My words don't land.
They seep
Every cut.
Shallow or deep
Once inside
Meanings reaped
Treasures offered
Yours to keep

Asher smiled as he closed his eyes against the warmth of the rising sun. His body slightly slouched atop a stack of baled alfalfa. Most of his mornings started out this way. Him standing, tools in hand, waiting to greet the sun, watching as it illuminated the landscape. Turning a tide of dark rolling hills to the east into a plain you could see for miles. A painted landscape doused in rich greens, with such nuance that it gave the illusion of tint. As if the field was riddled with peaks and valleys. Other colors spotted the ground as well. Crops and flowers bundled together in heaps, leaving the large patch of green a checkered beauty of passion and serenity. Once they were the seeds of early spring, now they were the beauty of the field.

Behind him, to the west, sat an imposing forest. Large enough to make the town on the other side of the woods seem like a distant land. Unlike fields which bare themselves for the world to see, forests reveal themselves only to the curious. Their prize is for the intrigued, and up until today Asher knew all of its secrets. But an errant wind seeped from the forest. Asher’s skin prickled against its chill. He opened his eyes to the sun, disquieted. This wind was out of time. Asher turned his face to the cool air. Watching the forest’s dark border, not yet bathed in the sun’s light. He looked hard into the leaves, searching. The sound of a horse disrupted his investigation, then forgetting the foul wind Asher set out for the house.

He climbed the wooden stairs onto a large porch. His footsteps announced his presence before his hand reached the door handle.

“Make sure the horse is watered and fed,” Asher shouted through the screen door. “I’m headed into town!”

“Yes sir!” a hurried voice replied from the upstairs landing.

As he descended, the second stair groaned under his boot; this house was well worn. At the sound, a hawk shot into the sky, and Asher watched its arc as he drifted toward the forest road. It wasn’t really a road, more a path of accumulated footprints. A scar through the forest carved by a cascade of human feet; permanence through expedience.

Water trickled through a creek, it was full from the season’s rain. The air felt heavy on the skin and cloud bundles sailed above the land. The plants stood erect, gorged on water. Yet, still they would drink, as if they could store what they would not have later.

The creek reveled in the overflow, it moved easy; beneath logs and around stones. Asher hopped it at a narrow point, walked a few strides more, then crossed it again. His smile returned and one strong huff escaped his chest. His head to the sky, he extended his arms and spun. Above the creek, leaf tops of a dense pine and birch forest created a barrier of green between the brown earth and the blue sky. He studied the underside of the lowest leaves. The network of veins held his gaze and he thought of the creek. He pondered the likeness a while longer, only moving on after the thought did.

He reached the spot where a large stone blocked the path. At the boulder the trail split, two crescent moon lines hugged its base and joined again on the other side. Asher scaled the stone, straight up its center, and sat atop the rock to watch the forest floor.

Squirrels tussled in the shallows and deer feed on patches of bushy green grass; a gentle slope beneath their hooves. Twig snaps drew his gaze to the left. There he found something askew. Footsteps diverged from the path, their impression’s light, barely noticeable. The grass held tight to the memory of these feet, but even as Asher watched, the green forgot the imprints. Asher’s eyes followed the fading trail until it disappeared into the thick and thatched forest floor; in the direction of his house.

Eyes narrowed, head cocked, he stared into the forest.

He turned away and jumped from the boulder’s top. The path curved steeply after the boulder, so that no matter which direction you walked you couldn’t see who you might come across. It was there in the center of the bend that Asher ran into the blacksmith. The blacksmith’s gait was steady, his footsteps left deep impressions in the path as he walked. He kneaded his hands together as he approached and paused occasionally to stomp his feet. In his agitation his muscles flexed, strength evident in his arms and legs.

“Good day,” Asher said, though his inflection carried a question.

The blacksmith looked up from the ground, shoulders slouched, “Is it?”

“It has been for me, friend. What troubles you?”

“My land... everything’s gone. I took years building it, only to lose it in a moment.”

“How can I help?”

“You can’t, but maybe… has your father returned?” The lines around the blacksmith’s eyes grew faint and his eyes widened. His brow unfurrowed and his lips quivered.

Asher gripped the blacksmith’s shoulders. Extending his arms far, for the man’s shoulders were wide. “Soon! But until then tell me what is this about?”

Glancing aside, the blacksmith mumbled, “I think you know.”

Something in the man’s mannerisms sparked a thought in Asher’s mind,“this is about Cassidy,” he whispered as his hands fell from the blacksmith’s shoulders. Cassidy was once a childhood friend. Their fathers were closely bound through honor and circumstance. Cassidy and Asher played together daily from early light until dusk.

All of that changed after Cassidy’s father died.

The blacksmith stood stoic. The lines around his eyes returned and though Asher met his gaze he suspected the blacksmith was watching something far off. A twig snapped, Asher turned his head slightly to glance in the direction of the sound. With a huff the blacksmith scooted past Asher down the path without another word.

As Asher turned from the departing blacksmith a cool wind blew against his back, he shivered on his way to town.

Voices, wagons, hammers, and bells pushed into the forest, they met the quiet; a border before the border. The path Asher walked slowly shifted from footpath to wagonpath.

Most buildings in the town were modest. Nothing more than rectangles and triangles with a shared porch that stretched along the front of the buildings. This design protected the shopping patrons from the sun’s rays. A symbiotic relationship between shopper and supplier. Whether you shopped on the right or left side of the road, you could shop in the shade, but there was a gap in the road. On the other side of the gap, across from one another sat two large immodest buildings. All rectangles, their length stretched high into the sky; clean lines, no intersections. No porches, there was no shade.

In the length of an empty gap the shopper’s importance disappeared. Patrons didn’t cross the gap because they wanted to, they crossed it because they needed to, and everyone knew it. On whispered breaths townspeople shared their fears about the future of Groylyn.

Asher kicked up a cloud of dust as he crossed the gap toward the butcher’s shop. He clicked the bell on the counter, “I’m here for my order,” he said not waiting for the ring to cease. His face was stern; the blacksmith’s words echoed in his mind.

“Let’s see… ah yes. Not much this week?” The butcher queried.

“It’s the perfectly right amount, actually.”

The blacksmith raised an eyebrow, but Asher paid it no mind. He fidgeted. Then his head drifted towards the butcher’s window, his breath caught. “I’ll be right back.”

The sun balanced on a blade tip. Asher stepped out into the heat, squinted his eyes against the light and crossed the path in the direction of the bank.

Cassidy was a slender man with a shrewd mind. He stood on the bank’s porch, his back to the sun. The other stood rapt watching Cassidy’s hands as he waxed on about his vision for the town and his plans for the bank. As if Asher could be sensed Cassidy turned to see Asher’s boots swishing through the sand. His lips pressed into a tight line, then slowly curved up into a mocking grin.

“Ha! Much has changed Asher, you walk like such a brute now. Has the ground offended you?!” Cassidy said, expecting a snippy rejoinder, but his taunt was met with silence. Asher stalked forward unrelenting. Cassidy scurried back, but his retreat was too slow, Asher’s raised hand came down hard against his face. A ruddy blotch bloomed on Cassidy’s cheek.

“Enough talk,” Asher snarled.

Water pooled in the corners of Cassidy’s eyes. “You dare…” he whispered as he moved his hand away from the sting on his face.

“I spoke with the blacksmith.” Asher said, a subtle smirk curved his lips.

“Took? I took nothing from him. The blacksmith gambled and lost. I’m only collecting what’s owed.”

“Should a man always collect what he’s owed?” Asher sneered. “You are a plague Cassidy… don’t you see it.”

Dabbing a speck of blood off of his lip, Cassidy replied, “What you call a plague, I call progress. Good day.” He descended the stairs, but stopped and slightly turned his head when his foot hit the sand. So that Asher could only see the profile of his face. “Give your father my regards.”

Asher’s face twisted, “what’s that supposed to mean?” he asked weakly, but Cassidy was already strides away. Asher’s question died on the wind.

Loudly, Asher exhaled.

He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. He took a deep breath and his clenched fists slowly opened.

When he returned to the butcher’s shop his order sat neatly wrapped at the counter’s end. “That’ll be 100 pieces,” the butcher said without looking up.

Asher stared, “raising prices, are we?”

“And why wouldn’t I…” he tapped the stack of notes Asher handed him, “when people keep paying. Pleasure doing business with you.”

“I’m sure it was,” Asher said, hurrying for the door. He passed the gap into the older side of town and stopped outside of Lou’s. He shrugged to himself and then pushed through the swinging wooden doors.

“Ash, good day!” Lou shouted.

“Hey Lou, give me a drink, would ya?”

“Sure thing, what would you like?”

“Not water.” Asher said dryly.

“Anything but water,got it” Lour replied with a wink.

Glass clinked loudly on the bar top when Asher’s empty mug struck the wood.

“Would you like another?” Lou asked. “Asher?”

Lou cocked his head to the side to watch Asher was making fish faces in his empty glass.

“I guess you better not,” Lou said questioningly.

“Huh? Oh yeah, no thanks,” Asher said, placing his mug back on the bar and turning to Lou. “Could you throw this on some ice for me,” Asher asked, handing Lou his butcher’s cut. “Hey Lou, of all the time you’ve known us; has my father ever stayed away this long?”

“How long?” Lou said as he threw the meat in the ice box.

“30 days.”

That is long, you think something’s wrong?

“I didn’t…Cassidy said something today. Now I’m not so sure.”

Asher looked up. Lou stood there twisting a small towel so tightly that it started to resemble a braid; his wide eyes blinked rapidly.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Asher continued.

“Well, whether it’s something, or whether it’s nothing, you just let me know, would ya?”

Asher gave Lou a tight smile and a nod. “It’s been too long Lou, tell me, how is the place,”Asher said, extending his arms wide and looking around Lou’s bar.

“Absolutely fantastic.”

The two of them continued chatting, between orders and lulls. They reminisced, they spoke of the simple and the good. Different times when people were kind. Asher felt almost like himself when he left Lou’s bar. The numbness wrought by the day’s earlier events had evaporated.

The setting sun made the town look quaint. The evening light helped to hide the atrocity of architecture that were the butcher and bank buildings. He smiled, remembering a time when neither building sat on main street. The sun was almost set when he turned into the forest.

His stride was sure, even though the path was dark beneath his feet. After exiting the first bend in the path Asher spotted the outline of the boulder, then suddenly he started to fall. The wrapped meat flew from his hand. Asher’s body and the meat landed with a synchronous thud; meat on the ground, Asher on something else.

Where Asher laid was softer than the earth, but still layered, soft atop firm. He pushed up shuffling toward his purchase when his hand sank into muddy sand. He raised his hand to his eyes, it was covered in something that twinkled in the bits of moonlight that spattered the forest floor. He rubbed his other hand and felt sticky sand. Asher, still kneeling, looked feverishly at the ground below. In the path rested a motionless silhouette. He shook the frame gently, there was no response. Then he moved his hands up to the shoulders of the still body. Their width, the size and the shape of the blacksmith’s frame.

“Are you alright?”

There was no response.

Asher slowly rested his hand on the body’s head. Instead, his fingers brushed against clumpy sand. He jumped up. His mouth dried.

Forgetting the meat he sprinted through the path, around the boulder, out of the forest to his front porch. He didn’t notice the lights were out. He snatched open the screen door, not feeling the least bit self conscious about the loud squeak it emitted.

“Hello, anybody, help!”

Asher pushed through the front door, missing the smudge of blood under the door knob. He rushed past the stairwell, missing the chipped wood of the bottom step. In the hallway he froze, from the landing above something dripped into a growing puddle, a shadow darker than the lightless room. He groped his way forward and gently poked one finger into the center of the viscous blob. Then, sniffing, he wrenched his hand away. The smell of iron coated his nostrils.

Slowly Asher stood and looked about the house. Seconds later, a lock click echoed through the dark as he sealed himself into his office. His hand still on the handle, Asher gulped. As he turned to his desk he saw an errant envelope angled against the desk leg. It was partially shaded from the moonlight. Asher’s eyes trailed away from the envelope and surveyed the spotless room. Bursting forward, in four large strides he covered the distance from door to desk and kneeled to inspect the envelope. His name adorned the front. Two initials were sketched into the center of the back flap. One of them was smudged with a fingerprint. Asher brought the envelope closer to focus on the inky mess. Then he noticed a clean slit down its side, the cut spilled out toasted parchment.

A soft groan rose from the floorboard to his left. As Asher turned as a moonlit blade plunged toward his chest. He parried, but too late. The tip of the knife punctured then sliced through the skin on his chest as he pushed the blade away. He winced, then slammed one hard over the wound. The other swung in the direction of his assailant. The shadowed figure jumped back giving Asher just enough space to swirl his body behind the desk. He grabbed the desk lamp and hurled it in the figure’s direction. The glass bulb exploded against a wall on the far side of the room. Sharp shards covered the floor beneath the open french window.

Hot breath escaped Asher’s mouth as he panted into the quiet room. He slowly stood, growling at the throbbing cut in his chest. He pushed his hand hard into the ache and pulled it away sticky and wet.

Asher planted his palms firmly on the desk. Bracing his shaky body. His eyes locked on the envelope sitting innocently on the study floor, waiting. He shoved off the desk to retrieve the envelope smearing the desk top with a red palm. He stopped to stare at the intricate imprint.

Forgetting the mark he rushed to the envelope, he swallowed hard then quickly slammed the letter into his pocket. Pushing it until he felt it crimple against the stitch of his pant’s pocket .

He stood there in the center of the room. His eyes darted back and forth, as he tried to visualize a way forward. With a gasp his eyes locked in place. A memory from years ago surfaced, “...just in case Asher, one should always be ready” his father had said as he tossed a duffel into the corner of the dresser.

Asher rushed to the dresser and twisted the handle, it didn’t budge. He pulled it, grunting with effort until it rocked back and forth. After a loud pop, the cabinet door flew open. He reached into the back corner, and pulled out the dust covered duffel. He slapped it twice and coughed.

With quick steps he moved outside. The air was moist and a bitter chill hung in the air. Steam puffed from Asher’s mouth. ‘Winter before its time,’ he whispered. He watched the forest edge, muscles tensed. He shuffled his feet on the porch and the sound of his boots rang through the trees. No birds sprang from the branches, nor did any call out at the sound of his movement.

A horse neighed. Asher pulled his eyes from the darkened trees and turned his head toward the barn. As his boots cut through the sand the dusty duffel bounced on his hip and a crinkled letter rustled in his pocket.

Permanence in part; the state of water

Flowing solid

Pushed through narrows

Curved in bends

Swept across flats

Gone

Left every place touched

‘Why didn’t you come back?’ -Amy

Roger looked up from the note. 360 degrees, empty, save the same grey line. The plane where the ocean kissed the sky.

The letter fluttered in his hand. His free hand brushed his temples. It tickled. Evidence of fading stubble. His eyes wandered the ink-lined shapes, failing to translate the silence between the lines.

He sighed.

‘I thought you wanted me somewhere else,’ he wrote, because he only understood the words.

She knew just the right way to shape the empty.

After signing his name at the bottom, he waded through the sole-deep water on the apartment floor, looking for a cork.

It didn’t take long for him to realize there wasn’t one, anywhere. He tossed the bottle of Syrah on the couch and ripped off his shirt. He shoved as much of it as he could inside the bottle then heaved the shirt topped sea-mail out the window.

The bottle hit the water with a plunk. Green glass alone on the sea. It didn’t shine, but it seemed to glow. He watched it bob three times, then he watched it sink.

She always saved the corks.

Jimmy sloped into the bed’s crevice. There in the center of that cushioned ditch Jimmy’s shoulder pressed against his wife’s. His eyes opened. The familiar sight of their water stained ceiling filled his vision. He sighed and wiped the sweat from his beaded brow. After a quick shallow breath, he swung his legs out of the bed with a grunt. The concrete floor was cold. It didn’t hold heat, so when the seasons changed Jimmy could feel it in his soles. He moved his feet up and down and curled his toes in and out. He reached down and picked up a pair of wool socks left by the side of the bed. They were grey socks and he wore them every morning.

He pushed himself off the bed and shuffled to the kitchen counter. He planted his hands and leaned over the counter until his feet were in momentary flight. When they touched down again he pressed the red button on the coffee machine. The beep filled the tiny room. Then Jimmy listened to the machine gurgle as it brewed his morning habit.

Coffee spilled from the rim of Jimmy’s mug and tiny drops splashed onto the wooden table. Jimmy brushed the spots with a huff. As he took his seat his eyes burrowed into a stack of envelopes. They were all uniform in their appearance; cream colored rectangles. All except a lone white circular one. Jimmy grabbed the peculiar parcel and flipped it over, then back again. There was no recipient, no sender, and no address. Jimmy dropped it and took a long slow sip of his coffee. He raised his head and stared at his wife. He knitted his brow, “honey…honey? What is this?” he said as he grabbed the envelope and raised it high.

Kaitlyn stirred. She wiggled her body attempting to unnestle it from the mattress divot. “I don’t know,” she muttered. “What is what?” Her hand touched Jimmy’s pillow and recoiled. The pillow was damp. “How do you sweat so much, Jimmy?”

“Shouldn’t you be used to it by now? Anyways. It’s an envelope, it’s sealed but unaddressed.” Jimmy said as he pulled at the envelope’s flap. After two tugs the adhesive slowly relented. The white wax had a sinewy appearance as it stretched. Jimmy took another sip of coffee. He placed his mug down and slowly pushed the mug to his right. The porcelain cup grated against the wood. No one noticed the sound. Jimmy freed a small rectangular piece of paper stuffed into the envelope.

Jimmy, times are tough. We’ve got a job for you, if you’re interested.

1750 Diego Way, Monday, 6:30am

The chair creaked as Jimmy adjusted his position. “Kaitlyn, did you tell somebody I was looking for work?”

“Ha!” Kaitlyn said mid stride, on her way to the coffee. “We both know there is no work.” She sat her coffee cup down on the table with a thud and took a seat. “Is that what's in that envelope? What kind of work?”

“It doesn’t say.” Jimmy answered, handing her the paper.

Kaitlyn sipped her coffee as she read, “that’s suspenseful… but this could be a good thing, right?” There was no response. Jimmy’s gaze clung the kitchen wall. “Jimmy.” Kaitlyn said as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “If it were me…well. Jimmy, if you turn this down; I might start to think like you enjoy living this way.” Jimmy’s eyes followed her gesture. Then they continued cataloging the state of their home.

Jimmy cleared his throat and grabbed the paper from Kaitlyn’s hand. He fiddled with it, “I –” Kaitlyn interrupted. “This is the break we’ve been talking about, the one we’ve been waiting for. Right?” She moved her hand from his shoulder down to the back of his arm, “I say you do it.”

A slow exhale vibrated Jimmy’s lips “Okay. But you know that’s tomorrow morning, right?” Kaitlyn cocked her head to the side and raised her shoulders, “so how do you want to spend the day?” She said with a wink.

The day was spent on the couch in front of their television. They watched their favorite movies in a heap of intertwined legs and fingers. When the sun set their touches turned softer, then heavier. It had been a long time since they’d been together in a way that left them both short of breath.

Jimmy’s eyes finally shut moments before his alarm rang. He turned it off after one beep. Kaitlyn’s steady breathing never wavered. His body filled the divot and she rested on top of him. He slowly lifted her, pausing at the moment her bare breast peeled off of his chest. Once he was free of her weight he rolled off of the bed. She slept alone in the divot.

Outside the air was crisp. Jimmy inhaled deeply then glanced up at the puffy clouds. He stretched his arms out wide, forming the beginning of a hug that would never close, then huffed. He eyed his car from the porch. Rusty spots of various shapes and sizes covered its exterior. He glanced back at his house then moved to the car and didn't look back again.

Diego Way. Jimmy’s turning signal clicked as he turned left. His pulse thumped at a faster cadence. Then he saw it, a sign atop a wooden stack, ‘1750’. The ignition went quiet. When the car door opened the hinges whined and that noise traveled across an empty field. Jimmy slowly shuffled to the front of his car then turned in a slow circle. He flopped onto the hood of his car.

“You must be Jimmy.”

Jimmy jumped up and turned around.

A man approached. Jimmy noted his attire: boots, jeans, flannel shirt, and a big brimmed baseball cap. The top half of the man’s face was obscured in shadow. His mouth however, specifically the white enamel of his porcelain teeth drew Jimmy’s gaze.

“I am.” Jimmy said quietly.

“Of course you are!” Billy shouted through upturned lips. “I’m Billy,” the man said, extending a hand.

When their hands met the hair on Jimmy’s neck stood. Jimmy flinched but Billy held the grip and after a breath the tension in Jimmy’s arm subsided and the hairs on his neck came to rest.

“Let’s go check-out the interview site,” Billy said as he released Jimmy’s hand.

Jimmy looked around the empty field, “what do you mean?” Jimmy asked, raising his arms.

Billy turned and walked away without responding. Jimmy's eyes narrowed on Billy’s back. Billy walked a few strides before Jimmy relented and followed him to a demarcated plot of land. “Here we are Jimmy,” Billy said, he held his hands out toward a ring of stones “Isn’t she a beauty? Big too, I bet you could lay down in there and stretch out real wide and still fit.”

Jimmy cocked his head.

“Anyway that’s all you need for today,” Billy said pointing at a shovel that stood blade down in the ring’s center. “But because I’m such a nice guy I’m also leaving you this,” then he gestured to a cooler and thermos at his feet. Jimmy silently eyed the set up as Billy started to slowly walk the circle’s perimeter.

“Today’s the day Jimmy. The job is yours, but you’ve got to earn it.”

“How?” Jimmy asked.

“Dig. The stones mark your perimeter.” Billy said over his shoulder as he turned to walk away.

“What? Where are you going!?” Jimmy shouted.

Jimmy stared. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. He placed a hand on the shovel and watched Billy drive off.

The shovel was stuck in the earth. Jimmy had to wiggle it back and forth to dislodge the blade. After he freed it he dragged it to the circle’s edge and stepped outside the stones. His first strike was swift. The shovel crunched as it dug into the dirt and the gravel. Strike. Dig. Toss. Jimmy repeated these steps until a ditch appeared inside the stone ring. Jimmy took a step back and gave his ditch a once over. He strode over the ditch and stuck the blade back in the center of the ring.

Jimmy’s muscles already ached. He slowly lowered himself down next to the cooler and thermos. When he opened the cooler’s lid a peanut butter scented waft of air rushed out of the cooler. His eyes settled on a stack of six sandwiches. He split the bread of one of the sandwiches and sighed at the sight of grape jelly. The first sandwich was gone after four bites. He grabbed a second sandwich but then placed it back in the cooler and closed the lid with a thud. Instead, he reached over and grabbed one of the thermoses. He unscrewed the lid and drank deeply. The cool liquid soothed his throat and his shoulders slouched. He replaced the thermos’s lid then returned to his feet. He stretched his arms high and yelled across the empty field.

Then he returned to work.

This time he started at the circle’s center. Digging down and out toward the border. The circle was ankle deep when he whirled around at the sound of Billy’s voice. “Not bad Jimmy.”

Everything was blurry. Jimmy blinked away the sweat from his eyes. He licked his lips and then spit out the salt. He walked over to the thermos and took a sip, “Billy, it’s getting hot out.” Then he took another sip, “how much longer?” Jimmy waited, but Billy just stared. “Billy,” Jimmy inhaled deeply. “I think I’m done.”

Billy pursed his lips. “Already? You’re doing good work. I’ve got another applicant down the way. They aren't quitting yet, but if you do, the job is theirs. If I was a betting man, I would have put my money on you. Come on Jimmy, prove me right.”

Jimmy lowered his gaze and kicked at the dirt, “uh, yeah, sure, I can do that. What does the job pay? Billy?” There was no response. Jimmy lifted his eyes from the earth. He was alone in the field. He placed a hand on the crown of his head and turned left and then turned right. He sighed. The thermos in his hand was empty, he shook it once and then tossed it on the ground next to the cooler.

Sounds of Jimmy’s shoveling swept across the treeless field. The sunlight bore down on his back as he worked. By the time the hole was knee deep there was no more space between his skin and his soaked shirt. His face was dry. The salt stains at the corners of his eyes and mouth burned. Jimmy eyed the empty thermos then smacked his lips and tried to swallow. He tossed the shovel outside the ring and stumbled toward the cooler. His legs buckled and he rested on his hands and knees. The aroma of dirt carried a hint of metal. When it filled his nostrils he gagged. He heaved once but his body had nothing to give.

A breeze blew across the field. The sound of a tarp flapping in the wind broke his stupor.

“Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy. You’re looking a little worse for wear… like you need a nap,” Billy said. He placed a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “Lucky for you I've got just the place,” he said as he pointed to a canvas tent. “Let me help you up.” Billy wrapped an arm around Jimmy’s waist and then lifted. Once he had him up he put Jimmy’s arm over his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Jimmy grunted.

They walked a few steps, “Jimmy.” Billy said, stopping, “I spoke with your wife today.” Jimmy’s eyes went wide. Billy held up a hand, “Whoa buddy, I just thought she should know what you've been up to. I'm pretty sure she's super proud of you. How could she not be, right?” Billy paused. “I saw your place. You could use the money huh? Good on you. You’re doing the responsible thing.”

Jimmy blinked.

“Ha! Don’t deafen me with gratitude Jimmy… “You’re welcome all the same.” Billy said, resuming his way to the tarp. When they got there Billy dropped Jimmy on a thin mat.

Jimmy was asleep before he hit the ground.

Billy stood over him for a moment. He studied Jimmy as he slept. Moving the oversized bill of his baseball cap up and down as he stared. After he had shifted it a few times he sucked his teeth once and walked away.

Heat and pain roused Jimmy from his sleep. The tarp covered every bit of his body except his forehead. A thin strip of light burned a matching mark into Jimmy’s face. He opened his eyes to find the sun was high in the sky. He rolled onto his back and then sat up. His muscles ached and he grit his teeth with the effort. After he was upright he slowly smacked his lips and scrunched his nose. His eyes wandered over the shaded area and he sighed when he saw the thermos. A note stuck to its side. He drank as he read:

At the dig site -B.

After he emptied the thermos he tossed it and the note aside. He wiped his mouth and lifted his stiff body from the ground. He took a deep breath and then stepped out from under the canvas. Jimmy raised an eyebrow as he stared at the terrain. He placed a hand above his eyes and scanned the horizon. He ducked back under the canvas and checked the note again, then rushed back into the sun. He turned his head right and left and noticed a flashing pattern. He walked toward the signal. As he approached Billy shouted, “you get turned around?! That happens after a hard day’s work!”

“Billy I’m spent…really,” Jimmy groaned as he reached Billy’s side.

“Huh? Well I gotta tell you Jimmy, the job is yours. Keep going if you want the bonus though.” Billy said as he crossed his arms.

Jimmy drew his lips flat, “what bonus?”

“You know I’m not going to give you any details, right Jimmy? I’ll tell you this though. If you don't get it, you'll regret it. Everyone else has.” Billy’s hands slowly moved to his hips. “There’s another cooler in the hole and a couple of more thermoses. Also, I took the liberty of bringing you a ladder, you’re going to need it.” Billy said pointing at the hole, “it’s getting deep.”

Jimmy flexed his jaw and stared then silently climbed into the hole. He slammed the shovel into the earth, the soil crunched as the blade made its mark. Loose dirt pooled at its edges and bunched around Jimmy’s ankles. Every strike rattled Jimmy’s tired and callous hands. As he worked the hole grew deeper and the loose earth around Jimmy’s legs grew higher. When the dirt was knee high Jimmy exhaled loudly and leaned back against the dirt wall. His head pushed into something firm.

He placed a hand on the back of his head. It searched his wet and matted hair and came back slick. Jimmy rubbed his thumbs and fingers together and then slowly turned. His eyes narrowed. A breath passed, then he pushed his palms hard into his eye sockets. He held the pressure. He released then leaned in closer, seeing treads and grooves. He brushed at the patterns and as his fingers moved across the earth more and more dirt fell away.

Then his hand froze.

There in the dirt a thick rubber sole jetted from the earth.

Without looking Jimmy reached for the ladder and loosely wrapped his fingers around a rung. He placed a boot on the ladder then froze.

“Hey Jimmy, wow! This is amazing work. I brought you something,” he said as he lowered a basket holding two thermoses. “Go ahead and take those out for me, would ya?”

Jimmy watched the basket descend. “Hey Billy, there’s a boot down here, in the dirt,” he said as he grabbed the basket and pulled it down a little farther.

“Huh? That’s weird.” Billy replied. “Watch your head Jimmy,” he said as he snatched the basket up. Jimmy dodged the basket and then turned to place his thermoses into the mound of loose earth.

Something bumped his back.

He turned to see the end of the ladder float past his eye line. He lunged. His fingers glanced at the last rung but his tired hands couldn’t grip the metal. A deep groan escaped his lips.

The ladder kept rising.

Jimmy leaned into the dirt and clawed upward. His whimpering escalated, then a large billed baseball hat and bright shiny teeth appeared.

Billy lifted a single finger and held it up in Jimmy’s direction before he vanished from view.

“Billy!” Jimmy called weakly. Then stronger, “Billy!” Then twice more, “Billy!...Billy!”

“I’ll be right there!” Billy shouted. “Hold your horses!”

Jimmy sighed, then grabbed the thermos for a deep gulp. Water spilled as he struggled to hold the bottle steady. The thermos was empty and Billy was still gone.

He dropped the empty thermos and exhaled loudly. His eyes closed as he leaned his head into the backs of his hands atop the shovel’s handle.

Something soft bounced off his head.

It shattered on contact. The bits sprinkled down his face and on top of his thermoses. Jimmy reached down and his hand brushed something grainy and dark. His eyes widened. He looked up as more dirt fell.

“Hey Billy what the hell are you doing?! I’m down here!” Jimmy shouted.

The dirt kept falling and Billy started to whistle.

After not too long Jimmy’s pleas faded.

Billy basked under the sun. He stood in the center of a rock ringed circle whistling a tune that ended with two taps of his shovel atop the evenly flattened earth.

A graze, an offer
--"Yes" in swell.
...Slowly swirl to life

-Bud

-Ache

-Shudder

-Writhe

A tangled mess of twisted sheets
Cloth-bunches and ties

A whisper lost in airy breath
--Gasp--
Exhale.
Rewind

Heartbeat glimpses.
Memory-reel. 
Moments mapped in mind

Notched and loosed
Received. Accepted.

Quiver. Grip.
And sigh.

Between

Moonlight brushes

Nooks and Arches
Human structures

Blotchy. Ruddy.
Blanket blushes 

Dawn. Muffled...
Carpet-touches

Window waiting
Windblown bushes

Chores and Supper
Daily rushes

Finger traced
Remembered pulses

Pounded dirt

Muffled sounds

Drum forth silent's dearth

Pebbles bounce

Sole-prints, soil-pressed...

Scent of dampened earth

Dodged erupted roots

We move.

Tight laced fingers throb

Created wake of shuttered leaves

--Our breeze

Below the tops of touching trees

Scratches as we run

Stony English archways.

--Steady gaze

Fatigued but not undone.

The stone compressed.

Coughs and gasps...

Ragged breaths

Pressure tightened

Shredded vest

Blood. Pierced holes

Ruptured chest

Vision fading,

Dark as night

Liminal wading

Final sight

Then a flash

Blinding light

Sun is cresting

Now I fight.

The heavy oak door slammed shut. Now your shirt’s collar undulates against your racing pulse. The echo of the door and the sound of your footsteps fade into the capacious hall’s high ceilings and barren walls. As you move slowly through the room, your eyes narrow at the sight of a mismatched mahogany desk and pine chair.

A triangular desk with smoothed, rounded edges sits in the center of the room. Beneath the triangle’s longest side waits a rugged but sturdy chair; its wood’s grain is visible, long, dark, thin parallel lines run the length of the seat.

Goosebumps dot your skin from shoulder to wrist, and your palms sweat as you approach the desk. Your legs buckle as you reach the chair, but it shifts to catch you preventing your fall.

Suddenly, three of the room’s barren walls transform into vertical gardens. From ceiling to floor, swaths of green are dotted by marigolds, lilac, and lavender. Floral notes fill the room, then a mist coats the side of your face. You turn your head in response to see a voluminous waterfall pouring into an endless pool. Your eyelids flutter, your muscles relax, and your head slowly drops to the desk.

When you wake, you notice the desk is now furnished with paper, inkwell, and quill. You stare at the page, your fingers curl to a fist, your eyes flare, and you lean back with a huff.

“This page is already full!” You shout, but your yell is drowned out by the thunderous waterfall.

You grab the quill, then dip it twice into the inkwell.

You shake
You scribble
Erratic,
You scrawl
You breathe
You wait
Continue,
Then pause

A dawning
A light
Words disappear,
Margins increase 
… the page is clear

Your arm stops moving, the quill lifts off the page. Only a short, simple question remains:

Is Quality something we manifest, or something we excavate?

Years passed more slowly after they stopped taking cryo naps. The energy required to run the rooms exceeded their supply. They spent some time quietly reading books, but they were enthralled with the screens showing them how their neighbors on the Earth’s surface fared over the years. For a long time nothing seemed to change, and everyone but Jake started to question this entire endeavor; regret crept in but didn’t take root, because one day, everything changed.

Rough, old and withered hands shook Jake’s shoulder. He turned to stare into Xavier’s aged face, noticing the lines on the edges of his eyes and the permanent mask his face now wore. His muscles were frozen in a perpetual frown, evidence of his frequent discontent.

“What is it?” Jake asked.

“You need to see this”, Xavier said, his eyes projecting awe.

Begrudgingly, Jake followed. The others were glued around the screens, their faces haunted by depictions of an orange Earth, smoky with an unidentifiable haze. The camera producing this image was elevated and they could see people walking the compound. Some of them wore masks but all of them were thin, and their thinness was so ubiquitous and uniform that Jake wondered if humans had evolved to look this way; even though he knew not enough time had elapsed for an evolutionary shift of this magnitude.

No, this was something else, these people weren’t just hungry. They were starving at an alarmingly quick rate.

“They didn’t look like this yesterday…how?” Beth asked

Jake started to fiddle with some equipment then abruptly stopped. There were no answers for what was happening and they didn’t have enough time to figure it out. Whatever it was though, it hadn’t impacted the bunker yet, but knowing that it would unsettled him.

He turned to Beth, “it must be airborne, whatever it is.” No one responded and Jake quietly backed out of the room, leaving them suspended in shock and disbelief.

He sat back down, his arm froze mid-extension, an uncharacteristic cough erupted from Ingrid’s lungs, he dropped the lego piece and ran back to his friends: panicked, curious, and afraid. Xavier and Beth, were there in the middle of the room, struggling to lie Ingrid down on the floor.

Jake rushed over, “we should move her back to her room”, he said.

As they put Ingrid to bed Xavier broke the silence, “getting old sucks, how old are we now anyway, does anyone remember?” he asked.

“I don’t know, 100 years old, maybe more…” Jake replied.

The aging process was more intense once you’ve used cryo sleep but then stopped, it seemed like you felt every year all at once, an onslaught of fatigue and weakness. Jake tossed restlessly in his bed that night, unable to grasp so many conclusions at once, the end of the world, the end of their consciousness, the end of their lives. Just before his eyes shut under the influence of an invisible weight a smirk donned his face as he watched Beth sleep. But when he woke the next morning she was already awake frantically sketching, “I couldn’t…I didn’t sleep much”; she said as she placed the coffee mug down with a thud.

She stepped away from the painting and the table and tilted her head to the right, and for some time she stood there looking at the picture from a slant. “It’s a tree”, she said, like she was unraveling a mystery of her own making.

Jake peered absently at the drawing, could I send a tree to Unum? “I’ll be back,” Jake told Beth as he rushed out of the room. Beth didn’t give much thought to his departure, Jake always left the room like that when he was struck by an epiphany. He was just being polite, he knew people wanted to hear something, so he trained himself to never leave a room in silence.

A few days went by, sights of Jake had only been captured in glimpses as he grabbed just enough food to tide him over until the next snack, but his solitude had a purpose, and one day he emerged triumphant and exhausted. He found Xavier first, “hey, would you help me grab Ingrid, please?”

Xavier looked at Jake, with that same old look. If he’d known this would be their last time together, maybe he would have been less annoyed, but then again, maybe he wouldn’t have. On the way back to the living space Jake poked his head into his room “hey Beth come join us real quick.”

“Sure”, she said, placing her pencil down and leaving a partially completed drawing to be forever unfinished.

They all sat down at the table, “guys” Jake started, then the power went out.

“Well that’s just great”, Xavier said.

“What does that mean, how does this end?” Ingrid asked weakly.

“Hopefully it all just fades to black,” Jake said wishfully. Beth squeezed his hand, and Xavier rolled his eyes.

They were unaware that everything above the Earth’s surface had been reduced to fine dust and scattered across the cosmos. The universe mourned Earth’s passing with a cremation ceremony of the heavens. In moments, nothing outside of the Earth’s core would be intact, but just before they became part of the eternal perpetuity, Jake smiled.

“Guys, I think I figured it out. I sent a tree to…”

When Beth and Ingrid finally got to their seats Xavier greeted them with a curt, “finally”, then turned to Jake, “so why don’t you tell us what’s going on, buddy?”

Jake lifted his arms and looked around the basement, “well, it’s a bunker”, he said.

“Jake we can see that”, Ingrid said, then continued, “what’s it for?”

“Ingrid, you said it yourself this morning, the people in power are no longer satisfied with allowing us to run the show. There’s too much at stake, the closer we get to…the end, the more difficult life on Earth becomes, the more desperate to design the future they envision, and that would be fine. I’m just scared their future is designed to look a lot like our present, just on a new planet, with new people.”

Xavier finally sat up in his chair, “Jake, how would they do that?”

“I found a file the other day in one of our shared folders, no doubt it was saved to the wrong drive. Anyway, the file contained plans for a massive operation, there was a spread sheet filled with thousands of names and columns of characteristic preferences, including coordinates and intelligence as well as payment status. It’s a recombinant dna undertaking on a scale not yet previously seen.”

“Why does that scare you Jake?” Beth asked

“To society a single genius might be disruptive, but a cohort of geniuses likely will be repressive.” Jake said, looking expectantly at the faces of his friends, searching for comprehension in their eyes, but not seeing it. “They are going to send a myriad of intelligence enhanced zygotes to some of the most suitable for life destinations we’ve mapped on Unum. With those two factors alone they have an insurmountable headstart…”

“Okay” Ingrid said slowly, “so what do you want to do?”

Jake shot up, “let me show you. Let’s take a little tour.”

The other three slowly rose from their chairs, not entirely sure they wanted a tour. Deep down they knew they were being sold a reality they aren’t sure they wanted, but would probably agree to, eventually. Jake walked them past a winter garden, furnished with large overhead sunlamps, comfortable recliners, and an overstated presence of fake green plants. “This would be our nature room”, Jake said as they strolled by and stuck their heads through the threshold.

“Next we’ll check out one of my favorite rooms”, Jake said as he walked backwards as he talked. He then smoothly turned into a doorway off the hall. The room was very long and games of various types lined the shelves on the left side of the room and hung from wall racks attached to the left wall. The right side of the room had shelves lined with books, “we’ve got four, two, or single player games of all types, and for books we’ve got poetry, non-fiction, and fiction, and if it was published in a series, I bought the whole series, you won’t have to wonder what happened in the story.”

“How long do you think we’re staying down here Jake?” Xavier asked, looking around at what appeared to him as nothing more than a toy closet for a grown man.

“What do you mean?” Jake asked.

“It doesn’t look like this place was made for a short vacation”, Ingrid added.

“Just let me finish showing you the place, there are only a few more rooms.” Jake pleaded.

Beth thought she saw a hint of worry in Jake’s eyes as he led them around a corner to a door that appeared different in appearance to any other design in this bunker, it looked secure. “This is where the magic is going to happen”, Jake said over his shoulder as he punched in a six digit code into the door’s punchpad. A hiss erupted from the doors as they parted.

“What was that?” Xavier asked.

Abruptly, Jake with a mischievous grin, showed them his phone’s screen, it displayed an app named Weird Sound Effects. “There’s no need for this room to be air tight, but I wanted to see what you would do.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t funny Jake. None of this is funny, in fact…this whole set up is a bit concerning. Why the hell did you build a bunker down here?”

“Well, we’ll need time to finish getting everyone’s DNA mapped and stored in their own nanospheres, if we don’t finish that there’s no telling how it’ll get done, specifically I mean who gets added. I explained this, didn’t I”

“But why are we in a bunker?” Xavier asked loudly.

“Ugh, fine, I was thinking we could just stay down here”, Jake went quiet and shuffled a bit in place, still blocking the doorway entrance, “I thought we’d stay down here until the end.”

“The end of what?” Ingrid asked.

“Ingrid, the end of Earth…” Jake said.

“Wait a minute!” Xavier added in a panic, “Jake do you have any idea how long that is, we’d die long before that day arrives.

“Actually we wouldn’t. Did you notice the bedrooms? Their dimensions were slightly off, the inner walls filled a lot of the room’s available space, they should have been a lot larger. I did that on purpose, those are cryo-chambers. The refrigeration technology packed into those walls is powerful enough to keep our rooms cryo-cold for at least a century. I always hated those tiny little pods people envision when they think about cryosleep. Could you imagine?”

“I think you’ve lost it Jake, you’re spinning”, Xavier said, slowly backing away. Then the floor beneath their feet shook, Jake braced his hands on the threshold. When the Earth stopped moving he sprinted past the group into a room filled with television screens connected to the various CCTV cameras on the compound above; one by one the TVs on the three screens on the top row of six went out. The three remaining screens were covered in a haze of smoke, details were shrouded but Jake could see people coughing and running. They were being chased by armed soldiers in gas masks.

When the other three showed up, Beth asked hurriedly, “Jake what is it, what’s happening?” Jake sat slumped in his chair but managed to solemnly point to the screens ahead. Beth’s hand shot to her mouth and tears pooled in the corners of her eyes.

“They’ve come for the project”, Jake said as he stood from his chair. “I don’t think we have a choice now”, he said casually as he drifted down the hall. The scenes on the screen were distracting and Jake was halfway to the stairwell entry before Xavier looked for him. Beth was frozen in shock, but Xavier tugged on Ingrid’s shoulder, and pointed in Jake’s direction when she finally made eye contact.

“What is that?” Ingrid asked, pointing to something on the wall to the right of the hall. A fright gripped her and before she realized she was jogging in Jake’s direction; instinctively, Xavier joined her. Time slowed, even as they ran faster, and just as they reached Jake, he turned to them and whispered, “I’m sorry.” Then he pulled a lever and the lights changed, they grew brighter and there was a thunderous sound. Instantly, the bunker felt more like a tomb, and Jake exhaled loudly.

“What did you do!?” Xavier shouted as he struck Jake in the face with a right cross. No one moved while Jake laid on the floor with a blood smeared cheek. Slowly he sat up and leveled Xavier with a stare.

“I just sacrificed our present to save our future, and by ours.. I mean humanity’s future. What did you do?”

All hands in the hallway found the faces of their owners. The sound of deep breaths filled the room.

“This can’t be undone, where here for good now”, Jake blared.

“Did you really just trap us here? You psycho!” Xavier spat.

“They were here, we didn’t have time…”

“We’re trapped Jake!” Ingrid shouted before he could finish. She didn’t wait for him to complete his thought. She bolted down the hall and entered one of the rooms Jake showed them before.

Xavier was still glaring in Jake’s direction, seriously contemplating doling out more physical blows. As he moved in Jake’s direction Beth intercepted him and with a look that expressed empathy but no compromise. Xavier turned away and exhaled loudly, stomping off in frustration. Jake and Beth watched him turn the corner in the direction of the gaming closet.

When Beth turned back to Jake her eyes were moist with tears that had pooled but not yet fallen. “Did you have to do that Jake?” The first tear slid down her face, and she didn’t wipe it away. “What about the kids?” A sob erupted from her chest and the saline from her eyes now flooded her face as another sob consumed her. “We left them, we…”

“No Beth, we didn’t. I did. I’ve built contingencies for the people on our property and we still have leverage. We may no longer be able to interact with the people above, but we can still communicate with them. If they touch our place above, there will be consequences of eternal proportions. The thing the three of you still haven’t grasped is that everything we’ve designed and planned was in jeopardy. One day I hope you come to realize that you’re only perceiving this as an act of lunacy, in reality this was a calculated preemptive strike. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that bullies don’t become miraculously gracious. Now no one else will get to manipulate or distort whose progeny gets to walk on the purple planet. I don’t regret this, I wouldn’t give this up for anyone… The kids are going to be fine. They’ll live long, weird, end of the world”

Now Beth whipped the tears from her eyes. Jake’s resolve soothed the panic, but didn’t dull her ache. She exhaled loudly, “okay give me the rest of the tour, let me see how I can talk to the kids.”

Happy to finish the abruptly halted tour, Jake’s hand reached for Beth’s and when they met their clasp was warm in temperature, the way it is when warm and cold hands meet, but it was affectionate in temperament. A smile emerged on Jake’s face as he led Beth through the last door of the tour.

Shock gripped Beth’s chest, the kids were so different now… she turned to Jake, her jaw slack with awe. “How long were we asleep?”

“Seven years, it’s a trip right?”

Beth turned back to the screen and took in the crystal clear image of the teenagers. Her hand touched the screen, it was a subconscious act of verification. Uncertainty played hide and seek in her mind, this could all be a dream…she swiveled in her chair again; “Jake, how long were we asleep?”, she asked a little more aggressively. Frustration blossomed in her stomach and she let it bloom.

“It’s been seven years, and it’s perfectly normal to feel agitated right now. Cryo sleep takes some getting used to, you’ll see.”

The children’s voices called her back from her conversation with Jake. They had been telling her all about what life had been like up above, but now they were querying her about her life below.

“I can’t believe how old you all are…I’ve been”, she paused, “I’ve been sleeping this entire time”.

“You slept for seven years?” Asked the voice belonging to the smallest child. “Did you dream?”

“You know what, I didn’t.” She slurred the ‘t’ in ‘didn’t’, suddenly feeling extremely tired. Jake watched just outside of the camera’s view but entered the lens when he saw Beth struggling.

“Hey kids, we’ll talk to you guys a little later okay? She needs to rest a bit.” Then he ended the call. “Come on Beth, you need to move around a bit.” The first stop was the gaming closet. There, prominently centered was a chess table with a note from Xavier, you’re move…

Jake picked up the note and huffed, “man even his messages seem angry”, he said to Beth.

As if just remembering something, Beth snapped to, “oh yeah, where are they? Xavier and Ingrid?”

“They’re asleep if they kept to the plan, they would have started their slumber three and a half years after we did, so we’ll see them in about three and a half years. We can check the logs to make sure, until we do, I won’t really know.”

Jake frowned as he reviewed the logs, initially they resembled the work of a petulant toddler, including snarky updates, and snide comments; Xavier wasn’t done expressing himself. He even set his cryo room to go to sleep 4 weeks later than they had agreed, out of spite. It was clear to Jake that Ingrid took over responsibilities for organizing the audit trail. Miraculously things started to make sense and there was even a question left, hey Jake, it looks like the seeding phase is almost complete, which is odd. According to what I’m seeing we launched four nanospheres about a year ago..didn’t we?

Beth read the note over Jake’s shoulder, “what is she talking about Jake?”

“I sent four recon spheres out along the established route”, Jake said, shrugging.

“Why?”

“Well, data collection, clearance, tunneling, and transportation. These spheres are small so they don’t need a lot of space but they still need a path. The first two I shipped about a year before the other two in single file formation. The first sphere was equipped with a slightly denser coating, it was the bulldozer. It moved slower, but it cleared a path, which was really important. The second sphere drafted off of the first, which allowed it to save energy. That spared energy was used in data collection, I loaded that thing down with sensors and transducers, and it collected information from here to Unum. All of that knowledge was beaconed back to the third sphere still docked here waiting to deploy. The third sphere left a tunnel in its wake, and the 4th sphere moved the first zygotes; they’ve already been there a year.”

Jake then turned and entered, yes that is correct, into the log and then closed the screen.

Beth laughed, “so what do we do for fun around here?”

Jake shrugged, “I think there’s something you might like…”

He shifted in his seat for a moment and then shot up and clapped his hands together, “let’s go! I didn’t get to show you guys this before”, Jake said while pointing to tiny speakers positioned in the corners of the room that contained the kitchen and the living space. “We’re going to be stuck down here, so we should create some rituals right”, he said as his fingers twisted a knob and his foot began to tap. Regrets collect like old friends, the volume was still low, but Jake’s hand kept turning it up… here to relive your darkest moments… It took Beth a moment to remember, but at the top of her lungs she belted, “I can see no way, I can see no way”, and she was jumping up and down.

On beat Jake tossed her a giant drawing pad, then slid a pack of her favorite color pencils across the ground. She caught the note pad out of the air and bent over and grabbed the pencils, and the music blared, tonight I’m gonna bury that horse in the ground, Beth spun and landed hard on the couch and smiled with the chorus, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa…

Many more moments like this one were created as the years passed. Each time Beth sat and conferenced with the children they left behind, the less they looked like children. One day, they weren’t, in fact the day came when Beth looked younger than they did; her beauty preserved by cryo sleep while theirs eroded due to over exposure to time. Eventually, Beth met with the children of her children, it’s then that the meetings lost their appeal. She didn’t announce anything on the last they met, her wave goodbye was a little more melancholy than usual, but not enough for them to detect something may be amiss. The four of them stopped alternating cryo shifts with about 30 years left on Earth’s clock. To Beth, bonding with Xavier, Jake, and Ingrid, was the only version of an endless loop she could imagine reliving.

After another decade Xavier finally forgave Jake for pulling the lever that day. He’d made peace with the fact that his anger didn’t stem from being stuck underground with the people he begrudgingly, and privately referred to as his family. No, he was upset because now he would never have the chance to prove to himself that he could have created the life he fantasized about, now that the life of his dreams was taken from him. Xavier pursed his lips, “check”, and then smiled at the fact that after 37 years he could almost be Jake in a game of chess.

Ingrid stared at the monitor, she was even more obsessed with the status of Unum, its flares, rotations, revolutions, and atmospheric pressure. Jake made this her mission in life, literally, so she decided to fully commit to the role of savior. She’d never get any credit, and no one would remember the way she automated the zygotes’ organization process. The code she ran to ensure the veracity of the records. There were 9 billion distinct zygotes, packaged into 9 billion nanospheres prepped and ready to deploy, all coded with a number for 01 to 9,000,000,000. As far as she was concerned those weren’t just numbers, they were names and she felt like she knew each one. She often thought about how the first humans to grow on Unum would survive without names; like how would they know what to be called?

They are never going to get this, Jake thought. “No! Everything is going to be fine, the nanospheres are designed to dissolve once they embed into Unum’s surface. Once that happens the amniotic sac will grow with them until they reach viability. While in our case that was around 5 to 10 months, for them it won’t be until adulthood. They’ll wake up and have the strength to escape the sac and the depth beneath the soil.”

Blank stares, that’s all he ever managed to elicit when he discussed exactly how this was supposed to work. He actually thought it quite fun now, after all of these years Jake finally found the ability to relax. If none of this worked now, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. The processes were automated, the list was complete and everything was mapped out. All there was left to do was enjoy a life he loved more than the last. He never communicated to any of them that he was glad he was forced to pull the lever that day. A nightmare for many others, was his delight. His lips split in a small but honest grin, but underneath, deep down, it was the smile of the Cheshire cat. Glass clinked as the last drop of wine, from their final bottle, poured into Ingrid’s glass. All was right in the world, Jake thought, how ironic.

The others hesitated, while he waited Jake pressed his hand against his face with increasing pressure. Then, swiftly, the pressure was transferred into movement and his hand violently struck the table while the others still stood. “Please”, Jake whispered, “please sit”. Beth’s eyes bulged and Ingrid frowned, Xavier rolled his eyes, “so dramatic”, he murmured. Once they were all seated Jake leaned back in his chair. “I’ve known for some time now that someone would come for what we have, eventually. It doesn’t matter how much backing we have, how much money we have, or how transparent we’ve been with Unum’s population plan. Eventually, important people would realize their control of this entire situation could easily be found in the chambers of our silent pulses.” Beth reached for Jake’s hand but he gently pulled it away.

Old chairs creak when you stand, but it’s a sound Jake always found comforting. His chair sang loudly as he stood up from the table and walked over to the massive bookshelf that covered the entire far wall. “I haven’t been entirely forthright with you all…I’ve been working on a project and in this case, and my discretion served expediency. The ‘y’ rang in the air as Jake’s hand grabbed the binding of a popular classic, The Conundrum of the Claustrophobic Caracal, and pulled. The book angled down instead of sliding off the shelf and to the shock of everyone else in the room the entire wall moved away from them and then slid down into a floor pocket. Nonchalantly, Jake turned to his friends, “shall we?”

Beth rose first, curious as to how Jake could have kept such a seemingly huge secret, Ingrid pursed her lips then eagerly followed, unable to resist the urge to see beyond the threshold. Xavier lingered, he leaned back in his chair as if modeling for a pose of The Disgruntled Gentleman. His arms crossed over his sternum and he tried his best to shoot lasers in Jake’s direction. As Ingrid’s foot passed the threshold into the secret room, Xavier let out a curse and gave chase. After he was safely inside Jake pressed a button and the wall rose from the floor and then slid back into place with astonishing silence.

As they descended the wide faux wood stairwell the illuminative artificial light instigated rapid blinking until their eyes adjusted. Once they hit the bottom of the stairs a narrow corridor extended 20 ft. before them along its walls three doors spotted the white hallway; two on the right and one on the left. Jake stopped at the doorway on the left and nodded for Beth to look inside. When she walked into the room she was taken aback by the glass veneer and the room’s strange dimensions. Inside, the room seemed much smaller than one would have expected from the outside. A comfortable looking bed sat in its center and dressers adorned opposite walls. There was also a closet large enough to easily hold 5 standing adults, a bathroom with two sinks, a toilet room, and a shower.

Ingrid and Xavier were sent to inspect the other two rooms on the right, while the others were busy Jake patiently waited further down the hall in a room that adjoined a living space and kitchen.

With what one might suspect was planned synchronicity Jake’s three visitors exited their rooms and met in the hallway face to face. Ingrid leveled Beth with a look that expressed equal parts shock, amusement, and trepidation. Xavier spared both of the women a cursory glance and then sped walked his way down the hall to take a chair next to where Jake sat waiting.

“Jake, what is this place?” Xavier asked in a tone that demanded response, but the response was a raised hand telling him to wait; Xavier begrudgingly obliged. He drummed his fingers on the table while Beth and Ingrid strolled down the hall at a tortoise’s pace.

“Beth, this is weird right, I mean, what is this for?” Ingrid asked without looking in Beth’s direction.

Beth never took her eyes off Jake, nor did she answer Ingrid’s question. She wasn’t sure if she was exhilarated or terrified but she knew that this was a moment pregnant with consequence. She smiled as she watched a pouting Xavier sat next to an unperturbed Jake. “The two of them make strange bedfellows…”

A wry smile emerged on Jake’s face. “Well Ingrid, that’s for me to know.” Silence alerted him to the absence of children in the hall, so with piqued curiosity he slowly approached an open door. There in the center of the previously rambunctious group of kids sat Beth. She had turned this gaggle into an audience and she used a self-illustrated book to freestyle a story that mesmerized the kids. She noticed Jake watching from across the room and shot him a wink and a smile.

For a moment Jake forgot about the political struggle he was having with the old suits in DC, he was lost in another thought. He could feel Ingrid staring at his profile waiting for him to finish their conversation. “She’s the best of us, isn’t she”, he said, gesturing to Beth. “If I could send her to Unum, I’d gladly do it.”

“Yeah, okay, Jake, but what are you going to do about DC, really?”

“I’ll tell you what I’m not going to do Ingrid, I’m not going to sit around talking to them about it.”

“Have you noticed anything weird with the surveillance and increasingly frequent alerts we’ve been getting along our perimeter?”

“Not really, I’ve been a little busy Ingrid… what is it?”

“Well, I don’t think DC wants to talk about it either…they’re coming to make sure the future fits the version they’ve drafted up on their official documents and blood contracts. Are you sure this is a fight we want to have?”

“ I don’t want to have it, but I will. This never would have happened if Claire was still alive. What’s our timeline, you think?”

“I couldn’t say, but probably not long,”

“Alright I need some time to think, can you let Xavier know that I’d like the four of us: him, Beth, me, and you, to meet up later, say around 9, in the study? We’ve got to talk about this.”

“Okay, but why so late?” Ingrid asked as she stared down the hall in the other direction. When Jake didn’t answer she turned back, and he was already gone. She pulled out her phone and texted Beth. Your husband is planning some cloak and dagger nonsense for later, he said at 9 pm, in the study I would have told you in person, but you’re busy entertaining the rugrats.

Xavier was the first one in the study, what the hell has Jake been doing in here, he thought as he toured the room like he was a first time visitor. The door creaked open and he turned to watch Ingrid stroll in, she carried with her the energy of annoyance.

“What’s with you Ingrid?” Xavier asked

“I’m not sure what you mean”, Ingrid replied, then continued, “anyway, what’s going on with this room, it looks like some medieval replica of a castle’s bedchamber. These bookshelves are amazing though.”

“You know where all of these books came from, right? Like kids, Jake started ‘adopting’ them after the quake…though, I can’t imagine he has the time to read much.” Xavier’s back was to the door, he was preoccupied with a snowglobe. It was empty save for the words, ‘my favorite memory’.

“No matter what pleasant thought you’re thinking about when you’re in this room it’s safely trapped in that glass sphere until you replace it with a different one, it’s a good memory depository.”

The globe shot into the air, Jake’s face turned pale, and his mouth was aghast as time slowed. Jake’s eyes shot from the airborne globe to Xavier’s outstretched hands. Fear gripped his body, he couldn’t move; it felt similar to dreams where the dreamer is plagued by paralysis. Just before this object of affection shattered into oblivion and released every good memory he’d ever stored inside its safe walls Xavier’s hands cupped the glass.

“Jesus, Jake, you scared the life out of me!” Xavier howled.

“Not as bad as you just scared me Xavier, can you please put that down?” Jake said as the blood slowly returned to his face.

“What’s the matter with you two?” Ingrid asked, perturbed by the outburst of jolting noise.

“Hey guys”, Beth’s soft voice projected into the now quiet room.

“Great, everyone is here, grab a seat.” Jake said, as he pulled out a chair.

‘This action can not be reversed, would you like to proceed?’ Jake stared at the statement on the screen for just a little while before selecting ‘confirm’. The choice should have been harder for him, and it probably would have been if anyone else knew what he was doing. In fact, his own pettiness surprised him, after all these years he retained the desire to be vindicated. He glanced over at the piece of wall he’d had removed from his childhood home. For a moment he felt nostalgic, the piece of transported concrete not only carried Beth’s first mural for him, but it brought with it memories of his father. He scrunched his nose and shook his head, now wasn’t the time to reminisce fondly, it was time to execute a long planned plot of revenge. Well, calling it a plan was a bit too gracious, it wasn’t a plan it was just a plot. It didn’t keep him up at night, it didn’t plague his thoughts, but it was always there, silently waiting. Jake didn’t know how, or when, his plot would materialize, he just knew it would, and then there was an opening, and he took it.

Tragedy is in the eye of the beholder and the rest of that day Jake felt light as a feather. As far as he was concerned he was just fulfilling a long delayed, large order of comeuppance, and it was time to clear the books. When Jake was younger he and his dad were undesirable and forgotten. Repeatedly taken advantage of by a system that desperately clung to the established order that perpetuated society’s hierarchy. Now though, things were different, and part of Jake’s nostalgia was tied to the fact that his dad never got to witness the full extent of Jake’s rise. He was no longer forgotten, he was no longer undesirable, he literally held the keys to the castle, and he just permanently locked the door on six of the seven most influential families on Earth: Pembleton, Montague, Whitman, Clayton, Erickson, Raleigh, and Feters, he spared the Clayton family, to repay the kindness the elder Clayton had showed his family after his hospitalization. These families may have been among the ruling elite on Earth, but they’d never reach Unum, and they’d never know… no one would.

The office door clicked behind him and Jake knew it was locked. So he commenced his morning game of dodging the hallway children. They didn’t have a place to house all the people that needed to be relocated after the quake in Bakala so Jake bought a sprawling piece of land, 100 acres large, in upstate New York, and over the course of 10 years and with the help of Ingrid and Beth transformed it into a haven for the displaced, as well as state of the art lab for cryogenic zygote research. He looked up and saw Ingrid moving opposite him with enviable ease, Ingrid didn’t have to dodge the children, they dodged her. When she got close, Jake did an about face to join her, “how was your night, Ingrid?”

She stopped walking for a moment, then glanced in his direction, “It was…decent. We had a few late night calls from Washington, DC, last night. They are starting to coordinate initial deployments..what’s with that face?”

“How… we haven’t given them a final list. I want to make sure we aren’t just offering access to the usual suspects.”

“Meaning what, Jake?”

As he extended his arms outward he made eye contact with Ingrid, “do you see the people around us now?”

“Of course, I see the little rugrats, how could I not? They’re everywhere.”

“Well, these are the humans I want populating Unum. We aren’t selling seats, I don’t care how rich, successful, productive, esteemed, or whatever… insert any other descriptor we’ve used in the past to rank humans. We will not now use the money the wealthy would give us to preserve their lineage on our new planet at the expense of everyone else. I think we should do this a different way.”

“You’re probably going to be the only person saying that Jake. Back in DC and New York people are already drafting property rights and selling ‘Unum Futures’, half the planet is already “owned”, and the other half is for sale at a steep price. So, what are you going to do?”

I’m going to continue to write fiction, but there’s more content I want to share, I just wasn’t sure how to do that until a few weeks ago.

What’s a medium that provides continuity while still allowing for variety? You likely subscribe to one of these already, if not more than one. It’s a…

MAGAZINE

So, I’m starting one. This is my new header:

This is an image of my magazine cover:

These are things that I often read about and contemplate each day.

I’m not announcing a debut, I still have some research to do, but I wanted to let you know.

Have a great Saturday.

Reginald

Share Character Cognition

Seven years earlier…

Jake’s notebooks were bastions of wild ideas. The markings were more reminiscent of early man’s rock carvings than modern day writing; but Jake could interpret every symbol. The pages were full, even the margins had been exploited for their space, words careening off the page’s edge turned just in time to find a runway perpendicular to the page. These thoughts would not be ignored, abbreviated, or erased. There were at least 50 of these notebooks stored in Jake’s closet. Most of them were never retrieved after they were stored on the ‘notebook shelf’, but they all could be; they were organized in a way that made sense to their creator. The tamest ideas were sometimes transmuted into legible notes in Jake’s more refined digital journal, but his favorite ideas lived only on paper, in lead.

The rain hadn’t stopped all day, each drop carried with it a tiny parcel of inspiration; shipped expressed from the upper atmosphere, to all recipients below. Jake felt galvanized. There were some days when being alive felt magical; today was one of those days. To be awakened during the darkest part of morning with time to watch the raindrops race down the window’s glass pane gave Jake a moment of meta-realization. I am here now and I’m acutely aware of that fact, and it is a wonder.

Jake flipped on his desk lamp and cracked open his worn notebook. He flipped its pages until he found one unblemished by his pen’s stroke. He never could find the same color pen, his notebooks contained rainbows of ink. He wasn’t quite sure where this morning’s thoughts would take him, but he had an idea and it involved the most future-oriented, not yet possible, ‘everyone would be concerned if they knew I thought this’ concepts he’d ever jotted down.

What if it were possible to transport human zygotes, fertilized human eggs, through interstellar travel? Organic matter wrapped in something sturdy that could survive teleportation, what would that take?

-Note- *A large grain of sand is about 2.0 mm in diameter and a zygote is about .7mm so I suppose it’s possible…*

I’m just going to write this down. This is what we need to figure out, first we need to design and construct small capsules that are impervious to…I can’t believe I’m writing this… space travel and teleportation. So, it needs to be strong, flexible, and shapeable material. Then, we need to transport the zygote inside of these ‘escape pods’ and store them in a way that preserves life.

Jake looked up from his notebook and shrugged at the absurdity of what he was writing…

How much energy would this take and how much space would it require to store enough of these capsules to improve the chance of survivability? We’d need something equivalent to one of the largest data centers on Earth, but we’ll need hundreds of those….but what if? I’d need a way to test this, a prototype… is this even possible? I need to make sure Beth sees these notes, maybe she can bring them to life. After that we’ll coordinate things with Ingrid, she’ll know how to at least kick things off. I have to plan a way…

He’d been thinking and journaling for hours, and the sun had long been visible in the sky. Even so, Jake felt indefatigable until suddenly a wave of fatigue struck without warning and the result of this successful surprise attack was Jake’s outright plummet into the sleepy abyss. He woke up on the couch with his notebook resting on his chest, groggily, he sat up and stared out the window. His phone chimed; at first it sounded like a faint ring, but it was loud enough to call him back to lucidity. But when he arrived a sudden flush of panic rushed through him and his pulse quickened at the spike of adrenaline. He was late again but this time Beth was going to be pissed; she really went through a lot to plan the evening. So he rushed, spinning circles in the center of the living room in an attempt to ordain which thing he should do first in order to get out of the apartment fastest.

When he knocked on her door Beth’s face bared no hint of any of the emotions possibly swirling under her skin. Jake had rang the bell once and knocked twice in quick succession, his finger was on the ringer once again when the heavy wooden door swung open with surprising velocity, and he was met with her unexpressive face. He tried to walk in, but Beth not so gently placed a hand in the center of his chest, grabbed his bag and flung it into the house and slowly closed the door.

It was then that a wry smirk emerged from its camouflage of inscrutability, as she brushed by him headed in the direction of his car. “We’re going to be late Jake, you were barely on time and there’s no chance I’m letting you in the house. Come on.” It was a great evening filled with food, song, laughter, and libation. So you know what, Jake forgot about that notebook, he even forgot about that bag, he even forgot about the wild haired idea he scratched in ink earlier that morning. Much later Beth did find that bag, but just threw it in a bin where it sat collecting dust, layers of it; so much so that the bag’s color appeared to have changed. The week Beth moved she scoured her place from top to bottom, she peeked in every drawer and searched through every bag, and that’s when she found Jake’s wildest idea, wrapped in a notebook, and buried in the tomb of another bag.

She set it free and then she sketched it, championed it, and pitched it, first to Ingrid, who shared it with the people who knew how to create rough machinations from inspired notes. That was the day Jake solved the problem of reaching Unum, he just didn’t know it. During an insomnia plagued night, in an apartment all alone, the most preposterous thing Jake had ever put on paper was the very thing destined to perpetuate humankind’s existence. He should have known, inertia only yields to force; and our sincerest thoughts carry the largest magnitude of potency, but that potency is only potential; unless someone lights the fuse. For all of his gifts Jake still needed a team, it’s a good thing he had one.