Continued from: Devastation: The Life After Part 4…

As I left the geofence I had to put 116 out of my mind for the next few hours.

The workday was a slog. I found myself replaying Samuel’s words through my head on repeat. I knew I would have to watch the video for the meetings that I sat through that day; I would not be able to count on my lackluster notes. Images from news articles formed in my mind’s eye and shadows lurked at every mental turn during the day. Many spoken words became triggers for me. Many of the things that we had existed during his time, but I found myself with a critical eye. I analyzed everything: thoughts, actions, things. The world, while different, was not what the futuristic stories wrote about. It was more of a gradual change over time. The big wow’s of floating cars or light travel had not happened yet. Teleporting theories existed but we were no more tangible than the in-depth idea of it.

Things progressed as things often do and I felt myself wondering – what am I taking for granted? I passed the time searching the internet on my Linx, the personal computer brand that changed how we used computing technology. I was a teenager when that change happened. In 2033, expectation was that a person had several devices to fit their needs. A personal computer, a tablet, a phone, and then a gaming platform of their choosing. The fact that my computer could bend to various shapes, eject a personal device such as a phone, or seamlessly fold to make a tablet-style device was a game-changer. It removed the need for several devices by combining all functions into one device, linking all of them The Linux system which allowed flexibility was appropriately named Linx. It was one of many tangents that I followed. That train of thought led me down an internet rabbit hole. In between meetings, my free time dwindled search by search within the archives of our world.

A sharp ping echoed in the hallow Office space as a banner was cast in the corner of my screen. A weighted breath filled my chest as I read the name, Jack McClain. Childhood memories of my father and me filled my head. We would walk through the outdoors and I would hear stories that his dad told him and his dad did the same. I never went without, as a child. I never noticed any difference in those memories. Through a child’s eyes we were normal. Those memories are full of the outdoors and smiles but almost all without a mother. The distance started to present itself as I grew into an older set of eyes. The email subject line read “Checking on you, son.” I felt a resistance course through my veins as I knew the next course of action would change my day. A battle of emotional well-being erupted inside of me while I tried to make logical sense of the actions I could take. My father, removed from the world, would reach out from time to time to stay in touch with me. A computer was the extent of his tech-savvy life.

Tucking the feelings away, I assured myself that he was not reaching out for anything urgent with an email, carrying the title that it did. I shook it off and was saved by a text from my partner. “Done early, see you at home.” Business as usual, I smirked. Our relationship was not full of butterflies and flowers, but we did enjoy each other’s company. Some would call it convenient, but it was what worked. I Looked at the clock and realized that the workday was nearly over. I selected the text from Maggie and replied asking if she wanted me to grab takeout. It was Friday night and going out to a restaurant was a full night in itself so, we generally did takeout.

Going to a restaurant consisted of a pod-like atmosphere where the air was controlled, UV filters and distance were on the menu. Since there were public restrictions businesses either increased their floor plan to have more space or reduced the available seating. Many of the businesses have closed over the years, not being able to adapt, even in the 50’s. New businesses were built larger than they once were and the layouts were flexible being built with constant change in mind. New experiments, movements, rules, and regulations appear from time to time as concerns are raised of new threats. A curbside pickup was just as handy. I looked at my computer. “Linx, Order food” then I paused, and said “the usual.” The transaction completed in moments which was followed by a confirmation that it would be ready in 30 minutes.

On the corner of my desk, I saw the files that Rob dropped off as I had requested. I had forgotten with all of my meetings and mental escapes. The incomplete files from the 116 mystery. I opened the manilla folder and perused the documents before settling on the first page. The contents were standard tenant files with the application on top. The date of his application was marked as April 2015. He had lived at the complex for several years before… The documents were worn from the years of handling and a tint offset the once white pages. Paper was very common around that time. Unlike now, digital copies existed but paper copies were kept for easy access. Thumbprint signatures were not a standard method of signature until nearly a decade later. I read through the documents, front to back, and my enthusiasm to understand emerged.

The files tell the story of a man who was seclusive, even for the Devastation era. Files like this were only in-depth when we had to investigate and any public records stay with the tenants file. Many people who survived the waves did so by fear alone. They were hyper-vigilant in maintaining sanitary conditions, adept in technology, and the latest prevention methods. Stories familiar to me compared them to “Doomsday Prepers.” That term, while familiar to me from reading, disappeared over the years. These people would maintain distance often with extreme measures in fear of coming into contact with the illnesses. His file confirms that he had some of those tendencies as well. The documents also had interesting statements such as “…only associated with a couple of other apartments…212…” We captured many details about an applicants story.

In the back of the folder, it contained a police report which shed light into the case mystery but created some of its own. I felt like an undercover detective until I became even more puzzled. The reports also contained statements from various people and clips of notes from Samuel’s journals. The tenants went missing and could not be found. An empty vehicle was found with DNA from several of the missing tenants indicating that they had been there at one time. Papers inside described the world collapsing, desire to end everything, and treatment protocols for someone infected by the disease. With the outbreak in full throttle, the case was ruled as likely suicide and/or homicide after the group was almost certain to have been infected. That, combined with the dramatic notes, missing persons determinations were made. The case went cold. They would not be the first group to buckle in this way. The stress levels were extremely high according to most reports during the Devastation years.

It was a cold-case. Unknown ending… I replayed everything in my mind trying to make sense of the murky, at best, story. The tenants allegedly were together. The notes of world collapsing, comments of ending it and missing persons during the midst of a global pandemic created a cold case later ruled as a possible homicide, suicide… but there was also the potential of going off-grid. I had not thought about that prior to my dad’s email. Off-grid was a term that gained popularity around the time of the Devastation, for people that removed themselves from society. The idea became more common and was usually the result of a major event. My dad, for example, changed his life after the passing of my mother. While it still carried popularity in a cult-like following, few were able to continue the life post-pandemic. I remembered the email in my inbox “Checking on you, Son.” I needed to go get the food.

I looked around at my small office with a weighted feeling. My pod. We called a lot of things pods. A modern-day eponym. Pod was a company that specialized in designing small spaces that controlled the environment and incorporated pandemic precautions. It was a place where the in stayed in and out, out. While inside my office, I did not run any risk of contamination outside of my office door. I could be inside of my office without my PPE while everyone in their offices was safe too. What was it that was bothering me? The email, the bizarre turn of events from Samual’s file, business as usual texts, or maybe it was the realization of our technological lives? How could I be tired of a life that I did not know any difference from? I was asking foreign questions of myself. I closed my Linx and placed it in my work bag. There was also that suspenseful let down in my mind. My detective side enjoyed being on the edge of my seat for the next audio installment. The journals that were in my passenger seat suddenly carried less value to me.

I slid on my PPE and tossed my work bag over my shoulder as well as my personal bag. I closed my door behind me and used my thumbprint to engage the lock. I looked down the row of offices and the pods in the center of the room. The last real infection seemed so long ago, and fairly insignificant. It was no worse than the influenza. I wondered if that length of time was due to our prevention programs or did we overcome the obstacles we were meant to and were enduring things that we did not need. The lights shut off one-by-one as I exited the building. They toggled automatically, reacting to the fact no one else was in the building. With all my observations my exit took longer than it normally would have that night. Strolling towards my vehicle, I paid close attention to my personal macro. The rituals of Jake.

The AAOS buckled me into my seat and I instructed Alexa where to go. The car approached the intersection and monitored the traffic for the ideal gap, before pulling into the right lane. I started the trip in silence. I had imagined all day long that I would be continuing the narrative of 116 when I left work. While at the office, I was not really there. Losing appreciation for the silence, I decided to put music on to listen to. “Alexa… play the driving remix,” which she confirmed and started playing. A classic alternative rock song began to play in the background. It was a song that I have heard many times before.

The aged man cranked on a reel and the spool jittered around like a bobbin from a sewing machine. It was spring in 2023, and one of my first memories. Music played from an antique MP3 player while he lip-synched the words. A tackle box was open with several tools were scattered from use. The garage door was up and a gentle breeze carried fresh cut grass into our space. A woman sang along in the distance with the smell of pizza from the kitchen. His eyes glistened as he looked over; full of joy and hope as I drove old Matchbox cars throughout the bench countryside that I had made. My father looked over and asked, “We are going to catch the big one tomorrow, aren’t we?” I nodded and heard my mother call from the other room “Dinner is ready…”

The song suddenly switched to Samuel’s narration. I was rubber-banded into my car and started to focus on the passing trees. “The seeds had been planted and would take root over time. Getting out…” The micro-recorder was bumped and the Bluetooth automatically connected. I looked over seeing what had happened as the words became clear again. “There has to be another world out there. A world where we are going down a different path than we are currently going down. (clears throat) One where people rely on each other and regardless of your lot in life – you have a voice in the grind of life.” I stared out of the window and watched the median shift over on the highway: gold, gray, gold, gray, gold… Then the turning signal clicked on sounding like a metronome. The AAOS began to slow the vehicle down and fade off of the main traffic-way to exit. After a couple of immediate turns we coasted into Chu’s Take-out and Gourmet Buffet. I stopped the audio.

As I was parked, I activated my mask and the app notified the restaurant that I was there. I tapped the audio again to resume the rock song with the volume low. I texted Maggie that I was at the restaurant and will be heading home in a moment. Predictably, she was working on a project at the table and was hungry, or something to that effect. After the long day, I was ready to check out for the weekend. I was not sure what I was looking forward to exactly, but I was ready for it. The waiter brought out our food in a large carryout bag and I placed it in the passenger seat. I picked up the journals and moved them to the side. As I picked them up one slid through my fingers and fell halfway open landing on the floorboard. I picked it up and could see it was not like the other journal entries: date followed by paragraph. It was hard to make much of it out in the dark and I was worried about the food. I had already received my answers but I could see the bold lines formed what resembled a floor plan… Questions formed in my mind as I tried to make out the design but it was not legible at the moment in that lighting.

“Alexa, home, quick route…” The car turned to drive mode and started to back out. I would look at the entry when I got home.

Read more of the Devastation Series.
Devastation: The Life After Part 1
Devastation: The Life After Part 2
Devastation: The Life After Part 3
Devastation: The Life After Part 4
Devastation: The Life After Part 5
Devastation: The Life After Part 6 (coming soon)