A Nickel For Your Thoughts

June 18, 1997

11:56 pm

The searchlights flashed all through the compound. Guards tramped through each level of the building. His cell revealed a dissolved lock pick and a hole in the cell door.

Maruko Nihita was a Japanese college student who was specializing in genetics research. His colleague, Koushiro Harikito, had framed him for illegal experimentation on rabbits, earning Maruko a term of forty years behind bars. And now, on this very night, he would make his escape – on the three-year-anniversary of the night he was arrested.

Hiding in one of the sewer pipelines, Maruko reflected on that painful, painful night. The tears on his mother’s face were not salt water, but liquid drops of misery and pain. He had been twenty-two at that time – a thin young man, very tall, with dazzling blue eyes and black hair that traveled halfway down his back. Prison life had hardened him – six-foot-seven, tall and muscled, hair and eyes fading from brilliant blue and shining black to a deadly dull gray. The orange prison jumpsuit clung to his body, soaked by rain. His black boots were caked with crumbly brown mud, and his hair was cut so short it barely covered the top of his ears. His eyes went misty behind his cracked glasses lenses, his memories flowing through his mind as he nostalgically gazed into the rain-splattered oceans near the penitentiary.

A clap of thunder brought him crashing into reality. Glancing around for any witnesses, he jumped into the ocean ad floated with the current towards where the sunrise would be.

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June 19, 1997

4:39 am

“Maruko.”

Maruko awoke to find himself in a great white oblivion, surrounded by his family. “Mom?” he asked the older woman, who stood next to a middle-aged man and a fifteen-year old girl who bore no resemblance to either of them. The woman nodded.

“Dad?” The man nodded,

Maruko finally turned to the girl. She was blonde, while her parents had black hair. She had green eyes, while her mom and dad had brown. She was French, while her parents were Japanese. “Genevieve?” The girl smiled and spoke in a rapid mix of Japanese and French. His adopted sister had a quirky way of doing that.

“Come, Amia.” The man turned to the woman.

“I come, Takeru,” Amia responded. The adults took each other’s hand as the girl stepped forward.

“Wake up, Maruko,” Genevieve said. “Wake up.”

“Wake up. Wake up!”

Maruko’s parents and adopted sister vanished. He suddenly found himself on a dingy fishing scow in his old boxer shorts. Hm, the current must’ve ripped off my clothes.

“Hey buddy, you okay?”

Maruko looked up to see an old fisherman standing above him. He appeared to be the stereotypical sailor – old baseball cap, yellow rain jacket, old shirt, old jeans, and old boots. A long gray beard and mustache adorned his face, flowing beneath a huge nose and green eyes. From Maruko’s standpoint, he appeared to be American, about sixty years old.

“Might ye be Chinese or something?”

Maruko hesitated, then nodded. Hey, he was off to a fresh start. “Yes. I am Professor Robert Chu. I was being transferred from San Diego to Ibaraki on the Japanese island of Honshu. One day, I was surfing and got caught in a riptide.”

The sailor chuckled. “Why don’t ye come get dressed? I got some clothes that should fit ye nicely, matey.”

Blushing, the “Chinese” castaway went in the direction indicated by the old salt.

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7:12 am

Maruko, now “Robert”, heard the waves splash up against the boat. From his place on the bow of the boat, he could see the island of Honshu.

“We be almost there, matey,” the old salt (who revealed that he was called “Captain Crunch” because he stepped on a clam when he was fishing) called up.

Maruko sighed. The island – the riskiest place to be after his escape – was his only chance of survival.

Time to start a new life.

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April 7, 2000

12:30 pm

Maruko walked into the restaurant and was greeted with a cheerful “Irasshaimase” (Please come in) before being led to a table. Giving his order to the attendant, he pondered the last three years of his life. It was a miracle that he hadn’t been discovered yet.

His masquerade as Robert Chu had been successful. Creating an elaborate past life, he had been offered a job at the local science department as a specialist in genetics research. Today, he was in a little café waiting for his lunch: korokke (Japanese croquettes) washed down with a steaming hot glass of Houjicha tea (green tea made from roasted leaves).

“Chu-san.” The scientist looked up to see an attendant standing over him with his order and a gentle smile.

Maruko/Robert reached over for the chopsticks and snapped them apart before accepting the dish and teapot. Bowing his head towards the attendant, he faced the bowl and said the traditional saying. “Itadakimasu.” (I gratefully receive.) Poising his chopsticks in his hand, he picked up a croquette and began chewing, savoring the taste of meat and potatoes.

Thoughts of the nearby city of Kyoto suddenly swam into his mind. His mother told him the story of when he was born. While she was in Kyoto General Hospital, his father had been sitting in a nearby restaurant, eating korokke and drinking Houjicha. As was his usual trademark, his eyes became misty as he spent the next twenty or so minutes reminiscing. It was only when the korokke failed to reach his mouth that he looked down at his plate – suddenly mysteriously empty. With a sigh, he took his plates and the bill (which had been delivered facedown, as per tradition) up to the cash register. Another attendant took the dishes as he paid the 3,461 yen (about thirty dollars) he owed. “Gochisosama deshita,” he said. (It means “thank you for the meal”, and you say it when walking out of a restaurant instead of leaving a tip.)

As he walked out of the restaurant, his cell phone went off. Checking the caller ID, he saw that it was his colleague, Yamaha Kawasaki, calling from the laboratory where he worked. He flipped up the phone and spoke to the woman. “Talk to me, Kawasaki-san.”

“Chu-san, we’ve done it. We’ve created a perfect DNA replica of the American President, Thomas Jefferson.”

A small smile played across his features as he considered the possibilities of this newfound breakthrough. “Excellent. Excellent indeed. I’m coming to the lab immediately to see.” That’s when he noticed a nickel on the street. Picking it up, he stuffed it in his pocket as he walked towards his workplace.

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July 27, 2007

10:14 am

The clone of Thomas Jefferson had started life as a baby – a giggly little baby with bouncing brown hair and dark eyes. Now, as a child of seven years old, he was living with foster parents. All he wanted to do was be normal, but he couldn’t be because of his origin. Young Thomas didn’t know of his past or who his parents were, but everyone else did. The adults idolized him, and the children made fun of him.

On a bright and sunny morning in Sacramento, California, a young boy would take up a long-rallied plea. “Mommy, I wanna go to summer camp!”

Janice Emerson sighed and looked down at the child. “Tom, you know why we can’t send you to camp. It’s too expensive; your father’s income can’t support it.”

That’s when her husband, Henry Emerson, walked in, eyes aglow. “Yes it can! Congratulate me, guys: We just won ten thousand dollars in the lottery!”

Thomas cheered as Janice fell into her lover’s arms. “Now can I go to summer camp?” Thomas asked.

“Yes, you can!” Henry crowed. Thomas cheered again as Janice proceeded to kiss her husband full on the mouth.

“Eew, Mommy and Daddy are kissing!” They broke away to see Thomas pretending to throw up on the floor.

With that remark he was sent to his room to pack. There was a child’s summer camp opening that day, and Janice and Henry decided to sign him up.

-----

10:48 am

“Here we are son,” Henry said to Thomas. “Camp Willow Lake.”

“That sounds like a girls’ camp,” Thomas whined. “I don’t wanna go to a girls’ camp!”

“It’s not a girls’ camp,” Henry said over Thomas’s whining. “I checked the fliers; it’s definitely a boys’ camp.”

“Are you sure? Because if you’re not sure – ”

“Thomas, we’re already here.”

“…Oh.” Henry sighed; why couldn’t Janice have taken him?

“Welcome to Camp Willow Lake!” A burly, tan high school student (sixteen, maybe?) came up to the car and greeted Henry and Thomas as they stepped out. “I am Chad, and I will be your counselor, dude! It’s going to be a totally tubular two weeks!” He shook Henry’s hand and knelt down to face Thomas. “And your name is…”

“Thomas Jefferson.”

The skater dude’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Dude! No way! That is so totally radical!”

Thomas and Henry stared at Chad. “…Daddy, I really wanna go home.”

Henry smiled gently and knelt down to look Thomas directly in the eye. “You’ll be fine, son.” He gave Thomas a little pat on the head before stepping back into the car and leaving. “See you in two weeks!” The boy hung his head and grudgingly picked up his bag, proceeding to follow Chad the counselor. As he walked, he noticed a shiny object in the dirt.

Thomas picked it up. It was a nickel. Smiling at the picture of his namesake, he hid the nickel in his sock and hurried to catch up with the other boys who were just arriving.

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August 3, 2007

1:46 pm

“Calling all cars…calling all cars…Escaped convict has been found…”

The chief of police called over the radio to the police cars patrolling the area. Ten years Maruko Nihita had been eluding police capture, but this time they had him for sure – thanks to Kawasaki-san. Three police cars surrounded the apartment complex where Maruko lived as Robert Chu. As they stepped out, they carried guns and one carried a megaphone.

“Nihita! Open up, Nihita! We know you’re in there!”

Maruko faltered, dropping. What happened?! His masquerade as had been going so well! Hurrying to the window, he saw the police cars and officers aim their guns at the window. Among them was his laboratory colleague, Ms. Yamaha Kawasaki.

BAM! The door came down, and two policemen came in, slapping handcuffs on his wrists. “You’re under arrest, Nihita, for jail breaking and illegal experimentation.”

As they led him outside, Maruko shot a deploring look at his colleague. “Yamaha-chan…”

“Don’t call me ‘chan’, I’m no friend of yours!” Kawasaki-san pulled out her wallet to reveal a government ID. “I noticed a familiar pattern in your work. I was with you last time you were arrested, as Elizabeth Turner. You’re under arrest.” She roughly shoved Maruko. “Get in the car.”

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1:51 pm

Two men dressed in very nice tuxedos and sunglasses walked up to Camp Willow Lake and spotted Chad. “Are you the counselor here?”

Chad was surprised at seeing these people. “Yeah, can I, like, help you?”

“We’re from the FBI, sir,” one of the men said as the other pulled out an identification card. “We’re looking for Thomas Jefferson.”

“Dude, isn’t he that dead guy?”

“…Sir, this is no time for jokes,” the officer with the ID said.

“We’re looking for a child named Thomas Jefferson,” the first officer continued.

“Oh, dudes! I know him! He’s down at the waterfront, swimming with his little homies.” The two men quirked their eyebrows as they shot each other a look masked by their sunglasses.

“Thank you, sir. You have been most helpful.” The two men saluted and walked down the path leading to the waterfront, where Thomas was, indeed, playing with his friends.

“Wow, I can’t believe it’s been a week already!” Thomas was saying to his friends.

“Hey, who are they?” one of the little boys called out, pointing towards the shore.

Thomas turned to look. “Gee, I dunno.”

“Excuse me!” Officer 1 yelled out. “Is one of you boys Thomas Jefferson?”

Thomas swam to shore and stood up. “Yes, that’s me.”

“We need you to come with us,” said Officer 2, holding out his hand to the boy.

“Did I do something wrong?”

The officers sighed. “Say goodbye to your friends, little boy,” Officer 1 said. “You won’t be seeing them ever again.”

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August 4, 2007

2:19 pm

Thomas was laying on a little cot behind a pane of glass. Through the glass, he saw his parents crying and holding each other. A doctor with a mask suddenly came in and prepared a needle for injection. Thomas struggled against his restraints, but to no avail. As the needle injected the poison into his arm, he began crying. His last thoughts were of his parents and his friends, who he loved very much. Thomas’s vision begam swimming into blackness, and he exhaled his last breath.

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4:33 pm

“We find the defendant…guilty of all charges.”

Maruko was familiar with this position. He was sitting behind a long, hard table, a lawyer sitting next to him. The jury had made their decision.

Justice Moulton stood up. “Maruko Nihita, I hereby sentence thee to life behind bars. By now, all of your experiments have been destroyed. Case dismissed.”

Maruko stood up and was escorted to the prison car. A nickel jangled in his pocket. The world wasn’t fair. All of his amazing and brilliant thoughts, and all he had to show for it was a stupid nickel!

A nickel for his thoughts.

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Note: The information about Japan and what goes on in restaurants is actually true and confirmed. The money conversion is also accurate as well.