Ordinary Day

It's always an ordinary day.  Seasonal weather.  Routine morning.  Breakfast, shower, pack up for work, get in the car, go.  Regular traffic.  A slow pedestrian.  A four-way stop that irritates.  A slow truck.  Cows.  Cup of tea, still hot.  Reviewing the work to come, watching the road, thinking of turning on the radio.  Normal.

A patch of ice.  A car running through a stop sign.  A suddenly stopped truck.  These are the things that can throw in a bit of panic, but they are easily overcome.  Or it's a traffic accident.  Automatic systems kick in and the heart beats faster and steps are taken until it's normal again.

But when it's not really a normal day, that's when there is cognitive dissonance.  Those are the days that separate people into categories they never even knew existed: Survivor, Victim.  Hero, Human.  Searcher, Lost.  Witness, Runner.

Inspiration #7

A spot of blood under the skin on the right palm on the Mount of Venus, if you are right-handed.  If you are left-handed, there seems to be equal chances of the spot of blood appearing on either your right or left hand.  The Mount of Venus is the meaty part of your palm under your thumb.  That the blood spot appears there first is only significant in that it does not, in fact, appear there first, but it is, rather, the first visible sign.  By the time there is a spot of blood on your palm, your body has already internally begun transformations of which you have been, up until then, blissfully unaware.

Inspired by "Exhibit H: Torn Pages Discovered in the Vest Pocket of an Unidentified Tourist" by Jeff VanderMeer: "(Note the blood-red discoloration in the lower left corner.)"

Inspiration #1

I open my eyes, and it's dark.  I am leaning forward, my head between the seat in front of my and the plastic between the airplane windows.  While I am still bent forward, I feel for my backpack and am glad to find the strap still hooked around my right foot where I looped it when the masks dropped.  I sit up, back creaking, one vertebrae at a time.  My head hurts and I feel slightly sick.  I touch the left side of my forehead and it's numb and swollen.  I also realize that gravity isn't holding me in my seat, but rather it's pulling me forward.  Blinking, I can tell the plane it at a steep forward angle, creaking, popping, crackling, hissing, chirruping.

Inspired by "Al", Carol Emshwiller, "Sort of a plane crash in an uncharted region of the park."

What would you name your town if you could rename it?

We lived in the city when they first started experiencing sewer problems, like the sinkholes.  I remember Main Street being blocked for repairs, and we even walked by one further up, in the nice neighborhood.  I would stand as close to the curled down blacktop as I dared and try to peer inside.  I even hopped on the edge a little, hoping I could get part to fall in.  Though every day the hole expanded, I couldn't get it to move with my body weight.  Knowing now what happened, it sure was foolish of me to jump near a hole.  I get chills when I think of how ignorant I was, we all were, before the collapse.

What is one mistake made by the current generation that you would like to make sure that your generation does not repeat?

Only a few days before she died, my grandmother described to me the sound of crickets.  The idea of them, however, terrified me, and my mother scolded my grandmother for telling me stories.  Grandma was Buddha, and smiled, knowing.  I knew, too.

If you could change one thing in the world, what would you change and why?

It was nearly Pandemic Day and we were very excited because this was the Bicentennial and it was going to be extra special.

How do you feel about offshore drilling?

"Due to economic and health safety concerns, the United States of America is formally withdrawing from the rest of the world.  We have implemented a timetable that will bring back not only all military personnel, but any government worker, wherever they are deployed, before the end of this year.  While we cannot demand, we strongly encourage tourists currently in foreign countries to return as soon as possible.  At the end of the year, we cannot guarantee you will be able to return."

The President cleared his throat before continuing the worldwide address.  "At the end of the year, our boarders will be sealed.  Funding, including relief funding, to foreign countries will be concluded.  The United States of America is discontinuing all programs outside of our current borders."  President Ullrum looked in desperate need of sleep.  He ran his hands over his face, breaking the long-held tradition of complete formality in these addresses.  But these were different times.  "My fellow Americans," he began, and chuckled, "whoever is still around and able to see and hear this broadcast, we've come into strange days, my friends.  Strange days, indeed."

Pageant Question 37: Tell me what you think the world will be like one hundred years from now.

The children are broken.  There are few holdouts who would deny it, but the evidence is clear: all the world's children are broken and they cannot be fixed.  Worse, it is our own fault.  Again, there are some deniers, but the evidence convicts humans, irrefutably.

Vita was a beautiful, healthy baby girl.  Adam and I were very lucky because it was our first try.  I was almost sad because I also knew she could be the only one, and I wanted the anticipation to last for a while longer, as silly as that sounds.  Yes, even then children were already broken, but I was wrapped in my own little world of pale pinks and yellows and I couldn't worry any more than I already was.  Besides, she was perfect.  She seemed perfect.  I didn't know it, but no longer were children born unbroken.  We had raced past that line without seeing it.

At 3 months she smiled.  At 9 months she said "kitty" and "mommy".  Following an intense teaching period, she had "daddy", too.  At 18 months she was walking.  By two years old, we knew beautiful Vita was broken.  Her cognitive milestones were taken away, one by one, in reverse order.  She still managed her physical milestones, but added rocking and banging her head until we had no choice but to fit her for a helmet.  No more words.  No more smiles.  Vita's only communication seemed to be screaming.  The world wondered, collectively, "What happened?"

Pageant Question 28: How have you been active in protecting the environment?

Albert Einstein was wrong.  When the honey bee population died out, humans did not go extinct.  At least, we haven't yet.  Life did become infinitely more difficult, however.  Of all the disaster scenarios predicted by climatologists and anthropologists and sociologists and any group that conservatives would have called "tree huggers", none contained the mass extinction of so-called lesser animals in so short a time period.  None contained the scenario that other animals and insects that normally wouldn't be problems would suddenly surge in population and become deadly to humans.

355

It was a complete accident that we were among the first to leave and, therefore, one of the elite group who managed to grab a huge chunk of prime land.  We had so much that we even sold some to a carefully chosen few who we knew would help protect our new acreage.  We were generous enough with them that they didn't turn inward, and they were possessive enough to arm their outward borders.  I was lucky that I knew at least a little about land, and was able to claim some with source water, instead of merely downstream water.  Natural springs would stay clean, but downstream could be blocked, diverted, or even poisoned.

323

The screaming of the engines drowned out the screams of the passengers as they thrust into hard reverse to slow their unplanned descent.  "Unplanned descent" is what the spaceline called it, but to everyone on board, it was a crash.  The six passengers had been required to fully strap in as soon as Oceania 8 had a view of their destination, and only one had ignored the computer's instructions.  The 20-something girl in A-2 thought there would be just enough time to retrieve her Halcion IV Interactive, but there wasn't.  A-2 continued to get smashed around the cabin even after she became just a body.

311

"Jettison the extra."  The captain's pronouncement froze his crew.  "Now," he added to jump start them breathing again.  It was a testament to their training and their belief in their captain that all three of the crew were jolted back to work.  Ben prepped the magnetic release, and Jo went to double seal the airlocks in reverse from the rear of the main ship.

Although Gia continued rerouting critical systems in preparation for release, she was in doubt, and not afraid to question Captain Halloran.  "Captain, there could be another way.  What if we..."

"I have thought about it plenty, Gia.  This is our last chance.  Ben?"

"Mags ready, sir."

Jo skidded back onto the bridge.  "Airlocks sealed."  Gia swiveled her seat to look at Jo; to see how she felt.  Jo wasn't looking back, but her lips were tight and she seemed pale as she sat back in front of her console.

"Jo..." Gia began, only to be cut off again by the Captain.  "Gia, prepare the thrusters."  Captain Halloran dropped into his chair and buckled in; everyone followed suit.  "Ben."  The Captain ran his hand over his face.  "Release the maglocks."

310

I dream of disaster.

Every night I have dreamed of disaster, global, catastrophic, unavoidable.  Invariably, the military is deployed, but even from my puny vantage point on the ground, I can see that it will be futile.  The people escaping with belongings stuffed into cars is also futile.  Destruction will be complete.

I wake to my alarm's soft chimes, increasing in volume if I ignore the call to the waking world.  It is hard to wake, and I struggle to the surface, still tired.

294

The city streets were quieter than anyone could ever remember hearing them.  It was impossible to tell how many people were in their homes this evening because the lights were out and all the curtains drawn.  Lights normally powered by the city hadn't been on in more than a year, but when the sun went down, no one else put their lights on, either; it was easier this way.  There had been warnings, first on television, then announced in the streets, then with the short-lived sirens, to turn off lights.  People obeyed once a quarter of their city had been bombed into oblivion.  The sirens stopped working after just a week, but by then everyone knew not to light the dark.  Lights became targets.  Targets became rubble.

237

"The wind's blowing hot from the south."

"Seal up."  Dr. James Stevens called to the rest in the laboratories, "Seal up, everybody!  Hot wind from the south!"

There was a collective groan, but the other five members of their team hustled to comply, closing down outside vents and taping down all the usual cracks.  They purged the air system and reset it for circulation.  Nobody questioned the order, though they were all disappointed, Dr. Stevens, perhaps, most of all.  The hot wind frightened him, though he didn't ever let it show.  Radiation in general frightened him because it was invisible and insidious.  He knew better than anyone how it lurked in the cells and waited, sometimes for years, decades, to make tangible changes.

199

The rest stop ladies' room smelled like piss and flies clustered around the bare fluorescent blubs over the cracked sink.  The bright light hurt after being in the dark for so long and her tired, oh, so tired eyes watered, but she stared at the marvel of artificial light anyway.  Marcia hovered over the filthy toilet as best she could while drip-drying and wished she had thought to bring in some napkins from the car.  The sink knobs just spun, dry as the wells around this part of the world, which, Marcia reflected, was lucky because the cloth loop provided as a way to dry clean hands was beyond disgusting and edging on to, perhaps, sentience.

Why she even bothered to try rest areas when going into the woods would be cleaner was subconsciously clear to her: it was a sign of human life.  A rare thing these days.

178

Colors drained from the world before her eyes.  The sky paled, the trees greyed, the ground became a lifeless desert.  People were flat images sliding by a desiccated landscape.  Sound became a muted, muddy hum.  Not even sharp noises could penetrate--only dull thumps.

73

Sirens called out to one another in the distance and Jill heard the muffled "thump" that was the subtle real-life indicator there had been another explosion across the city. It wasn't the double, "pwuhch-PWUHCHHH!" sound that all the action movies made.

The streetlights were on, which meant electricity was still on, and most people were glued to their televisions. Jill was hurrying back to her apartment from tutoring work, leather shoulder bag banging against her leg. She passed some people out in their driveways, watching the sky. A dark car flew down the street, slowed for the stop sign, and continued with a roar. Jill picked up the pace.

2

For Beth, the hardest part about going into work every day was knowing the world would end while she was in her cubicle. The trouble was, she didn't know which day it would be. She didn't even know if it would be before or after lunch. Beth tried hard to recall if she had been wearing this particular green sweater, but although she was always in her visions, she was never able to see herself.

The blast would shatter the windows at the far end. Jan and Charlie, Lisa and Nancy would all be toast because they had seniority and therefore got the cubicles with a view.

"Good morning, Elizabeth." The rich smell of coffee would be mingled with dust and smoke.

"Morning." Beth continued her slow walk, remembering Connie's head rolling past on the rubble-strewn carpeting. She let her fingers trace the carpeted wall of hers, the most junior of junior "offices", right next to the busy hallway leading to the copier, the bathrooms, the elevators.

Beth hesitated before entering, as if the step across the threshold would herald the explosion. Her vision said she would be sitting, typing, but that didn't make the first step into her cubicle any easier. If her vision about the man hadn't come true already, she wouldn't be having this much trouble with the end of the world.