Continued from part 6 of the Devastation Series.

The words trailed off as my vision blurred…

I jolted forward as my head rolled to the side. A small string of saliva rolled down my chin. I used my arm as a napkin and Looked up to the clock on the wall, which read 03:00 AM. With a throbbing pain behind my eyes, I Walked up the stairs to a still house. Night lighting activated as I walked through the house, showing me the way. I stuck my head into the bedroom and saw that the bed was still empty. Groggy and squinting from the shooting pain, I walked into the bathroom to get something for my head. I selected an acetaminophen cocktail from the OTC-Lite, a small medicine dispenser, which contained almost anything over the counter that you would need. It dispensed and I slurped it from the small shot-like cup. I wondered where Maggie could be, but I was still too out of it to panic or express much concern.

I did not want to be upstairs. Maybe it was the alcohol talking or the lingering tension from the argument earlier. Food crossed my mind, but my stomach was turning from rapid drinking. I stumbled through the house back down the stairs, and relied on the handrail to get down. I stopped by the desk and ejected my phone from the Linx while I set the room to relaxation mode. The notebook was open to an entry but I was in no shape to read it at that moment. As I replayed what I could remember of my day, I scooted over to the couch. I pulled the phone out of my pocket and sat down. I maneuvered through the apps and opened our locations app. Maggie was at her sister’s, which meant that she was probably expressing how she felt about things. While I liked her sister, their relationship is full of storytelling and victimizing. I can imagine that I have put her through so much; I could hear the words falling out. I bit my tongue and switched to text. I replied to my last message to Maggie with, “I am sorry that you’re upset with me. Be safe.” and closed the app.

My mind – free of most normal confines started to think of life as I knew it. I laid back on the couch, accepting my bed for the night. Typical drunk thoughts streamed through my mind, but I soon became hung up on my meaning of life. With the argument, the contact from my father, this tenant, and memories of my mother, I was stuck in a cycle of reflection. Everything seemed to be in extremes in my life. All or nothing, as it were… Maggie was pro-tech and could not pass up the next new thing. My father was against everything that substituted what a person could do for himself or herself. Where did I fit into this equation? Am I happy… really happy? I felt like I was ping-ponging my way through life. A chameleon in my environment that successfully navigated without being seen. Thoughts of imposter syndrome were not foreign to me but were enhanced under my current condition. What was it that I was missing? I felt like work was going well and aside from this case… Case… The thought sent my brain in a frenzy. My job was to check out the apartment and prepare it for renting that was it. I have made it so much more this time. What was it about this case that intrigued me? I imagined what the world would have been like before the “Devastation” which led me back to thinking about my father. I closed my eyes and explored my thoughts.

 ***

I looked at the clock and it was 8 AM. The initial “did I sleep in” panic stirred me and then I remembered it was Saturday. I laid my head back on the couch pillow. I rubbed my eyes and held my head which ached from last night’s choices. My stomach ached from being empty so I sat up slowly and swiveled around on the couch. I replayed the evening and early morning thoughts back and stopped while wondering what I am really doing? Is Maggie home? I slowly stood up and staggered up the stairs. Slightly hungover and still waking, I headed towards the fridge.

I chuckled to myself, remembering the thoughts of what it would be like… before. I wouldn’t have had this modern kitchen, I answered my question. “Alexa brew coffee, strong, to-go cup.” Across the kitchen, a cup dropped and the beans started to be ground. “Alexa, prepare the oven, making an egg,” the command illuminated the stove and a click as it turned on. I grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and found the beaten egg from the menu on the fridge. I held the bowl underneath the spout and pressed the button sequence for two scrambled eggs. The fridge automated and the sound of two shells cracking and being whipped together added life to the kitchen. The coffee started to pour while the yellow mixture streamed out of the prepared food nozzle. I grabbed a pan from the hanging wall shelf and poured the mixture in setting the skillet on the stove. “Alexa, two toasts, thick, cooked medium,” several clicks echoed in the kitchen as the two pieces of bread were sheared off to my liking. The smell of yeast as the toast baked accented the kitchen air.

I finished breakfast and my first cup of coffee. I could be a real caveman before the first cup. I grabbed another then walked to the bedroom. I selected the first casual clothes set shown on the menu from the dispensary. It prepared and I took the folded set into the shower room. I chose a massaging high temp shower setting and then disrobed before entering the stall. “Alexa, morning summary.” The news headlines and weather showed in the LCD wall across from me. I was trying to find one that interested me to have it read out loud. The shower transitioned from rinse to soap and I chose a headline while closing my eyes during the application. The article played and a beep signified that the rinse phase had started. Standing in the shower, I decided that I would go see my dad after getting ready. For once, maybe I could be spontaneous and surprise him. “Jake, are you ready to exit the shower?” Alexa asked as the cycle finished. I was. The water slowed to a trickle, then off. The air began to intensely blow from all angles and removed the majority of water from my body. I stepped out and got dressed. I caught a look of myself in the mirror and froze. “Who are you?” I stared into the distance of the mirror. The aged lines… the receded hair… the lazily shaved face… I grabbed more acetaminophen, took it, and walked out.

I gathered my Linx and tossed journal “W0-08” into my messenger bag. After I finished switching bags, I headed down the hall towards the door. I stopped at the counter and grabbed a sticky note and then stopped myself, putting it back, I realized that I did nothing wrong. Walked through the house door and squinted adjusting my sobering eyes to the daylight. Even with overcast, the outside light intensity could be felt in between medicine relief. I opened the car and got into the driver’s seat. “Alexa… we’re going to Dad’s.” With nonjudgemental actions, the car finished startup diagnostics, secured me, backed out of the driveway, and started the course. I panned through the audio options. The Bluetooth automatically connected and I realized the micro-recorder was still in the car hiding in the floorboard. “It must have fallen when the journals did…” I muttered to myself. I placed it in the console storage as the raspy voice began to surround me. 

The audio automatically replayed the last few seconds when it resumed. “I am going to wrap up here… (pause/exhale) 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 that grind.” I looked out of the windows and watched life on the country road speed by. I enjoyed the scenery but paid close attention to the story. “Every infection came – and went. People did get sick and people did die. That will never change. We started using tech well beyond its original intent. We lost the human element along with our natural way. It feels like everything is automated now or requires some check, scan, or input to use it.

The world is bland. Brown boxes vs. a labeled on products. Removed. Drones vs. officers. It is the people that we miss the most. We take shortcuts. One day – cars will drive. People will not know how – the rules of the road… When I was a kid it was the calculator. Teach people to use the calculator – not how do actually solve the problem. We depend on tech for, what feels like, everything. We have taught our kids to press buttons and satisfy machines… not what is actually happening. Not how to do… whatever… This world is changing and the AI is driving it. The machines will break and we will wait for another machine… (deep inhale/exhale)

Like everything else, we will forgo the skill for convenience. I say all of this… all of this… in hopes that one day this will be looked back on. This message will be heard… We will remember people. How to… (pause) Until that time, I am finished here. We are leaving for our new world where we can add humanity back in. (long pause) I wish you the best, friend. We are off…” Sounds of a chair scooting and movement could be heard. The audio continued streaming but the voices were indirect and came across choppy. As the door opened in the recording, the voices echoed into the hallway. “It’s a long way to…” the door creaking layered over the next words. “We have enough food and gas…” could be made out before the door slammed shut. I rewound the audio and listened over and over again. The door creek overshadowed the voices. I gazed outside at the trees passing by; I was still a few minutes out.

I became frustrated as I looped through the audio at full volume. Samuel was doing something big – and it was right there in front of me, but I could not make it out. Realizing that I was not going to figure it out, I exhaled and spew a long list of profanity. Irritable from my headache, I realized the cold case had more info. They did not want to be found; they wanted to start over. I felt the context of the audio, along with the journal entries pointed to that. As my headache waned, the excitement started to flow through me again. I realized the tenant story went even deeper. “Where are you… Samuel?” I asked into the cabin. “Alexa, play ultra-rock remix.” The next song started like a movie intro and brought my motivation back for the next several minutes. The car slowed to a stop, analyzed, and turned onto my Dad’s country road.

The plains were empty fields awaiting their crop. Many of the farmers in the area had started preparing their equipment. Drones were flying and scouting the properties and farmers were calibrating their tractors. Dad’s farmette was only 10 acres, but it was a lot to manage by yourself. He had met several life partner candidates but they usually veer off the course at some point. He, not wanting to marry again, had not made it easy… on anyone. His goal all along was to become self-reliant, in every facet a person could imagine and few cared to be a part of that long journey. I think by doing all of this he worked away his sorrow, anger, and depression on that farm. I just wish I knew more about it.

As I rounded the corner to his property, I noticed a mid-00’s Honda SUV was parked behind his late 20’s truck. I switched the auto to manual pulled off of the driveway into a worn patch of grass. My father was outside by the small barn that he built. A young woman walked out of the doorway as I grabbed my bag getting out of the car. I placed my PPE on, and noticed that neither of them were wearing masks. She had a pear-shaped figure and wore jeans with a tucked-in button-up blouse. She had an empty crate in one arm, resting it on her hip as she talked to Dad. She was tan, with pulled up black hair, and talked with confidence. They looked my way as I approached. “Dad,” I said soft greeting-like tone. I nodded to the young woman. “This must be your son,” she politely suggested. “That he is… that he is,” he confirmed. A huge surprised smile crested his face. I think he expected me to come, eventually… But we both knew eventually seemed to get misplaced. “Well, I’ll let you two get to it,” she smirked. Her eyes had a natural glow about them. Creases formed lines on her face, accenting his deep smile. She continued, “I should have more produce next week if you’re interested.” My father nodded and thanked her. “Thanks, Valorie, I will see you then.”

After the young woman got into her car and started to drive, the awkward silence took over. I stood staring at my dad. Months of separation stood between us as we sized each other up. Moments passed and we walked into each other with open arms hugging and unmake-able muffled words were spoken into shirts and shoulders. As we stepped back I could not resist a comment, “…keeping younger company – eh?” A small laugh escaped me. “Valorie runs a co-op, Jake, that’s all. It is called Produced.” He reassured me, then offered me a beer. Still recovering, I nodded along with the introduction but I passed on the drink and opted for sweet tea. I removed my mask. My dad was more at risk from me – than I was from him. We continued the conversation with normal pleasantries and walked inside his house. I had not visited for years and even then, I did not go inside of his home.

His house was pristine inside. As a very prideful man, he was very clean and organized. As I walked through the kitchen, I was amazed at the jars of produce that lined the pantry. We walked the humble sized home and headed to the living room. His desk was in the corner and the computer that sat on it appeared as if it didn’t belong. A small bit of tech was peppered into his living space but it was like stepping back several decades, or at least my imagination of what that would have looked like. He has security cameras, thermostats, a modest entertainment system, but nothing more sophisticated than his laptop, which was special in the fact it was marketed to people just like him. He guided me to the couch, also rustic looking, as he relaxed in a recliner. Everything in his place – could have been mine – we had such similar tastes.

The conversations wandered for some time. Each of us asking about the other person; we were catching up from large gaps in time. He talked about his home, life, how he has created a food web within his property. Dad was very honest and wore his emotions on his sleeves, but that did not stop him from any conversation. We talked about memories of mom, work, and what we were doing with life. I felt beside myself as I talked about how great life was. It was as if I jumped out of my body and watched a perfectly rehearsed press release happen. I felt like I could do many things, but lie or shade the truth from my father, was not one of them. It was obvious from his mannerisms that he knew there was more to the story. That did not stop our conversation though. I could see the age setting in on my father. The gray had turned to white and the wrinkles multiplied and were drawn with dark lines. He coughed, and had to catch his breath a couple of times – his health was declining faster than I imagined.

We carried the conversation for a couple of hours until I became uncomfortable. My busy life was catching up to me and I felt like I needed to be doing something. I did not have time to sit. Sensing my jitters, he explained that he had an appointment that he had and had to be going for now. We exchanged some finishing conversations and we both stood to start an exit routine. As we walked through the house, he went into the pantry and came back with a couple of jars of salsa. He also had a handful of fresh produce and handed all of it to me. The label on the produce said “Produced,” and had an address. The salsa was made by him and I looked forward to enjoying the richness.

As we walked outside and towards my vehicle, he placed his hand on my shoulder. “You do not have to figure it all out, Jake.” He said in a fatherlike tone. “You will when the time is right.” My dad did not know everything that I was dealing with, but even at a distance, he got me. Dazed by his comment, I nodded and waved as I got into the car. The car did its thing and I called out the destination. I got back on to the driveway, exiting the property, and drove back to my normal everyday life. The confusion was woven into my face and a heaviness settled in my heart. I started playing music and got lost in my thoughts on the country road. I realized midway home that there was a good chance Maggie was home. I would have to deal with that. I was not sure why but great sadness and dread filled my body and I sat quietly gazing at the beauty.

I pulled in and saw that Maggie was home. Storm clouds seemed ominous in the distant horizon. The sun peaked through the remaining sky as I exited the car. I carried my bags and the produce inside and was smacked in the face with tension. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she issued as a greeting. “You never do,” I piped back as I dropped off the goods then walked straight downstairs. For the time being, we were going to lead separate lives.

Read more of the Devastation Series.