A story exploring time travel and societal issues in the wake of 9/11. This is chapter 37. See previous posts for chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36.
Pulling Thomas down a dirt trail through the dark forest, Trish squeaked and hooted in response to every sound made by the forest's many other inhabitants. Eventually, they came to a camp lit by torches, where everybody was eating popcorn.
"Popcorn!" said Trish, guiding them to an open area by a large fire. "I don't want any but I love the smell."
A guitar and a banjo played something festive. A man covered in dirt failed to keep a beat with a hand drum. Trish sprawled out on an area of packed earth. Thomas sat next to her.
"Did I seriously just get dosed by Mr Wachuski?" asked Trish. "Oh my god, there's going to be a global pandemic. What the fuck are we going to do?"
"Our best," said Thomas. "We'll do our best. There's no way it'll be as bad as T2's timeline. How could it be? Our world has already started to diverge from his and we've got The Federation."
"You know what I don't get?" said Trish. "Our rent-to-own properties. It really only cost a couple of billion to seed the whole thing, and now we're giving millions of people their rightful ownership stakes in the places where they live. Do you know what that means?"
"What does it mean?" asked Thomas.
"It means that anyone with a couple of billion could've done what we did, but they all chose to do things the wrong way," said Trish. "Rich people. The government. They're all the same. They're all against us. Oh my god! What are we going to do?"
"Right now, maybe just breathe," said Thomas.
"You know what I think?" asked a nearby woman. "I think people have already killed three-fourths of the insects off and sperm counts have been cut in half. Everything that we do to the world, we do to ourselves. And we don't just harm the planet, we're enthusiastic about it. We subsidize fossil fuels while Exxon pollutes communities of color. We're a people that's lost its way."
"Preach!" said the banjo player.
"So what do we do?" asked Trish. "Like, what would you do if you had the power to do it? I'm talking billions of dollars and tens of thousands of people? What would you do? You personally?"
"Give everyone ponies and toothbrushes," said a man in the shadows.
"Live music everywhere," said the banjo player.
"I think we should heal the wounded," said the preachy woman. "And give people places to just be, without someone profiting from the occupation of space."
"That makes me think of occupying space," said Trish. "As in, outer space. I hear they'll be mining the moon soon."
"Biggest cheese mine in the galaxy," said the banjo player.
"People are so divided and it's only going to get worse," said Trish. "Worse and worse."
"Oh, come on," said Thomas. "You, of all people, know that life is what we make of it."
"I know the gospel of T2," said Trish. "I know people are already drawing lines in the sand over things like race and gender while every real conversation about economic inequality gets sidelined. I'm sure they'll do just like T2 said and make the virus political when it shows up and starts spreading. It's hard to believe that people would be foolish enough to politicize a pandemic, but I'm sure they'll find a way."
"Say it, sister," said the banjo player.
"Pandemic?" asked the preachy woman.
"Yeah, it's starting this fall, but it won't bring the world to a halt until next spring," said Trish.
"What kind of pandemic?" asked the preachy woman.
"A novel coronavirus," said Trish. "COVID-19, I guess. SARS-CoV-2 is the virus. Covid is what they'll call the sickness caused by the virus."
"How do you know?" asked the preachy woman.
"I met a man from the future and he told me," said Trish. "Thomas here met him, too. He was Thomas' future self, in fact."
"It's all true," said Thomas.
"I've been visited by my future self, as well," said the preachy woman. "But the information I get is always less ... specific."
"One time I learned a song from a dream," said the banjo player.
A large dog ran through the area, impacting a log in the fire on its way past, scattering hot embers and ashes all over everybody. For a minute, they all attended to the damage, which was entirely cosmetic. Someone who'd been standing outside their circle came over and placed an inappropriately large pile of wood on the fire. Taking this as their cue to leave, Trish grabbed Thomas and they headed back into the dark forest.
As they walked, letting their feet find the packed earth path that their eyes couldn't see, Thomas looked up at the stars. Eventually, they found a blanket on the ground next to the path, surrounded by candles. Trish sat down and Thomas followed suit.
"Someone made a place for us!" said Trish. "Are they still here? Hello! Are you still here?"
"We're in the sky net," came a man's voice from above.
"It's sky people!" said Trish. "Thanks for lighting candles for us, sky people."
"Got any weed?" came the man's voice again.
Trish laughed, laying down. "So this is it," she said a minute later. "I guess, if the world really is about to fall apart like T2 said, laying here in the woods is a pretty good way to spend our time."
(Feature image from Pixabay.)
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