Let's watch it again (Inc)

 I want to believe in time travel
That one day I'll come back for you.

 "Don't forget to finish watching Inside Job". Dave sneered at his TV. He hated getting homework from apps. He was just old enough to remember when they were called "Software". It was annoying but it wasn't at the forefront of his mind. It was a little after 10pm. He had a long day tomorrow. As a social worker, he was well acquainted with self-destruction. He had therapeutically advised against alcohol, harder drugs, unprotected sex, and the near universal-human tendency for the unhappy to lash out. Staying up too late watching one your ex's favorite shows should've been on that list too, despite the specificity.

He did like it, despite the sad vibes now attached to it. He had remembered hearing about before he started dating Shelia. It looked like yet another "Adult animation" algorithmically-generated show. She was a huge. She liked TV in general. She would watch a show she liked "At least three times". She had told him one day rewatching a show was like "Getting back together with old friends". His heart melted when he first heard that. Dave remembered his childhood was similar. He never really had a solid circle of friends until college. He remembered hearing in grad school the act of "cultivating gratitude". He kept that in mind when he thought about his friends today. Many men his age just plain didn't have friends.

Shelia was very close to her parents and big sister. She told him one day "Between my parents and my pets, I never really had time for friends". He was a little shocked to hear this because Shelia was so supportive and kind. It was the best romantic relationship he had ever had in his 38+ years. Until it just ended. Then restarted. Then ended again. 

The show that he used to both distract and maldaptively remind him of his ex girlfriend was about conspiracies. The main character, Reagan, was a 30 year old roboticist who worked for a central hub for conspiracies. The show diligently referenced dozens of "real" conspiracies. Everything from Bohemian Grove to hollow Earth was explored and satirized. He wound up liking the show way more than he thought he would. It started as something he did with Shelia because he wanted her to be happy. Over time, he started to enjoy it himself.

Dave was about 11 years older than Shelia, so there were a few times he felt a dumb need to point out that the real life references in the the show . He wondered if he had accidentally mansplained that to her. This behavior was something Dave was aware of but worried that he unintentionally engaged in. Dave was at a point in his life in which he assumed most women were smarter than him. He knew for a fact the average woman was a better driver than him! He also observed that most women were significantly more into sports than he was. He also knew this attitude was problematic it it's own way. 

His body wanted to sleep but his mind didn't. He had made a New Year's resolution to go to bed early each night with partial success. There were two episodes left. The first season had been split in half, with nearly a year between both halves. It was a little painful for Inside Job heads as the show had been greenlight for another season before the renewal being rescinded. It reminded him a little bit of the relationship itself. Shelia had ended it, then rescinded the break up, before breaking up again. All within about 3 weeks.  

    Do you want to watch again?

 

This was new. He had never seen this option before. Like right now, do I want to watch again what I just fucking saw? That was more her thing. She said she usually watched a show at least three times. They were her old friends after all. He imagined snuggling with her on a couch, decades from now. Old and happy together, he significantly more so, watching whatever she wanted to watch again for the umpteenth time. Both loving it. She didn't want children. He was ambivalent about it. Their shared passions would be their baby. It could've kept us together. Plenty of relationships were built on worse things. 

He took and swig and got up. Dave wasn't much a drinker but the past week had been an exception. He didn't really get drunk drunk. He just spaced out his $28 bottle of Mezcal each day to keep him feeling shitty. There was about 3 shots left in his Xicaru. He knew he would feel a small measure of relief when the bottle was empty. I'll wait another month and get another.

He clomped up the stairs. He ran the shower. It took a little while to heat up, so he clomped down the stairs again. There was enough time to pack and smoke a bowl. Back up the stairs he went again for a nice, indulgent shower. He read somewhere people who take too long showers are "touch starved". They make up for a lack of human contact in their life with hot water. This became one of those facts that seemed powerful and meaningful without any clear application to the knower's life. Dave got in and promptly sat down in the shower. He knew it was weird, shut up!

He had that feeling that you usually only start experiencing after the age of 28. He was tired and he knew that after a half night's sleep, he'd wake up  tired. There was enough alcohol in him to wake up him at the uncomfortably existential hours of 3, maybe 4am. He didn't really have anything to do the day after, it just felt like a bummer knowing it wouldn't be a full day. 

About 18 minutes later, he got out of the shower and went downstairs. Dave had never successfully grew a real beard, but knew the appeal of stubble. He remembered a client at work telling him "your facial hair grows in evenly. That must be nice". He did shave his. He knew neckbeard was both an attitude and a look he wanted to avoid. He took another long shower again. He wanted to get it right. He was excited to see Shelia again, despite the impossibility of doing it again. 

He drove to Farm to Table. It was right on the state road, which made the ride pleasant. His favorite college A Cappella station had ended it's decade long run, to the surprise of no one. He had found another one on a different app but it wasn't the same.

                                Do you want to watch again?

Was still on the screen. It hadn't even gone slightly dark, a screensaver function he was used to. Sure, whatever. I can't be in my head right now. The first episode was pretty good. Usually the first episode of animated series if awkward but they got it right. He picked up his Playstation 3 controller and pushed X. He liked that it still worked, despite being almost 15 years old. The only thing it could do was run Netflix, Youtube, and PS3 games of course. There was darkness. Nothing appeared on the TV. He waited. He waited. His neck felt sore. His chest hurt.

____________________________________________________________________________________

It was morning. He was sitting on the floor and looking at his plugged in cellphone. Good morning! I'm excited to meet you today! He was confused. Who's this? Why is it day already? I don't remember going to sleep. Dave felt pretty good. Well rested and not hungover. He did feel a little sweaty. Did I turn the heat up too much? It was the 2nd of January in a dry, bitterly cold winter. There wasn't even the wonder of snow flakes. He had nothing nice to look at during his work trips. Dave hated the snow like a true New Englander but he did miss looking at it. The trees were dead and barren, or at least they were...yesterday? Dave glanced out his window and saw that they were, in fact, fully leaved. 

He looked at the text msg again. It was Shelia. What was she talking about? Why does it say July 1st? He looked at the whole thread, there was only 8 texts, barely a scroll-downs worth. Shelia and Dave had texted constantly for most of the relationship, until it fell apart. He looked at the calendar. It said July 1st, 2022. That can't be right. He looked at his calendar reminders. It was function on his phone he used even more than texts or, uggh, gross, calls. Meet Shelia at Farm to Table, 1pm. That was our first date. That's when we met.

I'm excited to meet you too! He texted, sure of his action but not of the situation. He had about two hours before he had to leave. He packed a bowl on his coffee table that he was positive he had broken a few weeks ago and clomped upstairs. He had to shower and shave his neck. He knew the appeal of manicured stumble. He remembered one of his client's telling him "your facial hair grows evenly. That must be nice". David knew that being a neckbeard was an aesthetic and mindset he didn't want to have. He groomed himself and got into his car. His favorite A Capella station had shut down, much to the surprise of no one. He had found another one but it wasn't the same. It was a nice drive to Farm to Table. He got into the car, realized it was too hot for a long sleeve, felt the need to get out to take his button down off, then got back in and threw it in the backseat.

The heat made him a little nauseous. 80F was not that bad, by itself. Rather, Dave felt more acclimated to winter, the winter he swore he was in last night.  It would take a week or two, usually, for him to get used to the season. Dave was ready for the winter but his phone and the air was shouting summer. As person working in mental health, he felt his own decompensation would be inevitable. Am I going crazy? Was I really just one breakup away from Funky Town? He parked. He went inside. It was not too crowded. A good balance of people for a first date. Too many people make conversations impossible. Nothing kills romance like what or I'm sorry, can you say that again? over and over. Too few people tend to make dates a little too intense. 

"Can I get a table for two please?" The server lead him down the hall. By the time he turned around, she was right there behind. Shelia was short and curvy. She wore a red dress and she wore it very well. Shelia herself described her face as "boyish". Dave always thought she looked a little like Mike from the first season of Stranger Things. Her hair was black and curly at the ends. He looked at her and just paused.

"Nice to meet you Dave! I'm Shelia". Dave smiled. I'm just going to roll with this. If she wants to pretend we never broke up, whatever, fine. I'll do it. His own internal logic. His own frantic attempt to explain this couldn't account for why the season changed. Is she going to gaslight me into thinking it's summer? He didn't care. He was just so happy to see her again.

The conversation went nearly identical to what he remembered. The only variances he could think of came from him. They were distinctions without meaning. Dave wouldn't dare trying to change any response or statements. He didn't want to.  He spent weeks that felt like years wanting to go back 6 months. Somehow, he had, or maybe Shelia was willing to pretend it was. Again, this desolate narrative he was willing to run with just to feel better couldn't explain   yesterday being winter and today being summer. 

As the day went on, he cared about it less and less. Their second first date was winding to an end. It was time to go. He asked her if he could walk her to her car. She agreed, like she had last time. When they got there, she rushed in to kiss him like she did last time. Later that evening, he sent her a meme from her favorite video game Dragon Age. She loled, like she had last time. He went to bed, surprised to see his air conditioner back in the window. 

There was sharp pain, followed by a dull ache all over his body. He could feel icy rain on his check. It was foggy. He was about a quarter mile from Shelia's home. He was leaning slightly on top of the steering wheel. It was not a spot where a driver should be. It was a foggy, dark, rainy night but his own vision was spotty too. He thought he saw flashing blue and red lights. He felt something warm and wet as he tried to push off from the steering wheel. His body was not fully cooperating.

Dave sprung out of bed. It was still summer. He felt good. He didn't have that lingering chill he felt....yesterday? He remembered when he was a boy, his late maternal grandpa would tell him "when you get older, the winter gets in your bones". He went about his day. He lifted weights at a Planet Fitness. It was more enjoyable and quicker when he could just exercise and not troll through the dating apps. So, are we starting over or picking up where we left off? There was that uncomfortable ambiguity again. He liked uncertainty in his fiction, not in his life. Especially in his love life. He ended his workout on a treadmill. Dave got a lot of satisfaction about a long walk to nowhere. 

She texted him later that evening. What'chu doin'. The same thing she used to back when she was more... or first? interested in him. He left out his tiny terror over maybe losing my fucking mind! and said he was playing a video game. He was playing video game. One he swore he beat but his save file completion percentage said otherwise. 

The game was about a woman looking for her missing brother in a strange Federal Bureaucracy. The game was more odd than scary but was very unsettling. The monsters and the talking furnaces were creepy but what stuck with Dave was a poem. Sometimes the bad guys in the game would recite it while trying to kill her. Leave your insides by the door. 

We wait in the stains.

You have always been the new you. 

You want this to be true. 

They texted for a while. Dave didn't have a particularity great memory. Even before the pot. It was not photographic but it was very nostalgic. He remembered much of the beats and Shelia factoids she had shared before. She sent him a video of her cats, Simon and Marcy chasing after the more senior Mischief. She loved her pets. He liked her pets. He loved that she loved her pets. He scrolled through his phone to look for the picture of them together he loved but probably should've deleted by now but hadn't because he couldn't bear to. 

I like your pets. I can tell you take great care of them!

Thanks love :-) You're so sweet!

Dave couldn't remember if he had said that before...or now? Did it matter? Would it make a difference? He vaguely remembered Mischief dying around this time. Should I tell her? Will it make a difference or just creep her out? 

How's Mischief?

Is she going to tell me new? I don't remember if I asked her about him. I mean, I'm sure I asked her about her cats all the time but did I ask about Mischief at this day at this time?

His thoughts raced in a jumble of longing, relief, and worry over fucking it up again!

Am I changing the past or remembering it wrong?

The words pushed their way from his churning mind to his lips. It gave the impossible room to breathe. To be seen. 

He's a cranky old man but I love him to death!

She sent him a picture. He didn't look well.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

So I think this is a nice place for you and I to have a picnic. Here's a picture

Just like last time, the best Google picture of Sweet's Knoll had someone's wacky, teetotaler Portuguese uncle hamming it up in front of the sign post.

Is that your dad?

Lol, no, that's just some guy on Google. What do you think of the park? It's open, easy to navigate, and right off route 138 near the police station. 

There was a pause. Was there a pause last time? Dave wondered if he had a tendency to make himself too quick to respond to texts. 

It looks great! Do you want to meet there Saturday around 1?

Dave remembered their 2nd date was a Saturday. Today...? was a Thursday evening but he didn't know if it was the same one he lived before. Dave had been living in this time warp, acting like nothing was different but absolutely screaming within.  He was vaguely aware of news and the little pebbles of work problems ahead of him but he wasn't focused enough to act on them. All he could think about was Shelia. This, 2nd?...chance consumed him. Everything else was going through the motions as exactly as last time as he could recall. He was terrified of popping this little impossible bubble.

Sounds good! I'll pick up some snacks Saturday and see you then!

Okay! Bring your swimsuit ;-)

:-)

Dave smiled. He remembered how this picnic unfolded.

___________________________________________________________-

It was dark and cold. Did time switch back? He felt the pain in his chest again. There were "floaties" in the distance. The blue and cherry lights were crowding his vision.

______________________________________________________________________________________

Dave woke up again. He felt hot with a damp film on his chest. It definitely felt like July. He forgot to put his AC on last night before he went to bed. He got up, turned it on, and flopped back into bed. It was a comfortable half hour in the fog of half awake and asleep. His eyes darted open again. He knew there was no chance to return and got out of bed. 

He drank half an iced coffee from Cumberland farms he purchased the day before. Iced coffee was an all year sort of thing but days like today felt particularly suited for it. He lounged for a few moments before his stomach awoke. Dave liked doing his bio-business as soon as he woke up so the rest of the day felt more self-determined. He debated on the merits a full shave before deciding on 2 days of stubble and a fresh neck. Dave wondered if he would've been married years ago if he knew how off putting neck beards were.

He swung by the Stop & Shop on his way to the park. Shelia was a vegetarian with a sweet tooth. He picked up berries, humus, water, pita, and chocolates. It felt like enough. He remembered neither himself or her tatting much that day. At least at the park. They managed to work up an appetite later that day. He loaded up his goods and drove to Sweet's Knoll. He wondered if his algorithm suggested music was different this time around. 

This place is nice!

It's my favorite park. I come here all the time.

He unloaded the snacks and slung them over his should. She bounced up to him. He put his hand on her waist and kissed her. I missed this. It feels so good. This was when she liked the way he touched her. They walked into the forest. 

They walked into the forest alongside the old rail line. Trees now grew inbetween the planks like there was no hard feelings. The branches loomed overheard. The knoll was a small park. It was the sort of place you'd assume was just someone's backyard by the way it looked. Take a couple steps and it opens up to a woodsy loop, a river, and a foothill. It was the sort of place Dave would go to year 'round. 

 Here we are! We can put our stuff down on the bridge.

The abandoned track was broke up by a bridge. There was a 3 foot gap that could be crossed by balancing on the floating wooden plank. The perfect level of risk/reward for a teen. Dave and Shelia plopped down on a stone crevice. Dave took a few steps to the side and started changign into his bathing suit. For the...second? time, he left his bathing suit in the cooler and not his backpack. Both and future times, Shelia would joke about this in bed. It was bold. I liked it. 

She was in a black two piece. Dave tried to not gawk. He remembered liking her profile picture. She was cute and curvy. He eased himself into the water. It was cool and murky, but warming than you'd think. She hopped in as well. They swam around each other. They chatted. 

He remembered what she did..last? time. He knew he just had to look away for a little bit. She needed time to "suprise him". He knew what was coming but it still felt fresh. Exciting. A novelty impossibly fused with nostalgia. With yearning. He turned around and looked at the houses near the shore. He wondered if they were nice enough to be worth it. He turned around.

She took her top off. Dave remebered the first? time. She looked like naked what he imagined she'd look like naked. It was still amazing. Your top is off. I know. He drifted towards her. He put his hand on her waist and drew her close. Her bare chest rested on his. She closed her eyes as her checks flushed.

Let's go back to my place.

sad goals

I've had this blog for years. I'm going to make a serious effort to finish some of these stories this summer.

A Social Disease (Inc)

A social disease

“Bitch! Bitch, you fucking bitch!”

He was back again. Liz did not know who this “he” was. She wondered how masculine this body-less, nasty encumbrance could really be? Was this once a horrible man or a toxic amalgamation? He started pounding on the glass door. She tried not to look but it was like an itch that could niether not be ignored or relived.Like getting insulted by a boar before he gored you.

“Ms. Arone? Ms. Arone? Hello”

She turned back to the interviewer. “Yes, sorry. I had a crink in my neck. It needed a stretch”

“I get that too Liz. Sorry, Ms. Arone”

She who should not be named “Liz” chortled. “We’ve been friends for two years, Courtney. Just call me by my name”

“I can’t. We’re not friends at this very moment! I’m sorry but I’m HR and I take objectivity very seriously. We’re not friends again until this promotion interview is over”

“So, we’re not friends for the next five minutes?”

“Don’t rush me, Ms. Arone. You don’t know where we are in the interview”

“I do, I helped you write it. Remember?”

Courtney curled her bottom lip under her top one. She did forget and it was embarrassing. All that righteousness evaporated in an error.

“Ok, fine. We are almost done. So here we go, ready? Last question: How will your e-sales outperform traditional phone orders and personal relationships with bulk purchasing customers?”

“I’ll FUCK YOU TILL YOU LOVE ME!!!” His fist barreled through the glass. It smashed to the floor. Liz knew he was starting to cross over again. She remembered to look as surprised as Courtney. She even timed turning her head in time with her too.

“What the Hell was that?” Courtney got up from behind her desk and inspected the wreckage. His bellows went right through her. She didn’t even flinch at his presence as he fumed and gestured at Liz through the half-broken door.

I need to get out of here. He’s going to be able to touch me soon. Let’s get this done.

“To answer your question, I don’t have an exact time table for my projective sales. I think a user-friendly website will supplement our sales significantly. Not matter how good it gets, some people are going to prefer phone sales. Or they like being wined and dined. They want their vendors to feel like friends. I understand that. This website isn’t intended to replace anything but rather open us up to more opportunities”.

 Courtney walked back to her desk. She picked up her phone and pushed one of the extension buttons. She looked at Liz and gave her a thumbs up while she waited for her call to reach the nearest intern.

“Hi, this is HR, but I’m also Courtney. Who’s this? Steve? Ok. I need you here with a dust bin. One of the glass doors broke. I don’t know what happened, it just broke. Yeah, it’s weird. I want this swept up and when you’re done, make the repair request. Great. Thanks” She grinned at Courtney. “Steve is kinda cute. But I want you to know I would have tasked the first person to answer”

Liz stared at him. In his rage, he hadn’t thought to simply reach and open the door from the other side. His arm darted in and around the gap in the glass.

Why does he hate me so much?

“Liz?”

She snapped back to her now resumed friend. “Of course. Steve looking like Steve is just a perk”

Courtney laughed and Liz tried to join in. A small part of Courtney could see the hesitation. The meek attempt to join in the levity.

He “let” her pass, somehow. It was more like he couldn’t get his “hands” on her. Liz would have more success in avoiding he if she let someone walk through him first. He seemed to be only able to hurt her. Most of the time. Even then, his ability to harm Liz with his touch fluctuated. He seemed to fade in and out of reality, in and out of observation or earshot. It was a persistent but inconsistent enough problem to keep Liz guessing. She’s had it for nearly two months.

I need some help. I thought I could beat this. I thought I could outlast this but enough is enough

Liz felt eyes resting upon her again. She did not anticipate a greeting. She looked around. There he was. Lingering. Not as haplessly endearing as he’d like to be was Jared, hunching at an angle that contributed to the awkwardness. She felt corned.

“Hi Jared”

“Hey Liz!”. He smiled. He lingered.

“What’s up?”

She flattened her lips. He was contributing just enough small talk to prompt a polite response from her. It was annoying.

“I just had my interview. I think I did well”

He leaned a little forward. “So you’re leaving us, huh? I’ll miss you. A lot.”

“I’m not leaving, I’m transferring. Or at least I hope to. This website is my baby”

He smirked. “There’s easier ways to have a baby, you know”. He pumped his eyebrows up and down. A gesture that is never not creepy.

“I think a week of codding is easier than 9 months and an additional 18 years”. It felt like just the right amount of polite push back to fuel her escape walk. He even backed up an inch. She trotted past him and waved. “See ya Jared!” She kept going.

“See ya Liz!”. She wished he wouldn’t. They were work friends and occasional bar buddy until he tried to kiss her. She wasn’t feeling it. She didn’t mind the attempt rather, it was the lingering aftermath. He seemed to alternate between a sad puppy and a problem dog. He often made her feel awkward and sometimes even threatened. It was vague and maybe even subconscious enough that she couldn’t bring it up with HR. She knew Courtney would have her back but she was right about her lack of objectivity. She was her friend, and the higher ups were not. Jared felt like an annoyance. Not the problem that was screaming at her. His cries of “CUNT!” kept interrupting the easy listening drifting through the lobby speakers.  

Normally Liz preferred to hand a human being some money but she was in a rush. There were no cabs in sight. She didn’t feel like calling and talking to someone. She fished blue notepad from her purse. She internally complimented herself for remembering to buy a new one and carrying over the tally from the last book’s last page.

15,735 miles, ¼ quarter tank full

Better get that oil change tomorrow

She added 9 to the tally and filled her gas tank with her pen. She pulled out a $20 from her purse. She looked around. A little busy.

“Magic is shy, Liz. It works better when the only witnesses are already on board”

Like most practitioners, she hated the M-word. But her friend, really her mentor, was right. She ducked to the side of the building and crouched behind a dumpster. She held the $20 in her hands. She looked at it. She believed in it. She tore it in half. The bill fluttered towards the ground before disappearing. Liz walked back to the front and waited by the curb. A blue Ford Escort rolled up to her. Liz was both delighted and horrified it was driverless. This usually worked but sometimes it would come with a “driver”. A silent driver composed of light, and the occasional comment. She hoped no one would notice it’s absence. The passenger’s door opened without a hand to guide it. She hoped in. She scooched herself to the driver’s seat. It felt like she was sitting on someone’s lap. He legs felt entwined with another. It was uncomfortable.

The car moved with Liz’s intended destination the only input. She didn’t like driving.  She saw him in the rear-view mirror. He was chasing her. Sometimes he went around and sometimes he’d go through other people. Other cars even! Sometimes he’d flicker into the sight of others. He caused swerving accidents. Sometimes he was angry enough to be hit himself. It made her feel guilty.

Samantha was in the zone. She had to concentrate if she wanted to more her fingers in the exact way. She couldn’t concentrate too much or her fingers would tremble. Talking to a friend was just distracting enough to find that balance. She flicked the paint brush on the little cheek. She wanted to get his complexion just right. She had to if she wanted to make this work.

“Do you think I made him too fat?”

Liz looked at the miniature. He was wearing the official branded vest over his button down. Samantha was glad she only had to wear the button down, tool belt, and khakis. She kind of liked khakis to be honest. Not as much as she liked her tool belt though.

“I don’t know what he looks like Sam, so maybe?”

She put him down. She got up and walked over to her digital camera. She fished through a few folders. “Here, look. This was from last month”. She handed Liz the camera. There was a beefy looking 40-something wearing the same outfit as his figurine representation. It was just blue instead of red. He smiled. He looked nice.

“Yeah, I think you got him. So you make the people too?”

“I don’t have to. It’s more about the building itself. I think it helps though. They get along with me better if I make little figures of them. It’s like they know!”

Liz furrowed her brow. “Did you make one of me?”

Samantha laughed. “Liz, we’re friends”. She got up and walked to her room. She came back with another diorama.

“Of course I made one of you, see?”. She handed it to Liz.

It was a miniature of the apartment they were sitting in. There was Liz, in what up until that moment was her favorite outfit complete with her “fun but functional” boots. Samantha was there as well. Hunched forward in sweat pants and She-Ra tank top. Sam gave her height, her stature, and presence an accurate adaptation. Their friends, their “coven” as they sometimes jokingly referred to was there as well. “I’d like to think we became closer over time, and we did, but this probably helped too”. She saw Liz frown. “Don’t be like that. It’s not as manipulative as I’m making it sound”

“I’ll take you at your word. It’s not like I understand anyways. This is your style”

“I’m really more about the building, the institution, than the people inside it. You know that. You can’t put a price on the peace of mind, the security you feel when you know you are the master of your home”

“I can put a price on anything”

Samantha smirked. “Can you put a price on this?”. She flicked her hand and drew circles towards her with her finger. The refrigerator opened. A pitcher of lemony water floated towards the two. A mug followed by another swooped down from a self-opened cabinet. They received the pitcher’s contents before landing on coasters. Samantha picked up her glass and sipped.

“Parlor tricks are always cheap, Sam. I’m not impressed with friggin’ cantrips anymore”.

“Did you have to use the c-word?”

Liz laughed. It felt good. She felt safe here. Samantha was queen here, master of her $1200 a month domain. She always made dioramas of her apartments. Her tools were usually the first thing she’d unpack.

Underground Dawn

She dreamt of when the world was cool. Things were hot now, really hot in the past, but back in the beginning, she had always been told, it was once cool. She often did this during the last weeks of summer. Most of her dreams had sights, sounds, and some sort of loose narrative she would often “start” in the middle of. Yet this dream was just a feeling. Coolness. Not the perfect temperature, not just right. Acceptable, comfortable even, but a little cool. Enough of a chill to grab your attention. Enough of a chill to take you out of your head and plop you back into the world. It was a coolness to be thankful for.

Wake up, baby

“Hmm?”

Wake up, it’s time. You know what you need to do.

“I need to help build the sun today”

Wake up

She awoke. Her mother was there. It wasn’t breakfast yet. She was still wearing the light white sheet she slept it. It covered her body loosely. She wore it like a soft breeze. She once heard, from a tipsy aunt, that her mom would “sometimes sleep naked”. It was not unheard of. People would do that. Though only when the heat lets up enough so you don’t sweat your bed through. She knew her mom and dad were, in fact, naked under their clothes but choose to deny that whenever possible.

“Good morning mom”

Mom came over to her and sat down.

“It’s not morning yet. Not without you sweetie”

She got out of bed and into the shower. She opened the valve and let a little lava in. She only wanted a warm shower. It was hot enough and too early for it to be cold. She felt dirty from yesterday. She had spent her evening running through the ash fields after school with her friends. She rubbed her bruised knee and winced after remembering tripping over a crystal berry bush. Those things were hard! Delicious but barely worth the effort in her opinion. Dad loved their jam and she never understood why.

After the lava brought her water tank to a steam, she drained the water and let it in. She brushed her skin with the pumice stone. When she was done, she stepped out of the shower and crushed the soft rock in her hands. She dried her body, mixed the stone with the remaining water, and rubbed moisture back into her skin. She went to replace the pumice stone and found the bathroom cabinet didn’t have anymore. She told herself to remind Mom at breakfast.

It was Dad’s turn to make breakfast. He cooked an egg and decided to splurge with not one but two ribs. It was quite a feast! Today was a special  day for her and the whole family. It was Dawn day, or New Year’s as some people called it.

She had reached the milestone, like her sister had before and like how her brother will someday. She was excited but also a little embarrassed with her families’ celebration.

When Dad cooked an egg, he liked to plop the whole thing down on the center of the table, sitting in its own shell. The popular method was to crack a small hole, bake the whole thing, remove it from the shell and serve on an elevated plate (with a bowl underneath to prevent a mess) for everyone to pick at. Dad liked to “Remember where these bad boys came from” and serve it the “old way”. The large, hard shell usually stayed intact but she did remember her brother once swallowed a fragment and “Couldn’t poop for three days” according to her big sister.

“Mom, we need some more pumice”.

“Thanks, we can grab some on the way back from your first dawn ceremony. Honey, can you hand me the news when you’re done with it?”

Dad folded the section he was reading and handed it over. “I really should start with the comics. Makes the rest of thing easier to swallow”. He picked up the third section and had a few sensible chuckles as he sipped form his mug. It was bright geode, an heirloom from his side of the family. Most people used feldspar for cups and mugs, or for nearly everything really, but dad liked how his geode stuck out. Plus it was kinda rare, and it added a little reverence to something as mundane as morning coffee and breakfast.

Her brother came up the stairs and into the living room. “Why is everyone awake so early?”. He hopped into mom’s lap seamlessly as she wrapped her arms around him. “You know why, it’s your big sister’s big day. She’s going to build the sun like your big, big sister did”.

“When did she do that?” He asked

Mom said “A long time ago. Way before the mole delivered you to us”

“Big day!” Dad said, between the razor thin soft slate sheets he was giggling at.

Her brother frowned. “Come on Mom, you know I’m too big to believe in that stuff anymore”.

Dad smirked. “Then where do you think babies come from, sport?”

His frown spread to his forward and he paused. “I don’t know, the store?”

She, Mom, and Sad all laughed although she was a lot closer to her brother’s confusion than she would admit. No one had told her yet but she started to understand it. Not the mechanics are anything really. She did know enough to recognize there was a kind of mystery about it. It was some kind of secret no one openly talked about. In her vaguest understanding, there was a sex shaped question she did not know how to ask. You’re typical 13 year-olds conceptualization of something they’re not ready for.

Mom asked Dad if he could “Hold down the fort while we’re at the ceremony?”. Dad told her “Yes and you don’t have to ask that way, sweetheart”. He kissed them both. He wished them a good time. It was too hot for her brother to spend much time outside, in the bleary salamander days of summer. She and Mom closed their eyes and felt their way to the car as everyone’s shaded goggles were inside it. This was a careless but common mistake.

When they knew where they were, they hopped into their vehicle. The sulfur tank was only half full but they lived relatively close to the ritual site. Mom started the engine. She was grateful when the coolant began to fan in. Mom handed her daughter the necessary shaded goggles for this time of day during this time of year. They put them on and the outside ceased its blinding them with light. She opened her eyes again now that it was safe.

She watched Mom at work. Mom was a great driver. Her hands danced over the levers, pushing, pulling, shifting all four legs with a precision nearly as mechanical as the object itself. Smooth terrain was few and far between yet Mom had a way of making nearly every trip comfortable. “How did people survive before this?” She asked as the car bent, walked, and climbed its way to their destination.

“That was so long ago honey. I learned about it in school. Life was very hard. Things used to be cool enough but they got really hot and stayed that way. There were only a few parts of the world dark and cool enough for people to live on”

She imagined herself as one of her ancestors. Struggling to eke out an existence before people started building suns to survive. She thought about the ugly, hard, heavy, metal suits she would have probably have to wear just to leave her village. She shuddered when she imagined trying to see through the first shaded goggles. They were bulky and crude. Her hair stood up when she thought of the painful blindness that would have come without their use. She thought of the roaring lizards that once roamed the land. They ruled the world. They ate people like her. They ate everything! They were still around, of course. In farms or the occasional petting zoo. Sometimes even in the wild, way out in the Burning Red.  Thousands of years ago, it would more be her families’ ribs on the table, not theirs.

They arrived. She saw all her friends and the rest of her class hard at work. She sheepishly rushed in, realizing she was a little late. They gathered marble and slathered it in a lime liquid. Their composition was important but their color would soon be swallowed in blue.

The parents and environmental engineers milled about. The mayor and his staff were present; seeing to the event and being seen themselves. The air was humid and a little too bright as the sun had yet to be made. Everyone wore their most fashionable shaded goggles, the heirloom type that were only worn around this time of year. More relic than tool with today’s options but it was still a good thing to have on you.

She found a pair of deep gloves and slid them on. They were  heavy, but she had grown used to them from practice. And from being larger than when she first started. They were good gloves too. 

Like all good deep glove they had to be trusty enough to keep her hands from experiencing anything beyond a breath of heat and thin enough to let her feel the material. It was a chaste but deeply sensual experience for her and other people who loved working with the world’s many molten minerals.

Though no part of her body touched the melted hayune (thankfully) she still immersed herself in it. She mixed and added lapis with sodalite to taste. Although her old time shaded goggles dulled their luster, she knew the hues and tones of blue were still there. She would see them first hand upon the completion and rising of this year’s dawn. Or if she was wearing one of the newer models. She inserted, churned, poured, and readied the minerals for their application to the base. She watched as her concoction rolled over the marbled lime. A slow, hot, and sacred wave.

The mayor leaned toward the chief of his city’s environmental engineering crew. They smirked and shared from a small quartz flask. Ice didn’t really keep outdoors, and increasingly common luxuries of that sort were frowned upon from use in the last couple weeks before the construction of the sun and Dawn day. Out of respect for their ancestor’s struggle. After another year was bought and paid for (“thanks to the children”) was a more socially acceptable time to use ice again.

Children were essential to the ritual, but not the process. Of course not the process! A modern society that depends on children to do anything but continue the whole thing has a tenuous grip on existence.  Children used to be essential to the process back when people were so few, labor was scarce. They were also essential to harvesting mushrooms and keeping smaller dinosaurs out of the armadillo pen. If they could avoid becoming a raptor snack themselves.  That was back when people lived in small villages and made many suns.

Many suns. Many, many, many suns. Many crude, sputtering, lukewarm suns that would sometimes make more light than they were supposed to absorb. They damaged the world in a way they would not understand for a long time. Back when it was very hard to make a sun as the method wasn’t well developed. Some villages had to rely on another town’s sun. They took whatever dark; whatever cold that could have, paying tribute to and resenting their neighboring benefactors.

Today each city, each town, each village made their own sun.  She watched them rise as other communities’ had gotten started earlier.  They rose just below where the sky seemed to stop (but never really end) and combined. Some of the more remote settlements still had their own suns. Most people lived close enough so they’re suns could combine. They joined one another and grew. The light began to relent. The heat began to withdraw its hands from the throats of a nation.

She, and so many loved the blue. The pale, gentle blue that was so rare in this orange, red, black world. When everything wasn’t too bright to been seen, blue was a color experienced by itself. Sure, there were plenty of blue minerals. Yet, it wasn’t a color one would often pleasantly stumble across. Much of anything that was blue needed to be gathered and used in this very ritual. Even more to be used for the product. The pride and savior of a people.

Although this ritual had a very practical purpose, it had back up. Modern society learned not too long ago to make suns scientifically too. First haphazardly applied to war, it was remade for life. The last sun that would join the great chorus would be one made from modernity. It would be made by adults, in a laboratory run by worldwide consensus. It would take the brightest minds on a morin level scale and require its whole support.

They even designed it to not be visible until it joined the children’s suns, so as to not take away from their contribution. Every sun made things blessedly cooler and darker but it was really the last one that made things close to comfortable.  This was an open secret. Every adult and even some of the kids participating knew this. No one really talked about it openly. That would ruin the magic of Dawn day. Why start the New Year being a jerk?

She and her classmates watched their sun rise and join the rest. People started taking off their shaded goggles. A few removed their light metal layers and eagerly anticipated exposing their skin to the outside in due time. Dillo burgers were passed around on disposable feldspar slabs. People would remember the mushroom bun’s zesty seasoning years after.

The last, best, official, and invisible sun joined the rest. Proud of it fulfilling its destiny but a little sad to see it disappear into the whole. There was a sacred, gentle implosion as it cooled and dimmed everything to just right. Another year was made. Another tally was added to the calendar. The people of the world could live in their strange, wonderful home yet again.

The bleak, harsh stillness of Summer had ended. Fall was here and with it, new life. Mushroom spores would soon dance through the air, riding on thermal vents. Batsong would fill people’s ears again as they returned to the skies. Blind salamanders would dart through the streets, stealing snacks by smell alone. Still lakes and rising river farms, with their nearby ash fields will begin to seed. Frozen food was becoming more and more affordable. Yet most preferred it fresh and “real” as possible. Mom couldn’t wait to start bringing home fresh tomatoes for the family to enjoy.

Mom wished she had a tomato right now with her dillo burger. Mom spotted and sat down next to her daughter. Beaming with pride, mom put her arm on her shoulder and kissed the top of her head.   

“See honey? It’s just like I said”

She wrapped her mom in a hug. She buried her face in her shoulder. She knew what Mom was going to say but would still receive the words anew.

“It’s not morning without you”