«The Festival – Part 1»

06-11-2309

We woke up late and didn’t even hurry to get ready. We felt confident we’d make it in time. 9 o’clock rolled around and, sometime after breakfast was served, we finally got around to getting on the road. Our party of three set out in the 4-wheeled crawler down the last stretch of our journey before our main destination, the Bonnaroo festival.

It was at this exact same time that my brother pulled his SUV into the parking spot a volunteer in an orange vest waved him into. He had waited so long in line, following the slow moving trail of vehicles, all honking and hollering with excitement constantly for the past hour. On and on it went, to the middle of a grassy field, beside hundreds of others, and enough space between to comfortably fit a tent for each group.

His behemoth of a crawler lurched one last foot forward and came to a rest in the soft, rain fresh soil. He killed the engine and removed the key, his seat automatically un-adjusting to allow him more room to exit. After he set down the keys and remained seated, Zech Lane turned slowly to the rest of his group.

“Now bitches, we are here. Let‘s get high!” he said dramatically, and to much applause and cheer from the others.

Within thirty seconds all four members of their party had stepped down out of the navy blue beast and begun stretching and moaning. Minkus Grambel was the first out; he cracked his back, flinched his head to side a few times and pulled out a cigarette, tapping on a pack that matched the color of his shorts before lighting it.

Rip Gozo was soon after, slipping out of the passenger’s seat on the same side as Minkus. He stretched his arms together, giving out a strange, high-pitched grunt, and patted himself down for a pack of cigs. Finding none, he turned around to face the other Earthling.

“Hey Minkus, can I bum a Red from you?” he asked in a curious tone.

“You say it like we could possibly have another type of cigarette with us,” he retorted quickly, being on the road had made everyone a little edgy.

“I know that’s all we have, I was there when we bought the carton…so, can I have a cig?” he inquired again.

“Oh, right. Of course, man,” Minkus said apologetically as he pulled out the red and white box. “A cowboy killer for you.”

“Thanks,” Rip said as he lit it, and only taking a little puff of it. “I really hope buying all 200 of these will be worth it by the end of this.”

“More like…175. That was one long line, man,” Eli interjected. Mr. Bayer was a dopey looking Earthling in baggy jeans and a ball cap pulled low, but always had an ability to seem inconspicuous; the man would be downright unnoticeable in a crowd of garishly dressed hippies, let alone the likes of Rip and Minkus. “I’m sure I smoked a pack by myself,” he exaggerated, but lighting another as he joined them, walking around from the other back door.

“Guys, we really need to focus on setting up the tent,” my brother, Zech, reminded everyone as he rounded the front of his truck.

“He’s right, we have to stake our claim before the next car moves in, otherwise we won’t have enough room for everything,” Rip confirmed. He had been to every one of these festivals here since the year after I first went. I may have gone first, long ago in the day, relaying tales and fragments of what my memories revealed to anyone who would listen, but Rip was seasoned in the experience of Bonnaroo, this would be his fourth.

“Yeah..that..and I need to sleep,” Zech explained, glaring at Minkus for not getting behind the wheel at any point. He had made the 10 hour trek from Northern Dominia in one long stretch, and sat in line for another two; he desperately needed rest. He held out three fingers, putting them down one at a time, saying “Tent. Blunt. Sleep.”

“But I want to go out and…find something,” Eli moaned to himself, holding his elbows as his eyes searched far off.

“We can go out and find anything we want later,” he assured everyone, though he too looked off into the distance, longing to discover what palpable offerings there were at hand. “Also, it’s gonna be, like, way easier once everyone is done setting up, too,” he said, telling himself more than anyone else.

Zech was removing the nylon sack containing a 4-person tent that belonged to the Grambel family. “Mink, you’re really gonna have to help me with this. Eli, stop rolling that and…well…on second thought, roll it. I think we’ve got this.”

We were still elsewhere in Appalachia about two hours later. After an embarrassing, and downright soaking, stop into a Uber-Mart to stock up on last minute supplies and food to fill up whatever room we had left, our car had reached the end of waiting line for the festival. Ahead of us it seemed to go on infinitely, everyone pulled over to the shoulder to let local traffic through, and quickly behind us, as far back as we could see, it continued on, endless.

The police would roll by occasionally to assist, though that was mostly added up to shouting cryptic messages on the megaphone and getting our hopes up by continually saying we were almost there. They couldn’t be bothered to stop and inform us how long we actually had, better to just ride on by and squall at anyone standing in the middle of the road.

Brick, Leona and I waited about 15 minutes before becoming restless, eager to get in and get set up, knowing we were just around the corner from the entrance. It was about this time we started noticing pairs and groups of people bailing out from their vehicles and making a run for the tree line, sneaking in a quick pee break. We scoffed at their impatience, thinking we were mere minutes away from being let in.

“That’s it. I’m gonna get out and start making friends with the neighbors,” Brick said, unfastening his seatbelt.

“By neighbors you mean the car in front of us in line?” I asked, with a slight bitterness since I could have used a tree myself.

“Yep. Looks like a good enough time,” he said, opening the door as he snatched the pack of the cigarettes out of the console. The door slammed behind him, followed by a moment of silence.

“Well, I guess that means we get to be friends,” I said turning to Leona, taking the first opportunity alone with her to have a nice conversation.

Two hours later, at Zech’s campsite, Rip and Minkus returned from a browse through the shops along the thoroughfare to the event center. They managed to lose Eli somewhere along the way, but felt confident he‘d find his way back. Zech was still passed out in the tent, so the two present members opened up the tailgate of the behemoth, sat down and shared a bowl together.

“This is so astro, dude,” the blonde Earthling said, hitting the pipe out in the open, in broad daylight. He passed it back to his pointy eared companion, making no efforts to conceal it.

“Yeah, it’s always really nice here,” he responded flatly, well aware how awesome it was from the past three times he attended. He picked a curl of his dark hair out of his face and hit the little pipe they just. He glanced down at the tiny glass piece with a sour face as he exhaled, saying “Man, I should have bought a bigger one…I guess I’ll just give this one to my mom.”

“How many pipes that you didn’t want anymore have you given to your mom?” Minkus asked, facetiously.

“How many has she given to me?” Rip smirked.

“Hey, you guys wanna hang out over here?” a young woman’s voice called from another campsite. “We’re about to play a game of pong.”

Rip and Minkus looked at each other and nodded, turning to say in unison “Hell yeah!” They walked over with the unfinished pipe to the adjacent camp.

“Oh look, she’s making friends already,” their neighbor said to his brother. His girlfriend turned and gave him a face, sticking out her tongue.

“Shut up, now you have a team to play against,” she explained to him. None of them seemed too bright to Rip, Minkus just thought the neighbors were funny. They handed their new friends the bowl as they joined their game.

At nearly the same time, after two hours of waiting in line, I was finishing up the last pages of my tlog. Well, not the whole thing, just this ‘best of’ collection I have; the highlights, if you will. Realizing these last pages were all about Lou, I cut it short, making an ending out the middle of a random paragraph.

No one noticed, so I put my computer under the seat and picked my texti out of the console to check how long we’d been in line.

“That’s it, time for a beer,” I said to the back seat, holding my hand out and waiting for it to be filled.

Leona obliged, handing Brick and I a red and white can, then getting herself one. As we each cracked open a beer we noticed a crowd of hippies, and other brightly dressed folks our age, out frolicking and playing in the field we were parked beside. The traffic was remaining static in long enough intervals for people to start a game of ultimate or soccer between hobbling from point to point.

The best toy we could find was a beach ball Leona brought for the concert. As quickly as we could, we inflated it and ran out to the field. We soon learned how difficult it was to control such a light object in the breeze, which added a whole lot of unpredictability to the game, but frustrated the hell out of us.

Sometime around 2 in the afternoon Zech awoke, bathed in blue light and sweat, on top of his sleeping bag. All around him were the sounds of celebration: people laughing and shouting, beers popping and fireworks screeching, and music–music coming from more directions than he could count. He stretched, yawned, and unzipped the door of the cerulean tent they’d assembled some 5 hours ago, crawling out into the real world.

He was instead astounded by how surreal it was; standing up in a pool of vivid colors and sounds. He seemed to be treading in a sea of tents and cars that spanned as far as he looked in any direction, the horizon spiked with masts and waving flags, alive and brightly adorned. Giant balloons floated off in the distance, tethered to the ground by massive lines, and bottle rockets exploded in the sky nearby.

Rip and Minkus returned from another neighboring camp, waving goodbye to the pierced lesbians they just met. Minkus had a smitten expression on his face his companion was more than eager to wipe off.

“Just cause you’re extra feminine doesn’t mean they’ll find you any bit attractive,” Rip said, popping his bubble.

“Shut up. A man can dream, damn it.” He paused a moment to think, then said to himself “she kinda reminded me of LZ.”

“Well, look who’s finally alive. I mean, huh-what?” Rip quickly deflected, lest anyone notice how snarky he is all the time.

“Mornin’,” he responded, letting the joke roll off his back. What happened to Eli?” my little brother asked, noticing that his crew was short a member.

“Eli?” asked Minkus in a tone that made it seem like they’d been joking about him for a while.

“Yeah,” Rip continued, glancing at him with a smirk. “We haven’t seen him in hours..

“The man completely disappeared after we smoked and you passed out,” Minkus expressed with concern, but not enough to go out looking for him.

“Oh, but come on. We’d never find him out there; it’s, like, too insane,” Rip interjected with a swish of his hand.

“You’re right, it looks crazy from here,” Zech agreed, peering about for a second.

“If you really want to see something, check this out,” Minkus said, leading everyone to the side of the resting beast, where he climbed to the roof by stepping up the ladder and the wheel cowling to the hood. “The view’s amazing, guys. C’mon up here,” he waved to the others to follow. “And bring that fire, Rip.”

In a minute they were passing around the bowl, sitting 2 meters above everyone else’s heads, atop the blue back of the sleeping behemoth. To every direction there was excitement and joy; festivities raged to the horizon line. They could see the pulsing veins of fellow concertgoers between the other tents and vehicles, flowing like blood to the core of the several hundred acre event. They trailed with their eyes until they were all looking forward in amazement, jaws open.

“Holy gork!”

“My gorking heavens!”

“Shit, we can see the main stage from here,” Zech said, finally starting to wake up a bit.

“Wow guys…this is going to be a good year,” Rip said humbled, thinking it may be his best trip to this etesian Elusian so far.

An hour later, I was seated where I had been for what already felt like an eternity, head on my hand as I stared out the window of Brick’s crawler. I sighed, lit another of the non-menthol cigarettes I bummed from one of my neighbors. We’d started to get friendly with the adjacent cars in the few past hours.

To my left were the guys who drove down from New Tros, ready to take their X as soon as it got dark. On the right, behind us in line, were the guys from some other part of New Ganymede who debated whether or not they should fire up the grill the next time we come to a stop. And directly in front of me, knife-kid was at it again, beheading any wild flower he saw.

“That kid who seems to despise flowers is back,” I reported lazily. Leona hardly stirred from her book but Brick opened his eyes at least gave him a glance.

“That guy’s still choppin’ away, huh?” the Martian muttered, rolling his head back over where he was resting.

“I wonder what those poor, white flowers ever did to him,” I said to myself as I turned back to him, exhaling slowly. After another moment, I suddenly felt very fed up and started to climb out of the window as I exclaimed “That’s it!”

“How many times are we gonna go through this, you’ll never make it in on foot,” Brick hardly opened his eyes as he spoke.

“No-No, not again. I’m just gonna sit on the roof,” I said as I pulled myself out and up onto it.

From here I could see further ahead than I had before, and I definitely didn’t like what I saw. Nothing but the same thing over and over: tie-dye and technicolor crawling along the side of the road at a slug‘s pace.

I leaned over the driver’s side and pounded on the roof. Brick stuck his head out and stared at me irascibly. “Hey-” I started.

“What?” he snapped quickly.

“We shouldn’t have smoked the last of our weed last night.”

“I know, I realized that already,” he said glaring, “or sacrificed the last of it for luck last night, you Callitian.”

“Yeah, my bad. Look…we should have slaughtered a goat…or Leona,” I said jokingly.

“Haha,” his mood changed a bit. “No we’re trading the blonde for hallucinogens, remember?”

“What’s that?” she finally interjected, sticking her head out the window too.

“Nothing, go back to reading, hon,” I said, dismissing her. She gave me a puzzled look and shrugged, withdrawing back inside. Brick chuckled again and retreated as well. I remained on the roof, finishing my cigarette as I stared at the anxious line, slothing its way along.

Another hour later and Rip was just getting back to the camp, excited to smoke what he just bought. He was almost frolicking by the time he bounded into the site, greeted by two pairs of confused, blue eyes that only said goodbye to him a minute ago.

“Guess what I got, like, three camps away.”

“What, what?” Minkus asked, hoping it was something better than the brick weed he’d brought from up north.

He removed a baggie that contained a black, lumpy substance, and held it aloft, shouting “Mmmm-opium!” This lit up the eyes of the other crew members, excited to add the first exotic drug to the list for this trip.

“Did somebody say opium?” an optimistic voice called from around the car. Eli Bayer stepped out of nowhere, as if summoned by the tarry stuff.

“Yes, in fact, I did…Where did you come from, El?” Rip asked, feeling most confused of all.

“Huh? Oh, I was just in there,” he said, pointing to open driver’s door of the 6-wheel’d truck everyone was currently seated on the tail of.

“Really?” Minkus turned in amazement, obviously not even knowing he was there. “How long?” Eli just shrugged and joined them, sitting on a cooler with a jacket on top for a cushion.

“Now if only we had another pipe to smoke out of,” Rip started to mutter, staring at the little blue one. Not even a minute later, a large hippie came roaming passed the camp with a massive black case.

“Blown glass pieces! Finest Quality! Get them while they last!” he shouted in all directions, unashamedly. The crew just looked at each other a moment before, responding.

“Yo, over here!” Rip said, acting as representative for them. The salesman came over and displayed his wares: truly the finest of triple blown glass they had ever seen.

“I made these myself; all the ones you see here in blue don’t change color because I blew them with silver,” the artisan explained. Rip immediately gravitated to one of these metallic blue pieces, particularly such with what seemed like a sidecar-handle. Zech locked eyes with a different, sturdy one shaped similarly to a gavel. Both had strange honeycomb patterns that seemed to sweeten the deal. They noticed the prices though.

“I really won’t have enough for other stuff this weekend if I spend a hundred on this,” Rip complained. Zech was getting his wallet out.

“But it’s so gorkin’ awesome, man. You have to get it,” Minkus pleaded.

“It really is a pretty one,” Eli even added with his mysteriously present southern drawl..

“I can throw in one of these chillums here for free,” the man offered, still holding the case with one arm as he pointed to a series of short one-hitters in the front. Rip spotted a white one that looked surprisingly like a squid and snatched it up.

“Yea, ok. I’ll take these too then,” the dark curly haired Earthling said, bowing his head as if in defeat.

“And I’ll take this one for 75,” the light curly haired one said, handing over the money immediately.

“I appreciate it, pleasure doing business with ya’ll,” he thanked them and disappeared, but could still be heard, continuing to advertise himself nearby for a few more minutes.

“Wow guys, that was real lucky,” Minkus was still in a bit of shock. Rip and Zech continued eying the new pieces of their arsenals.

“I really wish I had some dank weed to christen this thing properly,” my brother said, seemingly to no one. Some force seemed to beck their call, as another, even brighter dressed hippie came trading through.

“Headeez! I‘ve got Orange and Purple!” he bellowed as he rounded another site and entered theirs.

“Yo, over here!” everyone yelled.

The clock in the HUD of brick’s crawler showed a few past five o’clock. I grumbled as I looked down into the pack of cigarettes I’d bought this morning. I at least consider myself lucky that I’d bought two, but that meant I’d really only have one the weekend. As I lit it, Brick turned to me.

“Hey, put your tuni back on, I’m getting sick of my playlist.”

“Uh, I exhausted mine hours ago, but I guess I could find something obscure,” I said, spending the next moment in complete silence, spare the click of the selector wheel. I sat, running scroll-wise for what seemed forever, eventually forgetting what I was doing and just absent mindedly spinning my thumb around as words streamed by unintelligible.

“Pick something, the click is maddening!” Brick had been getting impatient.

“Huh? Oh, sorry,” I picked the next thing I saw, something we’d listened to on Luna, but it was long enough ago by now. “Damn it, why aren’t we at the shows yet, we’re missing out on so much right now.”

“Its ok guys, I’m sure we’ll be there soon, I mean…how much longer could this line be?” Leona asked rhetorically.

“It’s just we’ve been in this car for so damn long,” Brick moaned. “I think this is the longest we’ve been in these seats consecutively this entire trip,” he stated, looking to me to confirm.

“Well considering that we’ve gotten out and to play on every rocky out cropping along the way, or at least sat down in a restaurant for a good portion of time each day, even if it was a fast food joint, I’d say yea, this has been unbearably long and I hope it ends soon,” I said to two nodding heads. We had no idea how close or far we were from getting in.

It was about the same time, only a couple of miles away, that Rip, Minkus and Eli left the camp to go on another excursion into the vibrant world that surrounded them. Zech remained behind to mind the camp, an activity that wouldn’t require too much of the already fatigued lad. The others attempted to establish a viable path out of the three rows of other camps that impeded them from reaching the closest lane.

When they’d reached the already well trodden path, they came to join the gaudy, surging mass making its way to the junction between the event center and camping areas; a giant arch constructed in the middle of the farm with the words ‘Bonnaroo’ illuminated for all to see, though it was only slightly visible unless you were quite close by.

Rather than tag along the column of slowly moving bodies to the stages, the gang became distracted by the glittering attractions of the thoroughfare vendors. All sorts of baubles and trinkets dangled from leather thongs on the posts holding up the blue tarps of their shops.

Belly dancers and fire jugglers played in the street to bring attention to the shop, some waving about smoldering bunches of incense that filled the entire avenue with a pungent but memorable aroma. Brightly colored fabrics woven of natural fibers were sold alongside wood carvings and incense burners; screened tee shirts beside music memorabilia and ash trays. Every manner of smoking device available on display for all to lust for sat at their fingertips, and all could be theirs for the right price.

“This is what heaven is like, right,” Minkus asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

“No, not at all,” Rip argued, “this is so much better!”

A roar of excitement filed its way back through the line to us, catching my attention and stirring me from my daydreams. It was just after 6 by the clock in the dash, and it looked like we were moving a considerable amount, compared to the last hours of drudgery that amounted to very little.

We suddenly came around a corner, a sharp right off the street with which we’d become sickeningly accustomed, onto an even more secluded, backwoods road. This really looked like the home stretch, and by the applause of all ahead and behind, there was no reason to believe it wasn’t.

We watched people in other vehicles climb out their open windows and sit, sideways on the door as if on a railing. It looked like a good idea, so I grabbed my guitar and followed suit, hanging onto the wooden instrument as we crept along at a few miles an hour. I tried to play anything but the same song I had been for days, the one I wrote right before this trip started, but eventually launched into a 6 minute rendition of it. And still, we kept crawling.

“We’ll be set up in no time, guys!” I shouted with glee, though my excitement began to wane when I looked ahead again to see red break lights flowing at us.

An hour later and it had begun to rain over the 700 acre and its surrounding areas. Hard rain; heavy and unrelenting to those improperly covered or prepared for such an occurrence. Three individuals, particularly so, began their withdrawal back to the car. A slow retreat though, none seemed to be too bothered by the downpour.

The one with strong Ionian features (dark curly hair and pointy ears), a brand new tie-dye shirt, and a new blanket wrapped around his shoulders, woven of coarse pink and grey fibers, lead the way. Behind him, the Earthling with blue eyes hid his buzzed blonde hair and slightly pointed ears under a brand new blue hat as he nestled his arms, warm underneath his favorite sweatshirt. Trailing in rear was the dopey looking one with dark hair and blue eyes who wore nothing but a t-shirt, but was too busy staring the new piece he had bought himself, the little blue chillum he imagined he’d get to use plenty.

Surprisingly, the fourth member of their crew was awake when they returned to the camp. The youngest one, skinny and pale with light blue eyes and long, curly blonde hair sat in the wide open cargo bay, noming on a box of cookies, dry and safe from the storm underneath the large hatch, swung up above him. He scooted back to let them in, seating himself on top of someone’s luggage.

Rip simply shook out his blanket and folded it up, the material dry as he was underneath it. Minkus swapped sweatshirts and wrapped the hood of his wet one around the inner handle of the large hatch to let it dry. Eli took off his soaked t-shirt and put a sweater on over his damp back, muttering something to himself as he hung his only shirt over a seat‘s headrest.

“Alright, who wants to get high,” Rip said, removing his tool kit and some freshly purchased supplies. Three eager faces responded by huddling up close to where he sat, the glow from the dash illuminating them all from behind.

At that same moment is when I noticed it beginning to rain. I was just thinking to myself that it had gotten dark all of a sudden when tiny points of moisture began to strike the windshield and my arm hanging out the window. I saw, already, that there was no one left playing outside or hanging out on someone else’s hood and started to roll up my window, the others doing so as well when they realized why.

We obviously weren’t at the gate yet, the short cut or whatever we thought we had taken ended up being just another lengthy leg of the line. There was no considerable end in sight and we sighed as the drizzle became a rain and then a downpour.

Two hours later and it was still coming down hard on the exterior of the vehicle, pounding arhythmically for what seemed like forever on this already infinite day. There wasn’t even music playing anymore, we only ran the engine to keep the air circulating while the windows were closed. Brick feared if the line kept going any longer that we’d run out of gas before reaching our camp. I tried to reassure him we’d never be able to burn the rest, but words like ‘never’ ‘could’ and impossible meant very little in these conditions.

“I wonder how the others are enjoying the festival so far,” I grumbled as I looked back out the window into the dark, wet nothingness.

“This isn’t so bad, you know?” Minkus said, turning to the others. “In fact, I think it’s kinda cool. As long as we’re dry, I don’t care if we’re missing any of the bands.”

“I wouldn’t want to be out at any of those shows in this weather, anyway,” Rip decided, pausing a second to think if any of them would even be worth getting soaked for. “No, it always seems like a good idea, but it only gets more and more miserable as the show goes on.

“What do you mean, that doesn’t sound like a good idea at all,” Minkus objected, turning to see Rip wasn’t being the slightest bit serious.

“You think Klay and his friends made it in ok?” Eli spoke from where he sat in one of the forward seats.

“I hope so,” Rip answered. “I thought they would have called the second they got in, but maybe they’re too tired or all their phones are dead,” he reasoned.

“Ok, look. There’s no way that all of their phones are dead. No, I think they just haven’t gotten in through the gates yet,” Minkus stated pessimistically.

“Well that sucks because they’re gonna have to cut the line off eventually,” Rip began thinking to himself. “Man, I hope they get in soon.”

“Seriously, I dunno how much longer I can stay awake,” Eli said groggily, obviously already starting to doze off.

“All we can do is wait I guess…” Rip said to the rain still falling outside.

Another two hours later and the rain had let up. At this point, we’d been in line nearly 12 hours now, and half a day of this monotony had worn on us greatly. We were, without a doubt this time, certain we were approaching the final stretch.

The locals were out here, set up all the way on the other side of the lawn from their trailers and track homes–front row seats to the freak show passing by. In folding chairs with a can of beer in their hands, they watched the procession march on ever slowly from the edge of the road. An entire day of amusement just came to them, better than anything they’d be able to find on teli.

One particularly hairy Earthling, seeming to barely have had a cut or trim since the turn of the millennium, decided to thrust himself into the spectacle. He made his way down the line of foreign vehicles, meeting and greeting every single one of the ill humored, brightly colored individuals with his beer-free hand. He informed us we were in Asbury, a promising detail according to what I’d remembered seeing on the map. Then he was on his stumbling, stuttering way to the next car down the line, the odorous oaf.

Next there were even vendor tables; unofficial, redneck-run kiosks offering everything from cold beer to ponchos and bug repellent, and all for three times the price that we saw them for anywhere outside in the real world. But this was a trap from here on in, no way to get out now so we’ll jack up the prices. Welcome to our amusement park–hope you enjoy the ride.

Less than half hour later and we were finally at the gate, one of the last cars before the cutoff. Suddenly, after hours of seeing nothing but other vehicles on either side of us, looking back we saw nothing but an empty road. We look forward and we’re the next car to show our tickets and get our bracelets. They also gave us garbage bags, which we brought plenty of, but they were out of event programs, which could have been really useful to have at the time.

We joined the last pack being led to their camp sites, and sat tangled with it for mere seconds compared to what we’d just been through. We wanted nothing more than to wait and rest a short while after we’d pulled into our lake front property, but we knew time was against us, and it could start raining again any second.

We started to set up our shelter, stomping out a square of grass large enough to lay down a tarp and then stretched out nylon construction. The tent up easily enough, and we were just getting inside for the first time to assess how much space we‘d have when the deluge resumed.

“Wow, good timing, guys,” Leona said, shocked at how well that worked out.

“That was pretty near perfect I must say,” and I did, sighing with relief.

“Eh…not too perfect,” Brick interrupted in an unsettling tone. “We’re leaking,” he said, pointing up.

We could see that the seal on the fly was weak, very weak. Water began to pour through all the seams of the hexagonally shaped top-piece of the tent, and the main layer wasn‘t designed to hold back moisture . We futilely held towels up above our heads to stop the flow until it lightened up enough to go out and do something about it.

I cut up one of the ponchos I bought at Uber-Mart for 50c and we used duct tape on the other seams, making it as waterproof as it would ever get. Brick and I made a ring around it twice with our rolls and covered every single spot and crack we could find, Leona helping by doing the same inside.

We all prepared to call it an evening, deciding it was probably too late to try to find anything to smoke, and that we should cut our losses and try early in the morning. That’s about when I realized that Zech was bringing my sleeping bag and ground mat, and none of our crew had brought a real blanket with us.

I called him up immediately, he answered the third try. “Hello?” his groggy voice crackled from my texti’s speaker.

“Hey bro, we’re in, where are you?”

“Uh..I dunno,” he paused a moment, “do you have a map?”

“No? No, they didn’t give me one.”

“Oh, well…I don’t know how I can be helpful right now,” he admitted.

“Ok…is there anyone still awake who could be more helpful than you?”

“Uh…no.”

“Well…thanks?”

“Night,” he said, his voice disappearing with a beep.

I ground my teeth together for a second before giving up, letting out a regretful sigh. “Guess I don’t get a sleeping bag tonight,” I shrugged.

I ended up using a giant hippie tapestry as a blanket, and a genuine, Venusian poncho as a sheet on top of the inflatable pool floatie I was offered as a mattress–luckily with a pillow built in to it. And, at least, I was given the middle, more comfortable of the three spots and least likely to roll up against the damp side of a tent in your sleep.

Unfortunately, like each other night of the trip, Brick began to snore heavily once he passed out. Each of the other times I had been stoned enough to ignore it, or was given a separate room entirely. Instead, I was sober, uncomfortable, and not properly covered. I rolled over and looked at Leona, deep in dream already with self-molding earplugs nestled deep enough to even drown out one’s own voice. I leaned back over, flat on my back, staring up at the top of tent until, finally, a kindly bullfrog serenaded me to sleep.

«The Road Trip – Day 6»

06-10-2309

“Don’t tell me we’re lost.”

“I’m not saying that at all, I simply said I don’t know where we are.”

“Brick, we’ve hardly known where we were this entire trip.”

“Yeah, but I’ve made most of this journey before. Everything until the past few days was the same exact route, and after then it’s at least been somewhat familiar. Today it’s entirely foreign,” he spoke as I looked around outside at trees that would have grown up where I did.

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry; these directions aren’t telling me anything useful, either. How far do you think we are?” I asked trying to gauge the distance out of the time until we had to be there.

“I can’t begin to say. Either the mileage is wrong on the application, or the sign numbers are wrong on the freeway. It could be both, I don’t know,” he punctuated.

“Guesstimate?”

“Ugh…30 minutes or 13 minutes….or 17 minutes..the other way” he figured, all the while trying to decide if he should just turn around or not.

I beat the side of his PDA against my palm and said “I really wish I could get a signal with this thing. If it could just get on I could load a new map for us.”

“I guess we’ll just have to survive on our instincts…and hope there’s a sign for the spaceport,” he said spying into the distance ahead for flying rockets or contrail streaks.

“You’re right, and hope it comes up soon, or Leona won’t be too happy,” I put the PDA away as I dug in the console for a cigarette. I lifted the pack to offer one to him, but without a word he pulled one out and lit it, handing me his lighter, still silent. “I’m glad we’ve got that down to a science,” I admired as I lit my own cig and pocketed the lighter.

“Yeah, I’d say we’ve been trapped with each other long enough. We get to look back comically on parts of the trip that seem so far away now, but really happened earlier this week.”

I laughed out loud a moment before composing, “It certainly has felt like a long time.” I almost lost myself to a nostalgic mental tour.

“Remember when we were in Copernicus?”

“Hahaha……barely..” we both burst into laughter so hard that 75 miles an hour became dangerous to maintain. I almost missed the obvious sign, but shouted “Appalachia Spaceport, next right!”

“I see it. Wow, we may just be too high today.”

We got a late start this morning after sleeping in at his aunt’s house in Troutman. She had left early in the morning with her daughter, Brick’s cousin (no confusing family lines this time), so the house was ours all of the morning. We fucked off for a while, probably watching more TV than I had yet the entire trip. Although, we had been tuning into sports coverage each night, but I can hardly say that I was paying that much attention during any of those.

Ahh, well even this morning too, I guess. My attention was focused on dismantling two days worth of roaches on the coffee table. Until this last half of the journey, before we‘d stayed with two different sides of Brick‘s family, we’d been doing pretty well to reuse the day’s leftovers to create nice suppers for ourselves, sometimes mixing it with a little bit of tobacco for filler. Either way, it guaranteed a good bit of nightcap for each of us without having to dip into our daily rations. Plus, it’s already coated with resin by the time you recycle, people.

The Fire of Jove crackled along with the sizzling shreds of tobacco leaves out on the back porch. It probably didn’t need them, I know we had enough to smoke without it, but I wanted to start the day off large, so I rolled a good amount in along with the precious, sticky scraps. It took a good while to burn, during which we inspected each of the insects flying about for cautionary markings. Nothing as hazardous as a bee even bumbled by.

After removing the last of the laundry we‘d put into the dryer while smoking, we finished collecting everything we‘d need for the festival. The Martian, just packing enough for the weekend, left the possessions he brought for the rest of the summer in the room he’d be spending it in. I’d have left Eon’s stuff there too if I were catching a ride back through after it was over.

At this point though, we had traveled 15 minutes after discarding all previously established directions, trusting that the brown signs would just line up like bread crumbs.

“It’s been a minute since we saw the last sign.. You don’t think we missed one already, do you?” Brick had a familiar, unsure tone in the back of his throat.

“No, not unless it..” I saw a corner of brown and white peeking out of the trees. “It was just covered by an untrimmed branch,” I said, crestfallen.

“Huh?”

“Turn around, they just tried to hide it from us. Heavens, they must really not want us to find their spaceport. Who knows what madness must transit through there.”

“That’s a stupid thing to do, why wouldn’t they want to make that the slightest bit obvious? By the way, you’re definitely too high,” he deduced.

“Shut up, there’s a turn-off up here,” I pointed ahead.

It seemed it was a small enough spaceport from the entrance we drove in through. Before rolling under the structure of one of the concourses, I caught glimpse of just one ship taking off, some type of passenger ship; bright, polished silver with four nacelles, maybe a Perseus or a Theseus, but I couldn‘t make out anything that would tell me which. This port didn’t seem to have much incoming traffic either, but I may have only had a limited view. I probably just wasn’t paying attention.

I was distracted from my usual of pastime of staring up at all the ships departing and arriving, trying to lose the horizon so I’d be staring at an open sky filled only with flying craft. Instead I was peering as far as I could ahead to catch a glimpse of Leona, classmate and roommate of Brick.

I had looked her up online the morning before we had left Saline, back in the beginning of the journey. It had been quite a long week since I’d seen the pictures, but I was sure I’d be able to spot her from far off. Her profile only teased at how interesting she could be, and I couldn’t wait to meet her to find out.

Standing on the yellow striped curb with a full heap of luggage laid at her feet, the Earthling girl’s blonde hair caught wind in a gust from a nearby bus lifting off. Robotic skycaps hovered about in the background, some assisting people with their bags, others just floating idly by. Leona Crown waved when she and Brick recognized each other, smiling at us underneath her acrylic framed glasses.

Soon after helping her situate her things in the trunk, we were all seated again in the cabin, comfortable and on our way down the exit ramp already. Brick was still in the driver’s seat, and though I offered the front seat to Leona she opted not interrupt my navigation. We sparked the third to last joint shortly after getting back on the freeway, I handed it back to her.

“Sorry, no thanks,” she said, turning it down. I gave a look of disbelief until she reassured me, saying “Oh, no I’m just getting over a cold. Don’t worry, I’ll be smoking tons this weekend.”

“Alright, I understand,” I said as I redirected it to Brick, who took it as he peeked into his monitors. “That would of course never stop me from smoking, but I get it.” Things become blurry after he handed it back to me, I had saved a large one for the three of us. For some reason or another, I can’t remember the conversation very well until we were entering a Ionian-themed chain restaurant.

“M’Kay, Three. Smoking or Non?” asked the hostess behind the counter that took a good minute or two to assist. Baffled, Brick and I looked at each other and then to Leona.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard that on the whole trip,” I stated to Brick as I turned back to the inattentive Neptunian-Earthling girl. “Smoking, please.”

We were seated in a rather open end of the restaurant for this time of day. When the salad was brought out by the unattractive waitress, who I still called ‘Hon’, I served it to my two companions first.

“Well, such a gentleman,” Leona remarked.

“Don’t get to excited, he’s been calling every waitress ‘Hon’ this entire trip,” Brick revealed. “He’ll clean up after we’re done too to make it easier on them.”

“Yeah, he’s right. It’s all part of my evil ploy; all just to give less of a tip,” I admitted. “More croutons, Dear?”

“Uhm..Yes, please,” she answered. “How do you and Brick know each other again?” she asked, either because I seemed so different from him, or from everyone she knew that he made friends with.

“Heh, well.. I moved to Mars to be closer to a girl who I met over a summer when she came to do this theater thing here on Earth. After a year of having a long distance relationship, I packed up and headed to Mars to awkwardly restart my life. And Brick had gone to high school with her and been friends a long time,” I paused to breathe. “When Linda and I broke up, you could say that I attained custody of Brick,” I said, pinching his cheek and making baby noises before he swatted me away.

“Yeah, you could say that,” he admitted. It really did seem like a permanent enough thing to warrant calling them ‘mommy and daddy’.”

“Especially towards the end,” I glared at him for a second.

“Why did you guys break up?” Leona asked innocently enough. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ask for your whole life story.”

“No it’s ok.. Well, she..” I started, then shot a glance to my legal counsel. My attorney’s face was stern and turned down; a definite ‘No’ seemed to slip out of his lips. “We were too close all the time, so much that we grew apart and needed our own space,” I said, relieved I didn’t have to go into the grimy details. “And that was over a year and a half ago, so I’m pretty sure the distance between that space will never get any smaller.” Brick nodded with approval, so I added “Especially after all that’s happened.”

“So–” the question started on her lips before she caught a glimpse of Brick’s expression, advising against it. She stopped mid-sentence.

“My attorney is right. We’re about to get our food and it’s hardly appropriate dinner table conversation. Maybe if you’re unlucky, I’ll regale you with the horror story one day. Until then, look what’s here,” I indicated to the food, which couldn’t have arrived at a better time.

After finishing the entire meal without even a glimpse of delicious breadsticks, our party and its newest member returned to our vehicle. Walking across the blacktop parking lot, I pulled the pack of menthols out of my pocket and offered one to each of the others before taking mine. Brick snatched one quickly, a firm believer that every good meal deserves a cigarette. Leona, to my surprise, turned them down. I blinked a moment, but I didn’t insist she take one any longer.

“Nah, I don’t smoke. There’s been a lot of people in my family who have died of lung cancer,” she said, eyes dropping the the pavement as she finished her sentence.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, pulling the cigarette from my lips and getting ready to put it away.

“No, it’s fine. You can smoke around me, I really don’t mind,” she said, looking up and waving her hands to stop me from not having it. “I just don’t.”

“Oh, well…thanks?” I said, lighting it finally, as we got to the silver doors of Brick’s crawler. After burning an ember shaped hole somewhere in the interior, we were back on our way.

A short while later, my attention was grabbed as something flicked at the windshield. Before I could look up at it from the screen, a few dozen other pounds, like impatient fingertips, fell upon us. A dark cloud tumbled over momentarily and the downpour released. Brick cut his speed, flipped his hazards, turned up the wipers and squinted desperately ahead at the other beacons of red light.

“Guys, this is terrible,” he cautioned us. Nervously he reduced his speed even further, unable to make out anything beyond his nosecone. “I’ve never driven in anything as bad as this before!”

Leona and I simply looked at each other and smiled, resisting the urge to break out in laughter. “Really?” she asked after taking a breath.

“Yeah, I can’t get it off the windshield fast enough. Zero visibility and traction, I almost just want to pull over,” he confessed, obviously scared.

“Oh, silly Martian. It’s just a little rain,” I said, unable to contain my laughter.

“Yeah, Brick, this is nasty but it isn’t the worst it could do here,” the other Earthling explained.

“Are you sure?” he asked, still not convinced.

“Yeah, man. This will all blow over in a couple of minutes,” I assured him.

Precisely four minutes and thirty-eight seconds later the storm let up. It seemed to disappear from right over our heads, as if we’d only just passed under a limb or finger of a greater, mysterious being. It wouldn’t be the last time we’d have to deal with this beast today, though.

Leona received a message from her aunt a short while later, informing us that tonight’s spectacle will most likely be rained out. We were supposed to culminate our trip by sitting back to the synchronous fireflies, one of the rarest spectacles on the planet and something the likes of which I’ve never seen, and it looked like I wouldn’t for a while still. Instead we adjusted our course, cutting out the next attraction and settling on this evening’s stopping point.

“Hey, we probably want to be coming down by the time we meet your aunt, right?” I asked Leona.

“Yeah, you probably should…although she’s going to know something’s up with you, Klay,” she pointed out.

“Hehe, you shoulda heard what my family thought about him. Any of them, any time they’ve seen him,” the Martian said, giggling.

“What, that I was high? High out of my mind?” I asked, not very amused.

“No, just that you’re weird,” he said.

“Yep, weird as hell,” confirmed the voice from the backseat.

“Oh.. Well, I can live with that I guess,” I shrugged. “Either way, that means we spark this now, right?”

“Right,” said the driver, handing me a lighter.

Before we’d gotten halfway through smoking it, he’d passed the joint back to me and asked me to hold onto it cause traffic was slowing down. Another minute and we were bumper to bumper with big rigs and smart cars alike. The two lane highway through the mountain pass was at a standstill as far as the eye could see, though that was only until the first bend–we couldn’t tell how far this blockage stretched.

When Brick had to throw it in park, we all sighed and looked at each other in forlorn. We already knew this was going to be lengthy and tedious. The Martian decided it was snack time, passing around peanut butter-filled pretzels and trail mix. Earthgirl opened up the giant polymer cooler that kept her company in the backseat, dispensing red and blue drinks. I, Earthboy, picked up the tuni plugged into the entertainment system and turned up the music.

Start. Stop. Start. Stop another hundred feet from the last place. Start in 2 minutes after watching anxiously ahead for the red eyes to fade. Stop and wait again another 3. Repeat for another hour or so until it lets up just a little bit, accelerating to a slow crawl. Start to drive fast enough where you have to give all your attention to the road ahead and giant trucks slowing suddenly in front of you. Stop being able to see the scenery. Start to get annoyed at all the waterfalls and cascades the two Earthlings riding in the car are pointing out to each other. Stop trying to imagine the drivers thoughts.

The mountain pass was beat at last, and your heroes excitedly exited into a much wider valley, filled with trees, and rivers, and many off-ramps to thin the traffic out. The next destination was Morris and the second time through it so far. To Leona’s aunt’s house in the hills above town, right next to another national park named after an extinct animal; it sounded nicer then the part we’d caught a glimpse of just the day before.

We arrived earlier than we did to any of our other destinations, pulling into the long, freshly paved driveway before the sun even went down. A minute later and Aunt Devvie was out to greet us herself, giving us the grand tour.

A giant walnut tree, old as the boundary lines around it, grew in the middle of the front yard, by a younger magnolia tree in full bloom.

“You know, in all the time we had this place, I don’t think I’ve ever seen this tree in bloom; and they’re so damn huge!” Devvie shared with us.

She walked us around the front of the house, a space as large as my entire backyard before bringing us to the west side of the yard, the sun already escaped behind the mountains. Down the hill from where we stood was a hole in the Earth, named the gully. Dev warned us that all manner of scrap could be found in that pit.

“He used it as his own landfill…more like a little dump I think,” she stood for a while to explain. “He hauled anything he didn’t need over here; trees he’d uproot or rocks he’d unearth, equipment he couldn’t use anymore, and anything else he found dead,” she snorted, turning away at last.

She continued on her circle and brought us counter scroll-wise around the back of the house, where there was a manmade water feature. A long fountain, stretched out into a rocky stream that ran from far uphill. We walked along it to the top and looked back down at the house.

“He built this one bit by bit. One day we were down there on the porch, smoking a cigarette and looking up at the hill, and he got this idea. The next day he had a hose and a bunch of black rubber tarps set up from about halfway to the bottom. And see there where that sticks out? For a while that became a pool with a waterfall that drained to the bottom one,” she paused to take a sip of her drink.

“Then one day he decided to make it longer, got a bunch of instant concrete from the store, and tore up everything he had before,” she then kicked at the spout below her foot. “He laid these heavy duty cables attached to a massive filter pump he installed down there, and started pouring.”

She brought us around to the final stop on the 6 acre estate, a view east of the town of Morris. From here it was the same quaint setting you could imagine on Earth colonies hundreds of years ago. Little bits of flickering yellow light in each window low in the hills, fit in between with spires and steeples that all glowed too. My opinion of it changed a little bit as we stared on.

After the others had all gone to bed, Brick and I crept back outside to the patio. One joint was left, the grand daddy of them all. Rolled in a clear piece of cellulose paper like a tornado, the finest keif and choice pieces of bud went into this monstrosity, easily putting each of the other 20 I made to shame.

We smoked it ceremoniously and were privy to an other-worldly high, it felt like we’d never gotten stoned the entire week of this trip. This majestic piece of smoking history treated us well–so well it didn’t seem right to just snuff it out and flick it away. We had to dispose of it respectfully.

“Come on, Brick, grab your head lamp. I have an idea,” I said, standing and looking west.

When he’d found his gadget and a pair of Martian sandals, we started walking through the back yard, around the house. Up on the hill beside it, we came to the creepily shadowed gully. I emptied the ashtray into my open left hand, then closed it when I closed my eyes.

“Thank you for all the good fortune so far and please may it continue,” I said to no god in particular. Then I dashed the roaches and blew the rest off my hand into the welcoming gully. We turned about and headed inside, intent to rest before the big day.

«The Road Trip – Day 5»

06-09-2309

Ahhhh, waking up in a real bed. What simple pleasures you bastards take for granted each day. Not only did I wake to a real bed in my own quarters, but to eggs and bacon sizzling and popping at me through the vents. It was heavenly, but you’d never be able to appreciate it. Just being in a house that has food in the kitchen is a gift, people.

The Auroran side of Bricks family were full of honest, hard working, hugging folk. His mother’s uncle, Arturius, was slouched over the frying pan in an apron and shorts, white socks pulled up over his calves, when his son, Mic came in. Brick’s first cousin, once removed was dropping off his second cousins to play with their grandparents for the day. I know, it all seems very confusing, I had to do some research to figure it all out.

After a hearty breakfast we were on the road again. The view was worthy of nostalgia, the notes of rural Dominia were hard to ignore. It wasn’t long at all before it was time to ignite the day’s first J, waiting until we were just past the city limits. I exhaled a cloud of relief to not have to worry about covering my act around his family. Well, at least for a few hours.

The only sign for a scenic overlook I’d seen in two days passed by outside.

“Huh, do you think we should?” Brick was entertaining the notion already.

“Uh…well..” I couldn’t answer quick enough, another blue sign and a small turn out whooshed by. “I guess not…It probably wasn’t all that interesting, anyway,” I justified.

“You’re probably right, it must hav–Holy shit!” he pointed across me out the window. The slope to our right, covered by a thicket of trees, dropped away to reveal the vantage from the point.

“Oh gork.. We have to turn around, Brick,” not taking my eyes off the view.

“I know, I know. I’m trying,” he said, searching for convenient place to make a quick u-ey.

“This is not an option! It’s the most interesting thing I’ve seen for miles.” I probably wasn’t helping him find a turn an easier, but still I added “I don’t have any good pictures on Earth, yet. You really have to.”

“Hush, or I won’t pull off for the next one either,” he threatened as he signaled to make a right at an abrupt intersection.

The river bends meandered for miles and miles on end. Grey bridges and trees cut in front of the silver body shining in the cool morning sun. A nice breeze welled up beneath us as we looked over what must have been Lake Warioto. I can only assume, reviewing at the map afterwards. I didn’t actually bother to take a look at the commemorative signage or any other nomenclature about.

We descended the mount after documenting everything, down to the mason work, in which each piece of local slate that was used contained fossils of ancient life. The rocky passage down brought us to the lapping edge of the rivers for a peek before plunging us into a thick, valley forest. The route and all the buildings along the way, were worn in ways that made you know this path was ancient, used for time immemorial.

We passed more decaying mortar and concrete, rubber wheels spinning on crumbling cement, until we came upon Warioto Gap. The little town bloomed with antiquated architecture, reaching far back to the days of the original Ganymedean settlement and the colonial wars. It  had sprouted at the head of a natural pass through the mountain, and was popularized when Earthling frontiersman and hero, Dane Bane, expanded the way, making the settlement of Pennsyltucky beyond much easier.

A recreational trail branched off from the back of the town into the mountains. Apparently, before Jovians took over this world, natives called these tracks the Warrior’s Path, linking the way between the warring tribes of the north and south. Colorful signage littered the sides of the walkway, with dramatized scenes depicted which would have otherwise predated modern photography.

It was humid out with no breeze, but the moderate canopy above helped to keep us cool as we climbed the slow, gravelly grade. Small black land mines peppered the larger rocks and stones, their eight legs sprawled as they basked in the midday sun. I kept my eyes down to avoid accidentally triggering any of them.

“How far do you think it is still?” Brick panted, looking up ahead as his flip flops flapped against the sifting tide or stones. “I’m dying already.”

“Well, the sign in the parking lot said it was a good 5 miles to the closest lookout point,” I recalled as I removed his PDA from my pocket, “and so far we have walked…0.6 miles.”

“And we still have to walk all the way back after getting there? Gork that! Lets turn around after we reach the first vantage.”

“Sounds great to me, let me just see here.” As I fiddled with the touch screen, to plot a new course, an alert flashed across it.

((– Now Leaving Pennsyltucky — Welcome to Dominia –))

“Ever cross a border on foot, before?” I asked Brick slyly.

“Heh. No I can’t say I have…until now, apparently.”

“That’s kind of exciting. Well, anyway, we can just make a left at the next fork, it looks like there’s a side path to another mount just ahead.” I pocketed the gadget and released the canteen I had clipped to my waist. Ahhh, still cold from being inside the crawler. Refreshing.

“Hook me up!” Brick said as he herd the wet clink of the stainless steel bottle. I tossed it to him when I’d replaced the lid.

“You get to carry it for a while, now.” I smirked as I passed him, taking the lead up a steep hill.

The top didn’t yield as impressive a view as we could have hopped. I could see a slope on one side, and a mountain sliding to meet it on the other side, but in between there were just a bunch of trees. I angled about as best I could to get at least one good view of something, but nothing came to sight.

You have to be pretty high up to find any view worth seeing on Earth, there’s always something getting in the way. This was a charming little hill though, and a perfect place for the sunbathing ticks. While I was taking a few pictures of trees, one of the clever little arachnids began to make a break for my legs. I spotted him at the last second before it made to leap on me, letting out a shriek of terror as I hopped off the boulder and ran to Brick.

“Uhm…what?” He looked up at me from the rock he was perched on, interrupted from taking a breather.

“I’m not a fan of the wildlife around here…and I think we kinda have to keep moving if we don’t want to be eaten alive,” I indicated to the stealthy black agent of doom behind me.

“I guess.. I feel really exposed up here too, lets get back under the shade,” as he rose to his feet he dusted off his knees and handed the water bottle back to me. “Where to know, do you think?”

“Hmm,” I glanced about a few seconds. “I’d say back down and over there to left, there’s some sort of landmark or memorial by the looks of it.”

“It looks less sunny too, so I’m for it,” and he lead the way down the hill, side stepping to find better footing on the slippery gray stones.

A crater was etched out of a rock wall just a few minutes up our turn. Dead leaves and dry branches flooded it most of the way, making its depth indeterminable. Another floating sign informed us it had been a Union storehouse during Earth’s Civil war, self destructed so it wouldn’t fall into the hands of separatists. Bits of history dating this far back would receive much acclaim and respect on Mars, but here they’re scattered like weeds, another everywhere you turn.

“This is neat, do you want to chill here while we spark it?” Brick asked me with hope, trying anything he could to make this little excursion more worth it.

“Ehh…not particularly. I kinda want to save it for the road, we’ve still got a good ways to drive today. And we won’t still be high by the time we get out of this sweaty park.” My logic was sound enough, I thought, but I added “and I’d like to be sitting down to enjoy it, we’d be tick food before we even got close to roaching it.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Let’s head back then, ok,” he rifled in his pocket for a menthol cigarette and offered one to me as we turned about, now walking downhill.

An Earthling girl in shades and athletic tights jogged briskly by us on the path. Between deep panting breathes, she shouted a warning as she passed.

“Snake up ahead. Big black one. Middle of the trail. Watch out!” and she was gone, headed up the way we just came down.

“Hmm..” Brick moaned.

“Wow…thanks for the warning, I guess,” I muttered, not sure what to make of it until we saw it for ourselves.

Long enough to stretch the entire span of the walkway, we gingerly tiptoed around the smooth reptile as it slithered on into the foliage. Rounded diamond-shape scales cased it‘s hide, uniform and black. I couldn’t see the head or any markings indicating what type it was, but it was intimidating enough to treat it with utmost caution. Looking back again, I saw the end of it’s plain tail vanished amongst the ferns.

“I think I need to phone my dad real quick,” I was already removing my texti from my pocket.

“Do you update him every time you see a snake?”

“Only when I don’t know what it is…and when I’m in the same territory as him..and when–” my signal connected to the network and it began to ring. He answered after only a couple tones.

“Hey kid, what’s goin on?” the muted voice squeaked through my tiny speaker.

“Not much, dad. I just had a quick question for you.”

“Alright, shoot.”

“Well we’re in Warioto Gap right now, just walked across the border into Dominia.”

“Oh, cool. Coming home soon then?”

“Well kinda, we’ve still got to head through Appalachia and Carolina, and back to Appalachia for the festival this weekend. But I had a question about poisonous snakes.”

“Uh..ok, I think there are emergency services that specialize in snakebites better than I could. And a lot quicker at that.”

“You’re funny. No I didn’t get bitten, I just saw a snake and couldn’t remember which poisonous species we had in our territory. Cottonmouths and…?”

“Rattlers. Timber Rattlers,” he answered quickly, in an obvious tone.

“Huh, really? I always think of them as more of a Luna-Mars thing. Copperheads and Water Moccasins are what I think of when it comes to Earth. And Coral Snakes.”

“Why not, they’re all Pit Vipers. Well, the Cottonmouth species and the Rattlers are anyway; Coral are actually a type of Cobra.” I kinda miss him going on like this, you always learn something.

“No way..wow I guess that makes sense, why they’d be so lethal.” This was a new one on me, but I hardly had the minutes to waste. “Uh, anyway, are any of those about an inch thick and pitch black? Maybe about 2 feet long?”

“No, that’s nothing to worry about at all,” he paused a second to consider it. “Probably a regular old rat snake. If it has no markings at all you‘re safe, and half of the time, even if it does, it‘s just pretending to be dangerous. Toxin filled creatures always come with clearly visible markings, just part of how they evolved.” I could tell he was gearing up for a long one.

“That’s cool, I’ve never really thought about it like that,” it was slightly fascinating, you have to admit. “Well, thanks for helping me ID it, dad. I gotta run though. See you in about a week?”

“Yeah, sure thing, kid. Take care of yourself out there. Love you much.”

“Love you too,” I slid the texti closed to end the call.

“Is it safe?” Brick asked sarcastically.

“Yeah, that one was,” I was adjusting to speaking at normal volume again, “but let’s not hang around to find any that aren’t.”

Back on the road we continued through to Appalachia. Lush, well nourished greenery aligned us, strangled up to the limbs in the river-lakes that ran beside road. It was obvious excessive rains had raised the line several feet, but people here were smart enough to keep their houses far up hill from the new boundaries of their yards. As we crossed the swollen Holstein River I was reminded how insignificant water seemed to the citizens of this world.

We changed our course in Morris, a little crossroads town in the middle of the mountains, and were about to head north when hunger struck us.

“They have White Castles around here, right?” The Martian asked as if I knew intimate details of this part of the planet.

“I can only assume they do…although I can’t remember the last time I saw one this far south. We might as well take a look,” I answered, half optimistic and half unwilling to admit I didn’t know something.

“Right, then we’re exiting here,” he informed me as we entered the ramp leaving the highway.

It looked like any town near the eastern seaboard, the same earth-red bricks wrapped houses with pale columned porticos and black window shudders. Granted, the upkeep hadn’t been attended as closely as some of the nicer neighborhoods I’ve known, but combined with the rusted wrought iron and creeping vines it was all kind of homey.

We continued on the main avenue, scouring both sides of the street for fresh, bite sized burgers, but found none. An alarming number of seafood places were present, especially a good amount of sushi restaurants. Brick and I glanced at each other and shuddered to think about the quality of raw fish up here in the mountains, or anywhere besides Mars or Saturn for that matter. After half an hour of cringing, we turned about.

“Well that was a bust, what did we pass along the way that looked good?” I had given up on finding sliders anytime this trip long ago.

“I dunno…regular sized burgers?” Suggested the Brick.

“Fine, how about the BK Lounge over here?” I pointed to the drive-thru, right by the old rusted rails that used to pump the blood of life into this town.

“Sounds good to me, I think we’ve been avoiding eating there long enough…and salmon rolls aren’t even that appealing to me when they aren’t hundreds of miles from the closest shore,” the picky eater responded.

As we sat in the glassed dining area of the restaurant, an act I’d developed a new appreciation for after being confined to a crawler for majority of the past week, we observed the local color. Mostly pastey white, probably all from Ganymedean families that traded their afternoon tea and suit ties for rabbit meat and coonskin caps when they relocated to Earthly log cabins. Everyone also seemed to have poor skin and obesity issues, obviously loyal customers of this and similar fastfood chains, frequenting them for all four of their meals throughout a given day. The staff even seemed slow and sluggish, weighed down by pounds of grease and fat sloshing around inside of them. Mixed with the unhealthy burger I was hastily shoving down my throat, it was a thoroughly unpleasant experience.

“Just think, tomorrow night we’ll be here again,” Brick said between bites. He wiped his mouth and corrected himself, “Sorry, not here at BK, I mean in Morris.”

“Oh, right…wait this is where Leona’s aunt lives?” I asked, slightly surprised.

“Yeah, well somewhere around here anyway. I just remember seeing Morris on the map when I looked it up.”

I took a second to look around at the overweight diners accompanying us. “Her family’s not from around here, is it?”

“No. Heavens, no. She’s from upstate New Tros, I think her aunt just moved down here. Why to the south, I haven‘t a clue,” he pondered just a minute longer before shrugging and eating a handful of fries.

“Ah, well that’s cool then. There’s no way her aunt could be as gross as the Earthlings around here,” I was relieved, but in the back of my head I was aware that some places just end up changing you. “Lets get out of here before we become like them.

“One step ahead of you, sir,” he said, already rising to his feet and dusting the crumbs off his shirt.

We returned to the highway and resumed our drive. The road we just switched to was narrower and more winding than the previous major route. We had deviated from the suggested path to stop by a landmark that looked appealing, and after an awkward uphill climb finally reached it.

Blowing Rock was apparently the most exciting thing to see for miles, an exposed outcropping looming over a valley created at a continental divide between the ancient sedimentary mountains and the fresh, young chrystallines. For 6 bucks each, we could stand on an observation platform and look at all the trees hiding the beautiful mountain faces and slopes.

There wasn’t a series of little landmarks one could conceivably hike too, there weren’t impressive features you could spot from the deck, it was just a bunch of trees. The most astounding thing was the size of the giftshop, immense compared to the magnitude of the site. A large wall sized panorama picture was all the view we needed to take in before we turned and left.

“Well that certainly blew. This is one of those places you decided to visit cause it looked like a funny name when you saw it on the map, right?” I harped at Brick.”

“Yeah,” he answered sheepishly.

“Are you sorely disappointed?”

“Yes..”

“And have you learned your lesson?”

“Nope, onward to Troutman!” He shouted, breaking into a run for the silver vehicle, still warm and as anxious to get back on the road as we were.

«The Road Trip – Day 3»

The scenery passing my window was as dull as it had been for the past 400 miles. In the late afternoon of our third day on Luna, we drove by nothing but flat farmland as far as they eye could see. The occasional hill speckled the horizon, and more common were clusters of trees clinging to ponds–and each other–for dear life. It’s all we’ve seen since before we even left the last region we drove through.

Yesterday, after leaving Saline, we had a relatively easy journey. We stopped off at a few roadside destinations, the little scenic points you could spot while driving–even make a quick u-turn if you had to– and spend half an hour fucking around on the rocks. If you take a moment to really breath it in, each offers a unique view of what moon was to come.

At the first stop, Salt Wash, natives spread their cheap jewelry over the white stones, a secretive trap, well-laid for tourists to meander through. The lizards basked on the early morning rocks, which we bounded over to get a good view over a little canyon. It was the most dry land and scrub I’d seen up close though, the spectacular views from the night before had been too high and vast to feel this close to the terrain. We could see the road ahead, winding about behind the largest pillar, and knew we’d have to get back to it without delay.

The next point was called Ghost Rock, and here we took longer to enjoy the view. Ghost Rock itself was a large, prominent outcropping that towered the road beside it, and it’s aptly named for looking like it were draped in a sheet. Brick spotted a strange plant I’d never encountered before and we spent a half hour searching for more bizarre flora. When our search turned up empty, we returned to inspect it, only to find it was a plastic piece that belonged in a terrarium. When we’d shaken off our embarrassment, we noticed we could observe great views off both sides of the point. One side offered an angle on the way we’d come, the other laid out the path before us. We stood a moment trying to imagine the plains that dinosaurs once populated in all their glory.

Spotted Wolf was an interesting point, especially since I couldn’t see why it was named so. From the parking lot, a peninsula ridge ran between two depressions, leading to a larger sink valley, like a giant, sandy “Y”. If you could brave the wind sheering across the top of the narrow path, the view down through the valley and beyond was incredible and endless. The two valleys that met were wrapped by two giant, jagged walls which seemed to sink into the middle where the road weaved and disappeared into the rocky land on the other side.

“You remember those pictures from my trip last year, right?” Brick was almost shouting to be heard of the squall. “This is that one I did the 360-shot at, you know?”

“I do,” of course I recognized it, “but the pictures did nothing for it.” It was really something to behold up close, and we couldn’t help but spend a while staring it.

Within the hour we were turning off the main route and approaching Arches Park, one of the dark side’s more prized tourist destinations. The erosion effects on the different levels of basalt and sandstone, and other sediments, have caused looser stripes to dissolve away beneath tougher ones, leaving behind a rigid layer above exposed to the wind. Large enough to walk through, enough to stand up straight in. Even wide enough to drive a big rig right through. More hoodoos, walls, pillars and dangerously balanced rocks delighted us on the way to the view point we figured we’d have to time to reach.

“Our batteries are so low anyway, we’ll be back soon enough. We don’t need to put on any block or even bring a water bottle” I remember saying before wandering around the point for an hour and a half.

“One of these is the South Window and the other the North Window,” Brick said, reading off the map supplied to us at the gate.

“That’s real convenient,” I said looking up at the sun, seeing that it was directly above us in the sky and dead in between each of the massive arches. “Well I guess it couldn’t help us either way…”

“Yeah, plus you don’t know anything about Luna,” Brick kindly reminded me. “That one’s the South cause it’s closer to Turret Arch on the map, which is right…there,” he pointed to our right.

“Huh…didn’t even see that one.”

“That J on the drive in may not have been a good idea, good sir.”

“Hush, you know it’s making this so much better,” I said snatching the camera from him. “I need to waste some more battery.”

Each window was a strange portal, one offering a view to a greener land, the other to a field of petrified dunes. The third arch gave way to an impressive natural amphitheater, and I suddenly wished I’d brought my guitar from the crawler. There were arches within arches mounted on top of arches they called the Parade of Elephants, visible from the back rows, if you turned around. There was also a spot with a whole bunch of strange pillars, like a mini Ingenii, they called the Garden of Eden.

“Alright, nice as this is we really need to be getting on the road,” the PDA was chirping off in Brick’s pocket, we knew it was sounding the hour.

“That’s four?” I asked, looking away from the view finder for a moment.

“Yeah,” he answered, inspecting the device. “And we’re barely a third of the way for the day.” I looked back to the camera to watch just as it powered off.

“Good timing, lets get the fuck out of here.”

Once we got back on to the main road, we cut north along the Lunarado river, watching get smaller and smaller as we went along. High walls dwarfed us on all on sides, and a murky green water flowed against us for miles. The striated cliffs eventually bowed to either side and gave way to a flat plain lands. These too melted away into foot hills of a great mountain in front of us.

Before it could get dark, we began to ascended this rocky mountain range. Steep grades to both directions beset us as we weaved in and out of slower freight traffic. In less than an hour we had reached an elevation of 10,000 feet over sea level. I’d have never known to check our altitude if my jaw didn’t feel two sizes too large all of a sudden.

“So we’re still taking the shortcut, right?” Brick leaned over, rubbing his eyes while he kept one hand on the wheel.

“It’s all we have directions for…I mean, I could-” I started.

“No, no. We’ll just use what we’ve got, there might be traffic on a Saturday night,” he cut me off.

“Alright, take a right in three exits.”

The canyon we pulled into turned out to be another death drive of a winding road. The darkness engulfing us suddenly cut off light from the stars and all Earthshine, making it utterly pitch black within the sheer walls. No street lights in here, the only illumination was from our headlights, which was absolutely negligent compared to the high beams shined upon us from every oncoming vehicle. Mantra: look to the other side, don’t take your eyes off the right line! After the second potentially fatal late night drive, we were glad to finally be at our destination of Crater, Luna.

This is when our directions turned on us. Crater is apparently a very un-google-friendly location, adding an extra hour of driving through the residential streets of this suburban community. It was a really nice place though, lots of trees and little houses that reminded me a lot of where I grew up. Though people seemed younger and more active; a lot of athletic gear on with back packs, and waterbottles, like everyone was constantly prepared for a hike.

We eventually found our hotel, after having to call a few relatives who were much closer to a computer screen. We checked into our room, near identical to the one we’d spent the night before in, but this one with the scars of murphy-beds on the wall and ceiling. We stole the same sample portions of hand soap and shampoo that we’d snatched from the last place and cursed those same unstealable coat hangers. Then we went out for some stoner pizza and passed out after gorging ourselves on it.

*****

When looking for a good place to eat breakfast, a tip is to see where the locals gather. In the middle of the rush, we looked for a slightly busy restaurant that bore the sign of a local crowd. The one we’d looked up on my workstation turned out to be stuck to the walls with yuppie, tourist families.

“45 minute wait? Yeah, put us down for two under ‘Pied’,” I said turning away from the host and nodding to Brick, who followed, slightly confused.

“Pied?” he asked me.

“Long story…ex-girlfriend.”

“Ah…so then we’re not going back. Alright, where to now?” he inquired.

“Uh, not sure. Let’s just keep walking, it’s a rather nice day,” I said, blindly leading the way through the town square.

Around us they were setting up for some sort of cultural festival that we had no interest in wasting our money at. There were a multitude of craft shops about, the same kind of wind chimes and iridescent knick-knacks we’d seen at every tourist town we’d passed since we’d left Mars. But here in downtown Crater, we also counted 5 boutiques specializing in athletic shoes with all sort of support and springs. A café around the corner had a patio filled with the same people you would expect to buy these shock absorbing sneakers. It also had prices that looked promising, so we entered eagerly.

When we got on the road late this morning, it was only a short roll through the industrial bit of Reiner. Crater is a suburb of the mile-high city, located within Reiner Gamma, and just about as far away from the metropolis as my hometown is from the capital of Earth. The city was an ugly smear of silver and grey that luckily disappeared quickly. In moments we saw the last of the mountainous terrain we would for days. The scenery flattened out, rocky outcroppings dissolving into rolling, grassy hills abruptly emerging to take their place.

“Get used to this. It’s all we’re going to be seeing for a while,” he muttered, glancing out his window.

“It’s just so gorking flat,” I was beginning to become disappointed with the moon.

“You know, it’s kinda like a huge wave function. The amplitude and wavelength will steadily decrease until there aren’t any more peaks to get in our way.” His mind was knee-deep in an old physics lesson.

“Kinda like a rubber ball bouncing half as high each time?” I interjected.

“Yeah, like that… but not so uniform.”

“And probably not in one direction either,” I attempted to correct myself.

“Nah, it’s actually pretty much a straight line from here. If I just set the cruise and avoid touching  the steering wheel, we should be fine until the hotel,” he said confidently.

“Seriously?”

“No. We have to adjust our course at some point,” he half-scowled at me.

“Oh right,” I felt awkward for a moment. “Number one?” I asked as I retrieved the compact ashtray from the armrest compartment.

“Might as well, it’s not going to get anymore thrilling around here without it,” he confirmed, checking his phone and heavily sighing when he realized we hadn’t even been on the road for a solid hour.

“Who knows, today might be the most exciting,” I suggested.

Of course, it wasn’t. But what to expect that from boring, old Luna? The ‘seas’ of flat terrain stretching off for miles and miles were poorly named by early Earthling astronomers. Oceanus Procellarum, the so-called “Ocean of Storms” was superfluously devoid of anything worth observing, besides that Adult Superstore, of course–overly hyped by the hundred ads we saw along the way. And Mare Imbrium actually stood up to it’s name with a slight drizzle, meager as that was.

The most amazing spectacle all day was the rainbow we spotted before entering Mare Serenitatas. It was gigantic and endless, and seemed to avoid our pursuit for miles, running on ahead of us for the better portion of an hour. It was truly the biggest I’d ever seen in my life, as large as the limb of the Earth itself, which made an equally impressive sight as it too emerged, over the pale horizon. The rainbow suddenly vanished, as if we overcame it and passed it without noticing.

“Well that was sure neat while it lasted,” I lamented.

“Aghh!! We still have another 75 miles to go,” he growled angrily at the dashboard. “We need to get out of this god damn place.”

06-07-2309

The scenery passing my window was as dull as it had been for the past 400 miles. In the late afternoon of our third day on Luna, we drove by nothing but flat farmland as far as they eye could see. The occasional hill speckled the horizon, and more common were clusters of trees clinging to ponds–and each other–for dear life. It’s all we’ve seen since before we even left the last region we drove through.

Yesterday, after leaving Saline, we had a relatively easy journey. We stopped off at a few roadside destinations, the little scenic points you could spot while driving–even make a quick u-turn if you had to– and spend half an hour fucking around on the rocks. If you take a moment to really breath it in, each offers a unique view of what moon was to come.

At the first stop, Salt Wash, natives spread their cheap jewelry over the white stones, a secretive trap, well-laid for tourists to meander through. The lizards basked on the early morning rocks, which we bounded over to get a good view over a little canyon. It was the most dry land and scrub I’d seen up close though, the spectacular views from the night before had been too high and vast to feel this close to the terrain. We could see the road ahead, winding about behind the largest pillar, and knew we’d have to get back to it without delay.

The next point was called Ghost Rock, and here we took longer to enjoy the view. Ghost Rock itself was a large, prominent outcropping that towered the road beside it, and it’s aptly named for looking like it were draped in a sheet. Brick spotted a strange plant I’d never encountered before and we spent a half hour searching for more bizarre flora. When our search turned up empty, we returned to inspect it, only to find it was a plastic piece that belonged in a terrarium. When we’d shaken off our embarrassment, we noticed we could observe great views off both sides of the point. One side offered an angle on the way we’d come, the other laid out the path before us. We stood a moment trying to imagine the plains that dinosaurs once populated in all their glory.

Spotted Wolf was an interesting point, especially since I couldn’t see why it was named so. From the parking lot, a peninsula ridge ran between two depressions, leading to a larger sink valley, like a giant, sandy “Y”. If you could brave the wind sheering across the top of the narrow path, the view down through the valley and beyond was incredible and endless. The two valleys that met were wrapped by two giant, jagged walls which seemed to sink into the middle where the road weaved and disappeared into the rocky land on the other side.

“You remember those pictures from my trip last year, right?” Brick was almost shouting to be heard of the squall. “This is that one I did the 360-shot at, you know?”

“I do,” of course I recognized it, “but the pictures did nothing for it.” It was really something to behold up close, and we couldn’t help but spend a while staring it.

Within the hour we were turning off the main route and approaching Arches Park, one of the dark side’s more prized tourist destinations. The erosion effects on the different levels of basalt and sandstone, and other sediments, have caused looser stripes to dissolve away beneath tougher ones, leaving behind a rigid layer above exposed to the wind. Large enough to walk through, enough to stand up straight in. Even wide enough to drive a big rig right through. More hoodoos, walls, pillars and dangerously balanced rocks delighted us on the way to the view point we figured we’d have to time to reach.

“Our batteries are so low anyway, we’ll be back soon enough. We don’t need to put on any block or even bring a water bottle” I remember saying before wandering around the point for an hour and a half.

“One of these is the South Window and the other the North Window,” Brick said, reading off the map supplied to us at the gate.

“That’s real convenient,” I said looking up at the sun, seeing that it was directly above us in the sky and dead in between each of the massive arches. “Well I guess it couldn’t help us either way…”

“Yeah, plus you don’t know anything about Luna,” Brick kindly reminded me. “That one’s the South cause it’s closer to Turret Arch on the map, which is right…there,” he pointed to our right.

“Huh…didn’t even see that one.”

“That J on the drive in may not have been a good idea, good sir.”

“Hush, you know it’s making this so much better,” I said snatching the camera from him. “I need to waste some more battery.”

Each window was a strange portal, one offering a view to a greener land, the other to a field of petrified dunes. The third arch gave way to an impressive natural amphitheater, and I suddenly wished I’d brought my guitar from the crawler. There were arches within arches mounted on top of arches they called the Parade of Elephants, visible from the back rows, if you turned around. There was also a spot with a whole bunch of strange pillars, like a mini Ingenii, they called the Garden of Eden.

“Alright, nice as this is we really need to be getting on the road,” the PDA was chirping off in Brick’s pocket, we knew it was sounding the hour.

“That’s four?” I asked, looking away from the view finder for a moment.

“Yeah,” he answered, inspecting the device. “And we’re barely a third of the way for the day.” I looked back to the camera to watch just as it powered off.

“Good timing, lets get the fuck out of here.”

Once we got back on to the main road, we cut north along the Lunarado river, watching get smaller and smaller as we went along. High walls dwarfed us on all on sides, and a murky green water flowed against us for miles. The striated cliffs eventually bowed to either side and gave way to a flat plain lands. These too melted away into foot hills of a great mountain in front of us.

Before it could get dark, we began to ascended this rocky mountain range. Steep grades to both directions beset us as we weaved in and out of slower freight traffic. In less than an hour we had reached an elevation of 10,000 feet over sea level. I’d have never known to check our altitude if my jaw didn’t feel two sizes too large all of a sudden.

“So we’re still taking the shortcut, right?” Brick leaned over, rubbing his eyes while he kept one hand on the wheel.

“It’s all we have directions for…I mean, I could-” I started.

“No, no. We’ll just use what we’ve got, there might be traffic on a Saturday night,” he cut me off.

“Alright, take a right in three exits.”

The canyon we pulled into turned out to be another death drive of a winding road. The darkness engulfing us suddenly cut off light from the stars and all Earthshine, making it utterly pitch black within the sheer walls. No street lights in here, the only illumination was from our headlights, which was absolutely negligent compared to the high beams shined upon us from every oncoming vehicle. Mantra: look to the other side, don’t take your eyes off the right line! After the second potentially fatal late night drive, we were glad to finally be at our destination of Crater, Luna.

This is when our directions turned on us. Crater is apparently a very un-google-friendly location, adding an extra hour of driving through the residential streets of this suburban community. It was a really nice place though, lots of trees and little houses that reminded me a lot of where I grew up. Though people seemed younger and more active; a lot of athletic gear on with back packs, and waterbottles, like everyone was constantly prepared for a hike.

We eventually found our hotel, after having to call a few relatives who were much closer to a computer screen. We checked into our room, near identical to the one we’d spent the night before in, but this one with the scars of murphy-beds on the wall and ceiling. We stole the same sample portions of hand soap and shampoo that we’d snatched from the last place and cursed those same unstealable coat hangers. Then we went out for some stoner pizza and passed out after gorging ourselves on it.

«←→»

When looking for a good place to eat breakfast, a tip is to see where the locals gather. In the middle of the rush, we looked for a slightly busy restaurant that bore the sign of a local crowd. The one we’d looked up on my workstation turned out to be stuck to the walls with yuppie, tourist families.

“45 minute wait? Yeah, put us down for two under ‘Pied’,” I said turning away from the host and nodding to Brick, who followed, slightly confused.

“Pied?” he asked me.

“Long story…ex-girlfriend.”

“Ah…so then we’re not going back. Alright, where to now?” he inquired.

“Uh, not sure. Let’s just keep walking, it’s a rather nice day,” I said, blindly leading the way through the town square.

Around us they were setting up for some sort of cultural festival that we had no interest in wasting our money at. There were a multitude of craft shops about, the same kind of wind chimes and iridescent knick-knacks we’d seen at every tourist town we’d passed since we’d left Mars. But here in downtown Crater, we also counted 5 boutiques specializing in athletic shoes with all sort of support and springs. A café around the corner had a patio filled with the same people you would expect to buy these shock absorbing sneakers. It also had prices that looked promising, so we entered eagerly.

When we got on the road late this morning, it was only a short roll through the industrial bit of Reiner. Crater is a suburb of the mile-high city, located within Reiner Gamma, and just about as far away from the metropolis as my hometown is from the capital of Earth. The city was an ugly smear of silver and grey that luckily disappeared quickly. In moments we saw the last of the mountainous terrain we would for days. The scenery flattened out, rocky outcroppings dissolving into rolling, grassy hills abruptly emerging to take their place.

“Get used to this. It’s all we’re going to be seeing for a while,” he muttered, glancing out his window.

“It’s just so gorking flat,” I was beginning to become disappointed with the moon.

“You know, it’s kinda like a huge wave function. The amplitude will steadily decrease and the wavelength stretch until there aren’t any more peaks to get in our way.” His mind was knee-deep in an old physics lesson.

“Kinda like a rubber ball bouncing half as high each time?” I interjected.

“Yeah, like that… but not so uniform.”

“And probably not in one direction either,” I attempted to correct myself.

“Nah, it’s actually pretty much a straight line from here. If I just set the cruise and avoid touching  the steering wheel, we should be fine until the hotel,” he said confidently.

“Seriously?”

“No. We have to adjust our course at some point,” he half-scowled at me.

“Oh right,” I felt awkward for a moment. “Number one?” I asked as I retrieved the compact ashtray from the armrest compartment.

“Might as well, it’s not going to get anymore thrilling around here without it,” he confirmed, checking his phone and heavily sighing when he realized we hadn’t even been on the road for a solid hour.

“Who knows, today might be the most exciting,” I suggested.

Of course, it wasn’t. But what to expect that from boring, old Luna? The ‘seas’ of flat terrain stretching off for miles and miles were poorly named by early Earthling astronomers. Oceanus Procellarum, the so-called “Ocean of Storms” was superfluously devoid of anything worth observing, besides that Adult Superstore, of course–overly hyped by the hundred ads we saw along the way. And Mare Imbrium actually stood up to it’s name with a slight drizzle, meager as that was.

The most amazing spectacle all day was the rainbow we spotted before entering Mare Serenitatas. It was gigantic and endless, and seemed to avoid our pursuit for miles, running on ahead of us for the better portion of an hour. It was truly the biggest I’d ever seen in my life, as large as the limb of the Earth itself, which made an equally impressive sight as it too emerged, over the pale horizon. The rainbow suddenly vanished, as if we overcame it and passed it without noticing.

“Well that was sure neat while it lasted,” I lamented.

“Aghh!! We still have another 75 miles to go,” he growled angrily at the dashboard. “We need to get out of this god damn place.”

«Conversational Change»

04-11-2309

“And so if from every conversation one learns something, and every time one learns something it changes them, it’s simple to see why people don’t want to communicate most of the time,” summarized Allan, edging towards a conclusion, though incomprehensibly distant.

“Yeah, they’re just afraid of change,” I responded , excited to think the conversation that had been continuing for days was finally coming to an end. I hammered in what ironically was not the last nail in the coffin, adding “A well recognized pattern of wanting to stick to one’s own habits.” A spark suddenly shone in his eyes, a spark that I’d come to hate. It meant that he had found a word in the last sentence that would be just enough, if not exactly what he needed, to make a counter statement.

“Ah but doesn’t he say we need to develop habituation in order to achieve and maintain happiness?” the Martian said, motioning to the book on the floor, a rather heavy throwback he carried around in his satchel. This text, for one of his philosophy classes, was renowned enough to be available on eBook–certainly not an obscure relic in any means–but he preferred being able to hold the real dead wood in his fingers as he read. He could just upload it to his texti. He had never complained that reading it off a screen hurt his eyes or anything, he’s always messaging with the phone constantly. I guess he liked feeling the weight of the pages in his hands or something, I imagine he thinks it gives the work a real body with mass and makes the words impact with more force. Or, he could just like books.

“I guess, yeah,” I took a drag of my cig and sighed out a cloud of smoke. I was reminded momentarily of hating teachers I had in the past who decided it was fun to lead their students down one path of reasoning until they just got to the door, only to pull the mat out from underneath when they got there. You know, make you agree with something then tell you it’s wrong–though easy to believe–just to drive a point. I looked around and didn’t see the rest of the class sitting in the crawler to watch the example demonstrated, and turned back to Allan. “But I don’t remember when we were even talking about that,” I stated suddenly acting aspirated, as if that would actually stop him from going there.

“Well, one of the things I’m learning in all my classes is that a philosophy is no good if it can’t be applied to anything at anytime,” a triumphant return to the floor must have been echoed with a cheering crowd in his mind.  I thought of a way to silence them quickly.

“Didn’t you say that any and all theories break down at some point?” I tried to hide the smirk creeping across my lips as I, again, thought I had struck a vital blow with one of his own weapons. All of his theories break down when I’m around, anyway.

“Yes, but existentialism teaches us that we should examine where they crumble and why, so as to better understand the nature of theories, ourselves and the world around us,” he said, artfully dodging my strike with what seemed too well rehearsed a defense.

“Even if we have to be the ones with the hammer, just to see the results more closely,” I said with a quiet sigh of admission. If you can’t beat em, join em. Especially if it’s that tiny bit or resistance that was the only reason you were stuck on that topic. I’ll often find myself agreeing to things just so a conversation moves on more smoothly, which just becomes silly when you remember half of the things that I say I disagree with are actually things I do agree with. It just makes a boring argument if everyone starts on the same side.

Since there was a momentary confusion brought on by agreement, I had bought myself one chance to slip in a seemingly careless observation that could send this whole thing spinning into a different direction. “I guess anything can be examined existentially about a topic to be reapplied existentially to any other topic,” I was a cheap cliché, but I wondered where this one would go as I unleashed it.

“Well, yes,” I watched him agree, then pause to think about it, then return to agreeing. He then looked as if he couldn’t think of anything good to say in addition to my statement, and was about to take up a contrary position just to have something to say before his texti began to buzz. He found it in one of his pockets and,  seeing Nymh’s name and photo displayed, answered it immediately. “Hi baby, what’s up?” he spoke as directly as he could toward the tiny mic hidden somewhere on the phone though he knew not where exactly it was.

As much as I try not to listen to anything he says, at least during phone calls I don’t have to participate or respond so it’s a little easier to. In the periphery of my senses I could tell he was heated up and speaking to her with just as much fervor, but I couldn’t hear it over the wind and smoke billowing out of my cigarette. I sighed and smiled up at a sunbeam before Allan’s shouting finally broke my concentration.

“What?! What do you mean you can’t? How dare they? How are you in any way not deserving?” He was upset, red in the face upset. I can’t hear anything on her end but I’m pretty sure it’s about the trip to see Cydonia this summer. After a serious of unintelligible agreements and motivations, Allan wheeled into the end of his conversation. “Alright honey, you talk to him about watching her that week and then we’ll see how they feel about it then. I love you.” he ended the call and looked about ready to throw the texti at a nearby stucco wall.

“Plenty of good news to share, I suppose,” my sarcasm may have been unnecessary but it’s certainly more sincere than the concern I show for most things. Besides, humor helps any situation…almost.

“Stupid, backwards Tethean parents and their fucking rules,” he used as much venom as he could muster in the articulation of each word. “They won’t let her go because they say that vacations are deserved by people who didn’t fuck up their lives. Then they called Rei a disgrace to the family and mostly a disgrace to her,” he said spitefully, himself not agreeing with a  single word of it.

“Ahh…” I could have expected this coming, Nymh’s parents are just like any other Saturnian parents: stubborn, steeped in their ancient traditions, and sure that they wield absolute power. It’s rude to generalize, but in every family men have all the honor and respect before women, and beyond that more with age. Being the youngest female in her family, she dwindles far down at the bottom of the pecking order. On top of that, about three years ago she became pregnant with a Martian boy named Arturius, which they think brings shame to her and to them all, and still don’t let her live down to this day, though Rei is the brightest and most loving little girl I have ever known.

They refuse to see the merits in her and her 2½ year old daughter because tradition says they are deviants, so Nymh and Rei continue to exist as disgraces to them. Even her sisters gang up on her and berate her when her parents aren’t around to do so. They say she doesn’t contribute enough to the family and is useless to them. They don’t figure that it’s expensive and time consuming to raise a toddler as a working single-mother with no help at home to take care of the child–or if they do they just write it off as her problem since she got herself in that mess in the first place. A Saturnian family runs more like a team or a crew, it’s more about what each member can achieve towards the goals of the whole than what that whole can afford to spare it’s individual.

All I can really do is shake my head in disapproval. There’s nothing in these thoughts that Allan and I haven’t already discussed at great lengths, and a nod from him confirms we are just thinking the same thing. I reach for the cigarettes and light another, hanging my arm out of the window of his crawler in the red afternoon.

“I’ve gotta talk to my mom real quick and then make a few calls,” he said, not sounding too existentially excited or even pleased with his day anymore.  “I’ll be inside,” and the door closed behind him. I sat a moment longer and sighed, perplexed by the strange new road block.

I don’t think it will be that hard to get around it though, Nymh’s a grown-up and I think she can take off for a week if she wants, so I’m not too worried about her not being able to make it to Cydonia. But that would suck if she couldn’t. Well, at least maybe Allan and I might actually have enough time to finish a conversation.

No, wait. He didn’t even make it inside, he’s coming back. Worse, it really looks like he’s got something to say.

«Birthday Break-In»

03-18-2309

     It began like any other day–sometime in the early afternoon.

     I stepped out of my apartment and used the key to lock the door behind me, then put a cigarette between my lips. Heading down the cement stair, I was fumbling around in my worn shoulder bag for a lighter when I bumped into one of my neighbors, the Dionian woman who lives downstairs, and her son. I quickly snatched the cigarette from my mouth as I waved to greet them, then continued on my way. I chuckled to myself as I lit it a moment later, I’m so used to not being able to smoke around Rei.

     It was nice out. Spring has always been a pleasant time of year anywhere I’ve been, and within the walls of my community was no exception. The gurgle and gabble of fountains lining up beside the walkway sparkled in the midday sun, and bowed as I passed. The stream ran under the path and along the other side where a breeze-borne regatta completed it’s last leg, the leaf boats quickly approached a waterfall finish line.

     I’m so grateful to be born this time of year, its wonderful to see life so abundant all around, and it helps to remind me I’m a year older when I notice the season start to change for the better. In some ancient cultures they recognized this as the beginning of the calendar year, the first sign of the Jovian zodiac even begins two days after my birthday. I don’t invest any faith in astrology, but I do think it’s pretty cool that I’m near the cusp of the last and first signs.

     The unnaturally blue cascade emptied into the pool at the dead end of one of the complex’s many canals. The water was tranquil, hardly disturbed by this trickle, it’s mirrored surface hiding it’s true depth. When you look straight into it the water anywhere here it appears a hundred feet deep, impossible to see the murky bottom through it’s dark color, though it’s less than a foot.

     My path takes me past this calm end first, and here there is a strange array of solid blocks that float above the water. About a square meter of space each, many of the blocks host planters with strange palms while the others make up a path to nowhere. Well, not nowhere–it’s a nice place to stand and feed the ducks, they come at you from all sides. But I had to time for that today, I continued along the path which parallels the canal. Down here is one of the main spots they like to congregate, this green grassy strip in between that slopes down to it’s edge is one of the few spots I see them sleeping at night. In the middle of the day they were playing in the water, bathing and chasing each other away from their mates.

     I’ve noticed that each of these areas is home to a different group of aquatic birds. In the overall avian population in the complex there are mostly Mallards, maybe three or four dozen at any given time, and a few of them make their home at this end. The more significant residents are the pair of Teals that live on this landing. They’re very similar to the ever common Mallard, the hens practically identical, but a little smaller, and the drakes have a powder blue beak. They’re the most unique (and therefore coolest) ducks in the whole place and I’m glad they live near me. I tipped my hat to them as one of the Teal drakes chased the other back into the water.

     Around a building, the next landing I passed looked almost identical to the last, even facing the same compass direction. This one canal is a much larger vein though, feeding off into many smaller vessels, including the one closest to my apartment. It is a much larger hill too, home to the majority of the Mallards as well as the two biggest ducks of the pond, which I had to pix to my father to identify as Canvasbacks, though they just looked like huge, mutant Mallards to me.

     There’s always a pair of ducks bigger than all the others at any given lake that I assume run the flock and take the first picks. Usually it would be a geese or Muscovy–one of those truly hideous ducks that only get uglier when they grow up–but I consider myself lucky it’s not the case. I’ve always hated the former since I was harassed by what I remember as a particularly ferocious gaggle when I was a child, and the few of the latter that I’ve known have been nothing but unpleasant in all regards.

These ducks don’t have it that bad though. This community is wonderfully fertile and moist, an artificial habitat creating an ecosystem that is indeed rare for Mars. The environment is contained within high walls that repel most passing air with negative ionization, but leave the top open for a little circulation and so the birds can fly in and out. I never see them leave though, they have all the food and water and shelter they need here, and they get along fine with each other without any apparent strife or competition. There are no natural predators or civilizations encroaching on what ever hospitable terrain is left. The ducks don’t have to worry about debt or a failing economy threatening to take everything they have. This upscale community is truly free to them. Even if they don’t have that concept, this must still seem like a paradise to them, they are absolutely free.

     The path led me over a wide artery by crossing a bridge that was not only mocked up to look like a boat dock, but actually acted as one for the little kick-wheel paddle boats you could take out from a dock at the main office. This bridge acts as a buffer, preventing the boats from coming any further down into the residential side, keeping them on the larger, deeper segment of the body. When I reached that side I stepped off the path and paused to let a young Saturnian girl in jogging sweats running with her spiky lapdog pass. I smiled and politely excused myself but didn’t get so much as “Thanks” or even “Hello”. Looking back I noticed headphones trailing from her earlobes, shrugged and continued on the path.

     This is where I would usually see people walking their dogs, a large green lawn in front of the water I remember distinctly being populated with many leashed quadrupeds the first time I came to this place. It‘s strange on a day like this that I didn‘t see anyone playing fetch, but instead the spot was littered with Coots. Those are the weird black birds with little white beaks and the huge green paddle feet, unlike any other water fowl here. They have more in common with a rubber duck, especially the high pitched squeak they blurt. They seem to make their way about the entire community, running with all crowds and sleeping wherever they choose, but I know at night this is where I see most of these Coots resting. My cigarette ran out at this point, a little further than it usually does, so I watched a couple of them chase each other around in circles squeaking madly as I tossed the butt in a trash can.

     Come to think of it, I always see more birds coming than going, always Mallard couples joining up, even landing in the parking lots around, taking their time to walk the rest of the way in it seems. The way they waddle and like to take  long walks together remind me of old couples that go on astounding adventures outside to feel alive–like walking through a park. I see my crawler across the parking lot, closest spot to the gate, and as approach it I begin to question why ducks never became popular in any of the zodiacs. As I start to ponder what characteristics would be critical to portray when I noticed something was off about my car. From where I was it looked like there was a portion of my driver’s window that wasn’t reflecting the pale red sky. When I got closer I figured out why.

     A third of my window hung intact around the top corners of the door frame. Rectangular shards of green safety glass lay splattered across the pavement and the interior. A promotional flyer for a dance club was wedged into one of the last bits of window still in place. I pulled it out and passively watched as the rest of the translucent pieces scattered on the driver seat.

     I tossed the flier without reading it and stuck my head in to examine the damage. Surprisingly, nothing was taken. They didn’t even looked into the glove box, console or other compartments. My seat had been repositioned forward and it looked like someone had tried to grab one of the suitcases out of the back. They either failed to angle it out of the window, got scared off by my alarm or someone else coming, or ran out of time before the gate closed and they lost their exit–whatever happened, they didn’t get anything.

     Not that it would have mattered, the suitcases weren’t mine. When Lou moved back to Earth she left everything but the two bags she packed for the holiday in Novus Angelicas. About a month ago I had to go retrieve them from that forsaken city for her before they were disposed of by the last unlucky caretaker. I emptied and took the two that I had previously lent to her when she left Costa Mensa and put it with the rest of the stuff marked Eon Beurot in the boot. The two large suitcases that only fit in the back seat contained nothing but her clothes and beauty supplies. There would have been no loss to me, especially considering the fact I haven’t heard from her since then and have no idea how I’m going to get them back to her.

     I suddenly became upset with the ordeal. Not because my vehicle was broken into, I didn’t really care  to worry about something that my insurance was specifically intended to cover. I didn’t really mind that it happened within the gates of my community, I wasn’t questioning the security since I had left my crawler so close to an exit, that’s kind of an obvious one now. I was upset that they didn’t finish something they started. If you’re gonna break my window, you better be doing it to get something in return, otherwise you just broke it for no good reason. I guess they could have done it just to break my window, but if it was really malicious it figures they would have keyed it and broken all the other windows too.

     It was really no matter to me, I shrugged if off and went about my way, trying to enjoy my birthday in spite of such inconveniences. I didn’t even bother to file a police report, I didn’t figure there was a point if nothing was taken, not that they would have actually helped to get it back.

     After I cleared happy bits of silicon off the seat, I drove back around and parked in a spot near my unit that hid the window from any looky-loos. Getting out, I thumbed my key to lock the car and chuckled to myself about the futility of it. I lit a new Martian Spirit and began to walk through Villa Venusia again.

«The New Year»

01-01-2309

     The late night sky on Earth is windy and clear. A thousand points of light, static and shifting alike, paint the scene on a pitch black backdrop; the dry fingers of trees and hard edges of houses creating a border. The garage door closes obediently behind me as I step out into an icy gale. I suddenly regret taking my mother’s crawler out this evening as I thumb the key in one hand and search for a cig in my other pocket. I begin the ignition, light up and close the door, standing outside and exposed to the weather. A familiarity in this winter sky is the only thing keeping me comforted.

     Shivering in a fashionably functionless coat, I inhale as deeply as I can in order to expedite this process. My mother’s vehicle remains eerily inert as the engine groans aloud, not quite drowned out by the crinkle and sway of dying branches in he wind. As it slowly warms up, I continue to smoke a cigarette that I want less and less, mindlessly admiring the car’s sleek design. It’s a lot like mine back on Mars; a squat, 4-wheel hatchback with an aggressive front-end and a larger engine then is necessary for the average commuter. A Saturnian made machine that looks more like a beetle than my Jovian rodent, and hers is as dark as midnight. If it were at all capable of flight, the craft would surly blend into this scene.

     Tightening the scarf and hugging myself with my free hand, I reckon this the most eventful moment of the New Year’s Eve. I should have been in New Tros City celebrating with my roommate Tohm, but that plan was made a month ago before he burned me and cost me my new apartment. Instead the evening was spent seated in Rip’s room, huddled around a card game and an intense philosophical and existential debate. It’s been a fun night, and I’ve certainly drank and smoked enough, but it’s been no different from any other night since I’ve been back on Earth.

     I need excitement, and loud music; a party and lots of booze. I need conversations with strangers and rehashing with old friends I wouldn’t want to speak to unless I were already tipsy. I mostly need a girl to kiss on a night like this, though, and blamed my funky state on a lack of such luck. I also need to be done with this damn cig.

     I stamp it out and quickly slip into the ebony insect, the whole frame vibrating in idle as the vents finally produce a warm climate. I shiver involuntarily as my body adjusts to the sudden heat and sink down into the seat, sighing when I’m finally comfortable. I put the crawler in drive and begin the quiet journey back to my home. I silently hope the new year is more favorable than the last one as I leave the yellow-lamp circle and proceed to the highway.

«Pointless»

12-25-2308

I knew it wouldn’t work. I knew something was going to go wrong from the start. Like everything I touch it was doomed to fail before anything could come to fruition. I shouldn’t have let myself get so wrapped up in all of it in the first place. I was blinded by optimism and my stupid hopes.

She was the only person I was looking forward to seeing when I came back to Earth. Even if she had been living on Mars and I had seen her three-quarters of the past month, she was truly the only thing on my mind before I came here. I couldn’t wait to hold her tiny frame in my arms, I couldn’t wait to kiss those delicate lips, I just couldn’t wait to be with her again. I also couldn’t see the turmoil that lay just ahead of us.

Christmas day had been one of bad news and devastation to Eon and her family. They lost their eldest son on one such morning not a handful of years ago, and nobody had ever been the same since. She took up the reins of an addict as her parents began the occupation of worrying about losing a second child. It only makes sense that they’d be a little overprotective of their daughter.

I thought I was dismayed when I learned she wasn’t quite as serious about us and our relationship as I was. I thought I was distraught when I discovered she had seen other guys in the few days we’d been back on Earth. I thought I was destroyed when I realized the three little words she told me not even a week before were useless if she wouldn’t back them up with deed. But I knew if I had to go back to Mars and she wouldn’t be there I was just going to be depressed.

Her parents clipped their little bird’s wings and showed her to her new cage. I knew I could only bring so many crackers to her before I myself would be brought to tears, to see her beat against the bars and not be able to spread her feathers. All I wanted was for her to fly free and be happy, but I felt there was no way I could help her now, as desperate as I tried.

She gave me a kiss on the cheek as we hugged, then disappeared into her vehicle. I sighed and lit a cigarette, waved to her as she drove off, and turned to my brother’s behemoth of a crawler, thumbing the key before climbing up into the cabin. I wanted to take it and steer myself off the nearest cliff, but realized this gesture would be as futile as any thing I’d done in the past year. Instead I drove home to put down my head and hope that the next day would be better.

‘What was the point in trying,’ echoed the discouraged voice in my head as I closed my sore, weary eyes. I fell asleep on my damp pillow feeling as dumb as ever.

«Eviction Party»

12-22-2308

     The news was inevitable. There was no way that Tohm had come up with the money, and Eon had moved out three days prior, knowing as well as I did what was about to happen. It was a rather expected notice, and well prepared for, but the news was still shocking.

     ‘Notice of Eviction for Tenants of Apartment Γ-1. Effective as of 12/18/2308. Sincerely, OC Properties Management.’

     I sighed and crumpled the paper up, making sure to pick off the last threads of celluloid tape that affixed it to our front door. I had been putting off the first cigarette of the day so I wouldn’t have to be the one announcing it to Tohm; not that we didn’t see it coming anyway. I didn’t even want to light the my factory-rolled tobacco stick, but I suddenly needed it.

     Tohm had lost his job, serving at that family restaurant in Newport Beach, about five weeks ago. His irresponsibility and propensity to sleep until the early evening eventually overcame any good standing he had with his bosses or the clientele. Being a corporate chain, they took the two warnings for similar slip-ups into strong account when they terminated him, and the effects were immediate.

     We had already turned in my portion of the rent, and used it to finagle ourselves a 15 day Promise-To-Pay extension on the rent, but with eight days in and not a dollar from Tohm for what he owed, it didn’t look like there were any options out. The day he lost his job, all my hopes of starting my life anew in Costa Mensa were quickly siphoned off. That was until it flooded in the day before our last scheduled eviction.

     A surge of hope named Eon flowed in that day. She had come to hang with us just as she had last week. And, expecting consequences as disastrous as her first visit, came prepared with a weeks worth of clothes and her beauty supplies. Lou had only intended on chilling out for a couple of days while she was suspended from her retail job in NA, but when our plight dawned on her in the early afternoon, it seemed her plans had changed.

     She was the only reason we were able to keep the new place. She sacrificed every dollar she had saved up working all summer long, money she had wanted to use to get herself a crawler out here, or maybe just spend on girly things that would make her happy. Instead it disappeared faster than a cockroach in the light.

     Keeping my home wasn’t, of course, the only pro to the situation. I had been infatuated, if not enamored, with Eon since we went to school together back on Earth. The fates had never allowed us to become close in the past, but I felt like her first moving to Mars, then falling upon my doorstep, and having enough money to keep us afloat another month were all the orchestrations of invisible hands I’d never paid much attention to.

     Granted, at times I wanted those invisible hands to wring her soft little neck, but that’s just a con of living platonically with someone you have such a strong attraction to. She was never farther than arms length at any time during her occupancy, we even shared the same bed. You’d think I’d have gotten sick of what was apparently unrequited love, but instead the feelings grew in my gut like a tumor. So much to the point that I didn’t even feel upset about losing my home as much as I was distraught about not living with her.

     I also don’t have any qualms with outing Tohm. He had, and continues to have, a major drug problem. I drink alcohol and smoke cannabis almost every day, but these are the days I can afford it. He was addicted to Venusian Coca; a habit that cost him 60 dollars a day even when he didn’t have the money for it. On top of that he also consumed everything else that wasn’t nailed down in the house with such fervor it made me wonder if the devil worked as hard for what he wanted.

     I blamed him for losing my home. I blamed myself for not realizing this would happen the day we moved in and he started chatting away on his touchi in Martian with his dealer when I told him I had a little cash to get booze. I blamed Allan for setting me up with his co-worker in the first place, knowing him and his problems far better than I did. Mostly though, I just blamed Tohm for being too hopeless to ever recover.

     I spent the last day in my brand new home carrying all of my possessions out of it. Luckily our neighbors had agreed to let us keep our stuff in their garage until we could find new places to live, so it was a short trip down the flight of stairs–but like everything, I had to do it on my own. It’s only fitting though, that the captain go down with his ship. I surveyed the damage one last time, the rooms barren and fresh as the day we moved in 2  months ago. I stepped back, tipping my hat to emptiness and locked up, closing the door on this chapter of my life.

     At least I was going home for the holiday, and it worked out that my flight back to Earth would occur the same day I had to vacate the residence. As I started my crawler for the first and last time in two weeks, I thought of my dear Eon and hoped to feel the warmth of her embrace soon. I lit a cigarette and watched my old place disappear in the rear view mirror.

«Fall Cleaning»

11-29-2308

     The doorbell rang at half past one. I was up since nine, but had been turning and tossing myself back into sleep the whole morning long. It rang once more, echoed by my sigh as I finally got out of bed and put a shirt on. I walked heavy on the floor to let the visitor know I was approaching, not even disturbing the slothy Eon, still asleep on the couch. If she had been any bit conscious she wouldn’t have let it ring twice, knowing what was on the other side of that door.

     A Martian delivery boy in brown shorts and polarized shades stood waiting with a giant package at his feet and an electronic clipboard in his hand. I greeted him and attempted to relay how important this parcel was with my excitement. He simply shrugged, zapped a barcode on the package and handed the PDT to me with the stylus. Giving the best pixel signature I could muster, I returned it and thanked him, then grabbed the 40 pound box, lifted it over head and proceeded to dance about the living room, shouting ‘It’s Here!’ over and over.

     “Don’t open it without me, dude,” Lou muttered lazily as she squinted at me through those morning-heavy eyelids. I simply nodded and set it down next to the couch and ran to get Tohm up so he wouldn’t miss the greatest day our apartment had ever seen. Well, second to that time we got a fridge.

     Once the house was fully assembled and half-awake, I took a pair of scissors and dissected the corrugated box. I snatched the packing list off the top and handed Todd the sheet of bubble wrap. We all exclaimed in glee as I revealed the goodies hiding underneath.

     Since we possessed no income other than what our parents could afford to slip onto our plastic from Earth, and my father gave me access to some of his accounts without giving me a hardware copy of the card, we had to order a lot of things online. We had survived off having food delivered to a card I didn’t actually own for a week at a time, but what this box contained was more vital to us than any amount of pizza or Saturnian take-out.

     I began to dismantle the box, checking off each item on the packing list, the pen I just opened to do this was the first to go. A collapsible broom, cheap plastic duster and toilet brush came out, followed by surface cleaner, carpet cleaner, windex and bleach. A curling iron, set of razors, pack of sponges and replacement water filters were decedent indulgences compared to the shampoo, conditioner and body wash that came next. The only thing left in the box were an assortment of non-perishable instant meals. It was like Christmas, but better.

     “Alright, I’m getting a load of laundry ready and then I’m cleaning the bathroom,” Eon stated with newfound zeal as she stood, grabbing the detergent and a roll of paper towels from the pile of our ill-gotten gains.

     “I’m doin’ the kitchen. You start your clothes and I’ll get mine done after we get cash from the recycling,” I said grabbing a box of large clear trash bags. “Tohm, wanna gimmie a hand in there?”

     “First things first,” he almost shushed me as he reached for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the pile.

«←→»

     We unloaded four bags of glass and aluminum from the trunk of my crawler, and the box that came today, also full of bottles, from the back seat. The recycling shack was in the middle of a drug store parking lot, the solitary Martian posted there diligently weighing all sorts of beverage containers before dumping them into larger bags or smaller compactors. He slid a couple of large rubber garbage bins to us as they became available, working his way through a young Saturnian girl, a Venusian guy and a lady from Earth before it was our turn. Tohm and I tore open the bags and emptied the bottles and cans into separate containers. We handed over one bin of aluminum and had two of glass, full up and ready to go.

     “Oh, sorry. We no take glass. All full,” he said to us, a little too late, as he motioned to the shack, as if he really had to fit all the materials inside of it.

     “You’re gorking kidding me,” Tohm screamed irately. “Well is there anywhere we can dump these around here, then?” The Martian just shook his head. Tohm stared at me frustrated, then asked the worker “Any other places we could take these bottles?”

     “Oh yeah, 19th street,” He said, immediately turning his attention to more valuable customers. Tohm and I looked at each other and shrugged, knowing we should have gone there in the first place. We did our best to get the bottles back in my trunk with the shreds of bags and the cardboard box and drove across to the other side of Costa Mensa.

     19th street was a much more grand operation than the last dump. In a grocery store parking lot near my favorite bar, half a dozen workers next to a trailer processed the recyclables supplied by a never ending line of single mothers, teenage boys and bag ladies, every last one of them with pointy ears and antennae. We were pleased to see them taking bins full of bottles here and got ours out of the crawler. 

     “You guys are still collecting these right?” I asked with the heavy box in my arms. I almost wanted to throw them at his head when he shook it and pointed to a sign posted on the trailer. Probably the most straightforward help we’d gotten all day, it informed us that we had to separate the bottles into green, clear and brown glass, which didn’t seem that great an obstacle. Then the sign says ‘Due to complaints from the grocery staff, customers are not permitted to sort out their recycling in the parking lot’. Tohm and I stared at each other dumbfounded and suddenly wanted a cigarette. We asked three other workers and the manager if we could just do it real quick, but each of them simply said no and pointed to the damnable placard.

     We resisted the urge to flip them the bird and leave our mess in their way, though it killed us inside. Instead we drove to the other side of the parking lot and sorted it all in less than a minute. At this point it didn’t matter what hoops we had to jump through, I wanted fresh towels and fresh clothes to greet me when I finish using my fresh products in my fresh shower. We smiled as the boss handed us a stack of singles and some change, then got in the car and drove home as fast as we could. We were sure, after taking an hour to refund our past month of partying, that the house would be sparkling clean when we got back. I couldn’t know what mess awaited me there.