Never Question the Flight of the Birds

Journals From 2023, or, The Second Term

Today is Saturday, day 138.

I know that because the Governor said it is, and because he isn’t wearing a tie.

I’m beginning to feel restless. I wish that I could travel abroad. I had big plans for this year. Vienna, Prague, Munich, and Budapest. I’ve spent hours studying maps and planning routes. I obsess over the architecture of the castles and cathedrals. I read the menus from restaurants and pubs that I find good reviews for. I book flights and then cancel them and collect my refund. It has become a bit of a hobby, I suppose.

I have been writing a new poem almost every day since quarantine began. Some of my best works (I think), I now have two notebooks of poetry filled. The second I just filled up, 127 poems and counting.

I try to keep in touch with my friends and family, I even had a chat with Dad last week. He said he’s been really upset about Mom and Sydney. They were at a bridal shower in Portland, OR when the lockdown happened. They have been trapped in a hotel there, ever since. I cried for an hour after getting off the phone with him. I have been crying a lot lately I suppose, but I know it’s good to cry. It’s cathartic, and in a way it reminds me that I’m alive through all of this.

I have been reading a lot of Rilke lately. I try to keep in mind how he always speaks of how important solitude is, and that there is nothing to be scared of because the planet is never against us. And that life is always right. It has been a comfort to me. I have been so overwhelmed but I try to remain calm and keep focused on my writing. I speak twice a week on the phone to my therapist. That has helped as well and I always look forward to our conversations. I tell her that things are really terrifying right now, though. I try and keep up with the news, as infuriating as it is. But then I’ll catch up on the phone with Jonas, and I feel unexpectedly calm again. Jonas is my best friend. I miss him terribly. It’s a balancing act for sure, my therapist says, keeping the extremes in check. It feels like wartime. I mean I wasn’t really alive for a “proper” war. We had desert storm and shock and awe, but I’m not sure it’s the same. Not like “The War to End All Wars” as they called it, or the one that came after that. Still, it feels tense. Wartime tense.

The hardest part, I think, is that there is absolutely no answer to the question: “When will this end?”

Maybe I should go to the park and read for a bit. The sun probably feels nice.

Day 141 Tuesday.

I have been finding ways to distract my mind from the daily news. I can’t take it all in at once. It makes me incredibly heavy. I try and slip into a new book. Like a hot bath. I’m apprehensive at first and then completely comfortable once I am in. I could turn off for days at a time that way. Though, I suppose it would be best for me to really pay attention to everything that is going on around me. No matter how painful.

Today is day 2 of not having any power. We had a really terrible storm yesterday. I woke up today and then I realized there was still no power. I suppose it was nice to have beer and ice cream for lunch. I didn’t want the good cold things to go warm.

Day 142

Time for some writing. Today’s poem will be for Ilsa. The woman in the window across the road from me. I named her Ilsa. Everyday at three o’ clock she comes to the window and opens the screen and lights a cigarette and she cries. When she’s done with the cigarette she stubs it out into a flowerpot on her fire escape. She climbs out on to her fire escape, takes off her necklace, a ring, takes out her phone and places these things on the windowsill. She cries more. Around 3:20, Ilsa closes her eyes as hard as she can and stretches out her arms. She usually stays like this for a minute or two. After all this, she puts her jewelry back on and climbs in her window and pulls the curtain. It has been this way for a couple of weeks now. Maybe someday, she will learn to fly. I’d certainly like to be able to just leap out my window and fly. But rather like a bird. Ilsa is more of an Icarus.

Tonight, and every night from now on, I will remind myself that death is only a new beginning and it is not to be feared. All humans have done and will do it. The animals do it. The plants do it too. Someday Ilsa will die. I too will pass on. And I can only hope that I will get as close to the blinding sun as she does.

Today is day 1266. Give or take. The sound of gunfire kept me awake most of the night. Same as most nights. I keep thinking if I only had a boat. I could take to the open sea. I think of my friends in Edinburgh. It’s been forever since I’ve spoken to anyone out there. I often wax nostalgic for the days of the Internet. But then I remember how I spent the first 18 years of my life without it, and as they say nowadays, I’m probably better off without it.

I was going to spend the morning with coffee and a cigarette, but I think I’d better head down to the food hall for my daily ration. The lines have been so insanely long lately. If you go in the early morning, there’s usually less of a chance of a quarrel, or a shooting.

Tomorrow I need to go back to the clinic for my monthly booster. We aren’t told exactly what we are being injected with. President Dromp says, “It’s science, and science is good”, but I suppose I do feel a lot better than before the injections began. I’m sort of at peace with everything. I wonder at times if that’s normal.

Day 1267

I wonder if I ever felt lonely as a young man.

These days, it’s so nice to be among such a big community, all sharing the same things. Living on the same streets and sharing the homemade gin and the wine. Swapping books and films. Our weekly evening hikes up to the mountaintop are most pleasant. That’s the one night a week that we eat well. We spend the entire day on the hunt. Rabbit, Boar, Squirrel, Pigeon. We dine on our own terms. I look forward to Friday’s gathering. Colin says he’s after a goat this time. And that the meat is far from synthetic.

I’m off to get my injection. I have a few spare cigarettes I think I’ll bring to Helena for a jar of wine. She really makes the best wine in town.

Day 1269

I’ve just been informed that Benjamin is off to deliver letters and packages today to the northeast cities of Patriot and Drompadelphia. Usually, once a month, he collects our mail and drives into New Dromp City to make the rounds and pick up anything waiting from our friends and families. The MPs allow one citizen from each outer zone to make a drop off and pick up, once a month in any of the 3 NE Brother cities. I am expecting some cigarettes and whisky from Dad. And I have addressed a letter to my friend Jonas out in Patriot, who just started his new job at Freedom-Lab Corp. I hope he’s doing well. He has a family now. I heard they have cured his homosexuality and matched him with a beautiful wife. They have since had a new baby. Freedom-Lab was to pay them whopping 1000 credits a month. I’m sure they will enjoy a good bottle of Amerikan wine and some of that exotic rhino-steak everyone raves about. I am glad he is settled a mere three hundred miles from here. Someday I will apply for a visit, when I can afford the fees. Its better he’s nearby and not out drilling in the Old Grand Canyon, where I almost got sent.

Day 1273

Carrie brought a radio to the food hall today. It was really something to behold. She says she had a great catch from the dumpsters over near the Zone 2 border. A radio, a book on the history of the Ottoman Empire, and a fresh pack of AA batteries. Carrie is quite the scavenger. She’s always striking gold at the dumpsters. And now, thanks to her, we were able to catch some international news. The ongoing protests in Sweden have apparently ended. The rebels caved and our government has successfully taken over. They changed the name of Stockholm to “Agreeance”. They bombed out major cities. It’s been a long and bloody year for the Scandinavian territories, they say. It seems it will be finally calming down a bit and that’s good. We all just want peace I suppose. Colin says he can’t wait to see the thousand square-mile golf courses in Denmarika Minor when it’s completed. But I just nod and smile. I’ve never really cared for golf.

Day 1276

Benjamin returned from the cities today. Word around the compound is that he brings back with him 7 letters, 2 books, 3 bottles, and 1 carton of cigarettes. I know the smokes are mine, and hopefully one of the bottles is as well. I feel bad I couldn’t send dad anything for his 70th (71st?) birthday. But he knows we only get 10 credits a week to live on here and that the waitlist for jobs is in the tens of millions. He knows I’ll be well off in a few years and I’ll be able to throw him the retirement party he deserves when he finally reaches 79.

There are talks of a Chocolate and Coffee drop this week. This usually happens in the late summer. Though we aren’t really sure what month it is anymore. It’s hard not being allowed to know how to gauge time accurately. Especially when the weather is so mild. Carrie said she found a paper calendar in the dumpster a few months back. She took it home and hung it up and went to sleep. When she woke, it was gone, she was strapped to a cot and near the river, and her hut had been burned to the ground. She said she received an extra injection that month and since that she has never slept better. Who knows why these things happen. They say, “time is an illusion” anyway.

I suppose it could be December now, but Emily thinks it’s definitely April. I told her that I haven’t seen any rain and I certainly haven’t seen any flowers blooming. She doesn’t really understand. By the time little Emily was 5 years old, the Great Re-election had already occurred, and most of what we considered the “necessities” of our time were stripped away from us… But like we always say, it’s probably better off. Everybody seems to be fairly happy these days.

Day 1280

I slept through the long conversation that was going on last night. It started with Gillan and her “Where were you when the Great Co-bama 19 lockdown first hit?” She does this often. We have all heard these stories before. It basically ends with us debating over who are luckier in the end. Us? The “banished” democratic race of the eastern fallen states of Amerika? Us, with our rationed food pellets and lack of communication with the world, but with all the access to cheap alcohol, sex, and books, and art? It’s not a bad life despite being near the bottom of the jobs wait-list, and sure it takes months to see a Medical Officer, but we eventually agree we’d rather be here than in one of the many major Red cities like Savannah or Birmingham. Apparently, Tampa has a booming economy now.

I had a friend, Rob, who got sent out to what they used to call El Paso, now its “Golf, Texas.” He said he had a view from his office on the 96th floor, and on a day where there wasn’t too much smog, he could see what he had called the “Wind-Grave”. These massive craters were excavated for the ceremonial burial of all windmills. Those used to power a lot of this land. But that’s illegal now, so we don’t really talk about it. It’s probably better off, I think we all agree.

Day 1281

I was awoken by the buzzing of the drones again. They sounded quite close this time. One can never be quite sure just what they are looking for or where they are going. But I never question the flight of the birds either, I suppose.

Owen and I were chatting about possibly moving a bit further up the mountain. He’s sort of been after me to make the move with him months ago, ever since we noticed how high the river level has become. And some nights you really just can’t stand the smell of it. Although, he likes to joke that it’s nice to have a midnight stroll along the river sometimes: that it reminds him of the Northern Lights.

Owen has been my best friend here. He has been with me through the worst of it all. The re-election, the military takeover of the Democratic States. The bombing of Portland West, where I lost my mother and sister. That was 2021 though. It really doesn’t serve me to dwell on the past. Our leaders always say, “Godliness is only in the present moment. The past is non-existent and shall be forgotten daily.” And “Only suffering will come with the thoughts of yesterday”.

Owen and I used to perform in the city together. We met back in 2018. We would always end up at the same open mics. Chatting up the same women. Drinking the same scotch-whisky. Bowmore 15. That was our favorite. We liked it sweet, but also smoky. Those were simpler times. But, I must say, Life is pretty simple these days as well.

I think I’ll help Owen move up the mountain today. Maybe I’ll bring some whisky. Maybe I can find a nice spot with a view of the river at night.

Day 1288

It’s been multiple days since my last entry. Although I still try my best to keep track of the number of sunsets. My best guess is that I’m spot on, give or take 20 days. There was a long period where I would sleep 15 to 20 hours at a time. But these days I like to rise early.

I walked into town today with some fresh berries that I had picked from the mountain, in the hopes that I could procure another notebook and some pencils to maintain this journal. Edie is lovely. She runs the big “Barteria” in town and she was very excited about the berries. I got 3 pencils, a sharpener and a 150-page notebook that fits snugly into my shirt pocket. She always asks me how my back is doing. I suppose my limp has gotten noticeable. But I try not to dwell on the pain. Our leaders always say that 99% of illnesses can just disappear by not focusing on them. They’re probably right.

Edie said she was worried about a possible hurricane. I said that I didn’t think it was likely, it being December though she seems to think it’s probably not quite that late in the year yet. I told her my dad sent a letter with my whisky and cigarettes. Through his job, he gets access to ten minutes of news per week, and that I thought if there was talk of a hurricane, he would have written of it. She seemed quite relieved.

Day 1289

We’re going up the mountain for community dinner tonight. Owen says that his Mum has caught up nearly a dozen squirrels, and a few rabbits. Her boyfriend, Tomas, had also caught some river fish. But I tend to stay away from those. I suppose we will get a big stew on. I have saved some potatoes for the occasion. Owen and I have a small-shared garden between our two huts up at the new spot. I grew some rosemary a while back. I suppose I will bring that as well.

Day 1290

Last night was extremely successful. It was the perfect weather. The fire was beautiful and the squirrel stew was absolutely delicious. There was roasted rabbit and potatoes, and some of the others had catfish and greens with tomatoes and rice. We sat and chatted for about an hour after, around the fire, with coffee and tea and acorn loaf (this is one of my favorite desserts). Then there was a simple prayer and some meditation. And of course, Owen always likes to bring his guitar and we sometimes get a bit of a singsong going. He’s still really good despite the fact that he is missing a couple of strings. Later on, Carrie and Colin asked me if I would like to read one of my poems. I had told Colin that I used to write quite a deal of poetry back in my day. I am still writing a bit, maybe a new poem every thirty or forty days now. So I had gone through a few of the books in my rucksack where I had my pens and where I had kept the potatoes, and I pulled this poem out at random, and began to recite for the group:

“The night is for lovers

and love, for the fools

and Death is the song of a bird

flightless and blind

Who is tender and odious,

who is gentle and kind,

Murderous and simple

The night is for fire and fire is for crime

Death is a criminal, out on parole

Out on the lam, out on a limb

Like a cold flightless bird

A fool full of love and wine

And wine is the blood of the Moon,

And Death is the Sun

Murderous

Simple

Gentle and kind

Tender, odious, and blinding”

We eventually began to tidy up and then we all discussed next week’s feast. When I got back home, I decided to shut my eyes. I counted the stars in the sky, and I slept straight through until morning. It was truly a perfect evening.

I think I’ll head into town for a proper bath today. Then I think I’ll go back to sleep.

Day 1291

I know there is a new year approaching soon. So I will give Benjamin yet another travel application. I really would like to go and see Jonas and his new family up North. Obviously, the old me would prefer Spain or Germany. But we aren’t permitted in places like that anymore. Plus, they always tell us we wouldn’t last very long in Old Europa. That the air is much more advanced now, and would be unbreathable. And that the food is void of nutrients. I suppose if you don’t mind imminent death, you could board an Airship and see Paris for 3 days, and maybe even Munich for a proper bratwurst, but you’d probably drop dead soon after. I try not to think about it and it’s probably better off. Every one seems fairly happy here.

I know Jonas has a spare room at his company home. I am excited to have a holiday with a private residence. He says he has limited access to takeaway foods. I think that I miss Chinese the most. Maybe we will have Chinese food. That’d be nice.

Day 1292

Last night I had the dream again. I know I wrote about it quite often during the first 1000 days. It truly pains me to feel so tremendously lost and alone and confused. It’s nice to be awake I think.

I wonder sometimes about the officer who beat me, mercilessly, in the street a couple of years back, trying to take my journals away from me. What is it that I had written that could have made him act so violently toward me? I remember hitting the ground hard and waking up smelling of human piss and surrounded by the sweltering heat of fire. To my right hand, someone had tied on a Holy Bible. On the ground next to me was my page 1. The only page to survive. I suppose now the only memory I have of those first 1000 days is this recurring nightmare. How it haunts me. Owen says maybe I shouldn’t have any chocolate before bed. But I think he shouldn’t have so much vodka.

Day 1294

I went to see Benjamin today. I handed him my travel application. He asked me why I kept applying for a permit I would most likely never get. I told him about Jonas and how they cured him of homosexuality (like so many others), and how I wanted to meet his new wife and try Chinese food again. Benjamin said that he thought that my application would continue to get denied if I didn’t make some changes, even if I had paid all my fees. For one, he said, I needed to decline to provide any political affiliation. That there was no right answer here. If I marked down “Democratic”, they would continue to deny my application. And if I marked down “Drompian”, then they may try to relocate me after many weeks of questioning and conditioning. Neither sounded like any fun. Benjamin said I could just write in “neutral” as many of the remaining Buddhists and Monks here have done. And the Buddhists seem to do a lot of traveling. I told him I’d take it home and try again. But later. After a few whiskies, of course.

Day 1296

Emily came by to ask me questions about the old days. She’s 9 now and occasionally she comes by asking about what life was like Pre-Dromp or what we call “PD”. That was anytime in history leading up to and including the year 2016. She wanted to know what the Internet was. And what all the talk was of racism and why weren’t all humans treated the same. What were dark-skinned humans like, and where did they live now? And what was a season. She had a lot of questions today and I did my best to answer. I even drew her a map of what this land used to look like, and marked where the old major cities once were. She left me with some coffee beans she said her mother collected for me when the drop occurred. Evidently, I slept right through it.

Day 1297

I am off to get my injection again. More later…

Day 1299

I went back into town today and dropped off my updated travel application to Benjamin. He said he would drive into Patriot to deliver it in 2 days time. I thought about Jonas and the Chinese food.

I usually check the dumpsters on the outskirts of town. You never know what you might find. Zone 2 does pretty well. But sometimes there’s an overflow of waste from Zone 1. And that stuff comes right from the heart of the big city. And just like Carrie, that’s when you find gold.

Typically, citizens who live in a city will get pretty good jobs. But as far as personal electronics go, they need to be replaced every 3 months — even if they are functional. It’s law. So we are always finding things like that in the dumpsters. The corporations are so very good at constant improvement. They are so good at making things faster, stronger, and easier to use. I suppose it’s better off. But I wouldn’t really know.

Today, in the bin I usually check on the Z2 border, there was treasure. An iPad 880 (with the charger), a case of half-rotten apples, and 2 books. The first book is a copy of Freud’s “The Interpretation Of Dreams”. (I remember reading this back in University. But I thought it would be nice to revisit now. Maybe I could find out about this recurring nightmare I keep having.) The second book was Oscar Wilde’s “The Critic As Artist”, essay from 1891 PD. I look forward to both.

Day 1301

For a treat, I brought my charged iPad 880 to the community dinner. A lot of folks had never seen one, so I had some explaining to do. We all had a good game of chess with it and took some photos, but by the end of the night we decided that we liked our analogue chessboards and photo cameras better, and the iPad was used as a serving plate from that point on. It’s better off that way. Our leaders suggest we avoid having things that would distract us from work. But there really isn’t any work in the outer zones. This is a jobs “waiting room” of sorts. I suppose it could be worse. I try not to think about it.

Day 1302

“Society often forgives the criminal; it never forgives the dreamer”. I have been thinking a lot about this. I think it very well sums up why I am here and not there, or vice versa. I’ve always fancied myself an artist. And certainly I would never seek to hurt another human.

It’s nice to wonder about things. Anything that distracts from the painful noises that lie beyond our border. There was an explosion last night. I haven’t slept since. So it’s good to have books. You can be trapped anywhere with books and not be trapped. It’s a beautiful escape.

Owen and I are going out to try and find some mushrooms. Really hoping to find enough to make a mushroom soup. I’ll bring the whisky and we can have a nice chat. Tomorrow, Benjamin returns from his deliveries. I feel quite optimistic about my application.

Day 1303

We had a brilliant mushroom soup last night. It was enough to share with Helena and her partner, Jodie. It’s always nice to have the company and also, in exchange for the meal, Helena brought some wine. She makes the best wine in town. We ate and drank and laughed and we even caught sight of a few stars in the night sky. This morning I feel well. I feel quite rested. I have made some coffee and my next stop is to see Benjamin.

Benjamin has no updates at the moment, but he says he feels quite optimistic as well. Apparently, they will call the Zone Center “within 72 hours if my application is not denied”. I am excited at the thought of travel. Sure it’s not Rome, but we can’t go to places like that anymore. I suppose it’s good to catch up with old friends anyway.

Day 1304

My application has been approved. I have been granted a 3-day pass for travel to and within Patriot and Patriot Zone 1. I am elated. I haven’t taken a trip in many, many moons. The permit states that I can leave anytime I want within the next 30 days. It will be nice to get up North. Patriot is the last proper Amerikan city on the entire east coast. It is home to 850,000 primarily democratic humans. The attacks from Red cities have supposedly dwindled over the last few months. So that’s good.

I will head into town tomorrow to call Jonas and tell him the good news. Right now I am just so excited to see a new place. I was there back in PD times, I should say. We called the southern part of it “Boston” and the northern part was called “Portland East”. Apparently now, there are 3 Dromp Towers, a Dromp Pyramid and Casino, 2 Dromp Hotels, and 7 Dromp Golf Spas in the Center City. Jonas works in the Freedom-Lab tower, but he lives out in Zone 1 South and that’s where the “Dark History” museum is. Evidently the new “Joyful Death Of Democracy & History of White Human Rights” exhibit is unbelievable. Not that I’m looking forward to the videos I’ve heard about where they show clips from the mass suicides of Re-election night. That was November 2020 AD. I like to think about other things. I’ve always loved history, though. And learning is sort of one of my hobbies. But our leaders always say, “It’s better to know less than to know more and suffer”. I suppose they are right.

Day 1305

I spoke with Jonas today. He is beyond thrilled that I am coming to visit. We haven’t seen each other since the Great Cleansing Demolition. I think that we both drank so much that night that we thought we would never wake up again. It was especially hard on Jonas though, knowing his entire family lived in what was New York City. But we still watched it in the pub on the TV that night. And we drank and we prayed for the 3 million lives that were lost in one single evening. We can’t dwell on the past though.

We chatted about where we would dine. I told him how excited I was to experience takeaway food again. So I think we will have a picnic on the first night. Although, his wife Hannah says there is an amazing new Chinese-Mexican restaurant in Dromp Tower 3 that’s gotten really great reviews. I told him to tell her I’m still a bit frightened by the city. But I know I should really get over that. It doesn’t do anyone any good.

Day 1306

Emily came by to help me pack. She said her and her mother took a holiday once, a while back, to the only Midwestern democratic city remaining — “Floydstown-St. Paul”. Emily said it’s technically a part of Canada, but you don’t need any kind of special permit. I told her we had a similar situation here, PD, with an island called Puerto Rico. She asked me what happened to the island and I told her. She began to cry and I had to do my best to calm her down. I told her I was sorry and that we should get back to packing. She told me it was getting cold and would be even colder up north. So I packed a light jacket and a hat.

I threw in a couple of nice shirts and a tie (I haven’t touched these things in a very long time) and my copy of The Interpretation Of Dreams, and I made sure I had a credit to purchase a tank of water for the journey. And also, 2 credits to make sure I could purchase my travel air.

Travel from New Dromp Z2 to Patriot Z1 didn’t cost anything, because you remained inside the same Democratic Territory. But you had to purchase the air you were to breathe while riding the train. It was an enclosed space and the Co-bama virus was still spreading quite rapidly. It wasn’t a bad deal though. 1 credit for 2 hours of air. It could be worse I suppose. I was just happy to be traveling again.

Day 1307

Today is the day. I am leaving NDz2 for a 3-day holiday to the North. This will be my first respite since I was relocated here, roughly 2 years ago. I packed a coffee and traded some leftover mushrooms in town for a chocolate croissant. (Helena also bakes amazing pastries, …or maybe it was Jodie who made the pastries, I can never remember).

I made a travel music play list on the old iPod I got from Arnold last winter in exchange for 2 pencils. He really got into drawing that year. There are lots of sketches of beautiful outdoor winter scenes, all in pencil. Which I can only guess works well for the gray colored snow we get now.

Helena offered to walk me to the bus station where I will catch the number 27 to New Dromp Grand Station That is where my train will depart from. She tells me Jodie has also applied for a travel permit recently, and plans to visit Savannah. I asked if she had any apprehension about visiting a Red city. Helena says Jodie’s mother is there and she is ill and she doesn’t really have a choice. She explains that you have to pack your own food and water for your trip because you are not allowed to consume anything inside a Red city. You also have to pass a blood test that will prove that your family has been living in Amerika for at least 3 generations and that you do not have any Mexican heritage. But even if you do, that’s something they can get rid of these days. Modern technology is really something.

I am currently sitting inside the New Dromp Grand Station waiting for my train. It’s pretty upscale for a Zone 1 terminal. Large chandeliers, massive Drompian sculptures, and security camera-bots line the hallways. There’s one coffee cart near the entrance that just smells absolutely delicious. I think I’ll have a smoke before I board the train to Patriot.

Day 1308

Last night I arrived at Patriot and Jonas and Hannah were waiting to pick me up. There were tears of joy, upon our great reunion. Even though they were mostly Hannah’s tears. It has been quite some time since I have encountered human weeping. It was truly beautiful I think. Sometimes I’d like to cry but the feeling doesn’t last very long. It’s that same sort of automatic resistance, almost like a reflex, that occurs when I feel negative thoughts inside me trying to give birth to anger, or whenever I ask the local pharmacist who doles out my monthly injections just what is it precisely that I am being injected with. But there I go again. I really should just concentrate on the happy times ahead. That’s what’s best for everyone I think.

So we went to the company house, got settled in and ordered from “Mr. Chin’s”. Apparently, they have the best Chinese takeaway in Patriot Zone 1. Hardly synthetic at all. It was amazing to taste those flavors again. The orange, the taste of garlic, and the chili. It reminded me of so many of those hangovers from my youth. We all had a good laugh about that. The sesame muskrat tasted just like the old General Tso’s.

We had such an amazing chat, catching up and listening to old records. Hannah is simply lovely. She went to put the kids to bed and Jonas and I went to the Faux-lcony for a cigarette. We decided I might like seeing sunset in Budapest. It was a beautiful simulation.

I inquired about Jonas’s Trans-Pence operation. He said he thinks its better off, but he doesn’t dwell on it too much. Hannah is a good wife and mother he says. I feel happy for him. After the Old Europa sunset was complete, Jonas brought out a bottle of Amerikan Ruby Port. We cheered to the new order of things, the new land, and his new job and family. It felt good to be with friends.

Day 1309

Jonas said he had wanted to chat with me in private. That it was sort of urgent and that he was glad I was here in person. It was early and the family was still asleep. So we decided to go for a hike up Mt McConnell. I was excited for the view. We packed two coffees and a baguette with some cheese, and left for the mountain. The air was significantly different as we ascended, almost floral. There was honeycomb and lavender. There was vanilla and salted caramel. Jonas said they had just upgraded the entire zone and that it pretty much smelled like that everywhere that was 250 meters above current sea level. That’s where the smog from the traffic began to fizzle out.

We chatted a bit about the old times; we spoke about the PD years in the old New York City. The girls we used to go home with and the pubs and how magnificently easy the 1990s were. I told him about the strange feeling I would have when I would get emotional as of late. That I felt trapped between feelings sometimes, like a rat inside of a wall. Or like a fly buzzing around endlessly between screen and pane. He seemed to think that it was normal these days for everyone to feel something like that and that it was best not to talk about it. But really, I felt him sort of hurrying toward what he had brought me here to discuss. And that was OK. He told me it was very important and that I must listen very carefully to everything he was about to say, as I was not permitted to write anything down. He said they would be expecting that. I asked him who “they” were. He began at the start and finished at the end. No detail left ambiguous or to my imagination. But how I wish I could have written it down. Then again, it’s probably best not to have something like that to read at any given moment. The sheer terror of words alone could kill you…

I am scared and in shock and quite cold. I am not really sure what has happened.

Jonas and I were on top of the mountain enjoying a chat when two buzzing drones flew by and began to fire at Jonas. I could hear Jonas screaming, “It didn’t have to be like this! It doesn’t have to be like this!!” The sky went dark red and tears were filling my eyes. It all happened so fast. Then it was silent. And he was gone. And they were gone. No drones. No Jonas. Not a trace of another human body, dead or alive. Just my rucksack and notebook and a pool of ember left from our fire. I grabbed my things, threw the jug of water over the coals, and ran down the mountain. I must have run for an hour or so. Then I got pretty tired. I have remained in this small cave ever since. I’m not quite sure what to do next. I squashed a few beetles and made a protein paste to finish the last bit of baguette with. I want to believe that everything will be okay. I understand that that is what’s best for me.

I must have dozed off for a bit. But the sky is now black. I can see the lights toward the bottom of the mountain and I am confident I can follow the pattern back down towards the house where Hannah and the kids are. It’s quite cold. I only left in a t-shirt this morning. I’d love a warm coat and some coffee. But mostly, I want to know what happened to Jonas. There must be an explanation. I know “explanation-seeking” and “fact-checking” are against current law. And that we shall “forget the past daily”, but it’s Jonas. I must find out what they’ve done to Jonas.

I am beginning to question everything. I thought I’d be able to locate the house, in fact I know I am standing in the exact spot where it should be. I think. I have been walking for hours. Maybe I am dehydrated. Nothing looks like what it was this morning or even last night. Every house looks the same, every driveway gated off. No one seems to be home. Or maybe they are sleeping. God knows what time it is right now.

I found a local police station. The man at the door asked me if I wanted to “report a negro”. I told him I wasn’t quite sure what that meant. He explained himself. I told him I was fairly certain that type of activity was now forbidden in the Northeast sector. He seemed to become upset with me and said, “You should probably go back to where you came from, son”. I said that was probably best, and I walked away. Though, I decided to walk on towards the bright light of the city.

I can’t even describe the amount of confusion and exhaustion I am currently trying to process. I want to go home, but I need answers. I have nowhere else to go now, though. And I need to sleep. Maybe I will wake up to some answers in the morning. Maybe it’s time to forget my daily past.

I woke up after a nice nap in an old abandoned barn I found. The door was open and the hay pile was comfortable enough. It’s a rainy day now, which is unfortunate, as I have no umbrella. This is also the day my permit expires, so I need to try and find the train station to get back home. The landscape seems quite flat today. Flatter than yesterday, I suppose. Perhaps, I walked quite a ways West last night. I should walk towards the city. I can barely make it out from here. Just a little, if I squint.

What did Jonas mean? “It didn’t have to be this way?” I wonder if it was about his job? Or his operation? Was he secretly seeing a new man and did he get caught? I reckon he would have told me. Or maybe he wanted to tell me, but they got to him first? It’s really quite impossible to avoid the cameras these days. But if I were to give my most educated guess, I would have to say that “they” found out. They found out that Jonas knew. No man should have that kind of knowledge, you see. No man should be so intensely aware of his untimely demise, the demise of all things. You shouldn’t have to see it coming. You shouldn’t have to have the last day of Earth written on a calendar or in a diary. No man should know the exact number of hours remaining in his life, or in all the lives of conscious beings everywhere.

I could use a cup of coffee.

I am sitting inside a booth at a table, having a warm mug of coffee. The menu says “Elysium Diner”, but there’s no address. The decor is very 1985, PD. It’s dimly lit. And it doesn’t help that the sun outside is buried under a thick, ominous rain cloud. I must say I am very comfortable here, but still a bit confused.

And here comes the toast.

The waitress introduces herself as Gabriella (as her name tag clearly states in bright vinyl letters). She says we are in a sub-village called Stockbridge, on the outskirts of the Zone 1 border. I asked her if she knew Jonas Macallan. She said yes, but she didn’t have any contact information. She asked me my name and I told her. She said she could bring me a directory and face-phone if I wanted, for 1 and a half credits. I told her thanks but I’d have to pass, as I only had enough credits for my coffee and toast and air to get back home. She smiled and said I should try the Great Goya Golf & Ale because Jonas liked to frequent there on weekends. I thought it was Monday. And really, I think she must be speaking of a different Jonas. The Jonas I know would never be caught dead around a Golf & Ale. I can’t believe they still exist in the Northeast, to be completely honest.

I paid the waitress and left the diner and continued to walk east alongside the freeway, toward the skyline. I counted the patches of blue up in the grey, soggy sky. I have been walking for at least 2 hours. I know that because I have listened to all of Bach’s Brandenburg concertos. It really is such a fantastic recording. A recording from 1977, PD. I believe it is the same recording that they sent into outer space on the Voyager. I think it was called The Golden Record or The Voyager Golden Record. Sometimes, at night, I wonder if its ever been discovered by creatures of another planet. Maybe even a better planet. It’s nice to think about. The sky has cleared a bit now and I don’t really feel tired.

I suddenly feel so incredibly at peace. I used to feel this way while listening to the ocean during the summers of my youth. The sun is now starting to become more of a blinding white ball of light that seems to grow larger by the minute. But it’s warm and that’s nice. I suppose I’ll just continue to walk on towards it. It’s probably better off.