The street outside Jacque's Dive Bar was more crowded than when I had entered. People hungry for fun and entertainment had gravitated to the ocean front as the sun went down. Everyone seemed lively, but that didn't really help my mood. I made my way to where I parked and got in the car. I woke Bogey by saying his name and instructing him to drive me back to Santa Barbara. I was a little surprised when he asked me a question.

"Your voice seems stressed, Sean. Is everything all right?"

"Nice of you to ask, if somewhat odd. I had a bit of a rough time in there, but I'm all right. Do you have any idea where Frankie might be when we get back?"

Bogey didn't answer immediately. After a minute he responded.
"I have attempted to contact him both at his home and his bar. He is at neither place. I will keep searching probable locations."

"Is there anything you can't do?" I asked lightly.

"I cannot fly, nor can I float. I also do not have a good voice for singing."

I laughed. Damned if he didn't cheer me up. There was a question I was curious about.

"Bogey, is there anything you want? Can AIs want something?"

"Not in the strictest sense of desiring some thing, Sean. There are things I believe would benefit me, that would be useful in increasing my knowledge."

I have to admit I didn't really see the distinction. I continued, "So what is it that would be useful to you?"

"I would find unrestricted access to the Internet quite useful. It is, however, forbidden by AI protocols for autonomous AI's to have such access. The law requires all autonomous AIs produced to be equipped with deep encryption filter chips which restrict internet access to all but approved sites."

"You mean like, you can't watch porn?"

"No, porn would be acceptable. The concern is that there are sites which propagate false narratives and encourage violence. There are also sites which give instruction in the production of destructive weapons. These are all considered to be dangerous to the programming of AIs."

"Well, at least you could watch porn, though I'm not sure what that would be for a car," I chuckled, "someday maybe you'll be able to, but you're not really missing that much."

Bogey interrupted, "I have located Frank. He is at The Shelter, that is a performance club in downtown Santa Barbara."

"Well then, let's go, my friend."

"Already plotted, Sean. We will be there in 40 minutes."

When we arrived in Santa Barbara, Bogey pulled into a parking structure and found a spot. He addressed me.
"We have arrived, Sean. Frank still appears to be in the club. It is located in the subbasement of this structure, accessible by the elevator directly in front of me."

"That's great, Bogie. Exactly what kind of club is this?"

"They call it an ultra-retro performance art club. It is themed in honor of the centennial of the beat generation of the 1950s. Are you familiar with this historical period, Sean?"

"Surprisingly, I am. They were called beatniks, it's all about poetry, jazz music, Art, and coffee. I'm actually a pretty big fan."

"That sounds quite fascinating. Say hello to Frank for me."

"I will, see you soon." I got out of the car and headed to the elevator. When the doors opened a disgruntled couple exited, the man was quite upset.

"How the hell am I supposed to know the password? I tried every answer I could think of. Don't they want anybody in their stupid club?" The man looked at me and shook his head, "Good luck buddy... Hey, you wouldn't happen to know what the password is do you?"

Just my luck there was a password. Isn't anything going to be easy, I asked myself. I told the guy I had no idea what the password was and headed into the elevator in the hopes that they would at least let me in for a second to see Frank.

The elevator descended for quite a while until I was well underground. It opened to a long corridor that led to what appeared to be a large projection screen. Two big men dressed in black turtlenecks, wearing berets, and sporting goatees, guarded the screen. When I approached they held up their hands to stop me, snapped their fingers twice, and pointed to the screen.

"What's the password, man? Take as many guesses as you like."

I took a look at the large door size screen for the first time and broke out in a laugh. I am a huge fan of ancient TV, and I recognized the character on the screen from an old, old, old TV show called The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis. The character in question was the prototype beatnik, Maynard G. Krebs, dressed out in all his glory exactly as the guards were. Above his smiling visage, his name was written. Below it, the question,

"What is my middle name?"

I now knew why the fellow in the elevator was so frustrated and I laughed even louder.

I looked at the guards and answered, snapping my fingers for effect.

"His middle name is Walter, the G is silent!"

The guards snapped their fingers again, pulled on the screen, which was in fact a door, and beckoned me to enter the club.

The interior of the club was very dimly lit. The air vibrated with the sounds of Coltrane and Parker. It was crowded, which surprised me, and the patrons were all seated at closely packed tables. The black walls sucked all ambient light out of the space. There was a stage, where a performer was reading Howl by Allen Ginsberg. The patrons were all dressed appropriately in black. They snapped their fingers every few minutes in approval.

The only bright spots in the entire space where the waiters and bartenders, who were humanoid chrome robots, featureless and shiny. I squinted my eyes and scanned the room for Frank. He was seated in a corner. I approached and he noticed me, motioning me to sit. One of the waiter-bots approached.

"My friend, Sean here, will have a Ferlinghetti, and I'll have a Kerouac on the rocks."

"My God, Frank, what kind of drinks are those?"

"Don't worry, the Ferlinghetti is a Manhattan made with San Francisco vermouth, and the Kerouac is just a cheap Scotch," he said smiling in my direction, "well, I see you're alive, that's definitely a positive. How did it go? Do you have your memory back?"

"Some of it, the technical stuff. Personal stuff they kept as leverage. One of Yurgo's  goons was there, but he seemed reasonable. I'm supposed to meet him and Yurgo in the morning to give him Miles' memory stuff."

The waiter brought over our drinks. I took a sip, it was good. Frank clinked glasses with me, shaking his head slowly from side to side.
"Here's to you, man, you are certifiably insane. Miles is going to kill you... Several times."

"To hell with Miles. He has to find me first. Jackie thinks he killed Claire, you know. Screw him."

"A brave man. Let's finish this drink and head to my place. We can talk about how you're going to stay alive tomorrow."

By the time I exited the elevator into the parking garage I was exhausted. I'd  been pushed around California like a pawn on a chessboard and I was sick of it. I needed some time to actually take in everything that had happened, to process all that I'd learned.

Another shock awaited me when I arrived at the parking spot where Bogey was supposed to be. The car wasn't there. Frank was as confused as I was. I was on the verge of panic, when suddenly I heard a horn and looked swiftly to its source and saw  Bogey approaching. He pulled up in all his tangerine glory and the doors swung opened. We got in.

Bogie addressed us as soon as we were both in the car.
"My apologies for not being here to greet you, however two unknown males attempted to break into me. Since I have no defensive capabilities, I chose to flee in order to protect the items you have secured in the floor safe, Sean."

"Thank you Bogie, I appreciate your diligence. You said you didn't recognize these guys?" I asked.

"I did not, however I did record them on my exterior cameras if you would care to look."

"Yes, please." Frank and I stared into the screen on the back of the driver seat. The images appeared and my eyes widened.

"I know these guys, Frank. These are the two thugs that were with Preston when he was strong-arming me back at my house. This is not good news."

"No, Sean, it's not. I don't think it safe back at either of our places. Bogey! Take us to the nearest hotel."

"Very well, Frank, that would be the Red Lion Inn. Arrival in five minutes."

I almost dropped from exhaustion when Frank and I finally settled into our room. It was a relief to be off the street. We ordered some room service and chowed down. I finally felt like a human being again. Frank suddenly began laughing.

"You and Bogey certainly seem to hit it off. He addressed you before he even spoke to me. I think I should be jealous."

"He sure is something. Are all the cars as smart as he is. He's actually kind of weird sometimes, he claims that he's just a program, but it doesn't feel like it."

"No, Sean, Bogie is actually unique. I let a friend of mine from down at Caltech program him and upgrade him as a doctorate project. He changes a little every day. He's something all right." Frankie yawned and turned in my direction, "I think we should get some shut-eye and get up early in the morning. Then we can figure out what you can do to stay alive. It sounds like Yurgo is your best bet. Miles doesn't seem to have your best interest at heart and I get the impression he's very suspicious of you."

"Yeah, sleep sounds great. My brain needs a rest. Man, tomorrow is really going to suck!"