Here's the latest installment of my current dark scifi project. This is chapter 5. If you're just tuning in, consider starting with chapters 1 and 2. Be advised that this work considers difficult subjects, including suicide. If you're in crisis, please seek help. Help is available here.
After 321, it took a while for mainstream media to settle on a message. Conservative outlets oscillated between casting the event as a liberal conspiracy to undermine family values and as a public health threat to be stamped out. Liberal news outlets, meanwhile, couldn't decide if 321 was the fault of the Republicans because they opposed affordable healthcare or because they denied climate change. Then, after federal guidance was issued and the Messages became public, mainstream media uniformly began speaking in terms of 321 Syndrome and how contagious it might be.
Nationwide emotional chaos was the initial response to 321. There was sadness and outrage. Fear of what might come next. Crises of values and meaning. Some people had jobs that gave them space to process these things. Many others had jobs that required their full attention at all times. Before long, so many workers were preoccupied with 321 that large swaths of the economy slowed and malfunctioned in unexpected ways. This put pressure on the already beleaguered workforce, and major strikes began.
Nurses went on strike over corporate policies that prioritized hospital profits over patient care. Prisoners went on strike over basic human rights and were universally isolated in lockdowns as a result. Tech workers went on strike over industry ethics. Then a general contract workers strike began, with over a million workers demanding living wages and affordable housing from clients who would never pay for those things.
Chase Kuhn was a recruiter who was pretending to be a part of the strike on social media while continuing to service his contracts as best he could. Business was slow with such tight labor markets, and he had a $6000 townhouse payment to make every month. Chase knew he needed to be more aggressive, but his head wasn't in the game. He'd hit somebody's dog with his car not long ago, and this was all he could think about.
Desperate to return to normal productivity, Chase sought out one of the new general support groups, or GSGs, that had sprung up all over after 321. The one he found was housed under a large tent canopy in the parking lot of a mini mall. There, a handful of people sat on patio furniture. "Hey do you need a hug?" asked one man as Chase joined the group. "I'm Colin, but it's okay if you don't want to say your name."
"Chase," said Chase, sitting down. "So how does this work?"
"We usually start with what brought you here today," said Colin.
"I'm here because it feels like everything stopped on 321," said a woman with a polkadot scarf.
"I'm just here to be around people," said a man in a camouflage jacket.
"Well," said Chase, thinking about the emptiness in his life, feeling raw emotion surge unexpectedly through his body. "I don't know what's wrong with me. Wait, shit, even that's not true. Everything is wrong with me. My whole job is making money off of other people's work. Most of my decisions are about keeping up appearances and for what? For who? I lie to everyone, especially myself. And to top it all off, I hit some lady's dog the other day. I mean, what is wrong with me?"
"Well, are you eating and sleeping?" asked Colin.
"Yes, but not well," said Chase.
"Do you have people in your life to talk to?" asked Polkadot. "That's what we were talking about before you got here. About nurturing the relationships that nurture us."
"Kyle, you look like you want to say something," said Colin.
"I don't know," said Camouflage, whose name was apparently Kyle, looking at his feet. "It's like, a part of me is just tired of everyone's stupid bullshit. So I drive people away, then I feel alone."
"You're wearing realtree camo in Danbury, Connecticut in the summertime," said Chase. "No shit you drive people away. They think you've got a screw loose."
"Maybe I do," said Kyle. "Or I want them to think that. It's better than being invisible."
"How do you want people to see you?" asked Colin, his voice carefully neutral.
"Like a real person," said Kyle. "Not as some extra in their shitty movies."
"Have you ever heard the term character armor?" asked Chase. "I learned it in school. It's basically the stuff we use to hide our true selves from the people around us. Not trying to be a dick here, but I think your camouflage jacket is a textbook example of character armor. If you had the choice to wear anything at all, is that what you'd still choose to wear?"
"I just like that it has good pockets," said Kyle, looking at his feet.
"You know, you're about my size," said Chase, talking without knowing what he was saying. "I have a nice sport coat in my car. I had to cancel my club membership so I never use it anymore. It's got great pockets, inside and out. And it's green with brown elbow patches, so your color scheme would stay consistent. If you want it, it's yours. I'll go get it right now."
"I don't know," said Kyle.
"Oh, at least take a look at it," said Polkadot.
"Fine," said Kyle. "I'll take a look."
Jogging over to his car, Chase didn't know what was happening. He'd come to the GSG to talk about his own problems, and instead found himself wanting only to help this stranger. Getting the sport coat from his trunk, Chase returned to the group and held it up for Kyle, then handed it to him. Kyle looked the coat over, then removed his camo and tried the new garment on.
"It feels ... lighter," said Kyle. "It feels good. But are you sure? Isn't it too nice?"
"It was expensive, but who cares?" said Chase. "I never do anything nice for anyone. Why not start today, with this?"
"I can't believe it," said Kyle, emotional. "It feels ... thank you. Just, thanks."
"June, are you alright?" asked Colin.
"Don't mind me," said June, grinning while wiping at her tears with her polkadot scarf. "It's just that seeing this reminded me of how good people can be. I guess I'd forgotten."
After stretching out in his new coat, Kyle sat back down and a look of great pain crossed his face. "I need help, you guys," he said. "I need real help. Without it, I'm afraid I might do something bad. Something terrible."
There was silence for a moment as the group absorbed these words. "As the GSG facilitator, there's a number I can call," said Colin. "We can get you plugged into emergency mental health resources, but the system is new, and you might not have much control over what happens once I make the call. And remember, we're here for you, whatever you choose."
"Okay," said Kyle. "Make the call."
(Feature image from Pixabay.)
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