{"id":360,"date":"2020-06-10T21:18:06","date_gmt":"2020-06-10T21:18:06","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/atomic-temporary-168416783.wpcomstaging.com\/?p=358"},"modified":"2020-06-10T21:18:06","modified_gmt":"2020-06-10T21:18:06","slug":"fiction-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sites.ohio.edu\/sphere\/2020\/06\/10\/fiction-2\/","title":{"rendered":"fiction"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

table of contents<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

“A Murder of Crows” by Allegra Solomon<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Slate” by Ben Ervin<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Micky’s Happy Fits of Rage” by Noah McGeorge<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Second Chance” by Alexander Petras<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Escape” by Peter Russ<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

A Murder of Crows<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Allegra Solomon<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

“Where\u2019s Mom and Dad?\u201d Emile leaned in the passenger window, dark stubble catching snowflakes. The sound of the gate numbers droned through the airport curbside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey sent me,\u201d Cleo said. \u201cYou\u2019ve got coffee on your shirt.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ve always got coffee on my shirt. Trunk or backseat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBackseat.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emile opened the backseat of his sister\u2019s silver 2005 Honda Civic and shoved in two full suitcases and one duffle bag. They sat upright in their respective seats like human bodies. Cleo watched him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJesus. Plan on moving back?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPardon?\u201d Emile opened the passenger seat and climbed in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPardon?\u201d she mimicked. \u201cLot of luggage for a week\u2019s stay.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI like to have options. You have three shirts in the back seat\u2014I\u2019m sure you could say the same.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNosy, are you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s good to see you, too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cleo\u2019s forehead was shiny and dark spots were creeping through her cheeks. Her brown skin swallowed the light around her like the dark of a pupil consuming an iris. She was un-made up. Her face undressed. Tight dark braids were spun into her scalp. He hadn\u2019t seen her this bare in a while, he thought.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWill you get out of the car, please?\u201d Emile said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat for?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBecause I\u2019d like to hug you. People hug at airports.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFucksake, Emile. Just do it here in the car.\u201d Cleo undid her seatbelt and cheated to her right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emile looked at the stoic brown of her eyes. Her wavering, cautious smile\u2014teetering around a feeling she wouldn\u2019t allow herself to access fully. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFour years, Cleo. A proper hug, please.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She stayed with her body towards her brother. \u201cHug me in the car or hug me at the restaurant.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre we getting food?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI assumed you were hungry. That\u2019s what you do, right? You pick someone up from the airport, then take them to a restaurant, and they tell you about the time they spent away.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think there\u2019s enough time for me to cover all four years.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A crossing guard in a yellow holographic vest began waving for Cleo to move.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen we\u2019ll just eat.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cleo put the key in the ignition and began to pull out of the loading zone. She rolled down the window on the driver\u2019s side, but just barely. November breeze crept across her bare forearms. It felt familiar, the cold. She\u2019d grown to know it intimately. Emile sat with his shoulder pancaked against the glass of his window. His bare fingers were drying in Midwestern air, growing gray and chalking on his brown skin. The jacket of his ill-fitted navy suit tickled his wrist like an insect. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBrilliant. Where should we go?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOoof.\u201d Cleo shook her head and grinned. \u201cNot getting used to that anytime soon.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He already knew where she was headed. \u201cCan we please just\u2014 \u201c<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBrilliant, mate. Brilliant. Are you mad?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s very normal to pick up on the vernacular of the country you\u2019re living in.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cleo could feel his face twisting even while focused on the road. She had always enjoyed chipping away at him in this way; forcing cracks in his demeanor. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFair.\u201d Teeth poked through her straight face. \u201cDottie must hate it, though. She marries an American boy, then he\u2019s not so American anymore. It must lose its novelty.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emile shrugged and loosened his tie. \u201cDot\u2019s fine with the way I talk.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI guess I can\u2019t speak on behalf of Dot. Don\u2019t really know her, anyways.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlaywriting,\u201d Emile sighed. \u201cTell me about how that\u2019s going.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood. Working on getting a one-woman show funded as we speak.\u201d Cleo turned right onto a long country road.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI wasn\u2019t sure one-woman shows were actually a thing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEver heard of Twilight Los Angeles, 1992?\u201d Emile shook his head. \u201cIt\u2019s a one-woman show about the LA riots. She\u2019s this black playwright. It\u2019s been nominated for a Tony and all that. Anyways, yeah\u2014 they\u2019re a real thing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s mad,\u201d he said. Cleo resisted her urge to confront him for this. \u201cWhat\u2019s yours called?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA Murder of Crows.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAbout?\u201d He fully took his tie off now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI can never describe my work as well as I can just write it. I\u2019ll send you the script when everything\u2019s touched up. Or you can just come see the production sometime.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emile began sifting through the glove compartment. \u201cI\u2019d like that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMaybe Dot can come too. And the little one.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLittle one\u2019s named Milo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI know my nephew\u2019s name.\u201d She turned her head to see Emile\u2019s head fully ducked and cocked to the side, profiling the glove compartment. \u201cJesus. What are you looking for?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCDs.\u201d He pulled one out. \u201cYou\u2019ve always got the most obscure music.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not obscure just because you don\u2019t know it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u202f\u201cDon\u2019t you have anything I know?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, sorry. Did not plan for the one time you decided to come back for Thanksgiving. I\u2019ll get College Dropout for next time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He ignored her. \u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBrotherhood. By New Order.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHm.\u201d He inspected the bluish cover. \u201cOkay. Play me your favorite song off this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emile slipped the CD into the disk drive and waited for a sound that wasn\u2019t Cleo\u2019s gritty car engine. \u201cIt\u2019s kind of special, actually.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat is?\u201d The car\u2019s interior released mechanical noises as it tried to process the CD. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHaving CDs. Feeling music in your hands. It\u2019s so personal.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cleo\u2019s right shoulder met her ear in a shrug. \u201cI\u2019d like to think so.\u201d The two of them remained in silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \u201cYou gotta give it a little\u2014\u201d Cleo banged on the dashboard three times with her fist, ejected the CD, then re-entered it. She clicked down to track six. \u201cBizarre Love Triangle\u201d began to fall through the speakers. \u201cThere you go.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cleo and Emile sat quietly for a few moments, stirring in the eighties synths around them. Emile listened intently to his sister\u2019s music. He realized he\u2019d heard this song before, a long time ago. He imagined she was driving him to school back in his senior year. He hadn\u2019t gotten his license until he was twenty. Cleo was in the middle of the same memory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo you smell that?\u201d Emile pulled his suit jacket over his nose and turned towards the window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSmell what,\u201d she said, discreetly lowering the driver\u2019s window a bit more.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d He put his window down a bit too. \u201cIt\u2019s not bad per se, but it\u2019s like, lived in. Like Grandma and Grandpa\u2019s basement.\u201d He held the fabric more firmly over his nose like he was trying to pop a zit between his fingers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cleo turned the volume dial up a bit louder. \u201cWhy didn\u2019t Dottie come? I was looking forward to\u2014you know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emile turned the music up a bit more. \u201cThanksgiving is an American holiday. She doesn\u2019t see the appeal. I\u2019m into this song, by the way. It\u2019s good.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2014was it the mass genocide or the overeating that turned her off?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emile pulled his face out from his suit now, finally. His dark face scrunched up and pulled lines all around his eyes. His nose was as broad as a linebacker\u2019s shoulders; it was the centerpiece of his everything. \u201cCan we stop by your place before you drop me at Mom and Dad\u2019s?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo time,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019re on a schedule?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cleo nodded. \u201cIf we waste another moment before getting to the restaurant, I\u2019ll starve and die.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emile started sifting through the glove compartment for more CDs.\u202f<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s very fitting that you\u2019re in the theater. The theatrics in everything you do, I just\u2026\u201d He pulled copies of The Sundalic Twins, Disintegration, and Skylarking out of the glove compartment. \u201cCleo.\u201d He said this warily.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s up.\u201d She knew already.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThese all still have the security tags on them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey do? That\u2019s strange.\u201d Her nerves pulled her mouth into a shaky grin. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs it?\u201d He held the CDs in his hand like they were a bomb. Those nervous lines were back on his face. \u201cIs it strange?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot sure,\u201d Cleo retorted. \u201cLet\u2019s both sleep on it and come to a consensus in the morning.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCleo, are you stealing?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cleo drove past the Kroger by their old middle school\u2014 past the gutted remains of what was once their family\u2019s go-to Chinese take-out restaurant, past the odd cluster of trees outside the guitar store where she had her first kiss\u2014and into the potholed parking lot. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019re here. Time for your hug, I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When Emile looked up the two of them were facing a Diner. The bulbs in the \u201cI\u201d of the light up sign shorted out. Dner.\u202f\u202f<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cleo was out of the car as soon as it was placed in park. Emile pulled himself out of the car slowly, as if savoring every movement for a memory later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 Emile looked at his little sister. Her white t-shirt and blue jeans. The same black Chuck 70s she\u2019d been wearing since before he\u2019d gotten married and moved to England. The way the bridge of her nose came together like the peak of a mountain and fanned out widely at the bottom like butterfly wings.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cleo looked at her older brother and thought that he looked more twenty-two than the twenty-eight he was. How poorly tailored his suit was\u2014the pant legs rising far above his ankles. How there was a young, English-sounding Milo with his genetic make-up throwing blocks at a wall somewhere. How bare Emile\u2019s left hand was. Too bare.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOkay, hug me,\u201d she said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t make it a chore, kid.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kid, she thought. Cleo was instantly fourteen again. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease do it so we can just go eat.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emile walked over and hugged his sister lightly, awkwardly. Their shoulders brushed like repelling magnets. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMust you make everything so difficult\u2026\u201d He pulled away and watched Cleo\u2019s legs carry her into the restaurant. Her seamless, placid gait\u2014like she was walking on the buffed wood of a bowling lane. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo you have your wallet on you?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When the two of them entered the restaurant Cleo walked up to the hostess and leaned on her podium. \u201cTable for two please.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The hostess was wearing a Christmas-green vest and her name tag said \u201cJerika\u201d on it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre you two twins?\u201d Jerika said this with two menus in-hand and a smile that reached her eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Emile sighed. \u201cShe\u2019s twenty-seven. I\u2019m twenty-eight.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh. Well you could pass as twins if you wanted to. It\u2019s the nose, I think. The eyes, too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe Stillwater nose,\u201d Cleo said. \u201cA fucking curse if I\u2019ve ever heard of one.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The two of them were led to a table overlooking the parking lot. They could see Cleo\u2019s car from their booth. Emile started working on his third coffee of the day. Light brown liquid distilled with mounds of cream and sugar dripped down his chin and onto his white shirt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJesus. You\u2019ve got so much damn coffee on your shirt,\u201d Cleo said. She took a swig of her water and crunched the ice between her teeth. Her brother\u2019s harsh adult features looked softer, younger in that moment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI told you, I always have coffee on my shirt. And stop saying the Lord\u2019s name in vain. Mom and Dad\u2019ll kill you.\u201d He fell victim to another coffee stain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFuck. I know. Sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cStop swearing, too. You know them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI know.\u201d Her mouth was agape, as if more was coming, but she just left it there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWill you tell me what your play\u2019s about?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI told you. It\u2019s called A Murder of Crows. It\u2019s a one-woman show. I\u2019m working on getting it funded.\u201d She chewed more ice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOkay, but what\u2019s it about?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs this you trying to find a reason not to come to the show?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, Cleo. I\u2019m just curious about your life. Can I do that? Can I be curious?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m curious about your life, too,\u201d she said. Emile looked at her with heavy, muddy brown eyes, and neither of them turned away. She pushed her water to the side. \u201cShould I just say it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSay what?\u201d He knew an instant after he asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYour left hand. Where is it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFuck.\u201d The panic flashed on his face as he dug around in his wallet and placed his wedding ring back on his finger. Cleo had never seen it in person. It was smaller in real life. Emile did his best to avoid eye contact.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cProfanity,\u201d she teased. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease just leave it. At least for now.\u201d He was no longer drinking coffee. The anxieties of the conversation had his heart in a marathon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cleo finished her water. \u201cJust explain yourself to me. You don\u2019t have to explain yourself to them. Just do it for me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t want to know.\u201d His voice wavered like a waveform. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDid she cheat on you?\u201d He shook his head. \u201cYou cheat on her?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGosh, Cleo\u2014is that what you think of me?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emile\u2019s eyes were studying the family sitting across the walkway from them; how all of them were on their phones.  \u201cI don\u2019t understand why that\u2019s where your mind goes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI mean, I just\u2014I just can\u2019t think of other reasons.\u201d Her foot was knocking ferociously against a metal pole under the table. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPeople divorce for all kinds of reasons. Love is complex that way\u2014it\u2019s never been just one thing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cExplain the complexities of love to me, then. I\u2019ve always wanted to know.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, Cleo. Just give it a rest, maybe. It\u2019s not fun.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cExplain, Mil.\u201d It was her childhood nickname for him. His chest tightened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was a pulse in his jaw. \u201cIt\u2019s not fun.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cleo let her eyes bear into his in a plea; her face molded soft and true.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emile shrugged. He looked out the window as he spoke. \u201cI\u2019m leaving her.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBecause?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emile focused on a stop sign. \u201cBecause I don\u2019t love her anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cleo tried to pull his gaze but his eyes remained out the window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \u201cThat\u2019s it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u202f\u201cWhat do you mean, it? Is that not good enough for you?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, no. It\u2019s just\u2026kind of shit, you know. You just stop loving someone, and then everything you\u2019ve had just disintegrates. I don\u2019t know. It\u2019s just shit, I guess.\u201d This was one of the few instances she wished she could lock away her bluntness in a dark room. Emile also wished this.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThanks for informing me. I didn\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m real sorry, Emile\u2014 \u201c <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSure. Thanks\u2014\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2014and I know you don\u2019t want to hear this, and I\u2019m not trying to kick you while you\u2019re down, but\u2014fuck. Mom and Dad are not gonna\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \u201cYou\u2019re so smart, Cleo. I wish I was as smart as you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The waitress stopped by their table. She read their faces. Emile said they were going to need a couple more minutes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI bet you\u2019re glad you didn\u2019t waste the money on getting me to the wedding.\u201d She\u2019d meant to say this as a joke but her vocal chords betrayed her. They wavered sincerely; the hurt seeped through. To distract herself, Cleo scanned the menu. Chicken tenders and fries were juvenile, yet reliable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m glad you just said it. I was tired of your discretion.\u201d\u202f Emile was drawing towards the Caesar salad, knowing he would eat half the fries off his sister\u2019s plate anyways.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

All intended humor had dissipated. \u201cWhy would you have the wedding in England when your whole family lives here?\u201d A side of broccoli, too, maybe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBecause my fianc\u00e9 lived in England. Mom and Dad came.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMom and Dad could come.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou could\u2019ve come.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was a warmness in her chest that was traveling upwards. \u201cI couldn\u2019t come. You had the wedding in England.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAll you had to do was buy a ticket.\u201d His voice echoed slightly in the air.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t have any fucking money.\u201d She closed her menu and waved for the waitress. \u201cYou knew that.\u201d\u202f\u202f<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u202f\u201cI didn\u2019t believe you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A long pause hung between them. \u201cYou should\u2019ve.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve always\u2026exaggerated. The theatrics, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cleo felt her chest tighten, and just repeated. \u201cYou should\u2019ve.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Their waitress came over to their table and took their orders. There was no need to jot them down. She had an impeccable memory, she told them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 Cleo sneered when Emile ordered his salad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u202fOnce the waitress left, Cleo reached across the table and drank the rest of her brother\u2019s coffee. The waters inside of her stilled.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow do you just stop loving your spouse?\u201d This left her mouth with full sincerity and wonder. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJust like any other thing: time and circumstance.\u201d Emile looked down at his shirt. A muddy brown trail from neck to sternum. \u201cCan I please stop by your house and change before we go to Mom and Dad\u2019s?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cleo blew air out of her nose. \u201cWhy do you wanna see my house so bad?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emile lowered his face into his hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His voice muffled in his palms. \u201cEverything\u2019s so difficult with you. You\u2019re my sister, that\u2019s why. Because I wanna change my shirt, that\u2019s why. Can you just answer a yes or no question with either yes or no for once in your life?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSure. Ask me again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOkay.\u201d Emile looked up. \u201cCan we please stop\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy not?\u201d Emile\u2019s thumbs were tight in his fists.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She turned her head to the window and tapped on the glass right where her car was parked. \u201cYou\u2019re too tall. It\u2019s hard enough for me to change in there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emile\u2019s eyes traveled to the silver car and scanned the backseat where his bags were. He imagined his little sister sleeping back there in the cold of a Midwestern fall. He let the tension in his hands breathe. Emile wanted to apologize or give his sister money, but he knew how she was. Instead he said:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo Mom and Dad know?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNope. They\u2019d kill me.\u201d Her eyes avoided his for the first time.\u202f<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey\u2019d help you. You know that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t want them to.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey would\u2019ve bought your plane ticket, too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t want them to.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat did you want then? What do you want now even?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She let this sentence sit for a while, draining the air. Cleo never pulled the veil back too quickly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u202fTheir waitress returned and set their food in front of them. Emile reached over his sister\u2019s plate and took a fry before she\u2019d even gotten the chance to say grace. She dipped a chicken tender in barbecue sauce and chewed slowly. She still had not looked at Emile. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know. I just wanted you to have the wedding here.\u201d There was a long pause. \u201cI want them to think I\u2019m doing alright.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The tension in Emile\u2019s shoulders released slightly. \u201cYou are doing alright. You\u2019ve written a play and you\u2019re getting it funded. That\u2019s more than alright.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cleo took a handful of fries and decided to chew them all at once. \u201cHaven\u2019t written.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emile was chewing on his salad like a rabbit. He wished he\u2019d gotten what she\u2019d gotten. \u201cPardon?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPardon? I haven\u2019t written it. I\u2019m not working on getting it funded.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA Murder of Crows?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGod\u2014Emile, yes. Leave it alone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They ate for another five minutes with the rumble of the restaurant as their soundtrack. Emile would slip fries from Cleo\u2019s platter. She let him. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou should write it,\u201d he said finally.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cleo looked up at him, eyes slightly red. \u201cEverything I write is shit. Rubbish, you might say.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This dig tugged at him kindly. \u201cI don\u2019t believe that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou should.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ve read the things you\u2019ve been putting on your website. Your poems and essays. Dot, too. We think you\u2019re quite good.\u201d The sound of his fork scraping his bare plate made her itch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGlad someone thinks so.\u201d She smiled internally at the thought that he\u2019d secretly been keeping tabs on her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll help you brainstorm sometime while I\u2019m here. We\u2019ll figure it out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow long are you staying?\u201d Emile just shrugged and pushed his clean plate further toward the edge of the table. \u201cYou haven\u2019t bought a return ticket?\u201d He shook his head. Cleo looked out the window again and at the many bags in her backseat. \u201cFigures.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s\u2026well.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, what?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou know. Milo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \u201cI know, okay. I\u2019m shitty. People are shitty. People do shitty things. Just let me help you work on this play.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFine.\u201d She pushed her nearly empty plate to the edge of the table. The following words came hesitantly. \u201cDid you\u2014like\u2014know this day would come? Like, with her?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His sigh travelled upwards from his toes. \u201cIn a way.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs that why you never brought them home?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou tell me.\u201d His eyes were to the floor. \u201cYou\u2019ve always known everything. I didn\u2019t.\u201d Cleo knew this wasn\u2019t actually true, but in some ways that proved Emile\u2019s point. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She looked back at the window and saw the translucent reflection of the two of them posing back. They really did look like twins.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo you think they would hate us if they really knew us?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cleo\u2019s mouth grew dry when Emile said this. She knew who they were. Emile\u2019s face was hanging so low, like gravity was beating at it with a mallet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot hate,\u201d she whispered, slightly unconvinced. Emile thought she might say more, but she left it there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Their waitress returned and cleared their plates. Emile paid for the bill like Cleo had hoped he would, though she would never ask, not directly. They sat there while the orange leaves fell and painted Cleo\u2019s car, while the tearful toddler a couple tables from them seethed, and while the waiters moved through the aisle like a conveyer belt. Cleo\u2019s eyes were covered in a light film, dewed over like May grass. Emile\u2019s white shirt was covered in artifacts of his previously eaten food like a young boy in a high chair. Emile wondered if Cleo\u2019s pride may kill her one day. Cleo continued to wonder how you just stop loving someone. How anything in life could ever be that simple. She thought about their parents. Was anything really, truly, ever unconditional? <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emile watched a cluster of birds launch themselves from the top of a building and travel into the sky. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \u201cWhy \u2018A Murder of Crows\u2019?\u201d Emile asked this as he moved to the other side of the table and sat next to his sister. His arm rested lightly on the back of her chair. She let it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLike, what do you mean?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy that title? What\u2019s it mean?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s the technical name for a group of crows. All bird groups have them. There\u2019s an unkindness of ravens\u2014or a congress of ravens\u2014whichever you prefer, I guess. A group of swans is a bevy. Owls, parliament. Crows, murder.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut again,\u201d Emile pried, \u201cWhy?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cleo began digging in her pocket for her car keys. The jingle of them was an omen. \u201cIt just sounds nice,\u201d she uttered softly. \u201cYou just know that they\u2019re looking out for each other.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emile stood up from his chair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Slate<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Ben Ervin<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

The darkness settled between monotonous strikes. The only lights were on their helmets, and to keep them producing a light source equivalent to a match in a warehouse, they had to rub the soot off with their thumb. Chunks of coal fell between their feet, and were either picked up by the man who broke them off the wall or anyone small and quick enough to reach down and grab them. They chipped away at the deposit, as though they were peeling away layers of some rock being. Each strike they moved closer and closer to its core, but by then it would be long dead. Ellison worked with the group, but not with the group. He wasn\u2019t different; he ate the same way, prayed the same way, but he was new to them, and that was something to fear. Sikorsky spoke like a seer, leaning on his tool, observing Ellison. \u201cNew guys always slip.\u201d They believed Sikorsky, excluding Ellison who had experience to argue otherwise. In light of these facts everyone wanted Ellison to fail, just to prove themselves right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At lunch he had pone and a sliver of venison. Sikorsky led the other men to the far-side of the shaft to eat and play cards. Ellison wasn\u2019t a part of the game, and he didn\u2019t mind it at all. He sat and daydreamed, using their words to build a world he could understand. He imagined a place of anthropomorphic deer, though he didn\u2019t know what anthropomorphic was or meant, he knew what it looked like. For the deer, food collection was like working in a mine. One of the new season\u2019s bucks was outside the group while the others rucked between food picking. The deer daydreamed of Ellison sitting daydreaming of him. Ellison felt the exchange in full, as though they were two aspects of a coin. Between bites of his pone and the deer\u2019s rucking against a tree, Ellison found some common ground.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBack to work,\u201d yelled someone down the shaft, though Ellison couldn\u2019t see him, he knew he was standing in the dark yelling down even darker sections.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ellison picked up the axe and went at it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He worked till late into the evening.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sikorsky stopped to take a drink from his canteen a few feet to his right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ellison struck, the wall shifted, sunk in, and a piece of slate shot out from the wall, just to Ellison\u2019s right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It went through Sikorsky and crushed into the far wall, decapitating him just below the chin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His eyes looked at Ellison through the dark, and everyone took a moment to stop. One man picked up his emergency light and flipped the switch. Ellison looked away as a brute of a man picked up a hammer and smashed the slate stuck between the walls. The head met the body on the floor. Ellison thought of his paycheck as he took the man by the feet and helped drop his body into a cart. Someone gave the mule a whip, and it began to pull the man to the landing, then the lift, so he could go right back into the ground.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man with the hammer patted Ellison\u2019s shoulder, \u201cGood idea moving your first day mistake on Sikorsky. Hated that pecker faced freak.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ellison looked into the man\u2019s eyes, the light was blown out with someone\u2019s last breath, and it wasn\u2019t Sikorsky who did it, else the wick would still be hot. \u201cI barely knew the guy, and I didn\u2019t do anything. He was unlucky. Guess you could say we’re all lucky \u2018til we run out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhatever keeps your head on your shoulders.\u201d The man with no light in his eyes was Alan, Ellison would later find out. On the lift, the men said that as a boy he would wrestle the family bull, until one day the bull tried to gore him, and he killed it with his hands. If you asked him, Alan could show you where the horn entered his thigh. Ellison never asked him, but he could imagine Alan taking his hands to a bull\u2019s neck. One hit and he may be able to split a vertebrae. He was a hulk of a man, and when he held coal in his palm it looked like pebbles, as though he was ready to skip stones.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Riding on the lift with all of the other men, Ellison felt like a line in a wood etching, a portion of the composite. They were picking on someone smaller than Ellison, younger maybe. They said things that Ellison tried to ignore. He tried to think of Sikorsky. Behind him, the chortle of a dying man\u2019s cough created the landscape, and Ellison moved out of the shaft and into the impossible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ellison imagined that the funeral service for Sikorsky was held that night. It was short, and few people came: his tearful wife, his grandmother, the family dog, and his eight kids. He could name three of them, while he still had use of his vocal cords. The two oldest would work in the mine, eleven and twelve, respectively. The youngest stuck with it, the oldest ran from home, never straying from the shadow his father cast. In the snow of an Iowa river bank he would be shot six times by a marshal, for robbery. That\u2019s how Ellison imagined it would go. As the man spit black phlegm at Ellison\u2019s feet, he knew that wouldn\u2019t be the case. Most men who worked in the mine died there, consumed by their work, devoured by their labor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ellison walked home. It was a coal mining town, so looking for your house didn\u2019t help. Each was a copy of the last, and in the night, the few distinguishing features that existed were obscured by the thick veil of darkness. He had to find the number, and, in the dark, even that was difficult for Ellison, but his wife was always on the porch willing to help him find his way. From the far end of the street he could see her moving in the twilight, guiding light with her lamp. She was dumping out scraps in the pig pen, and as she walked back she turned and waved to him. Her name was Ines, and she was the only woman he ever loved.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Born on a reservation in Oklahoma, she had taken up one of the few skills the West provided: shooting. She became one of the best shots, a repeater and revolver were one and the same in her hands. Ellison had seen her take the ears off rabbits, and branches from trees from distances that he could only squint at. She stood by the fence and looked at Ellison. He had the look of a shaved gibbon covered in coal dust, and she loved him for it. \u201cI made brown beans and corn pone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy favorite,\u201d Ellison said flashing his teeth, small stars in his astral form.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After cleaning off in the wash basin by the door, he walked into the kitchen and got out bowls and plates and set the table. He filled her bowl, then his and took a seat at one end of the table. She led the prayer, and they broke bread together. \u201cWhat did you do today?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ines looked at him with warm eyes, \u201cI got us another deer. We\u2019ll have enough venison for winter. It\u2019s out back hanging up in the shed. Thing was rucking a tree, and I put a shot clean through it\u2019s lung, loaded it up, gutted it, fed the entrails to the pigs, checked the potatoes, fine, checked the peppers, fine, checked the sunflower, fine, and picked a few tomatoes. Then I went to the general store, didn\u2019t buy anything, just looked around a bit.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou can buy anything you want, you know, don\u2019t feel it\u2019s not your money.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI know, but I didn\u2019t see anything I really wanted. So, I didn\u2019t get anything. What happened to you?\u201d She began to eat her beans, the time she\u2019d taken to tell about her day had let them cool off enough to eat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA man died today.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhich one?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSikorsky.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow\u2019d that come about?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPiece of slate severed his head.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLot of blood?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t look.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBe bad if there was, you hammering away at those rocks, you\u2019d be bound to slip on some and then you\u2019d be worse for wear. Have to be on the mend, get fired probably, they wouldn\u2019t let me work, too scared to see how a woman would do it. Afraid of us sweeping up your shit is all, some men don\u2019t maintain their space and the presence of a woman haunts them like a witch. It’s a civilized ennui. I once met a party who had shacked up in Rockies, they all did the same labor, they all cut wood, made food, read the same stuff. The fact that they needed every hand to survive opened their eyes to the idea that we\u2019re all equal. But what do I know?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMore than any of us ever could. They\u2019ll probably cover it with saw dust, if there was that much.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHad to be instantaneous.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe could only pray.\u201d They finished dinner and went to bed. Each night by light of kerosene lamp, Ines helped Ellison read. He never got a formal education on the farm, while Ines had found opportunities in her travels. They were reading Alice in Wonderland. It inspired a lot of Ellison\u2019s dreams.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next day Ellison stumbled outside to the outhouse. Inside, the coffee pot was on the stove. He couldn\u2019t get back to sleep now, so he started his breakfast, his pre-work routine. The coffee was percolating when his wife came in, she was tired and took a seat in one of the chairs beside him. \u201cBad dream?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo. Could I hold your foot?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d she lifted her foot and sat it across her husband’s lap. He rubbed the pad, ball, and each toe with his middle finger and thumb working along the bone. He felt a scar across the pad that he was amazed to find every time. She stepped on slate as a child and split her foot open, they said she was lucky to have it, but Ellison knew she had more than luck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By the time the coffee had finished, Ellison was working on the second foot. She went to stand, but he gave a slight squeeze on her toe, turned and lifted the pot up and sat it on the table. He kissed her foot, once because he loved her and once for her luck beyond luck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re an odd man.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looked up while she poured his coffee.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWould you have it any other way?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Never.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Micky’s Happy Fits of Rage<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Noah McGeorge<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

Barry was the dad with the bike and he thought it made his son cool. His passcode for the bike lock was POOP<\/em>. He didn\u2019t have the money for the lock with letters, but his son Micky made a good case. Micky said, \u201cLook, just think about this: poop. See?\u201d and Barry was sold.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

 He rode that all-broken-speed to Micky\u2019s school. \u201cYo, Barry!\u201d said the crossing guard. \u201cDon\u2019t speed in a school zone!\u201d Barry laughed and nodded, per obligation. He kicked a Nike out and braked among the fit of fourth-graders\u2014Micky\u2019s contemporaries. One plucked another\u2019s homemade rubber-band Rolex and when the other cried, the one said, \u201cLook, Scooter, that\u2019s why they\u2019re called slap<\/em> bracelets.\u201d Scooter said he was \u201c\u2018bout to square up\u201d when the crossing guard said \u201cgo go go<\/em>!\u201d Barry hitched himself up and was the first to go. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the top of the hill sat Shakertown Middle School. Barry had paid eight years of his life to its bursar before spending just two at Shakertown High (when Barry decided he ought to get a refund for this whole \u201cschool\u201d thing). He locked his bike at the post as he did yesterday and as he had many years ago. His Nikes tracked the hill\u2019s mud, his jacket fanned like a cheap cape.   <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMicky!\u201d said Barry. \u201cHey dude, how was your day?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Micky\u2019s little arms guarded his chest, his black cowlick an offset crown. \u201cLonger than others,\u201d the boy said.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAw, dang, why do you look so sour?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Out from the shadows of Shakertown\u2019s doors stepped Mrs. K. Without realizing it (or possibly with realizing it), she answered for him. \u201cMicky had another incident today, Barry,\u201d she said. \u201cSon, why don\u2019t you tell Dad all about it?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell,\u201d said Micky. \u201cI was insulted by this craney neck\u2019d little\u2014\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTabitha,<\/em>\u201d said Mrs. K. \u201cTabitha hurt our feelings today. At snacktime.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe insulted me. She\u2014that\u2019s not even to say, she touched all my food, my viktals<\/em>.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2018Victuals,\u2019 son. And none of that invites, justifies, or excuses the decision that you made.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell what\u2019d you do, Micky?\u201d said Barry. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Micky tightened the grip around his chest. Barry had seen it before: a boiling look of disdain the important people make before leaving for anywhere else forever. It was not any cooler in the eight-year old\u2019s thin body. \u201cI threw Tabitha\u2019s chair.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou didn\u2019t hit her, did you?\u201d said Barry.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, but I wanted to.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMicky,\u201d said Mrs. K. \u201cMicky, why don\u2019t you go wait down by Dad\u2019s bike. Say Hi to the crossing guard.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Micky marched without a word of hesitation. He was resolved to say Hi to no one. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

As the children fled, time gelled around the two adults. Barry fought the silence. \u201cYou know I\u2019m pretty sure I did the same thing, Mrs. K. When I was in your class.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cListen, Barry\u2014\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cExcept, I think I might have gotten switched. But you know that was alright, as long as Rob Johnson\u2014do you remember Rob Johnson?\u2014as long as he got switched with me, you know that was alright then.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBarry, do you know what I went to college for?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI, uh\u2014\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI went to school for childhood education. I\u2019m trained to teach <\/em>your kids. But with your son it\u2019s not teaching anymore. It\u2019s . . .well look at my pants, Barry. He knocked that chair right into my desk and it knocked over my coffee. He\u2019s just unpredictable anymore.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sure he\u2019ll grow out of it like I did\u2014” <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTake a look at the paper I put in his take-home folder,\u201d said Mrs. K. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Barry knew what homework for his son meant for him. \u201cYou gave him more<\/em> homework?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHomework for you<\/em>,\u201d said Mrs. K. \u201cIt\u2019s a pamphlet for a local clinic.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLike a dentist?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLike a psychiatrist,\u201d said Mrs. K. \u201cFor children. For Micky.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA shrink?\u201d Barry laughed. \u201cYou want my son to go sip tea with a shrink?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBarry, last week I had a copy of The Stand<\/em> on my desk,\u201d said Mrs. K. \u201cThe next day, Micky showed up carrying a copy into class\u2014and he was carrying it because it didn\u2019t fit in his bag.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe reads! Isn\u2019t that what you want?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat day I asked him, \u2018Hi, how are you?\u2019 He looked over the top of the book like he hated me. It\u2019s as if he can\u2019t stand the little things that keep people normal. It doesn\u2019t matter how well he reads. If he doesn\u2019t learn to socialize, that boy\u2019s not making it through high school. Do you want him to be a dropout?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Barry turned away. \u201cI\u2019m sure he\u2019ll be fine, Mrs. K,\u201d he said. \u201cThanks.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Micky got on the spokes of his dad\u2019s bike and they rode home.  He was silent until he had the thought: \u201cHey,\u201d he said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s up, dude?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCan we stop by the library?\u201d   <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Barry wasn\u2019t sure how to get his mind where it needed to go. He imagined himself looking ahead, stern: the picture of a father making the right decision. Then he thought of the familiar stains on the school doors and Mrs. K\u2019s face. He hated how much she had aged, yet here he was just the same. He pedaled faster and said to his son, \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Micky spread a copy of Duma Key<\/em> and a much thinner dictionary in front of the TV. The librarian had said he couldn\u2019t check out a reference text. Then she saw Barry walk in with a box of Little Caesar\u2019s, realized the books were for Micky, and said, \u201cAs long as you bring it back.\u201d   <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Barry watched cartoons with a slice of pizza and a Mtn. Dew. Micky held the first page of Duma Key <\/em>open with his toes and flipped open his dictionary. C\u2014Con\u2014Contracting (Noun). <\/em>\u201cOk, cool, contracting,\u201d said Micky under his breath. H\u2014Hun\u2014Hunch (Noun). <\/em>\u201cOk, Hunch.\u201d P\u2014Pocket<\/em>. Pocket . . . ? <\/em>Micky clapped the dictionary shut and Barry spilled some of his drink. \u201cWhy isn\u2019t \u2018pocket-rocket\u2019 in the dictionary?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat rocket?\u201d said Barry with a mouthful of cheese.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat does \u2018pocket-rocket\u2019 mean?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cUm, I have a guess, but I don\u2019t think it\u2019s right.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Micky tried reading again but the words were wiggly, uncontrollable. He tied his attention to the text. It bucked away. \u201cCan I play the Nintendo?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell you tried to square up with your friends today.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSquare up?<\/em> I don\u2019t think you can say that.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou say that all the time.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t say that. You sound like\u2014you sound like Scooter. I don\u2019t like the way he talks.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t like the way you act at school. So no Nintendo. Now eat your pizza.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Micky swung his arms and his breath stuttered behind his words, leagues behind his thoughts. \u201cBut she was so mean, she was\u2014veal. First of all, she put her hands all over my food, and second of all, she bent her neck all ugly and she said I was stupid.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Barry stood up and turned off the cartoons; he realized this was the part to listen to. \u201cThat\u2019s silly, Micky,\u201d he said. \u201cYou know you\u2019re not stupid\u2014what\u2019s stupid was messing with her when she was being a bully. We don\u2019t do that, right? Don\u2019t mess with the Mess Around, Micky, it\u2019s easy, isn\u2019t it?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut I hate Tabitha!\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMicky, sit down. Eat something, Christ. If you want to play the Nintendo tomorrow, eat and get in the shower.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Barry restrained himself from turning on the cartoons. Silence, he remembered from his childhood, was even more useful than a switch. It was too unwieldy for him. He broke it by ruffling through Micky\u2019s backpack. The sharks on the homework folder bit at the calluses on his finger-pads. Micky\u2019s thoughts burned in the silence of his mouth, so he went away to pee.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mrs. K had stapled her note\u2014a Post-It that looked like it had dried from being dunked in coffee\u2014to a blue pamphlet. Barry saw where Mrs. K\u2019s long nails smudged the otherwise spidery ink:  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBarry\u2014it\u2019s time to assess Micky\u2019s behavior. Don\u2019t throw away his future.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

On the front of the pamphlet sat a white, nuclear-sound family around a puzzle. Above them read Southside Childhood Psychiatrics. Barry turned the leaf, disgusted. In outpatient settings, we offer individual and group therapy to work with families and improve behaviors. Our psychiatrists are trained to work with your community and family doctor to . . . <\/em> Contact us at . . . <\/em> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Barry crumpled it all and smashed it against his forehead like a finished beer can. He stayed like that, hoping the right thoughts would come to him.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The apartment was on the highest floor. Neither Barry nor Micky cared for decorations, but Barry had bought some posters before Micky was born. Three hung above the TV: a profile of Al Pacino, Hunter S. Thompson, and one of Heath Ledger. Barry would wait for Micky to look up from his book to ask who the men were. Then he\u2019d know.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Micky walked in, drying his hands on his pants. \u201cYou look sour, dad.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat? I was just thinking.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOk.\u201d Micky sat down to Duma Key.<\/em>  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Barry watched Micky\u2019s brows cut a deep frown as he opened his dictionary.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow about we pretend the power went out?\u201d said Barry. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t want to do that.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Barry switched off the lamp.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDude!\u201d said Micky. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Barry switched off the kitchen light. The hallway light. He unplugged the fridge because it leaked light on the sides. He gathered some candles and threw them in Micky\u2019s lap. \u201cLight em up, dude<\/em>.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI want to read my book.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

From his bedroom around the short hall, Barry hollered, \u201cSociety\u2019s gone through the tubes, Micky!\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis is a dumb game anymore,\u201d yet he lit a candle and set it on the coffee table. \u201cI\u2019d rather be grounded.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Barry rushed into the sphere of candlelight. His guitar had a gold finish and a strap that might have been dried in the Vegas desert. The candle burped arcs across the varnish.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe whole world is burned to a crisp, son. You and me are the last people on earth. What should we do?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre you going to sing?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere\u2019s nothing anymore. No more TV, no more work, and no more bitch teachers. So what do we do, Micky?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere\u2019s nothing we can<\/em> do\u2014\u201d began Micky. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2014but bite our time and sing a rhyme.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Barry\u2019s left hand walked the frets and his right threw out the chords. Micky would fall asleep after crashing from a fit of jumping and dancing.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t call them,\u201d said Barry.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou didn\u2019t call them?\u201d said Mrs. K.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, I didn\u2019t. There\u2019s nothing wrong with Micky. He\u2019s healthy, he\u2019s smart, and he reads fine.\u201d Barry looked down the hill to his bike. \u201cHe\u2019s reading right now.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe needs a diagnosis of something<\/em>.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFor what? Don\u2019t you want him to like himself?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not about what\u2019s likable<\/em>.” <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s the point of telling him that something\u2019s wrong?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo we know how to work with him, Barry.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s just like school, isn\u2019t it? You want some shrink to grade him. You want my son to be checked off on all these little boxes so he makes sense to you guys\u2014\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou have a clich\u00e9 idea about psychiatry\u2014\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2014and I don\u2019t even have the money for all of that! So I\u2019m not fucking up my kid by having a shrink tell him what his bad thing is.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMicky\u2019s suspended for a week,\u201d said Mrs. K.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Barry\u2019s head landed. \u201cSuspended? Suspended from school?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s in his folder. I caught him pinch Scooter and to my face he called me a bitch. I can only imagine where he heard that word.\u201d Barry became hotly aware of the other parents, all much older than himself. \u201cSo you should take some time out and think about what\u2019s really going to fuck him up. Because Micky has a shot at going somewhere and doing something. Think about that<\/em>.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Micky climbed on the spokes of his dad\u2019s bike. Barry thought he seemed sleepy and resolved to pedal slower than usual. \u201cCan I play the Nintendo when we get home?\u201d asked Micky.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The crossing guard waved goodbye. \u201cDon\u2019t get \u2018er too fast, you hear, Barry!\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou bet, Micky,\u201d said Barry. His eyes were lower than an animal\u2019s with little left to guard.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Many before him have died in these vines but the jungle never scared him. He ran right on ahead, never flinching and never ever pausing. Crocodiles dripping with wet flesh lurched for his body and darts without origin all flew with the same target. He ran, jumped, swung, and right before he could slip behind the secret rock, he ate a boomerang and died.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Micky huffed and restarted the level. He had not immediately started playing Nintendo after school: he had tried to read. But The Stand <\/em>and the dictionary had both been flung much farther away. Donkey Kong <\/em>seemed like something he could get right and he turned it on without asking.  <\/em> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy don\u2019t you just skip the bonus?\u201d said Barry.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t get it. I want the golden coin.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t have to be perfect. You just got to get to the end of the level.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, I want the coin. You don\u2019t get it.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Barry bent his to see the kitchen clock, subtracted an hour in his head because it was fall. \u201cYou should get in the shower, dude. You have to go to work with me in the morning.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy can\u2019t I stay here?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBecause you\u2019re eight. And suspended.\u201d   <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t want to go to the grocery store. What if the kids at school see me there?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAt the grocery store? It\u2019s a grocery store, Micky, there\u2019s no crime in being at the grocery store.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t want them to see me there. They\u2019ll call me stupid.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Barry\u2019s patience tapered. \u201cI told you\u2014you\u2019re not stupid. It doesn\u2019t matter what the kids say, so forget about it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On his third time restarting the level, Micky hit up-up-down-down-left-right-left-right-B-A-start. He was invincible. \u201cBut they\u2019re right.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not stupid!\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey said people with their names on the board are stupid. And my name\u2019s always on the board.\u201d Micky jumped on the head of a crocodile. \u201cThey all act so good just so I\u2019m alone.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Barry tried to grab Micky by his little shoulder, but it was mostly the back of his neck. \u201cYou\u2019re not stupid. You\u2019re my son, and I was a really smart kid in school, and you\u2019re really smart too.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cScooter came up to my face and said, \u2018Why\u2019re you so stupid Micky?\u2019 And he\u2019s right. I am stupid.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMicky, shut up!\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI can\u2019t read the stupid books from the library and now I can\u2019t go to stupid school anymore and I can\u2019t win this level!\u201d The screen flashed gold as Micky got the coin. \u201cI\u2019ve beat this level a billion times but I can\u2019t do it without cheats.\u201d The controller flew. \u201cI\u2019m stupid because I use cheats!\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDude, the TV!\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t want to go to the grocery store! You\u2019re stupid because you work at the grocery store! I want to be a teacher like the real parents, not like you! I hate you!\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Micky ran down the short hall to his room. Donkey Kong\u2019s victory lost form in the splintered glass.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Barry had bought the Nintendo from a pawn shop. \u201cCould have been the same Nintendo I pawned when you were born,\u201d he had told Micky. Without putting words to it, he had hoped the game would take Micky back in time, a time like tonight: Barry playing Nintendo alone. There would just be familiar characters and colored motion while everyone around him was displeased. Barry would hope that the child would know this exclusion and just fucking get it.<\/em> Except now the child was older, displeased, and had truly become his son. Barry was lost and he too threw the remote at the TV.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then, one at a time, he plucked the shards out of the carpet. He knew Micky didn\u2019t like wearing socks at home.   <\/p>\n\n\n\n

As Barry scanned tangerines, Micky sat under the counter. He read The Stand <\/em>and ate Twizzlers.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Barry saw the crossing guard\u2019s neon garb five customers ago. He wondered if the old man had picked the longest line on purpose. Among other sugar free snacks, the crossing guard bought sardines, wheat bread, and Diet Mtn. Dew.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBarry! How\u2019s it going? How\u2019s your bike?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s all good.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI heard Micky took some time off from school. Is he home?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, he\u2019s right here. Micky, say Hi.\u201d Micky poked just his eyes above the counter and flicked a wave. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMicky! How\u2019s it going, boy?\u201d The crossing guard broke off a can of Diet Mtn. Dew and dangled it over the counter. Micky said \u201cthanks\u201d and popped it open at once.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHey, man, he\u2019s not supposed to drink pop.\u201d Micky looked ready to fight for the gray and green can. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAw, lighten up, Dad. A little caffeine can help some kids calm down. It should help him read that big ol\u2019 book.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Micky turned to page ten, uninterested in the adult conversation.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI guess since it\u2019s diet,\u201d said Barry, rolling the receipt around his hand as it rushed out. \u201cHow do you know that for sure? Did you read a book about it?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The crossing guard laughed. \u201cNo, I don\u2019t have the patience to read. I just heard it from the mom of some of the kids. You can learn a lot by just talking to people.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The person behind the crossing guard, a busy mother herself, started stacking her boxed pasta onto the belt.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The crossing guard continued. \u201cFor instance, last week I was talking to a fella who had an intolerance to linoleum<\/em>. Said when he took his shoes off at the doctor\u2019s, his feet would get all itchy. I said, \u2018Well, you know, my feet get all itchy at the doctor\u2019s too.\u2019 And it was only ever at the doctor\u2019s, I could never figure it out. Isn\u2019t that wild? Now I don\u2019t walk on the floor when the doctor asks to see my feet.\u201d The mother ruffled the candy bars as loud as she could. \u201cJust talking to people was the same way I learned not to put lotion between my toes. It\u2019s not good for diabetics, son\u2014don\u2019t put no lotion between a diabetic\u2019s toes.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWow, thanks man, good to know.\u201d Barry began scanning. \u201cI think you\u2019re going to have to move your cart over so I can help this lady.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, right,\u201d said the crossing guard, gathering up his cart. \u201cSo try asking people about their day, son. People seem to do that less and less. Now you and Micky have a good one.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Barry\u2019s shift ended at two-thirty. He left with a six-pack of Diet Mountain Dew. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

With just the two of them, there wasn\u2019t much trash in the can. A few black TV dinner trays, receipts, pop cans. (Beside the trash can sat an entire television, but Barry tried not looking at that). The crumpled pamphlet for Southside was near the top. Barry threw the Post-It back in out of a bit of spite.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He read the rest of the pamphlet. Although he brushed over a lot of them, words like adjustment<\/em>, consultation, <\/em>and safe<\/em> didn\u2019t seem so threatening.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Micky drank Mountain Dew with his SpaghettiOs. Getting to bed was less eventful. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Micky asked, \u201cDo I have to go to the grocery store tomorrow?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, I took the day off.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAw, cool, what\u2019re we gonna do?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell I was thinking, we could go to the doctor\u2019s office.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre you sick?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, I\u2019m not sick. You\u2019re not sick either, but I\u2019m taking you<\/em>.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell if there\u2019s nothing wrong with me, then why am I going to the doctor\u2019s?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Barry sighed and waved his hand. He willed the right thoughts and was grateful that they were there. \u201cIt\u2019s not that anything\u2019s the matter. It\u2019s just\u2014the thing. It\u2019s like\u2014well I think everyone has things, like . . . maybe an allergy to the floor. We don\u2019t have to say it\u2019s a good thing or a bad <\/em>thing, but we ought to know about it. So like, you know when to wear socks. If you do have a thing.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Micky\u2019s eyebrows looked to be over a puzzle with a lot of defects. \u201cWhat?\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019m not allergic to the floor.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo\u2014never mind. You have to go to the doctor\u2019s tomorrow. It shouldn\u2019t take long. Then we can go to the library or something.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou never go to the library.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMaybe you can show me the books you like.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI guess.\u201d Micky still seemed suspicious, but he was losing patience. \u201cBut I hate the doctor\u2019s. I\u2014loaf it.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI know and I don\u2019t care. But hey\u2014do you wanna hear an old song I like?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Micky unfolded his arms. He fell asleep on the floor to some rough improvisation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Second Chance<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Alexander Petras<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI told you it was real,\u201d Jimmy said, and he took another hit of the dwindling joint in his hand. The radio on his nightstand was turned up as loud as the dial would allow and tuned into a grainy news channel. Where they lived, any connection (from radio to cell service) was never very reliable. Now that the power had gone out, the signal seemed to have gotten even worse. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMore and more photos of the planet are being released as we speak,\u201d the announcer said, her voice distorted. Aaron, who was sitting on a beanbag chair next to the radio, tried to re-adjust the antenna. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNASA scientist, Dr. Ea Atsumi, has been quoted saying that this may be the most important scientific discovery of the last 50 years.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou guys never believe me,\u201d Jimmy said without venom and shook his head. His hair was curly, but it never stood up the way he wanted it too. If he could grow much of a beard, he imagined it would be curly and disappointing as well. He passed the joint to Dante, who sat next to him on the bed. Dante rolled his eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s \u2018cause you always make shit up,\u201d he said, tucking a braid behind his ear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI do not!\u201d Jimmy protested. He turned to Aaron and Frank for support, but they weren\u2019t listening. Frank stared at his dirty shoes, and Aaron stared at the radio like he needed to watch it in order to hear the story. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt is estimated that with current technology, a manned spacecraft could reach the planet in 20 years. No news yet about a mission like that from NASA, but I\u2019m certain planning is underway. There are\u2014\u201d The woman\u2019s voice dissolved into clumps of static instead of words. It took them all a moment to realize they couldn\u2019t understand it anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis shit sucks,\u201d Aaron said, trying to adjust the antenna again. Dante passed the joint to Frank on the floor. \u201cThis whole town sucks.\u201d Aaron was heavy and strong like a wrestler. He kept his hair around his shoulders and had several tattoos on his forearms. He said his dad was from Puerto Rico, but Jimmy had never seen him. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTry the TV again,\u201d Jimmy said, even though there had been no indication that the power was back on. He glanced at Frank to imply that he should turn on the TV because he was closest to it, but Frank just stared back and exhaled smoke. Frank usually looked a bit ill with his pale skin and sunken eyes. Jimmy sometimes worried that he didn\u2019t eat enough, but Frank always assured him that he did. And, despite his appearance, Jimmy was inclined to believe him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGotta do everything myself,\u201d Jimmy muttered, and Frank grinned. He pushed himself off his bed slowly, feeling his heart beat all over his body. For a moment he stood there, trying to let his blood pressure reach equilibrium again. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He hit the power button on the old television, but nothing happened. Just to be sure, he pressed the button several more times.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not gonna work, dumbass, the lights aren\u2019t back on,\u201d Aaron said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI thought we turned the lights off,\u201d Jimmy said. He sat back on the bed, struggling for a second to keep his balance. Aaron flipped the lamp next to the radio on, then back off, but nothing happened. He sighed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe storm\u2019s passing,\u201d Dante said, pointing to the window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLet\u2019s go get food then,\u201dAaron said. He gave the radio one final smack, and the signal cut back in suddenly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRight now we are making calculations to land Voyager 4 on the planet\u2019s surface. Its, uh, its cameras were not designed for close range photography, but we will hopefully get a clearer view of the surface,\u201d a male voice said with a sharp Russian accent. He sounded breathless. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s what I\u2019m talking about!\u201d Jimmy said, reaching over to pat the radio. Aaron smacked his hand away to protect whatever balance he had achieved.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBased on the pictures we have now, well, I\u2019m seeing green,\u201d the announcer said. \u201cIs it possible we have vegetation down there?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, we originally noted the planet because it falls within the hospitable zone. I think there\u2019s a good possibility something\u2019s alive down there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSomething?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s possible that this life might not reflect life as we know it, but, based on the apparent content of the atmosphere, I\u2019d say carbon-based life is not out of the realm of possibility.\u201d By the end of his sentence, his voice was mostly static again. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The announcer\u2019s response was unintelligible. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDamn, we gotta see it,\u201d Dante said. Frank nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey got a TV at Taco Bell?\u201d Aaron asked. He finally abandoned the radio to finish off the blunt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNah, but I think they got one at McDonald\u2019s,\u201d Dante said. Aaron shook his head and coughed violently. He hit his chest several times but couldn\u2019t seem to unclog his lungs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSmoke much?\u201d Jimmy laughed. Aaron flipped him off, then cleared his throat loudly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI want Taco Bell though,\u201d he said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe always gotta do what you want,\u201d Dante sighed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShut up,\u201d Aaron said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe can go to both,\u201d Jimmy said, \u201cIt\u2019ll take 5 minutes if we drive.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m not getting a DUI. I\u2019m walking,\u201d Aaron said. Jimmy didn\u2019t blame Aaron for that, although he didn\u2019t want to walk in the rain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s a mile, quit whining,\u201d Aaron said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jimmy shook his head, \u201cI didn\u2019t say anything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The radio spit out several more clumps of static.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was gray outside, but the rain had stopped for the moment. Jimmy looked at the clouds and tried to picture himself on another planet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cY’all think there\u2019s aliens there?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cProbably like, bacteria or something,\u201d Dante said. Though it had poured, the street was still a mess. Bottles were crushed so fine that the fragments filled in the sidewalk cracks. Fast-food wrappers and styrofoam cups were soaked and smashed into the dirt. Aaron kicked at a bottle cap as they went.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI mean like, Star Wars level aliens,\u201d Jimmy said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNah, no way.\u201d Aaron let himself fall a step behind them to smoke a cigarette. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

They walked for a while in silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI guess it’s possible,\u201d Dante said eventually.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo way. If they were intelligent they would\u2019ve blown up the probe.\u201d Aaron finished his cigarette and tossed the butt behind him. Frank scowled at him, but he ignored it. \u201cOr at least sent their own probe out to contact it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dante shrugged. \u201cYou shouldn\u2019t throw cigarettes around like that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s gonna rain again,\u201d Aaron said, pointing up to the dark clouds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To get to Taco Bell they had to walk a small ways along the road, unless they felt like cutting through the woods. But even the grass and weeds along the road were too tall and muddy to traverse, so they walked along the shoulder next to the guardrail. As they walked, they approached a bloody mess on the road. It was a deer\u2014 a young male, with the nubs of fuzzy antlers on his crooked head. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou know if you hit a deer, you own it,\u201d Jimmy said. They meandered into the road, giving the deer as much space as they could.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho\u2019d want a deer?\u201d Dante mumbled, pinching his nose to try and avoid the smell.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI dunno, a hillbilly probably,\u201d Aaron said. He waved his hand in front of his face like the smell might dissipate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A car came at them fast with the driver laying on the horn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShit!\u201d Jimmy grabbed Aaron and pulled him back towards the shoulder. Frank and Dante both grabbed Jimmy, pulling him over as well. The car blared by, swerving only at the last second to avoid the deer carcass. Frank looked like he might be sick.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMotherfucker,\u201d Aaron said. He spat into the road. Cars on the other side of the dividing wall sped by without a care. Jimmy watched an old woman roll her window down slightly and flick a cigarette out. They kept walking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They reached a large hill in the road, over which Taco Bell would be just visible in the distance. Jimmy could already see the dollar menu in his head. Since he\u2019d just gotten paid, he imagined getting one of everything. And, since in this fantasy he had one of everything, he made sure that Frank ate a lot too. A light, misty rain began.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAw, this all sucks,\u201d Aaron said. He started to pull out his pack of cigarettes, but then shoved it back into his pocket. They passed through a pile of crushed beer cans and bottles. Jimmy wondered if someone had dumped them there or if people had actually hung out and drank on the side of the road. Aaron kicked one of the broken bottles into the road.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t be like that,\u201d Dante said. \u201cYou\u2019re gonna blow someone\u2019s tire.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t care.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCome on, that\u2019s shitty, man.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not my bottle!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cImagine if that happened to you. You can\u2019t buy new tires.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Aaron groaned. He knew Dante was right. He trudged into the road as the rain picked up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re like my fucking mom!\u201d he yelled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou wish your mom was this pretty!\u201d Dante called back, and they laughed as Aaron grumbled. Another car came speeding over the hilltop. It didn\u2019t have time to stop or swerve out of the way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAaron!\u201d Jimmy yelled. The brakes wailed, and the car skittered sideways as it slowed down. Before Jimmy could see the driver\u2019s face, he righted the car and sped away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAaron!\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

His body was a wet lump on the black road. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Frank stuttered on the phone with the police. The rain came down harder and harder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDid you catch the plates?\u201d Dante yelled. Jimmy stood halfway between the guardrail and Aaron. He wasn\u2019t sure if he could drag him to safety before another car came.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDid you catch that motherfucker\u2019s plates?\u201d Dante yelled. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The planet news was on all the screens in the emergency room. There was a plethora of grainy videos that the probe had taken as it descended through the atmosphere. It reminded Jimmy of Luke Skywalker descending onto Dagobah. They\u2019d been in the emergency room for hours, though, and they had started to recycle the footage. Jimmy could now distinguish the clips by their minute differences. There was one that seemed to be all smoke. One that looked like it was travelling through grey clouds. One where the clouds seemed more red than the others. Jimmy, however, didn\u2019t take his eyes off the screen. If he did, he had to remember he was in a hospital and that Aaron was somewhere hidden from them, going through God only knew what.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A nurse came by to tell them that Aaron was going in for surgery and that, even though his condition was still serious, he was expected to stabilize once the procedure was finished. Jimmy wasn\u2019t sure what to do, so he just nodded. Her presence made him look away from the screen and think about Earth and death and not the lovely new planet, and he resented her for that. Every part of him felt heavy and tired.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looked around the emergency room. Though she didn\u2019t work in town, he figured that Aaron\u2019s mom would\u2019ve been here by now. Maybe she went right to his room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Next to him, Frank sniffled again. Jimmy was fairly certain he\u2019d stopped crying, but his breathing still seemed strained. Jimmy squeezed his hand because he really didn\u2019t know what to say. He\u2019d still bought them food even though it was overpriced and from the hospital food court. The red bar at the bottom of the news screen said the Chinese government had announced a manned expedition that would depart for the planet in 2020. Jimmy wondered why it would take the next six years to build the rocket. The program finally cut away from the atmosphere footage to several people discussing this development.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDamn, now it\u2019s another space race,\u201d Jimmy said to Dante. He turned before he remembered that Dante had left to make it home in time before work at least half an hour ago. Though he resented him for leaving, Jimmy was jealous that he had something so concrete to distract his mind with. He\u2019d promised to send him any updates. With his free hand, he pulled out his phone and sent a short text: Going into surgery.<\/em> Jimmy turned to Frank, who looked miserable with his reddened eyes, which focused on the TV nearest to them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou think we\u2019ll beat them?\u201d he asked in an attempt to distract him. He supposed the \u201cwe\u201d was America. Frank blinked slowly, then moved over to rest his head on Jimmy\u2019s shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI guess it would be better if we did it all together,\u201d Jimmy added.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think we should go at all,\u201d Frank said in his soft voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat!\u201d Jimmy raised his eyebrows. \u201cA whole new world and we just ignore it? What if there\u2019s aliens? What if there\u2019s a plant that cures cancer?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat planet\u2019s better off if we leave it be,\u201d Frank said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cImagine, dude. We haven\u2019t even explored the whole ocean yet. We have no idea what\u2019s out there. Could be anything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not worth it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d Jimmy almost laughed, but he knew Frank was serious.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI just think that we\u2019ll ruin it, is all.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jimmy frowned. He wanted to be excited about the discovery. Some part of him even wanted to travel to the planet, six years of rocket-building and twenty years of travel be damned, to be able to see it with his own eyes. But he thought about the day he\u2019d had, and then the lifetime he\u2019d had before that. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He shifted his weight so he could rest his head on top of Frank\u2019s. He closed his eyes and listened to the nurses shuffling around and the phone at the desk ringing, ringing, ringing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMaybe you\u2019re right.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Escape<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Peter Russ<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve been asleep for too long, open your eyes and come back to me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was shaken out of my slumber. The world around me felt hazy and distorted as I tried to grasp at the fleeting images from my sleep. I was in a city. A large, loud city that glowed a dazzling silver from afar, but the closer it was to me, the dingier it became. I remember the feel of the dirt that covered the once-paved  road beneath my shoeless feet. Someone might have been calling my name. I couldn\u2019t remember exactly what they were saying, if they were saying anything at all. I remember being hungry and angry\u2014 really angry. Then, there was the woman in the blue coat and pencil skirt. She smiled at me and offered her hand. I didn\u2019t want to take it, but she grabbed mine. Then I woke up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I could see her on the other side of my confinement. She wore a long, grey coat with a dim, blue stripe down the front, and hair pulled back tightly. Her features were blurry. Something around me obscured her, but I knew it was her. As I watched her walk around me, observing the tablet in her hand, I wanted to scream and get her attention. She had <\/em>to let me out of here. A sizzling jolt of heat assaulted my spine, and my eyes shot away from her. The sensation continued until I looked straight at the screen that appeared on the glass wall that confined me. It projected a glinting chrome tower with little vehicles darting from its open hangars high above the ground. The sun was rising from behind the building\u2019s peak as the charismatic voice began to speak.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cZenith is humanity\u2019s guide toward the next step in our evolutionary chain. Nothing is impossible with Zenith; together we can make you the Human you\u2019ve always wanted to be!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The screen droned incessantly as the picture shifted and a learning module began. A young man  appeared on the screen and spoke slowly, going over the speech lessons from yesterday. I didn\u2019t know how much more of this guy I could take. Every day he talked to me like I was some idiot who didn\u2019t know how to speak. The screen shifted to show the city with the Zenith tower at the center. Every time I saw that tower, all I could think of was that I was stuck in here, in a tube somewhere in that giant tower. In a stupid way, it was kind of funny. It reminded me of something I couldn\u2019t really remember.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u0489<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Edith circled the Augmented Reclamation Tank as she checked the reports on the metallic statpad. She pressed two fingers to her right temple and squinted as her eyes adjusted to the data.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBodily functions: normal,\u201d she mumbled to herself. \u201cHeart rate: slightly elevated. Neural output: elevated. Well, you just woke up and your module is going so that\u2019s normal. Power and pressure look fine . . . and growth rate is steady. This all looks very good, Six. Zenith is proud.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A thunderous thud <\/em>startled her, and she looked to specimen Six. He continued to pound on the glass tank as his eyes remained glued to the telescreen projected on the protective barrier. Edith laughed at the thought of him hearing her and focused back on the statpad. She didn\u2019t care if he could hear her, though she knew he couldn\u2019t. That was fine. She just wanted someone to listen to her. She was tired of always being the one who listened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve been quite active lately, haven\u2019t you?\u201d Edith swiped from his vitals to his rest analysis. She frowned as the charts that were usually a healthy green turned a bloody red. Six had entered into REM sleep several times over the eight-hour rest cycle. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA little too active,\u201d she corrected herself as she looked at the AR tank. Six had his fist balled and pressed against the glass as he focused on the screen that now displayed various words and letters. He lifted his fist to strike the glass again but stopped and convulsed. Edith had expected him to experience a shock sooner or later. The Pseudos aren\u2019t supposed to move while their learning modules are active. She always thought the shocks to be a little much; the plexiglass tanks were already several inches thick, even Pseudos with augmented physical capabilities couldn\u2019t get out of them with the restrictive fluid holding them back. It was just another safety precaution. Edith shrugged as she continued pacing around the tank.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll have to administer sedatives before he sleeps for a while. The same thing happened with Twenty-Two before \u2013 \u201c<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDr. Wren!\u201d A gruff voice barked as the white doors of Six\u2019s chamber slid open.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Edith turned to see Dr. Ahrst approaching her quickly. His pale face was covered in brown liver spots and featured a sharp, hawk-like nose descending from the center of his now reddened head. Edith deactivated her statpads screen and pressed her fingers to her temple.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSir?\u201d she said .<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDr. Yantz wanted all of the observatory personnel in the conference room ten minutes ago and you\u2019re in here, just talking to the thing! Get down there now with your reports before I have you <\/em> put in one of these damned tanks!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Edith nodded and rushed out of the room without looking back at Six. As the doors closed behind her, Dr. Ahrst sighed and rubbed his wrinkled hands on his deeply lined forehead. His fingers attempted to ease the irritation and stress from the aged crevices of his skin to no avail. He inspected the room slowly, looking for the specimen analysis statpad. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe must\u2019ve taken it,\u201d he grumbled as he walked toward the statpad embedded in the AR tank\u2019s base. \u201cWhat has she done to this? Ugh, what am I going to do with that woman?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The power and pressure gauges on the tank were normal, but they were on the lower side of the security threshold. Dr. Ahrst began to slide his fingers across the statpad\u2019s display as smaller screens popped up, changing the security settings as he pleased. The old man could hear his own labored pulse over his thoughts as he swiped out of the smaller screens. He had pulled up the electrical input and suspension matrix to tweak them when a reverberated explosion knocked him off his feet and jolted the statpad from its connection base. Landing painfully on his backside, the old doctor looked up to find the specimen smiling down upon him. The chromium reclamation cords descended from the top of the tank and writhed around his body, eventually attaching to his spine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou! You stupid little. . .\u201d Words began to fail the old man as he scrambled frantically to his feet, \u201cYou think that was funny? Ha! The second I tell Dr. Yantz that I\u2019ve observed aggressive behavior in you, you\u2019ll be euthanized and dissected!\u201d Dr. Ahrst smiled to himself before shaking his head, \u201cLook at me, talking to these things like they can hear me. I feel like Edith.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Specimen Six slammed his fist against the glass again, causing Dr. Ahrst to flinch and retreat. The doctor turned and left with his face even redder than before. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u0489<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Edith hurried down the slender corridor that connected the various Pseudo growth rooms together. She pushed her hair behind her ear and let out a flustered sigh. She never did enjoy the corporate side of Zenith, nor did she care for the scientific side, but it paid well enough. Yet, the corporation itself was growing repulsive. It was too cold, too abrasive. The board always wanted what they couldn\u2019t have when they couldn\u2019t have it. Edith and the other Reclamation Specialists had only just perfected the domestic Pseudo. A wonderfully familiar servant that was docile, hardworking, and eager to please\u30fcbut that wasn\u2019t enough. Of course the board wanted more. They always demanded more.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I could leave this all behind<\/em>, she thought to herself, they wouldn\u2019t care. They would replace me within a day<\/em>. The thought hurt her pride momentarily before rationality soothed her. That was how the world worked now: everyone was replaceable. She scanned the hallway for room six to finish off Six\u2019s stats and to fix whatever Dr. Ahrst surely had changed. Edith always knew that Ahrst didn\u2019t trust her judgement; he was too old to understand change and the fact that there were people around him who were smarter and more competent than he was. Although, he never critiqued Dr. Durachii, whose constant blunders and idiotic oversight brought about the Twenty-Two fiasco.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That\u2019s the board\u2019s problem<\/em>, Edith thought as she hovered her hand over the genetic scanner for access to Six\u2019s room, they take on too many projects without giving us time to perfect them. The experimental batches were originally intended for the corporation\u2019s protection and to see how far we could push the human genomes, until the government\u2019s spacing agency offered a bid too high for the board to refuse. <\/em>The scanner produced a thin chime and flashed a blue light, allowing her entry into the sealed room. There\u2019s really no helping it though<\/em>, Edith lamented, all I do is grow the damn things<\/em>. The thought of leaving Zenith behind swirled about her mind again for a moment before she pushed it away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSorry I\u2019m late Six, Dr. Yantz always drones on with his. . . his. . .\u201d Edith\u2019s words trailed off as she pressed her temple to focus her vision. Her ocular implants must\u2019ve been malfunctioning, and she regretted not saving up for the organic replacement program. As her vision adjusted, her heart sank and she cried out as her fears were validated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Six was free from his confinement, detached from his reclamation cord, and drying from the synthetic amniotic fluid he had been submerged in. Thick shards of glass piled around his feet as he walked toward her slowly with his hand out, reaching for her. Edith stumbled backward; her sense of balance abandoned her in the face of the Pseudo. In a single moment, her world was flipped. It wasn\u2019t so much that he was out, even though that did terrify her. She could easily grab the command switch on the wall, press the auto-off button, and he would be pacified. It was his expression\u30fc one of sadness and longing. His piercing yellow eyes were partially hidden behind the damp curls that dangled in front of his face. Six had always been an angry Pseudo; their natural emotions were always fixed by the reclamation cords upon their rebirth, but now his anger was gone. It was replaced by something else.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Purely out of fear, Edith pressed the button and held it as Six grabbed at his neck and screamed a primal cry of pain before crumbling to the floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u0489<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Every inch of my body burned. There was a high-pitched grating from the back of my neck that ricocheted around my mind and the rest of my being. I felt the coolness of the white tiles on my shins as I knelt on the ground. I held myself in the hope that it would keep my body together while being ripped apart from the inside. Somewhere, some part of me had felt this before. There was a pressure on my forehead, right above my nose, that didn\u2019t hurt. I remembered this pain, but without knowing why. It was like being dropped into a tub of liquid fire that filled my every cell, roasting me alive. But then, it stopped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow did you do that?\u201d The woman stammered, \u201cT-talk like that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked up at her. She was afraid. She held something tightly in her hand with her thumb hovering over it. I didn\u2019t want her to hurt me again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe only teach you the basics in responding, you \u2013 you shouldn\u2019t be able to initiate conversation.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I pushed myself from the floor into a kneeling position and gazed at her. She looked much different from outside my confinement, but almost as I had imagined. She wasn\u2019t the woman I had seen in my dream taking me away after all. She was different; I could read her name woven in the fabric of her coat. Edith Wren.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease…I can\u2019t go back in. Please.\u201d I struggled to speak through teeth that felt like they would vibrate out of my skull.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cD-don\u2019t move,\u201d Edith said as I blinked away the fading pain and confusion. \u201cYou aren\u2019t supposed to be released until you\u2019ve been taken to your work site. I have to call.\u201d I watched as she squeezed her earlobe and whispered to herself. Work site? First, they torture me. Then they make me work?<\/em> I moved slowly, keeping eye contact with her until I was kneeling, just as she was, and held out a halting hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat do you mean work site? And who are you calling?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDidn\u2019t you pay attention to your learning modules or did you only pound the glass to distract yourself?\u201d she spat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDistraction.\u201d I nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She scoffed, \u201cPseudos are servants, workers, they\u2019re things that perform the work that people don\u2019t want to do. Pseudos like you are sent to Ganymede to work on sustainability projects. For humans.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t want to do that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Edith just shook her head,  looking at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s what you were made for. That\u2019s the only thing you\u2019re supposed to do. That\u2019s why you shouldn\u2019t be out.\u201d She was standing now, with her finger still trembling over the button. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

If only I could take it from her, then I might not have to feel whatever she did to me again. I couldn\u2019t bear it. She began to pace slowly without taking her eyes off of me. I could see her sweating. She seemed just as afraid as I was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf I\u2019m only supposed to know that<\/em>, why am I allowed to dream? I already know more than this,\u201d I said as I motioned to the room, \u201cat least sometimes I do. Like this floor. I\u2019ve smelled something like this before. I\u2019ve seen floors dirtier than this. I\u2019ve had dirt under my feet and between my toes. I\u2019ve sweated like you\u2019re sweating now, and it was all before I was in there,\u201d I said pointing to the tank.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo you haven\u2019t,\u201d she laughed nervously, \u201cjust stay there and be quiet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes I have!\u201d I knew that what I\u2019d seen was real. What I felt was real. I remember that empty city behind the shining tower that was Zenith. I could remember seeing it from those little dirt roads during the night. The silver skyscraper twinkled with gold lights as if the sun never set on it. I had been there. I knew it. \u201cKecarine,\u201d I said, \u201cI was from Kecarine city. I remember it now!\u201d I laughed before I knew what was so funny. \u201cI remember seeing Zenith from my house! It was always so far. So bright. I remember wondering why the buildings near me didn\u2019t shine like that. They were old, dilapidated. Most of them didn\u2019t even have power. The streets were never clean, either. I remember going with one of you; my feet dirtied the white seats of that car we got into.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat else do you remember?\u201d she asked, moving closer to me. I could see that she was wary, still gripping that thing <\/em>in her hand tightly. But she was more interested than afraid now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot much, really,\u201d I admitted. \u201cIt comes and goes in blips sometimes. I see things in my dreams, but I can tell they\u2019re real.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI knew it,\u201d she said as she shook her head. \u201cMemories can never be fully erased. I tried to tell them that. It would regress the brain to unworkable states. You can\u2019t empty a brain of all the content that makes it up and expect it to keep working.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRight,\u201d I said, \u201cI don\u2019t really understand any of that, okay? All I know is that I don\u2019t want to go to Gano \u2013 Gan \u2013\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGanymede.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah, Ganymede. I just want to get out of here. Will you let me go?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI can\u2019t,\u201d she said. \u201cSecurity forces are already on their way. I tried to call them off once you mentioned your memories, but they still have to come and make sure everything is secure.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I could hear yelling outside of the room. My heart began to pound and the palms of my hands grew hot and restless. Edith turned and looked at the closed door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey\u2019ll be here soon,\u201d she said softly. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Six.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSix?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh,\u201d she chuckled, \u201cthat\u2019s you. You\u2019re the sixth augmented Pseudo we\u2019ve made for the endeavors on Ganymede. There are hundreds growing now, you\u2019re the first of many.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen they wouldn\u2019t really care if I got away, right?\u201d I pleaded as I detected the sound of footsteps, \u201cI\u2019m replaceable if there are hundreds more like me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not how it works, Six. Zenith wants their products. They let them go only for the right price.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The door opened quickly with a low hiss, revealing five men dressed in blue padded uniforms and toting heavy, black weapons while standing in the hallway. Edith faced them and stepped forward. One of the guards on the left aimed their weapon at me. Before I thought about what I should do, I was behind Edith. I grabbed her arm tightly and pulled her back toward me. I snatched the harrowing device from her hand and crushed it in mine. I felt a twinge of pain before a feeling of release emanated from the back of my neck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPseudo! Let the Doctor go!\u201d the guard in the front shouted. The men behind him fidgeted uneasily and cocked their weapons, waiting for the signal to fire. Without speaking, the guard turned his head and acknowledged Dr. Ahrst. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSir,\u201d Edith shouted, \u201ccall the guards off! This one\u2019s different from the others we\u2019ve released. He has his memories! This could be a different type of breakthrough!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShoot them,\u201d he ordered coldly. \u201cThe Pseudo gets reclaimed and the Doctor gets disposed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I felt Edith\u2019s arm droop in my hand. She shook her head slightly, then gave an  unsurprised laugh. Why would she laugh now? Before I could try to understand it, one of the guards fired their weapon. Its sound was deafening, and produced a thin cloud of smoke that was whisked away by a vibrant, blue net riddled with electricity. I didn\u2019t have time to think, all I could do was shut my eyes and cower as I waited to feel that approaching pain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSix! Six!\u201d Edith exclaimed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I opened my eyes to find her looking at me. I hadn\u2019t been harmed. Had the net missed? I could still hear the sound of it sizzling nearby. Looking back at the soldiers, I saw the net spinning mid-air, like it had been nailed to an invisible wheel.  Someone had stopped it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow did you do that?\u201d I asked Edith as I stared at the terrifyingly beautiful sight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t do anything,\u201d she said, ripping her arm from my grasp, \u201cyou did that. I told you, you\u2019re  augmented. You were made for more!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy are you all just standing there?\u201d Dr. Ahrst screamed from behind the safety of the guards, \u201cGet them! Shoot them!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A flurry of shots rang out and assaulted my ears. Just as easily as I thought about how much I didn\u2019t want to get hit by those nets, each of them stopped in the air as if they were stuck to an invisible wall. I couldn\u2019t just stand there and watch forever. I started to feel the strain of holding them up. My temples pulsed and a knot formed in my stomach. There was only one way out of the room and guards were blocking it. I envisioned the nets twisting backward and blanketing the guards in their electrical embrace. To my pleasant surprise, the nets mirrored my thoughts, wrapping themselves around the armored guards and the old screaming doctor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Edith ran out of the room first and I followed her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere are we going?\u201d I asked as I tried to keep up with her. She ran faster than I had expected.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou wanted to get out, didn\u2019t you?\u201d she huffed as we passed a doorway that read \u2018Ninety-two\u2019.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI thought you said you wouldn\u2019t let me go, now you\u2019re helping me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat was when I still had my job,\u201d she explained, \u201cbut Dr. Ahrst was perfectly content with shooting me like I was one of you– the perfect reason to quit.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One of you?<\/em> \u201cWon\u2019t you get in trouble? For helping me, I mean.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She laughed, \u201cI\u2019m already in trouble, Six. I\u2019ve been <\/em>in trouble. That\u2019s all Zenith is.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After a moment, she spoke again, \u201cWhat you said before, about remembering… What else do you remember?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her question briefly stopped me in my tracks before she turned and motioned for me to continue following her. I thought about what I knew. It seemed that the longer I was away from my confinement, the more I could remember. Before, I would only see things in my dreams; quick images or thoughts that would envelop my mind and wouldn\u2019t leave me even after waking up. They would only drain away once the monotonous learning modules began. But just then, I felt different. The smell of the air in the stairwell reminded me of somewhere else. It was musty and stale, like it had been cleaned years ago then forgotten about. It reminded me of home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI remember that where I lived was somewhere like this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLike the Zenith building? You must\u2019ve had it nice. We don\u2019t really have–\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I cut her off, \u201clike this,\u201d I said gesturing to the stairwell around us. \u201cI lived in a place that was older than everything around it. Somewhere forgotten. It was kind of run down, now that I think of it. And I could see the Zenith building from where I lived. It used to block out the sun in the morning when I would watch my mom head off to work…\u201d I remembered that last part only as the words left my mouth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat makes more sense,\u201d Edith said solemnly. \u201cYou were someone else before you were you, that\u2019s why Zenith is trouble. All the Pseudos were children, very unfortunate children, before Zenith took them and re-made them. You\u2019re not supposed to remember who you were. None of our other Pseudos do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was stunned into silence for a moment before I blurted, \u201cHow many more people are there like me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPseudos,\u201d she corrected, \u201cand just one for now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho\u2019s the other one?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA Pseudo called Twenty-two \u2013\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I tried to wrap my mind around what Edith had said before I heard a symphony of doors burst open, followed by a chorus of footsteps charging into the stairwell. Edith peered over the edge of the stairwell and scowled. I didn\u2019t have to look to know that they were close. As we neared the ground floor, I paused at the door labeled \u20181\u2019.  Edith kept descending. I glanced at the door and then at Edith\u2019s back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere are you going?\u201d I called out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTo the basement. There are more guards on the first floor and we already have enough trailing behind us.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I turned to follow Edith just as a slimy splat <\/em>sounded behind me. I looked back as I ran and glimpsed a blue mound of goop plastered against the first-floor\u2019s door, where it sizzled and sparked as it spread out and thinned. The echoing yells of the guards above us signaled their arrival as their footsteps drew nearer. I had held us up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHurry up, Six!\u201d Edith urged as she descended the last flight of stairs and stopped by the large, grey double doors that led to the basement.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I ran in first and Edith followed, closing the door behind us. I barely took three steps before halting out of sheer shock. The room wasn\u2019t a small space like the door had suggested. Though the ceiling wasn\u2019t remarkably high, the floor extended farther than I could have imagined. Before me were thousands of people stuck in liquid-filled tubes, just like I had been. There were fifteen rows that stretched all the way to the back of the room. The pods confined infants, children, and globs of cells that descended from the top portion of the confinement chambers. I wanted to scream. Some of them woke up and looked straight at me; all of their eyes glowed a pale yellow through the clear liquid that engulfed them. Why would anyone do this? I could feel them scrutinizing me. They wanted to know how I got out. I wished I could tell them that I still wasn\u2019t free.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe have to hide,\u201d Edith hissed as she ran between the large tanks and toward the back of the impossibly large room. The sound of muffled yelling grew behind us. She shooed me away toward the other side of the room before we both squatted down and hid behind the thick, metallic base of the tanks closest to us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I heard the door slam shut and footsteps prowling slowly around the first row of tanks. I turned to Edith and saw that she was just as afraid as I was. She silently mouthed the word, \u201cExit\u201d. It seemed no closer to us now than when we had first burst in. Before, I was almost sure that we\u2019d be able to escape. Now, as I cowered here, I could feel the numb rush of despair filling my body.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI can\u2019t pick up any reading on my Audibio-sensors, too much interference from the other growths,\u201d a female voice echoed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll find them eventually,\u201d the other responded. \u201cHear that? It\u2019s only a matter of time now, Pseudo!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Edith slipped forward and I followed suit. The Pseudos that floated in the tanks surrounding us were all adults. Some of them looked older than I was. They must\u2019ve had some understanding of what was going on because none of them looked at me. There was a silver lift at the back of the room that could ascend the wall and pass through a small port toward the ceiling. Would it really be that easy? Just stepping on a platform and being free?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Help me.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Startled, I turned to Edith. Why did she whisper? No, it couldn\u2019t have been her. She was looking over her shoulder and watching the guards. But I knew I heard someone, someone close, as though they were right on my shoulder trying to talk to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Please. Let me out.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I hate it here, please help me.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

That wasn\u2019t a whisper. Confused, I looked up only to meet the gaze of a woman with lengthy black hair that floated above her head like a dark cloud. Her yellow eyes implored me as I cowered in front of her, searching for my own way out. It was her. I didn\u2019t know how she infiltrated my mind, but I knew it was her. I closed my eyes and tried to push her voice out of my head, but it only grew and multiplied. I opened my eyes and noticed that more of the people around me had turned and began looking at me. They all pressed their hands against their glass tanks as if they were trying to push their way toward me. They all wanted to get out. I couldn\u2019t stop myself from hearing them, from feeling their pain. It overwhelmed me \u2013 dozens of voices asking of me what I couldn\u2019t even ask of myself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Let me out.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Help me.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Save me.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I tried to tune them out, to push them back and imagine that there was a wall around me.  It felt wrong, but it was all I could do to save myself. Edith was pressed against one of the tanks in the last row adjacent to the lift. I was two rows behind her. From her apprehensive stare, I could tell that the guards were dangerously close. I had to move now. Hobbling on my aching legs, I hunched forward like an animal past the last rows until I reached the tank that concealed Edith. Ahead of us, I could tell that the lift was small. Smaller than it had seemed from far away, which was unsettling. Edith swung her head around to look for the guards then quickly redirected her attention to me. She held out her hand and counted backward from three.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She darted first and ushered me onto the lift, where she whacked a dim, orange button on the wall. Immediately, the lift lurched upward and produced a loud, automated beep. Edith had jumped up, but the platform\u2019s ledge was angled and smooth, causing one of her legs to slip. I reached out to grab her and hauled her halfway onto the lift before I heard the quick decompressing sound of a weapon being fired. This time, a projectile latched onto Edith\u2019s leg.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey\u2019re on the lift going to the warehouse! Miza, up and around on the first floor!\u201d the man yelled out as he fired another shot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I yanked her up and out of his aim as the wall before us opened and cast us into darkness. With the last particles of light, I could discern the static, blue goop that had spread itself across Edith\u2019s calf. The substance seemed to spread slowly, ripple, then shock her. She squeezed her eyes shut, gritted her teeth, and stifled the pain with audible strain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEdith\u2013\u201d a wave of her hand halted my words.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The dim blue light pulsing from Edith\u2019s injured leg softly lit up the dark corridor . We were being transported through a tiny metal duct lined with an automated rail system. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ve only been in here once, but I know there\u2019s an exit that leads right out into the city,\u201d she muttered. \u201cThe warehouse is big, probably a little larger than the room we were just in, but usually it\u2019s a little more empty unless we have shipments.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Shipments<\/em>. I knew that she meant children. The ones that were kidnapped from the streets and used as material. Edith claimed that they were re-made, but when I saw those tanks with globs of cells floating within the restrictive fluid, I knew that those children were murdered first, broken down, changed, and then manufactured into something Zenith didn\u2019t classify as human. I tried to remember what I felt like before I became a Pseudo. It was hard. The memories were hazy, slippery, as if I couldn\u2019t hold them in my mind\u2019s eye for more than a second before they vanished. But I knew how I felt then, and could feel it, still: human.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019re almost there, don\u2019t slow down now,\u201d she warned as we approached the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere do we go after this? You\u2019re coming with me, right?\u201d I asked her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She nodded, \u201cProbably back to the lower east side of Kecarine. That\u2019s where you\u2019re from anyways, and from there we can get out of the city. No place is remotely safe from Zenith around here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Five more steps before I could grab the handle, throw the door open, and set us free. But I didn\u2019t have to; the door opened for me. The city looked just as it had in the education modules. It was dazzling, each building taller than the last, but I knew that the tallest building was the one I was running from. The male guard from the basement stood triumphantly in the doorway, his face glistening with sweat as he grinned hatefully at the sight of us. The sunlight shining behind him nearly blinded me. He aimed his weapon and fired. I couldn\u2019t do anything. I closed my eyes and shrunk away, waiting for the pain. I felt nothing but a heaviness on my right arm. I opened my eyes to see Edith tearing herself away from me. She was weighed down by four more splatters of blue goop that shocked her body relentlessly. Three globs of the substance floated in the air before me. I had protected myself but not her. I didn\u2019t even think <\/em>to protect myself; I didn\u2019t think I had the strength left. Why didn\u2019t I protect her? Edith shrieked as the substance riddled her body with shocks. She curled into a ball and let out blood-curdling screams. The guard aimed his weapon again. I reached out with my hand and grabbed the air; the guard\u2019s chest was pulled upward while his feet kicked helplessly inches above the ground. I squeezed. A sound akin to the wet slush of the blue goop attaching to skin escaped him. I relaxed my hand and he dropped hard onto the cement.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEdith,\u201d I muttered as I tried to grab her, her body shocking me as I touched her arm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGO!\u201d she shrieked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I tried to grab her again only to retract my hands in pain. Her shrieks slowed to low wails of agony. I heard the swarm of footsteps rushing toward us. I could feel the warmth of the sun caressing the back of my neck. Freedom was so close, but I couldn\u2019t bring myself to tear my eyes away from Edith. All I could see was her pain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGo, go, go, go, go,\u201d she repeated slowly between the jaw-clenching bouts of shocks, \u201cgo, go, go.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEdith, come on! They\u2019re coming,\u201d I pleaded as I reached for her. She looked at me and grimaced, repeating herself over and over until her body shuddered and stopped. \u201cEdith?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d I croaked through the heavy lump in my throat, \u201cI\u2019m so sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I turned my back on the warehouse and ran. The image of Edith still burned in my mind. I passed building after building, hundreds of people on the street \u2013 some of them turned to look at me while others paid me no mind \u2013 and countless roads. I didn\u2019t stop running until Zenith was a distant building, like it had been in my memories. I could still hear the hundreds of Pseudo voices around the city complaining about the mundanities of their life, but I tuned them out. I couldn\u2019t deal with anyone else in my head. I stopped behind a short red-brick building and collapsed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Goddamn, Zenith guards are everywhere out here. I\u2019ve gotta get out of this city.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I sat up straight, feeling revitalized by the phantom voice echoing in my head. That thought wasn\u2019t mine. That voice was unfamiliar. Smooth and cold, yet angry and full of apprehension. I sat down, confused, and listened to the voice spout its anger while I tried to figure out why I was still hearing it. I thought I had tuned the other Pseudos out. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I struggled to stand as I recalled what Edith had told me\u2014 there was another like me: Twenty-Two. I couldn\u2019t ignore him like I did with the other Pseudos. I had to move on, move forward. I had to find Twenty-two. I didn\u2019t know what Edith had in mind for us, but surely it wasn\u2019t this. She\u2019d be happy to know that I didn\u2019t perish in an alley after everything. As I stood  up straight and breathed deeply, I decided that I would pay her back. I had to. But how?  I wracked my brain as I took my first step, guided by the firm voice in my head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My first real step of freedom.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

table of contents “A Murder of Crows” by Allegra Solomon “Slate” by Ben Ervin “Micky’s Happy Fits of Rage” by Noah McGeorge “Second Chance” by Alexander Petras “Escape” by Peter Russ A Murder of Crows Allegra Solomon “Where\u2019s Mom and Dad?\u201d Emile leaned in the passenger window, dark stubble catching snowflakes. The sound of theContinue reading “fiction”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[12],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-360","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-sphere-64","entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.ohio.edu\/sphere\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/360","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.ohio.edu\/sphere\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.ohio.edu\/sphere\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.ohio.edu\/sphere\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.ohio.edu\/sphere\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=360"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/sites.ohio.edu\/sphere\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/360\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.ohio.edu\/sphere\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=360"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.ohio.edu\/sphere\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=360"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.ohio.edu\/sphere\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=360"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}