Here's the latest installment of my current dark scifi project. This is chapter 25. 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.
Anabelle and Peter became inseparable. At the apartment, she worked on her songs while he drew pictures. At night, they'd go out together, exploring the city. One night in a nearby neighborhood, they came upon a party spilling from a building out into the streets.
"Hey, what's going on here?" Peter asked a passerby.
"GSG meeting out of control," replied the passerby. "They're doing dabs in the bathroom if you want in."
"Yeah, thanks," said Anabelle. "Wanna check it out?"
"Maybe just for a bit," said Peter.
The empty storefront contained dozens of people. Half of them were sitting in a circle, humming in unison. The rest were dancing to music on their phones or milling around with bottles in their hands. A card table with GSG literature suggested that this was indeed a meeting space. "I feel like I've seen enough," said Anabelle, watching a guy drunkenly lean on the card table to avoid falling over.
"What the fuck even was that?" asked Peter as they left, the cold night air clear their heads.
"I don't know, but I feel like we need to tell someone about it," said Anabelle. "Wanna go to the GSG at Hoot's?"
"Okay," said Peter. "You know what that was like? It was like a bunch of people doing a parody of having a good time. Like they had no idea how to really feel good, so they just acted crazed instead."
"Yeah, even their humming together sounded off," said Anabelle. "Forced. Almost like kids singing religious songs without understanding the words."
At Hoot's, the perpetual General Support Group was much more subdued than the meeting they'd just come from. There were only three people sitting there. Sam, the group's main facilitator, Hoot herself, and a guy in a torn suit. Sitting down, Anabelle introduced herself and described the scene at the other GSG, passing around her phone so everyone could see pictures of it.
"Thanks," said the guy in the torn suit, getting up. "Guess I got somewhere else to be now. See you all later."
Peter burst into laughter. "What the fuck is wrong with people?" he asked after regaining control.
"So many things are wrong with people," said Hoot. "I know the person responsible for the Flag Street GSG space. I'll give her a call, see what the problem is."
"That's not the only meeting that's devolved recently," said Sam. "It's happening all over. I've been getting texts about it for the last few days. We facilitators are trying to figure out what to do about it. But it's tricky."
"I just think it's shitty," said Anabelle. "Both Peter and I are doing our best to live clean, and GSGs are supposed to be supportive of stuff like that. What if we had really needed that meeting? If we weren't just passing by, but really needed help? Who would help us there? The leader of the hum circle? The guy peeing in the potted plant?"
"You're right," said Sam. "You're right! How can we do better?"
"Maybe try a little accountability," said Hoot. "I'll be holding Nancy Johnson personally accountable for Flag Street. That's her property and I'll be giving her an earful. There's nothing wrong with partying, but GSGs are sacred space."
"They're supposed to be," said Sam. "And I feel like we do a good job of maintaining that here. But there's been a massive influx of newcomers these last few weeks, all over the country. People with huge problems, looking to escape those problems. We facilitators are just as fallible as anyone else. Some of us aren't handling the influx very well."
"No kidding," said Peter. "One thing that I've been working on lately is processing experiences as they happen by paying attention to how I'm seeing the experiences."
"Can you say more about that?" asked Sam.
"Like tonight," said Peter. "In the past, if I came across a party like that, I'd jump right in there and lose myself in it. But tonight, the whole thing looked empty to me. Empty and fake. The hum circle looked like people with fake spirituality trying to pray. Everyone guzzling booze and dancing to different music on their phones looked like people disconnected from each other but faking the feeling of being connected. I don't know. It's easy to dismiss that stuff as individuals acting out or whatever. But what I saw was more like a group mind plugged into pure escapism and denial of reality."
"Denial is a natural response to sudden change," said Hoot. "To be honest, I'm still in denial about everything we're doing here. The thrift store. The community space. A year ago, this was just an idea. But now it's all happening, and sometimes I can't believe it."
As she spoke, someone new came in and sat down. "Oh, hey Peter," said Jo. "Listen, I might need to talk about Tom. Can you keep what I say in the room, or should I try a different group."
"Maybe try Flag Street," said Peter. Everyone laughed, including Jo once Anabelle showed her pictures of the party.
"We were talking about denial," said Sam. "But you're welcome to do a two-minute check-in."
"Okay," said Jo. "I mean, the entire country seems to be having a breakdown. Three of my Harm Reduction colleagues have left their jobs to go find themselves. My job puts me in contact with the kinds of people I despise and I have to help them. I know I should want to help them. I should want to help everyone. But it's all so fucking intense and it never stops."
"That's good," said Sam. "Is there something more specific you want to share?"
"Too much," said Jo. "In the middle of all of this, I'm totally in love. Like, totally. The problem is that the guy doesn't exactly fit in with my other friends. One of my friends actually came to my apartment to accuse my boyfriend of working for the CIA. It was total bullshit, obviously, but why would she feel motivated to pull something like that in the first place? We talked about it and of course she feels like she's losing me to this new relationship. But so what? That doesn't give her the right to try and mess with this good thing in my life."
Peter chuckled. "Sorry," he said. "It's just that I've seen how Tom organizes his computer files and I doubt that's how the CIA does things."
"Right?" said Jo, smiling. "Still, I'm pissed at my friends and wish they could just be happy for me. Talk about denial. It's like they're in denial about me becoming a new, better person. I'm not trying to leave them behind, but they're acting like they're not really with me anymore."
"The only old friend I still talk to is Bonnie," said Anabelle. "I say good riddance to people that can't be supportive of growth. Learned that one from Bonnie."
"Maybe it's mostly a matter of time," said Peter. "Like, I love my family, but I feel like they'll need a couple of years without me before they'll even be capable of seeing the person that I am. The person I'm becoming."
"You know what I think?" asked Jo. "I think I'm mad at my friend for trying to sabotage my relationship because I'm secretly afraid that I'll sabotage it all on my own. Which is stupid for a million different reasons, but fear isn't always rational."
"Great share," said Sam. "And I wonder if we all can't relate to that feeling on some level. The fear of ruining the good things in our lives. I know I can relate to that. My last relationship, I kept choosing work over my partner for no good reason, until things eventually ended. I'm still struggling to understand why I did that."
"Oh shit," said Peter, getting a faraway look in his eyes. "I think I just put something together. Something important. Excuse me. I need to go make a phone call."
(Feature image from Pixabay.)
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