Here's the latest installment of my current dark scifi project. This is chapter 13. 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.
The kits consisted of paper bags filled with smooth glass pipes, syringes, vials of naloxone, condoms, and all manner of other items. Making her rounds, distributing these kits to those in need, Jo visited the encampments of the unhoused, the corners where sex workers hung out, a couple of community organizations, and several residences. She told people about her organization's needle exchange program and medical services. She listened to stories of hardship and impossible lives. And in every interaction, she found affirmation that harm reduction was her calling, despite how taxing this street level outreach could be.
Today was Jo's last day on the streets for a while. She was moving into another role in her work, involving media appearances and policy recommendations. The shift felt right. Recent events had conspired to give Jo's voice weight, and she found the process of translating her years of experience into clear conversations to be deeply satisfying. Still, she'd miss the streets, and resolved to keep checking up on her people no matter where her new role took her.
Jo's last stop was an apartment in a building with a broken security door. Outside, a man who was constantly on his phone jumped into and out of cars. Entering the building, Jo proceeded to the second floor, headed for Dave's door. Dave had been a heroin user for over twenty years. Him and his partner Marty used the apartment as a flophouse for sex workers. Jo was looking forward to checking in with him.
When Jo knocked on the door, a woman named Shanice answered. "Dave's dead," she said without preamble. "He stopped breathing and the naloxone didn't work. We think it was tranq."
"Shit," said Jo. "You know, if you ever get a supply that you want tested, I can make that happen. How's Marty?"
"He's in county lockup," said Shanice. "That's a long story. You got more supplies for us or what?"
"Right here," said Jo, handing over a kit. "Is there a service for Dave or ... ?"
"He didn't have no one," said Shanice. "Too gay for his family. Too high for everyone else. You know how it is."
"Yeah," said Jo, sensing that there was something bothering Shanice. "Anything else you want to talk about?"
"Yeah maybe," said Shanice. "But I don't know if it's anything you can help with. We got a new kid, Peter, and he isn't cut out for the life at all. Surprised he isn't dead already. A few days ago, something bad happened, but he won't talk about it. All he does is sit in a corner, hitting the pipe or just laying there with a blank stare. Dave probably could've helped him, but now?"
"Is Peter here?" asked Jo. "Do you want to see if he'll talk to me?"
Shanice shouted into the apartment and a gaunt young man with dark circles under his eyes appeared a minute later. "What's up?" he asked.
"This is Jo," said Shanice. "She helps people. Maybe she can help you. I'll leave you two to talk."
Peter walked out into the hallway and sat down with his back to the wall. Jo sat next to him. "Hey Peter," she said. "What's going on?"
"Seriously?" said Peter. "Everything's fucked. That's what's going on."
"Ain't that the truth," said Jo. "But I'm more curious about where you're at. See, I've got connections to help people out of tough spots. That's part of my job. You feel like maybe you're in a tough spot?"
"Lady, you have no idea," said Peter.
"Try me," said Jo.
"Well, to start with, I predicted 321," said Peter. "I had a vision and wrote all about it on Facebook and Insta at the beginning of the year."
"Okay," said Jo. "Is it normal for you to have visions like that?"
"Sorta," said Peter. "But this is the first big one I ever shared. After I shared it, my family forced me into drug treatment. Still graduated and turned eighteen, but my family got all weird, treating me like shit, like I was supposed to be a robot but now I was just a broken robot. Like my programming was corrupted somehow, incompatible with theirs. So I left. And things only got worse from there."
"What happened?" asked Jo.
"I came to the city," said Peter. "No job, no money, no place to go. I started hitting the rock. Stealing and turning tricks. All that."
"That's a rough life," said Jo.
"I can't do it anymore," said Peter, beginning to cry. "I thought I was managing okay, but then the other night, I was on a date and the guy gave me some drug that made me black out. I said he could fuck me but only with a condom. Then I come out of a blackout and he's all in me with no condom and there's some other guy there, holding my arms. I guess I kinda lost it after that."
"That sounds really scary," said Jo. "You do know that what he did is assault, right? That it wasn't your fault?"
"Yeah, I know that," said Peter. "Not that it matters. Just one more thing I know that doesn't matter."
"However you might feel right now, you matter," said Jo. "Even if you don't matter to anyone else, you matter to me."
Peter looked over at Jo, staring deep into her eyes for a long moment. "You know, I had a vision about you, too," he said.
"About me?" asked Jo. "Sure you didn't just see me in the news or something?"
"Nah, this was an old one, already happened," said Peter. "You were eating dinner with a reporter when this weirdo came up to your table and told the reporter something important. You were wearing bee earrings."
"Oh my god," said Jo.
"See?" said Peter. "No one ever believes me about what I see. Part of why I like the rock. On it, there are no visions. No insights. No being smarter than everyone around me. With the rock, there's just numbness, and that false sense of power. Like a glimpse of heaven from hell."
Sitting there in the apartment building hallway, Jo had never felt more compelled to help anyone than she felt right in that moment. "Peter, I might have a way to help you, but it'll only work if you are in a place to accept the help," she said.
"What kind of help?" asked Peter.
"We can start with finding you a safer place to sleep," said Jo. "From there, if it works for you, we can start talking about ways for you to meet your other needs."
(Feature image from Pixabay.)
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