Welcome to Dystopia

by Gordon Van Gelder

  Mycroft came back!

  He wandered in this morning looking like he

  had slain a dragon and could eat a horse, but

  he’s still alive.

  YES!! i told you!

  i fell in love with a puppy yesterday

  that wandered up to the van

  his eyes gave me the same feeling your hugs do

  Are you going to bring him to the settlement?

  i wish.

  I can’t imagine you without a pet.

  i’m saving the world for all the pups out there, mom

  puntas arenas by tomorrow morning

  coastal route is flooded so we’re going the long way

  How’re your supplies holding up?

  we bought more fruit and stuff

  haven’t used the antibiotics since alexis

  its only a few more days til we get there

  mom we’re on the boat! the water is so blue.

  we got to cabo de hornos and for once everything went

  just the way it was supposed to

  loaded all the supplies we had left and now im on deck

  watching chile vanish

  its gray and blue here they may call it spring

  but it’s hot as hell!

  mom i know me going was hard for you. it was and is for me too,

  all the time.

  but i’m so excited to get there and start creating and living my

  purpose…in *antarctica* you know? ive always been obsessed

  with the place

  kay is already plotting data for the settlement long

  distance. we have the chance to save the planet. its terrifying and

  amazing

  I hope you can.

  of course we can mom! the planet is being saved right as we

  breathe

  I’m proud of you.

  Remember.

  be proud of yourself. you created me.

  mama we sighted the shore—king george. it’s green, with gray

  hills behind. and theres yellow flowers, mama. its so beautiful

  youd love it. we’re going to fix the world.

  SKIPPY’S VISIT EAST

  Michael Kandel

  Skippy: How you doin’, Doug?

  Doug: Okay.

  Skippy was happy because things were so quiet now after all the noise. When he went to visit his cousin in Green Wood, they didn’t get into an argument once, and Doug didn’t even frown. Well, maybe a little but not to notice. So he had made his peace. Skippy thought it was high time, too, after all the griping and groaning and yelling, which seemed never to end, this, that, over and over. As for Aunt Jade and her animals, now that the animals were gone, she didn’t have to raise her voice anymore, did she. Skippy remembered how her voice went into your ear like a knife when she got outraged, which happened all the time, with the news every hour on the hour. Both of them, she and her son, yelling and scowling, well but now that it came, the worst possible thing, and did its work, the world didn’t end, did it. Being angry does a number on your health, and if Aunt Jade didn’t break into her great horse laugh anymore, she was taking fewer nervous pills, Skippy saw, and there weren’t so many doctors she went to now, this speciologist and that. Of course there weren’t many doctors now, period.

  Skippy: How you doin’, Aunt Jade?

  Aunt Jade: I’m okay, Skippy.

  High time life got simpler. Okay, war wasn’t a picnic, war never is, is it, but hey you know who your enemy is, an enemy is an enemy, no two ways about it, whereas Skippy could remember how, before, no one was sure of anything because there were always a hundred opinions and people holding up signs on this side, that side, over and over. You didn’t need to strain your head anymore, because there were no questions left, really, just answers, and those answers, thank God, were every one of them clear, to the point, and didn’t have a lot of big vocabulary words. In school Skippy had always hated big vocabulary words and the people who used them like a club banging you down, stupid-stupid-stupid, into the ground. A person could relax now without sour brains in lab coats on TV giving their warnings in rocket science gibberish and pointing to their charts of doom-doom-doom.

  Skippy: Nice day.

  Doug: I guess.

  Doug lucked out, and what a relief that was, because after the government torture he wasn’t locked up because of his joining that religious group, which was really crazy. Millie saved him, a treasure that girl, using her personal connection to a big-dick billionaire in Connecticut. Okay, Calvin didn’t luck out, because of his color and last name, which maybe wasn’t his doing but hey folks, too bad, you can’t have everything: look at the apartments and parking lots and playgrounds underwater now around Blue Lawn, and look at all the cancer. A person, in Skippy’s opinion, should step around the downsides the way you step around dogshit on the sidewalk, when there used to be dogs. A person should think positive. It’s good for your ticker, they say, because there’s so much to be thankful for, when you stop and think about it. Like for example: no more drug addicts with tattoos on their necks and corks in their earlobes. No more homeless who stink like year-old cabbage and hold out their paper cups as if it’s your fault and not theirs. No more of those annoying reservation casino Injuns or those cabbies in turbans, with brown teeth and reeking. Mexicans, Jews, Arabs, Japs, Pakis, and queers all history.

  Skippy: Anything up, Aunt Jade?

  Aunt Jade: Not really.

  To add to the thankful list: no more ton of leaves to rake and bag every November. There’s not a tree left standing now, if you don’t count the few scraggly dwarf pines at the edges of the sumps, looking more dead than alive these days after the Chinese blight, or the Saudi blight, whichever it was, or maybe the radiation did it, but hey who cares. What’s past is past and not important. Skippy always hated history in school, American history, world history. They don’t do that now, or civics or current events, either, because education has got a whole lot more comfortable and positive, high time, too, not just in the heartland but on both sour coasts.

  Skippy: Hangin’ in there, huh?

  Doug: Yeh.

  Skippy: That big scar there don’t hurt you?

  Doug: Nah.

  They used to play, all four of them—Skippy, Doug, Millie, and Calvin—king of the hill on the steep landfill slope in the bird sanctuary north of White Shore, when there were birds and when there was air you could breathe without any protection, in the good old days before politics got in the way of everything. Kids laughing like crazy and never getting hurt. You fell, you rolled, you got up again. Aunt Jade would cook chili con carne for them in the evening, back when there was meat. God, it smelled wonderful. Or they would go hide-and-seek in the cemetery at the town border, among the old tombstones in languages no one could read anymore. Best friends every summer, for years. Of course today kids are a whole lot safer, after the militia guys took out all the terrorists, immigrants, and reporters with their semiautomatics and after the razor wire walls went up in every direction. Skippy sleeps with a Glock under his pillow and thinks of that familiar lump near his head as insurance. He doesn’t need it of course but you never know and why take a chance.

  Skippy: Great to see you, Aunt Jade.

  Aunt Jade: Great to see you, Skippy.

  At night, over his head when he gets home, in every room hangs a big color glossy of our shepherd, who is kind of like a father ten or a hundred times your size, and at the same time kind of like a buddy, who’s just your size. Our shepherd is no-nonsense and down-to-earth, and if he’s a badass sometimes, hey he’s a badass there to take care of you when you need taking care of. Skippy sees no pictures of our shepherd in Aunt Jade’s place, but he understands that it might be asking too much of her to put one up, time has to pass and wounds have to heal. He doesn’t like to come east anymore, to tell the truth, this is uneasy, treasonous country, where sadness and hate hang in the air like smoke that won’t go away, smoke on top of all the other crap a person needs a ma
sk for. But this is his only family now and he feels drawn, probably on account of all the memories.

  Skippy: Bye, Doug.

  Doug: Yeh.

  They used to go fishing, back when there were fish. Skippy never cared that much for fish, he was a meat guy, a juicy beef guy, but there was something wonderful about being on the water or in sight of it. The water made you feel clean and open and free. Now of course the water is nine-tenths scum and the permits cost so much. Skippy once reeled in a shark, and everyone was cheering. He was maybe ten then. Not a big shark, just a mud thing, maybe two feet long, ugly and thrashing all over the deck, but the fishing people slapped him on the back like he was a hero and had won first prize. He’s choking up now, on account of that memory. He has to swallow. It will pass, in a minute. Take a deep breath, Skippy, as you wave, leave, go out the door, walk to the road, and turn west. The armed guardian drones above you will comfort you and lead you in the right path for our shepherd’s sake. See, it was only a minute. Skippy feels better already. He’s okay.

  DESIGNED FOR YOUR SAFETY

  Elizabeth Bourne

  From: Sophie Goldstein

  To: Emily Wilson

  Date: July 12, 2020

  Subject: Got it!!!!!

  OMG I got the job! I’m so happy! I start at Patterson, Perkins, and Keller next Monday. It’s temp—the paralegal I’m replacing is on sick leave. Man, I can’t believe how many people are sick. It’s a little scary.

  I wanted to meet up with Krystal and Jennie at this 90s bar to celebrate my new job, but the mayor asked people not to “gather in public spaces.” So I’m buying champagne and we’re celebrating at my place.

  Anyway, the law firm is in this green building called The Muir. Hopefully, I’ll have a real office and not be in a basement hole like the last place.

  Tell me more about Liam. He sounds gorgeous.

  Ta!

  Sophie

  From: Sophie Goldstein

  To: Emily Wilson

  Date: July 19, 2020

  Subject: Here I am—employed!

  Sorry I didn’t email sooner, I’ve been crazy busy at work. So many people are out sick everyone’s doing OT to keep up.

  Disappointing that Liam didn’t show for your date, but prob just as well. Maybe you can hook up when he gets better. I guess this flu is everywhere. They say Patient Zero was located in some Chinese town called Yiwu, so I guess it’s the Yiwu Flu. Gives me the shivers.

  On to my office. It’s on the 14th floor and I have a view! It’s only houses, but daylight! You’d love this place. It’s one of five Core Green buildings: The Carson (Denver), The Gore (Portland), The Abbey (SF), and The Muir (Seattle). Company headquarters are in The Roosevelt (Omaha). This building’s The Muir, and it’s SUPER crazy green.

  Three of us newbs got an orientation Monday morning. The building is 100% off the grid. It generates its own power (solar), collects rainwater, and recycles gray water through a swamp filtration system on a terrace off the 6th floor.

  Everything is software-controlled. Heat, windows, shutters, and lights. There’s a rooftop garden with a barbecue pit, hangout spots, and a greenhouse growing vegetables that management gives to the local food bank.

  OMG composting toilets! I thought they’d be gross, but they’re OK. Everything flushes down to the basement where it’s composted. Some is used on the gardens; the city picks up the rest. We DID NOT tour the basement, thank God.

  The tour ended on the roof above the 22nd floor with a fantastic view of Rainier. Our guide gave each of us a roof-grown vegetable as a gift. A beautiful ripe tomato is sitting on my desk, I Instagrammed it. I could have it for lunch, but all I can think is that it grew in poo, so maybe I can’t.

  I know, you’re rolling your eyes, but you were the one into WWOOFing, not me. Oh, and there’s no parking garage; instead, bike racks are lined up under a beautiful big tree in this park-like area out front.

  This morning, two people collapsed on my bus. I freaked out! We had to wait for an ambulance to take them to the hospital. I’m glad I was wearing the face mask dad gave me. I don’t care if I look dorky as long as I don’t get sick.

  Stay healthy! Wear a mask!

  Hugs

  Sophie

  From: Sophie Goldstein

  To: Emily Wilson

  Date: July 22, 2020

  Subject: See you in October?

  It’s Overtime Saturday! I’m scheduled for Sunday, too. If this keeps up, I’ll come see you in October. My 90-day gig here will be over then, and with all this OT, I’ll have extra money in the bank. Let me know dates, and I’ll look for cheap flights because that’s why God made credit cards.

  Mom says my brother Jack drove down to Portland today because his GF is sick, and her family’s in Hawaii. I hope she’s ok.

  Hugs,

  Sophie

  From: Sophie Goldstein

  To: Emily Wilson

  Date: July 22, 2020

  Subject: Hilarious!

  You won’t believe this, but the building locked itself!

  I was working with Peter, one of the associates on this case, when the building announced, “This is an emergency. For your safety, the building has gone into lockdown. Please gather in the atrium where Core Green personnel will give you further instructions.” All this in a British accent. Why British?

  Anyway, the outside doors self-locked; the magnetic locks are controlled by the building’s software. And the exterior shutters closed up to the 11th floor. Why 11? Why not 10, or 6, or 3?

  The hilarious part is there is no emergency, and there’s no building personnel on site (weekend!).

  I took the stairs down to the atrium. Below 11 the stairwell lights turned on as they sensed me, so it’s not dark (if we don’t move, the building turns the lights off until we wave our arms telling it we’re still there). It’s creepy to see a wall outside the windows.

  Everyone who came in today hung out in the atrium, waiting. When nothing happened, a couple of guys tried to force the doors with a crowbar they found in the basement—no luck. About 30 of us are stuck.

  OMG, Mr. Jeffers, who’s the lead attorney on the case I’m working was SO PISSED! He called the building manager, shouting at him over his phone. I couldn’t help but hear.

  The manager said the weekend guy is sick, but he’d call Core Green Omaha to find out what happened. The building only locks down if it loses contact with the central computer, like in a terrorist attack.

  In the meantime, the manager promised someone will get right on it, if not today, then first thing tomorrow. So who knows? I may be sleeping under my desk tonight, an adventure for sure.

  About Peter. He’s been out of law school for a couple of years, no GF. Really nice guy. He has these amazing brown eyes, not handsome exactly, but did I mention the amazing brown eyes? Since we’re locked in, who knows what could happen?; D More later.

  Sophie

  From: Sophie Goldstein

  To: Emily Wilson

  Date: July 24, 2020

  Subject: Freaking out

  I’m still in the building. Unbelievable. No one showed up Sunday.

  This morning, people came in to work, but couldn’t get in. We saw them from the roof. They hung out around the tree where the bike racks are, waiting for the doors to open. We yelled down, they yelled up. Eventually, word spread. Everyone’s gone now.

  Mr. Jeffers called the building manager again, but his wife said he’s sick and can’t come to the phone. So Mr. Jeffers called a meeting. We met in the atrium.

  Turns out 35 folks are stuck here. We exchanged cell numbers and emails. Everyone’s mad. People have families they want to get back to. Betsy, who also works for Patterson—her ex called early this morning. Their daughter’s sick and he took her to the ER at Harborview. She freaked out, and I don’t blame her. I’m freaking out too.

  Mr. Jeffers met separately with Livia Trujillo. She’s a senior scientist at Kindness Labs, and the only other manager here. Kindness
is on 18, and they’re a cultured meat co., you know, the stuff grown in a vat.

  The two of them came up with a plan: call the cops and get a helicopter to pick us up from the roof (fire ladders reach ten floors up, and the building locks through eleven “for security”). In the meantime, Mr. Jeffers will keep calling Core Green. Someone has to answer.

  I saw on the news that things are bad in Chicago too, and there’s rioting in Boston, Atlanta, and Dallas. Nebraska declared a state of emergency Saturday; that must’ve triggered our lockdown. The talk on my newsfeed is that Washington state will declare a state of emergency tomorrow.

  Jesus. I can’t believe this. Stay healthy out there, and let me know what’s happening where you are. We’ll have some real stories to tell when this is over.

  I’d kill for a shower.

  Love, Sophie

  From: Sophie Goldstein

  To: Emily Wilson

  Date: July 25, 2020

  Subject: Really stuck

  The governor declared a state of emergency. The police turned our call over to the National Guard, and they said that as long as none of us are sick, we’re better off where we are. That we’re lucky. They’ll pick us up in two weeks when things settle down. I spent the morning crying. I’m really scared.

  The NG are going to air-drop food to the roof. Someone has to organize food, there are 35 people to feed. Mr. Jeffers volunteered, but Livia said she’s used to doing calculations for the meat vats, it’s best if she does it. I don’t think Mr. Jeffers likes her.

  Peter’s going to help Livia while I stay with Betsy. Her daughter isn’t doing well. She keeps calling the hospital, running her phone down, and then she has to borrow my charger. The line is always busy. It’s really hard to be calm and comforting when I’m so scared myself. Mom hasn’t heard from my brother since he left for Portland.

  At the evening meeting, Livia told us she reached someone at The Carson in Portland. People are stuck there too, one of them is IT, and she hacked into Core Green’s management files. The building maintenance software has a really strong firewall; she can’t get through, so no way to undo the lockdown. Livia said we should harvest the roof-grown vegetables; we can eat those. I guess I better get over the poo factor.