A DARKNESS PALE

DISPATCHES

…Irie came home and went to work making repairs on the money pit. Generally it seems, Irie was both hopeless and grateful for her predicament…

Dispatches

The apartment’s bathroom was the only part of the property the Abbey’s previous owner had attempted to renovate by installing an enormous copper tear-shaped bathtub. Irie always went in the tub first. The steamy water stung and soothed. She sank into the depths as she watched Toula peel out of her work clothes. Toula still possessed the tight dancer’s body of her youth. Her hippy bush was now streaked with gray. She slid onto Irie’s lap and for a spell both were silent, soaking it up. The tub was a refuge from the rest of the building, a place to be honored. The good bath salts Toula bought at Trader Joes, which were a bitch to filter out when they recycled the water, filled the damp air with wisps of citrus and thyme. 

Toula pressed herself against Irie in a way that made Irie’s menopausal boobs scream. Irie endured. She hugged Toula close. It was like hugging rebar and she made herself fart, bubbles rupturing around them.

Toula said, “Well then, at the sound of the horn…”

“Yes, commence.”

During the soak Toula shared what she felt were important current events related to the pandemic and the Big Dip – what Irie called The Update. 

“Okay,” Toula said. “The first thing I want to talk about is batteries.”

“Batteries?”

“According to something I read in the Atlantic, batteries are going to most likely stop working. Has to with all the chemicals in the precipitation. I didn’t understand it.”

“I always thought that shit was doing something.”

“Certain substances are getting too alkaline, apparently.”

“No more batteries,” Irie echoed. “That sounds like the next big deal.”

In 2022 solar storms, similar to the ones that had birthed the Jaracaras virus back in the 70s, created horizontal lightning strikes that blew out the national electrical grid and wiped out the internet. The aberrant weather then corrupted most heavy metals, halting the production of new electronics. All power grids were now micro, and none of them were close to functionality. The rich kept themselves insulated with batteries. And now this.

Toula continued. “Okay, so there’s that. Next, there’s an opportunity.”

“What for?”

“The alliance of LGBTQ AES workers needs a writer, someone who can put together character profiles.”

“This is for the class action lawsuit.” The one responding to the AES workforce losing their pensions, and all the other problems created from Sangold’s thievery.

“Yes.”

“But you know I’m not part of that.”

Irie knew not joining the suit made it look like she was defending Sangold. Not true. For whatever reason, Sangold had chosen to become a bad guy, and that made him her enemy. She hadn’t joined the suit because in her opinion it only made the situation worse. There was no money at AES. The suit only fucked things up more.

Toula said, “I thought because you used to write…”

“Got it,” Irie said. Toula thought community and activism were the greatest joys of life. If Toula told her to get involved she would. Irie was pretty sure Toula knew this. Would this be the day Toula gave her the order?

Toula said. “You know, it’s just me, once again being annoying, trying to get you involved.”

“Understood,” Irie said.

Toula said, “I’ve heard more talk about hazers getting set on fire.”

“Oh no.”

The Covid pandemic had killed ninety-eight percent of the hazer population, destroyed the hives and Now Cherished and ERA. Now there was also major hazer backlash. Irie had spent her first twenty-five years at AES battling against radical hazer ratshas, and the last five battling against ratshas trying to genocide the hazers who were left, who they thought created Covid and were incubating a newer deadly variant.

She could feel Toula tensing up. She hugged her closer. Toula was excellent at winding herself up. “It’s okay,” Irie told her. “You’re with me. Nothing’s going to happen to you while I’m around.”

Toula’s muscles relaxed and now she seemed to melt into Irie.

“Is that it?” Irie asked her.

“No. Scarlet was telling me she’s been hearing about something called death quakes. Have you heard about those?”

“No.”

“Yeah, she was saying clusters of people are dying, all at once. In random places. Sometimes it’s a neighborhood. Sometimes it’s bigger. The government’s trying to suppress information because that’s what they’ve been doing with drifting and now this, right? They have no idea what the fuck’s going on, and they think if the general public found out then the whole house or cards would fall.”

“I think the cards already fell. We’re still standing. You’re stronger than you were before the pandemic. I think you’re blessed.”

“I’m blessed because I have you in my life. I’m ready. Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Irie said. She stood up, scooping Toula into her arms. Her back was on fire. Her shoulders were numb. “I’m always ready with you.”

…A visit…