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"So I think this part of the conversation is over, and that means we can move on to other, more interesting things."

"Ah, yes. And what might those things be?"

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"Well, first, how do you want your steak?"

"Medium rare will do nicely, thanks. I do like your shoes, by the way. I think Amber has a pair just like them."

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"Thank you. But I think maybe we shouldn't talk about Amber, because I don't want this to be painful. OK?"

"That's fair."

Kim shortly chased me from the kitchen. But I'll give her credit, she's a drop-dead amazing cook. It did feel very much like I'd just had a first date with her, though, and when she insisted on a good night kiss after I walked her to her car, I felt like I'd cheated on Amber.

And that wasn't a good feeling at all.

[Oscar DeBarataria]

And that night the most amazing thing happened.

I had a dream.

It was not a normal dream. This was something very out of the ordinary.

Ever since Amber had been taken, I'd been troubled by nightmarish visions of someone kidnapping her, physically abusing her, taking her away from me. I guess those wouldn't be out of place in a situation like this one.

What was a bit more exotic was going to sleep and suddenly being transported to see her. I was actually in the room with Amber and talking to her.

At least in the dream.

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"OK, I think we have time. They won't come and get me until the morning, so I can talk to you until you wake up."

"What's going on? Where am I?"

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"You're...where I am. And I don't know where that is."

"But...how?"

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"I have no idea. But I read that in moments of extreme stress, people can develop some extraordinary capabilities. Maybe I've done that. And since all I want to do is to talk to you, I dunno. Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth."

"Wait, OK. Amber, I'm working on the assumption that I'm just dreaming and you're a figment of my imagination. I mean, it's a wonderful dream, don't get me wrong. But the idea you and I are actually talking? I think I've got to know how before I can believe it."

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"Oscar, don't doubt. OK? This might be the only saving grace I get now. You can't just dismiss it. Please, honey?"

"Fair enough, though this situation could easily tip me right over the edge into full-on insanity if it's not real. And I don't want to go crazy, Amber."

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"You aren't crazy about me? I'm crazy about you!"

"Always. But how do I know it's you? And are you OK?"

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"Well, ask me something. But I don't want to talk about what goes on here, OK?"

"Wait - is it that bad? It looks like it's bad. And I have no idea what to ask you that would prove we're actually communicating."

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"It's bad, but I really don't want to get into it. But here's something. You don't know this - when I was at Dan Cole's house in that brick room, they had me playing a meditation game. They had a little alarm clock or something that would beep every minute or two or whatever. The goal was to count to exactly 100 from one beep to the next."

"You're right. I didn't know that. What was the point of it?"

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"Because if you could train yourself to concentrate that precisely, you could remove yourself from any stressful situation you might find yourself in. Or at least that's what Dan said."

"And how did you do? You ever time it up at 100 at the beep?"

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"Hell, no. Not even close."

"Hahaha! Oh, well."

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"But it comes to mind because they're doing the same thing with me here. And I'm hitting it right at 100 every time. I've even worked it out that it's 90 seconds between beeps."

"Interesting. OK, assuming you're not My Imagination Amber, do we know if this is a one-off conversation? And how do we absolutely prove this isn't just a dream?"

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"The easiest way to prove it is if I can make another video and have them send it to you. If I can do it, I'll include a code word or something. How about this? I wore that rosette choker the last night we went out. I'll reference that."

"Those chokers were Dan Cole's membership badges or something, weren't they?"

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"Maybe. He suggested I wear one. They're in style, though, so I didn't think anything of it."

"I think he's behind this. Look, if we communicate again you have got to tell me where you are, who has you - anything you can that gives me something to go on. I'm going to be really careful, but I'm not going to give up on getting you out."

She nodded, but then she gave me a nervous look.

"They're waking me up," she said. "Pray for me, honey."

"I will. Be safe, Amber!"

And then, once again, she was gone.

[4891d]

Good luck Amber!

Love,
Saaaskiya

[Oscar DeBarataria]

Good luck Amber!

Love,
Saaaskiya

Here all this time Amber drove me nuts because I couldn't get her to listen to me, and then she turns out to be telepathic. Go figure.

[Oscar DeBarataria]

Then, amid all of this, there was Katie.

Remember, just before Amber was taken I had gone to lunch with her and told her I was selling the company and, essentially, putting her out of a job. That was her choice, though – I offered to negotiate her a position with RDC after the merger, but she said Craig didn’t want her working and that she was good being a kept woman at his place.

Then Amber was taken. And I called Katie to let her know. Three times, no answer. I left her a message explaining that Amber had gone missing. It took a whole day for her to respond, and when she did she texted back, “well, go to Cole’s and get her.”

I couldn’t believe how cold she was.

Finally, she called me, and I brought her up to date on everything – except the fact that I was talking with Amber in my dreams. I wasn’t sure how to explain that without people thinking I’d completely lost my mind, so I kept it to myself.

And I sent her the video.

Katie was still pretty cold.

“Do you think maybe I could come over and we can talk about what to do with her stuff?” she said. “I mean, if she’s gone, I don’t think you want all that in your house.”

“I haven’t decided what I want to do,” I said, “but definitely you should come over.”

So she did. With a big box.

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“I may need some help when I’m done,” she said, “and I’ll probably make several trips.”

“Wait, are you just here to loot Amber’s closet?”

She dropped the box.

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“Please tell me you’re not really talking to me that way.”

“What way?”

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“Like I’m here on a shopping trip.”

“Katie, I tell you that your sister has been kidnapped by what looks like a sex trafficking ring, and all you care about is her shoes and dresses.”

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“So that’s what you think of me.”

“I’m desperately trying to think something else, but you haven’t even made a comment about all this.”

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“Oh, and you’re confused about that? OK. Fine. I’m so mad at you I could bash your brains in.”

“Whaaat?”

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“Yeah, that’s right, hotshot. I am pissed at you for letting this happen.”

“I let this happen.”

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“Didn’t you? I told you to lock that girl up. You laughed at me. And then she’s gone. Surprise, surprise!”

“I can see that you’re upset, and I am too, and people say things they don’t mean when they’re upset. So instead of saying ‘Fuck you, Katie,’ I’m just going to take a beat and acknowledge that you’re angry.”

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“And you’re patronizing.”

“Well, I had no hand in ‘losing’ Amber. I’m actually trying to get her back, though that’s a very daunting proposition.”

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“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I hadn’t told Katie about the consequences to our interception of Nacho. So I told her about Tank and Rachel…and Amber’s broken fingers.

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“Wow,” she said. “This seems like it’s bigger than Cole. It would be messy if he was behind this and doing stuff like that. Plus, he wouldn’t break her fingers. No if he expected to make her his.”

“That’s a good point. I hadn’t thought of that.”

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“Oh my God, my sister is gone and I hadn’t said a civil word to her in a couple of weeks. How awful am I?”

“It’s a good idea for us not to spend time on recriminations and beating ourselves up right now, Katie. Let’s try to stand strong. Amber loves you. I never saw any evidence that she bore any kind of grudge or anything toward you, so don’t get freaked out over, you know…”

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“She’s my little sister and I didn’t protect her. I failed.”

“You protected her fine. But ultimately you and she were going to live your own lives. And you’re doing well, so was Amber until this happened. It has nothing to do with you or anything you’ve done. Bad things happen to good people.”

[Oscar DeBarataria]

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“OK, you’re right. And I’m sorry.”

“Look, if you want to be pissed at me, be pissed at me. You’re not wholly wrong. I told Amber that she had to have somebody minding her at all times because of the weirdness with Paula and Cole telling me that she was his now. But Kim was minding her, and she took her eyes off Amber when she went into that dressing room, and that was enough.”

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“Do you think Kim…”

“Kim? Come on.”

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“No, you’re right. She wouldn’t have anything to do with this.”

“Kim isn’t a good enough actress to hide complicity in kidnapping Amber this well. She was really busted up about it. Though…”

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“Though what?”

“She did come over here two nights ago, totally new hairdo, and cooked dinner for me. It felt kind of like a date.”

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“That doesn’t mean anything. I’m surprised you don’t have every woman you know making moves on you.”

“Oh, you think so?”

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“With as few worthwhile men as there are right now? You bet.”

“Hmmm.”

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“Oh, I’m right am I? Who else?”

“Well, Rachel. But she’s helping to find a way to get Amber back.”

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“Oh, sure. Did she change her hair, too?”

“As a matter of fact, she did. Long blonde hair. She looks like Kim Cattrall now.”

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“Very interesting.”

“I can’t actually do anything with any of these girls. It’d be cheating on Amber.”

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“I would feel the same way. But you will go absolutely insane if you obsess about this, OK? I want to believe you can get her back. I do. I want it more than anything else. But realistically? She was right when she let you go. And if the people who have her are what we think they are, they’re going to kill her. She’s as good as dead right now.”

“Katie, don’t say that.”

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“No, I mean it. The whole point of these people is that they grab these girls, use them up and then spit them out. Whorehouses, crime, slave labor, whatever. And that’s with real girls. Amber’s a Factory Girl, which means her life will be even cheaper.”

“That’s bleak.”

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“It’s realistic, honey. Do what you can to get her back, but for all we know it’s already too late.”

“It isn’t.”

[Oscar DeBarataria]

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“OK, whatever. I hope you’re right.”

“No, I mean I know it isn’t.”

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“ You can’t possibly know that.”

“Well, you're almost certainly going to think I'm nuts, but…”

I broke down and told her about the dream.

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“So it’s true. And you’re the one.”

“What’s true?”

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“At the factory, the girls would tell a story of one of us, every once in a while, ending up with a man with whom she had such a connection that they could communicate even from half a world away. It must be real, and you two would then have to be…”

“What, like soulmates?”

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“I don’t know.”

“Well, so far it’s just the one dream, so it’s hard to tell what this is.”

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“No, it’s a big deal. Get her to tell you where she is and who has her. You can get her back. For real, you can.”

“You think so?”

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“100 percent.”

“OK, what about her stuff? You can come here any time and get anything you want, but I feel weird about just packing all of it up and giving or throwing it away. It’s hers and she’s not completely gone.”

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“No, I agree. But…”

“But what?”

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“She does have these absolutely stunning gold peep-toe pumps. I would literally fight her for them if she was here.”

“Katie, take ‘em. In fact, whatever you want, take it. I just don’t want her to come back eventually and I didn’t keep a full closet for her, you know?”

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“No, I get it. And I’m just borrowing the shoes. I’ll bring them back when you get her home.”

“It’s a deal.”

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“But Oscar?”

“Yes, Katie?”

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“Get her home.”

“OK. I’m trying.”

[Oscar DeBarataria]

Then that night, what I’d been waiting for happened a second time.

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“Oh, thank God! You must not be sleeping well. I’ve been trying all night to connect with you.”

“Sorry. I couldn’t get to sleep. I was nervous about whether we’d be able to communicate again.”

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“You maybe should try my meditation exercises. I can will myself to sleep in like 30 seconds now.”

“That’s really great, Amber. The chance I’ll ever be able to do that is zero.”

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“Haha! You’re probably right. Anyway, it’s so good to talk to you again, honey.”

“Likewise. But before we can do anything else, we need to work on finding you. So where are you?”

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“Oscar, I have no idea. They aren’t letting me out anywhere I can see anything. I don’t think I can help.”

“Then let’s try to retrace your steps. So what happened when you were taken?”

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“I mean, I don’t know anything about that, either. I’m in the dressing room at Forever 21, and I’m trying on this soooo-cute pink jumpsuit…”

“Amber! Come on.”

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“Sorry. Anyway, this scruffy Latin-looking guy busts in, and before I could even scream he’s got a rag over my face, and there’s a weird chemical smell and then I’m just out. When I woke up, I was laying down in what felt like it was a bed of a pickup truck, but it was covered.”

“Was the truck moving?”

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“No. It was stopped. And when I woke up I started screaming, but the guy, I’m assuming it was the guy who took me, told me to shut up or he’d give me a beating.”

“And how long did you wait?”

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“Maybe a couple of hours?”

“OK, so it was two o’clock, and if he chloroformed you, you were probably out for like three or four hours. Call it sometime around eight o’clock at this point."

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“I guess. Anyway, he starts the truck and then he takes us to the Home Depot parking lot on Highland Road.”

“You sure that’s the one?”

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“Yes, honey. I’ve been there. I know it was that Home Depot.”

“All right. So this is, what, 8:30 or 9 at night?”

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“Maybe so. Yeah. Then we wait. For like a while.”

“For the store to close and the parking lot to empty out.”

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“I’m sure, because finally he opens the back door of the pickup, and he drags me out, and I could see for just long enough to make out that it’s the Home Depot and that there’s a black, or dark-colored, van. Then he throws a pillow case over my head and he and another guy push me into the van. Next thing I know, I’m chained to the floor of the van and it’s moving. And it’s pitch black and I can’t see a thing.”

“OK – so we’re saying probably 11 o’clock at night and now the middle man is moving you.”

[Oscar DeBarataria]

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“Yeah, I think that’s right.”

“And how long were you driving?”

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“Honey, I have no idea. I’m sorry.”

“But was it a long time? Just a couple of hours?”

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“No, it was way more than a couple of hours.”

“Like a whole day?”

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“Probably.”

“OK, how many times did you stop for gas?”

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“I think twice? Twice.”

“And did he stop to rest?”

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“No. He drove straight through other than when he got gas. Oh, also, it was highway driving the whole way, or at least for the first, I don’t know, two-thirds of the trip. After that we’d be going fast and then we’d stop, or drive slowly, and then we’d go fast again for a while and then stop.”

“So either back roads, or…”

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“Or what?”

“OK, honey, could you tell if it was colder than here when you got where you were going?”

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“Not really. It was in a garage when he let me out of the van. But it was night-time when I got in the van and it was night-time when I got out, though I think maybe it was early night-time.”

“So I’m thinking around 500 miles to a tank of gas in a van, two stops for gas from Baton Rouge, and, oh, shit…”

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“What?”

“Tell me they’re not all speaking Spanish where you are.”

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“I’m hearing some English. But I mean, I think these men are all Mexicans.”

“Can you tell you’re in the mountains? Is the air really dry?”

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“No. I actually think I’m by the ocean.”

“OK. Now we have something to go on. Amber, I want you to do whatever you can to get me as precise a location as possible. All right? This is all that matters right now. We’re going to try to bring you home, honey.”

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“You’re really sweet, Oscar. But can we talk about something else?”

“Of course. What’s on your mind?”

[Oscar DeBarataria]

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“Well, I want to know how you’re doing? Are you just totally alone over there?”

“No, not really. Rachel’s trying to help. I told you we caught that guy Nacho, the one who kidnapped you, but you knew that.”

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“Yeah. Got the broken fingers to prove it.”

“Really sorry about that, honey. You weren’t the only casualty of that operation, though. Tank got run over by a hit and run driver, and he’s got a shattered pelvis and a broken hip and a fractured thigh bone. It’ll be weeks before they can start figuring out whether he’s going to be able to walk again.”

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“Oh, that’s awful.”

“And Rachel lost her job.”

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“Oh, no. You need to find her a new one.”

“I’m staking her in a security consulting business.”

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“Well, that’s pretty cool. Why don’t you get her to help you with the company?”

“Oh, I didn’t get a chance to tell you. I sold the company?”

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“You what? Honey, no. Don’t sell your business because of me.”

“I didn’t. I had just sold it probably no more than an hour before you got kidnapped.”

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“And you didn’t tell me?”

“Well, with your weird Paula thing and how close to Cole that was bringing you, I was nervous about telling you before actually having a signed contract. And then the next thing I knew I’d lost you.”

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“So now you’re the rich man I always knew you’d be, and I’m…just damn.”

“I know. It’s awful.”

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“So you and Rachel, huh?”

“It’s me and you, Amber. OK? It’s always going to be me and you.”

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“Well, OK. Let me make you promise me this: if I ever get to come home and you’re not married with a family, or you’re in love with someone, or whatever, then you make a place for me in your life. Even if it’s as your housekeeper or secretary, something. But since we don’t know that we’ll ever be able to do that, the only real thing we can do is that you should see other people.”

“Amber, I don’t want to.”

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“Maybe not now. But eventually, you’ll be ready. And I don’t want to hold you back. Besides, oh, wait…”

“Amber?”

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“Oh, no. Honey, they’re waking me up. I love you! Pray for me!”

And then she was gone.

[Oscar DeBarataria]

As a quick production note (or whatever), Adobe Firefly is a really good AI image generator when it wants to be.

But ask it to come up with ANYTHING even remotely edgy, and it will tell you no.

I used the word "dungeon" in an attempt to get an image that would work for Amber's dream captivity sequences, and no matter how I asked it would not generate an image. Nor would it do anything for "prison" or "jail."

They've got some real snowflakes programming that app.

[4891d]

Well, you seem to have managed to get around the problem.
Probably by typing more neutral words (crypt, cellar, warehouse, etc.) combined with adjectives (dark, disused, etc.).

There remains the possibility of using a somewhat 'neutral' AI image (an abandoned warehouse for example), and modifying it with a few 'props' or characters pasted with photo editing software. By keeping the same background photo and the same accessories, there is probably a way to do this manipulation in series, so that it is not too time-consuming.

[Oscar DeBarataria]

Well, you seem to have managed to get around the problem.
Probably by typing more neutral words (crypt, cellar, warehouse, etc.) combined with adjectives (dark, disused, etc.).

There remains the possibility of using a somewhat 'neutral' AI image (an abandoned warehouse for example), and modifying it with a few 'props' or characters pasted with photo editing software. By keeping the same background photo and the same accessories, there is probably a way to do this manipulation in series, so that it is not too time-consuming.

Which is what I did, but some of the desired effect is definitely lost.

We need AI programmed by people who aren't woke. Otherwise, either AI will fizzle out or maybe we will.

[BetterLoveDollForYou]

Absolutely love these vivid expressions!