07-12-2014, 06:34 PM
3 July 2007
Washington, D.C.
The grass began to die months ago. Only from a higher elevation could a person see the green gone to yellow but the air hung with a humidity that trapped in the heat and the stink of the day. Cigarette smoke and dog shit heavy in places where signs prohibiting smoking or shitting.
A tall thin woman and her 12-year-old daughter left the National Air and Space Museum in the late afternoon. Carla Romero wasn't fond of this city. It made her sick for Ottawa. Nothing in the world had ever made her sick for Ottawa and yet this place did it to her.
It was a Thursday. This meant nothing to her when she awoke this morning. She had taken a personal day from work though she had no intention of celebrating the holiday. Something told her she needed to be with her daughter today.
"Why can't Marcia and Chrissie ever spend the night at our house?" her daughter was asking. "That's so stupid, I spend the night at their place all the time but they can't come over?"
"Honey..."
"No, I'm serious. It's stupid and weird."
"There's no one to keep an eye on you girls."
"You're gonna be home! And Dad never leaves the house, it's--"
"We've been over this how many times?"
"Like, a gajillion. It's still stupid. They're gonna start thinking I live in a cardboard box by the river or something."
Carla laughed a dry sad laugh.
"Do you really care what they think?" she asked.
"Yes! They're my friends."
"If they're your friends, your real friends, they won't care if you live in a cardboard box or if you live in a mansion."
"It's still really weird that they can't come over."
"I hate to have to be the one to break it to you, baby, but life is really weird."
"Yeah, well. I hate going over to Chrissie's all the time. Her brother's friends won't leave us alone. Last time they picked the lock on Chrissie's door and farted on us and ran back out again."
Carla laughed again.
"It's not funny, Mom!"
"I'm sorry. You're right. That's disgusting."
"Nobody farts on anybody else at our house."
"I know, baby."
"So next time, can they come over?"
"We'll talk about it later."
"Why can't we talk about it now?"
"Because it's about ninety degrees outside and I want ice cream."
"Mom, you're not supposed to have ice cream."
"Gelato, then. Crushed ice. I don't care. Talk to me about a sleepover after the brain freeze is gone."
Miserable in such a way only preteen girls can be miserable but her daughter laughed anyway.
"Okay," she said.
---
3 July 2---
Undisclosed Location
A man sits alone in a dim-lit conference room staring at a map of the flat galaxy lit up on the opposite wall. The man is tired and he feels the ghost of heaviness on his fourth finger where a band of metal once sat. Only an hour earlier he'd worn a suit and tie and his hair combed into order but he's lost the tie and his hair has loosed its binds. This isn't where he's supposed to be at this hour but if the chairman of the committee can't sit in a chair in his own committee's locus during off hours then what's the point.
When the door opens the light from the hallway brightens the space and the silhouette of his cabalmate comes to stand in its center. Her evening gown falls to her ankles and her thin-heeled shoes boost her several inches taller than her normal height. Coastal American accenting her English. His is a traveler's accent. She's never been able to place it.
"What're you doing?" she asks.
"Sitting," he says.
"So I see." She steps over the threshold so the door can slide shut and crosses the room to the table. "Getting too old to hang?"
"What?" he asks.
"You know." She holds her thumb and pinky extended and waggles it back and forth. "Parrrtyyy."
That makes him laugh. He cants back in his chair and tears his eyes away from the map.
"You're nervous," she says.
"I'm not nervous."
"Yes you are."
"I'm not!"
"Doctor Abandonato--"
"Ohho!"
"--while I recognize the fate of the world rests upon your maintaining a stoic disposition at all times, might I remind you that this is a party, not a wake?"
"Wakes are a form of party, you know."
"Mm hmm."
"Or so I've read."
"You're thinking of a funeral ceremony."
"Is a ceremony not a form of party?"
"You should come back out."
"Professor Denning isn't still lurking about, is he?"
"I haven't seen him in a while."
"That doesn't mean he isn't lurking."
Dr. Morgan smirks and holds out a hand to coax Dr. Abandonato out of his chair. She releases him once he's on his feet again.
"He knows I've a death ray under my jacket, doesn't he?"
"Behave."
Dr. Morgan walks ahead of him and the door opens ahead of her. She's out in the corridor when Dr. Abandonato stops to look back at the map of the galaxy. Could make out Earth if he bid the screen zoom itself closer but he stands on the threshold with his hands in his pockets thinking simultaneous thoughts and Morgan is halfway down the corridor before she realizes she's left him.
"Khaled," she says. He turns. She smiles. "It's going to be okay."
"Right," he says.
This time she waits for him to come abreast of her before she walks back to the ballroom.
---
3 July 2014
Denver, CO
"It's a good thing I can pull up your phone's data consumption from my phone without having to go into town and find a computer with an Internet connection, else I might start to think you'd joined a Luddite commune. That's the only explanation I have for why I haven't heard from you in over a month."
Alicia was sitting on a bench in Washington Park staring at the face of her long-dead green watch and smoking a cigarette. She'd already watched five joggers trot past and watched a man and his golden retriever wrestle with a frisbee on the grass for several seconds before deciding to amble on elsewhere. Her mother had called just now and she had answered. Had to sit and think quick what time it would be in Dar es Salaam. Five a.m. at least. Her mother was probably waiting for her coffee to brew.
"Sorry," Alicia said.
"It's alright, I just wanted to hear your voice. How are you?"
"I'm fine, Mom."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, I'm in Denver now."
"You hook up with friends out there or something?"
"Yeah, I found a couple people."
"How about work? Are you working?"
"I dunno. I'm not really qualified to do anything."
"You can wait tables. Pump gas. Get yourself into a mailroom somewhere. You're a smart girl, you could--"
"Mom..."
"I thought you were going to start applying for schools so you could go in the fall."
"Yeah... I mean, I was, but..."
"Honey, I know it's hard, but you're not your father's keeper. Maybe that fight was the best thing that could have happened for you. You're almost twenty, it's time to find your own path. You know?"
That was when the heat flashed up through the core of her and melted what had froze inside her head. She swallowed it down so her mother wouldn't hear her sniffle over the phone. January was when she opened her eyes. When her father told her what the men in black had done to Carla. That she mustn't know about any of this. They conspired together. Fabricated lies together.
Tell her we've had a row, and you said if I don't go back to hospital you're going to hitchhike out west, and I wouldn't go back, so you left.
That isn't true though. You don't need to be in a hospital.
So far as she knows it is true. So far as they'll know she'll think it's true.
No. You talk to her. I can't do it, you know I can't lie to her.
She'd sat out in the parking lot of the budget motel watching the desolate highway roar every so often with eighteen-wheelers headed inland listening to one end of an argument. Hadn't meant to listen but the walls were thin and her father's ears had been ringing all week. His eyes hadn't been blown-out black anymore but he couldn't hear worth a damn and he yelled not because he was angry but because he couldn't tell he was yelling. When she had gone back inside her father hugged her and apologized but back then Alicia didn't cry like she cries these days. That had been nearly two months ago.
"Yeah," she said now.
"And taking a year off is fine. I did it myself. Going to college straightaway if you aren't sure what you want to study is a waste of money in this economy."
"Uh huh."
"But you've gotta do something, baby. Drifting isn't good for you."
"I know."
"Okay."
"Why did you have to go to Tanzania?"
"I have to go where they tell me to go, baby. It comes with the job."
"I know. I'm just... it sucks that you're so far away."
"It won't be forever. I'll be back in D.C. next year, and if you're still struggling, you can come on back home, and we'll figure something out." Alicia pulled the phone away from her face so her mother couldn't hear her. "But I really do think this is good for you. Okay?"
A wet drag on the cigarette made her voice sound choked but her mother knew she smoked by now. The cigarette tasted like the dregs of the filter so she threw it down on the ground.
"Uh huh," she said as she exhaled.
"Alright. I'm gonna let you go. Please keep in touch so I don't have to spy on you, huh?"
"I will."
"Promise me."
"I promise, Mom."
"Alright. Have a good night. I love you."
"I love you too. Have a good day."
Two minutes for her to sit and cry and think not about what she's going to do with her life but what she's going to do for the rest of today. About her dead watch. Another glance down at it and she feels she can tell what time it is even if the battery hasn't given off a charge in two months.
Two minutes pass before the scene bleeds into another. Another night, Kalen would have changed direction to avoid Alicia on the park bench. Some other time when he hadn't been talking about unity and better worlds.
Ah. Good evening.
Washington, D.C.
The grass began to die months ago. Only from a higher elevation could a person see the green gone to yellow but the air hung with a humidity that trapped in the heat and the stink of the day. Cigarette smoke and dog shit heavy in places where signs prohibiting smoking or shitting.
A tall thin woman and her 12-year-old daughter left the National Air and Space Museum in the late afternoon. Carla Romero wasn't fond of this city. It made her sick for Ottawa. Nothing in the world had ever made her sick for Ottawa and yet this place did it to her.
It was a Thursday. This meant nothing to her when she awoke this morning. She had taken a personal day from work though she had no intention of celebrating the holiday. Something told her she needed to be with her daughter today.
"Why can't Marcia and Chrissie ever spend the night at our house?" her daughter was asking. "That's so stupid, I spend the night at their place all the time but they can't come over?"
"Honey..."
"No, I'm serious. It's stupid and weird."
"There's no one to keep an eye on you girls."
"You're gonna be home! And Dad never leaves the house, it's--"
"We've been over this how many times?"
"Like, a gajillion. It's still stupid. They're gonna start thinking I live in a cardboard box by the river or something."
Carla laughed a dry sad laugh.
"Do you really care what they think?" she asked.
"Yes! They're my friends."
"If they're your friends, your real friends, they won't care if you live in a cardboard box or if you live in a mansion."
"It's still really weird that they can't come over."
"I hate to have to be the one to break it to you, baby, but life is really weird."
"Yeah, well. I hate going over to Chrissie's all the time. Her brother's friends won't leave us alone. Last time they picked the lock on Chrissie's door and farted on us and ran back out again."
Carla laughed again.
"It's not funny, Mom!"
"I'm sorry. You're right. That's disgusting."
"Nobody farts on anybody else at our house."
"I know, baby."
"So next time, can they come over?"
"We'll talk about it later."
"Why can't we talk about it now?"
"Because it's about ninety degrees outside and I want ice cream."
"Mom, you're not supposed to have ice cream."
"Gelato, then. Crushed ice. I don't care. Talk to me about a sleepover after the brain freeze is gone."
Miserable in such a way only preteen girls can be miserable but her daughter laughed anyway.
"Okay," she said.
---
3 July 2---
Undisclosed Location
A man sits alone in a dim-lit conference room staring at a map of the flat galaxy lit up on the opposite wall. The man is tired and he feels the ghost of heaviness on his fourth finger where a band of metal once sat. Only an hour earlier he'd worn a suit and tie and his hair combed into order but he's lost the tie and his hair has loosed its binds. This isn't where he's supposed to be at this hour but if the chairman of the committee can't sit in a chair in his own committee's locus during off hours then what's the point.
When the door opens the light from the hallway brightens the space and the silhouette of his cabalmate comes to stand in its center. Her evening gown falls to her ankles and her thin-heeled shoes boost her several inches taller than her normal height. Coastal American accenting her English. His is a traveler's accent. She's never been able to place it.
"What're you doing?" she asks.
"Sitting," he says.
"So I see." She steps over the threshold so the door can slide shut and crosses the room to the table. "Getting too old to hang?"
"What?" he asks.
"You know." She holds her thumb and pinky extended and waggles it back and forth. "Parrrtyyy."
That makes him laugh. He cants back in his chair and tears his eyes away from the map.
"You're nervous," she says.
"I'm not nervous."
"Yes you are."
"I'm not!"
"Doctor Abandonato--"
"Ohho!"
"--while I recognize the fate of the world rests upon your maintaining a stoic disposition at all times, might I remind you that this is a party, not a wake?"
"Wakes are a form of party, you know."
"Mm hmm."
"Or so I've read."
"You're thinking of a funeral ceremony."
"Is a ceremony not a form of party?"
"You should come back out."
"Professor Denning isn't still lurking about, is he?"
"I haven't seen him in a while."
"That doesn't mean he isn't lurking."
Dr. Morgan smirks and holds out a hand to coax Dr. Abandonato out of his chair. She releases him once he's on his feet again.
"He knows I've a death ray under my jacket, doesn't he?"
"Behave."
Dr. Morgan walks ahead of him and the door opens ahead of her. She's out in the corridor when Dr. Abandonato stops to look back at the map of the galaxy. Could make out Earth if he bid the screen zoom itself closer but he stands on the threshold with his hands in his pockets thinking simultaneous thoughts and Morgan is halfway down the corridor before she realizes she's left him.
"Khaled," she says. He turns. She smiles. "It's going to be okay."
"Right," he says.
This time she waits for him to come abreast of her before she walks back to the ballroom.
---
3 July 2014
Denver, CO
"It's a good thing I can pull up your phone's data consumption from my phone without having to go into town and find a computer with an Internet connection, else I might start to think you'd joined a Luddite commune. That's the only explanation I have for why I haven't heard from you in over a month."
Alicia was sitting on a bench in Washington Park staring at the face of her long-dead green watch and smoking a cigarette. She'd already watched five joggers trot past and watched a man and his golden retriever wrestle with a frisbee on the grass for several seconds before deciding to amble on elsewhere. Her mother had called just now and she had answered. Had to sit and think quick what time it would be in Dar es Salaam. Five a.m. at least. Her mother was probably waiting for her coffee to brew.
"Sorry," Alicia said.
"It's alright, I just wanted to hear your voice. How are you?"
"I'm fine, Mom."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, I'm in Denver now."
"You hook up with friends out there or something?"
"Yeah, I found a couple people."
"How about work? Are you working?"
"I dunno. I'm not really qualified to do anything."
"You can wait tables. Pump gas. Get yourself into a mailroom somewhere. You're a smart girl, you could--"
"Mom..."
"I thought you were going to start applying for schools so you could go in the fall."
"Yeah... I mean, I was, but..."
"Honey, I know it's hard, but you're not your father's keeper. Maybe that fight was the best thing that could have happened for you. You're almost twenty, it's time to find your own path. You know?"
That was when the heat flashed up through the core of her and melted what had froze inside her head. She swallowed it down so her mother wouldn't hear her sniffle over the phone. January was when she opened her eyes. When her father told her what the men in black had done to Carla. That she mustn't know about any of this. They conspired together. Fabricated lies together.
Tell her we've had a row, and you said if I don't go back to hospital you're going to hitchhike out west, and I wouldn't go back, so you left.
That isn't true though. You don't need to be in a hospital.
So far as she knows it is true. So far as they'll know she'll think it's true.
No. You talk to her. I can't do it, you know I can't lie to her.
She'd sat out in the parking lot of the budget motel watching the desolate highway roar every so often with eighteen-wheelers headed inland listening to one end of an argument. Hadn't meant to listen but the walls were thin and her father's ears had been ringing all week. His eyes hadn't been blown-out black anymore but he couldn't hear worth a damn and he yelled not because he was angry but because he couldn't tell he was yelling. When she had gone back inside her father hugged her and apologized but back then Alicia didn't cry like she cries these days. That had been nearly two months ago.
"Yeah," she said now.
"And taking a year off is fine. I did it myself. Going to college straightaway if you aren't sure what you want to study is a waste of money in this economy."
"Uh huh."
"But you've gotta do something, baby. Drifting isn't good for you."
"I know."
"Okay."
"Why did you have to go to Tanzania?"
"I have to go where they tell me to go, baby. It comes with the job."
"I know. I'm just... it sucks that you're so far away."
"It won't be forever. I'll be back in D.C. next year, and if you're still struggling, you can come on back home, and we'll figure something out." Alicia pulled the phone away from her face so her mother couldn't hear her. "But I really do think this is good for you. Okay?"
A wet drag on the cigarette made her voice sound choked but her mother knew she smoked by now. The cigarette tasted like the dregs of the filter so she threw it down on the ground.
"Uh huh," she said as she exhaled.
"Alright. I'm gonna let you go. Please keep in touch so I don't have to spy on you, huh?"
"I will."
"Promise me."
"I promise, Mom."
"Alright. Have a good night. I love you."
"I love you too. Have a good day."
Two minutes for her to sit and cry and think not about what she's going to do with her life but what she's going to do for the rest of today. About her dead watch. Another glance down at it and she feels she can tell what time it is even if the battery hasn't given off a charge in two months.
Two minutes pass before the scene bleeds into another. Another night, Kalen would have changed direction to avoid Alicia on the park bench. Some other time when he hadn't been talking about unity and better worlds.
Ah. Good evening.
Look. I have school. And RP. And all my other time is taken up by sheer, unreasoning panic. I don't have time for Reddit.
-- ixphaelaeon
-- ixphaelaeon