Continued from part 10 of the Devastation Series.

I remember stumbling around to the bathroom in the middle of the night. It was even more memorable since the room was foreign to me. I fumbled for the light switches and stubbed my toes numerous times. I didn’t feel it at the time but that caught up to me the next morning with bruises and sore spots all over. I had way too much to drink and didn’t care at that particular moment. I continued sleeping for several hours despite my biological nudges. My body, not used to the extra carefree sleep, stirred many times mostly for the restroom, but I also laid awake with heavy thoughts several times that night. Late morning, once I had sufficiently slept everything off, I dozed some more and had several nonsensical micro dreams. I finally become alert and looked at the clock realizing it was 1030 AM.

I remember feeling my phone vibrate throughout the morning tossing and turning, but my care-meter was depleted. When I finally unlocked the main screen, I saw what I thought was going to be hundreds of messages. In reality, there were several groups of texts, but only a couple with a lot information in them. I got the OK back from work – encouraging me to enjoy the day off. I must have also texted my dad at some point since he responded to something. Lastly, there were a few texts from Maggie. Already in a funk, I went ahead and read the messages. I felt like Murphy’s Law was driving my life at that moment. I did not respond to her wordy assassination attempts, but deep down it stung and I would have to work to overcome it.

I rolled around on the couch and pulled a journal out of the stack from one of the boxes that I had piled everything in. Glancing around the room I also noticed several stacks of stuff that I had packed in a hurry. The realities of the situation had started to settle in. From the financial side with new expenses that I would have to take on, to my daily routines that I was accustomed to. I also knew that a part of me would miss the smart home that Maggie and I had built together. I looked around Samuel’s for the basic automation setup, but as I expected, it did not exist. I rubbed my head and realized that I needed Coffee. I hobbled my bruised feet to the kitchen and rummaged through the cabinets. For a moment, I felt like I was getting lucky. In his quick exit, he had left several items behind. There was a coffee maker as well as a bag of coffee that was not opened so I plugged it in. I was delighted when the smell of coffee saturated the air. The taste may have been slightly stale, like that of cheap fuel station coffee, but was like sweet nectar to my pallet.

I walked around the apartment and took everything in. I ran my fingers over the furniture, the appliances, and counters. I had desired to get to know Samuel in a sense but was not expecting to spend a couple of nights in his old apartment. I was glad the apartment contained the basics appliances, but all were very dated. Many of the items would be what my dad would have grown up using. However, everything that I tested, was functional: can opener, coffee maker, a range, a microwave, radio, fridge, and an original Alexa echo. I checked the internet connection and enabled the BlueTooth speakers and turned on Alexa. If nothing else she would be a talking companion, I thought. I did, after all, enjoy her terrible jokes, and she was also the nicest woman in my life.

The laptop was caked with dust and unplugged so I plugged it in, dusted it off and watched it come to life. The iconic Apple appeared on the black background and a progress bar moving from left to right below it. Unfortunately, the screen had a password requirement and I had not seen a password list yet. I hoped anyway… I made several basic guesses but the screen shook with each incorrect entry. I was confident that I would find a way in, but it wasn’t happening at that second. I left the unit plugged in to charge and went to the kitchen to get a dusting cloth. Inside one of the drawers were ragged washcloths, so I wet one and rang the excess water out. I walked back to the desk and cleaned the area up before sitting with the journal that I had carried around.

I looked at the cover and noticed that I had one that was out of order compared to the sequence that I had been reading. This book was much further along, date wise, than the sets that I had been reading. I remembered that the tape was day 600 something and this journal was labeled “Day 225.” I paused when I heard a noise coming from outside. I looked through the slits in the blinds to see the rain starting to pour down. A strobe of light followed by a rumbling echo roared through the glass and I hoped that it would stall for a moment in the afternoon since I planned to work with Maggie to get any remaining personal items that I had missed. I grabbed the majority of items when I left the House, but wanted to pull extra clothes from the dispenser as well as anything else that would make my situation easier. I shook it off and started to read the journal in front of me.

“I have been researching non-stop for hundreds of days now. I will keep going, but I am tired. Life continues to be a drag honestly. Businesses have mostly reopened from the last wave – but it seems to vary. The country is at different phases. Since Federal regulation has all but disappeared, the states are managing their cases differently. New York, where we are, has been the most diligent in establishing solid plans and regiments for citizen’s success. I also read today that POTUS is more like a mediator now for the Governors than any real position of power. I know that the Governors have grown in power, well at least from my perspective, sitting in my apartment. Every text that I read aligns with that.

Over the past several days, when I am not researching self-sustainment or locations I have been following several theories on viral spreading. The most popular theory comes from a creditable university and discusses the concepts of social distancing, extra precautions, and sanitizing. It then goes on to discuss that we may have solved one set of problems only to create another. The evolution of things, as they are, have changed the patterns present in the world. Bacteria and viruses have started to become more airborne and live on contact surfaces much longer. So fomites have become a real concern.

The startling information, though, was that we have weakened our immune systems in a sense. With all of the prevention, we are losing resistance to everyday organisms. The articles continued and noted that is why severity has increased as well as the frequency of symbiotic relationships, organisms that spread together, has also become a worry. We have witnessed this for a long time in the visible animal kingdom – a host animal carries a parasite creatures around… it is now thought to be happening at the microscopic level too. Flies, fleas, ticks, mosquitos were the first documented cases, but organisms have evolved to mimic that on a much smaller and wider level. Zoonoses and reverse zoonoses is happening. It is also like the micro organisms are leveraging each’s evolved traits…”

Another vibration on my phone pulled me from the article. My dad tried to see if I was okay again. I confirmed that I was fine and also that Maggie and I were through. I do not think he was saddened or caught off guard by that. We chatted for a moment and we agreed to catch up later in the day. He was busy doing something and I was busy letting my sobered mind catch up with the state of things. After we paused, I texted Maggie. “When you leave this afternoon, would you let me know? I will grab the rest of my things and leave you the key. Please and thank you.” She read the message right away but took some time to reply. “I will be out from 1 PM to 3 PM… I have a hot date, cannot miss it,” she proclaimed. While there was sarcasm in the text, it still hurt at that moment. I did not care that we were not a thing at that moment. I would grieve that in time, I thought. I was bothered that she was likely saying things to antagonize me. There were reasons we did not always get along.

I sat in the desk chair for a couple of hours. If my dad would have called, I would have been elated to answer, but instead, I stared outside. The rain that came down seemed symbolic that day. It was indeed, a gloomy day. The wind blew and skies crackled with fierce booms and bangs. At one point hail fell and sounded like marbles being dropped over the roof. About 30 mins until my appointed time, I put on the only jacket that I had with me, pulled the hood over my head, and walked to the car. Just days ago, I was an outsider looking in. Now, I felt more like an insider but was not sure what I was looking out for or at. The car secured me in the driver’s seat, and Alexa navigated to the house. The rain continued to spread its gloom and I waited outside of the in my old driveway while Maggie backed out. She did not acknowledge me or even look in my general direction.

I didn’t mess with my PPE to walk into the house. The drones were not in the area, and I had a slightly rebellious nature to me. I entered the house and took it all in. The familiarity was not welcoming and the house energy felt oppressive. I honed in on several small details and in an instant knew where I stood. The photo frames that once held our vacation pix were empty or replaced with other photos. Even one of her favorite photos, where she looked flawless, was taken down. I noticed a couple small piles of things that she did not care for and several home-goods that I had liked in garbage bags. She had erased me. Quickly and did so with apparent anger. It did not matter by that point, I was mentally checked out and had no desire for any rekindling. The hurt that I had tolerated or had received recently gave me emotional causes to quit. There was never really an us.

I strolled through the house and took note of the items set aside. I do not know if I was becoming a minimalist or despised items from spite, but I had no interest in most of the piles she sat out. I grabbed one of the bags and emptied the contents into a pile on the floor. I took the bag and cherry-picked from the pile: a photo frame, a set of coasts, a coffee mug. I left the small balance of the pile outside of the kitchen and continued to look around. “Alexa, how are you today?” I asked cueing up an AI response. “Fine, Jake, thank you for asking. How may I help you?” She asked back. Maggie was a consumer of the technology but not an advanced user. I happened to appreciate the aid of AI and spent time understanding how it worked, what machine learning was capable of, and often tested the limits of tech. I was surprised that she had not deleted my profile yet, but assumed that she had not gotten around to it. It was on her list somewhere, I figured, considering the environment she had started constructing. Or deconstructing, I thought.

“Alexa set a password for anything related to me, Jake,” I commanded asserting control over the intelligent devices. There was a moment of silence followed by password setting prompts. I set the number to a memorable sequence and confirmed it. The password would block any information that pertained to me or profile preferences for me. I was tempted to block several more things but talked myself out of it, I decided that I was not like that. “Alexa, log out of Jake’s profile and set the lock for Jake. It was nice knowing you, Alexa.” I trailed off. “I appreciated serving you, Jake…. preparing to reset…” followed by a long pause, “I am logged out, user, log in for personalized features.” I looked around the kitchen. I felt large amounts of distaste for the materials around me. I ended up grabbing a couple more mugs, my favorite coffee beans, and recipe cards passed from generation to generation.

I grew less and less interested in materials as I walked through the house. There were so many acquired things in the rooms. While I enjoyed them all at the time – at that moment I was second-guessing everything. In the bedroom, I picked up a bag in front of the dispenser. She had already emptied the contents and tossed in my toiletry items. I continued to slowly accumulate in the bag I was carrying as I walked from section to section. I caught myself remembering the memories for many of the material things. I remembered why we purchased items as I ran my fingers over them. There was a part of me that would miss that life – but I had started to reject those feelings of contentment. I had grown accustomed to a cutting edge life and convinced myself that we were doing it the right way. I became sure as I walked around though, we drifted apart some time ago.

I ended up with a loosely full garbage bag, which I put inside of a large rolling tote that we had purchased for our trips. “I am taking a trip Maggie,” I confidently said as I prepared to embark on a solo journey. I felt a lot of uncertainty but also started to slightly relax. Many emotions were present but sadness was not one of them at that moment. Strangely, I started to feel relief as I passed up item after item. I remembered the times that I tip-toed to avoid an argument. Her way or no way and the proper this and proper that… I recalled the good causes that were not worth our time. Or the new purchase because friends had it… whatever it was in that period. I continued my stroll through the house, finding less and less that I desired. I ended with the tote full of a few things. I stopped in the main entrance doorway. I took one more glance at the closing chapter in life and sent a text. “Donate everything else.” And I walked out.

Alexa, being a cloud-based machine, would remember all of my preferences from the house. So most of me would remain intact. Maggie, with any real effort, could have figured out how to access portions of my files. Back in the car, I watched the driveway change to the rear view mirror. I turned on an appropriate song mix and just let go. The distance felt nice – like I was escaped. I could not explain it just yet, but I was certain that things would eventually be on the up and up. I silenced the texts from Maggie since I did not want to hear any more rants. She would find complaint with what I didn’t take, what I did take, and what I should have taken. I would be wrong regardless of my selections. A classic old metal song came on from my playlist: Battle Borne by 5FDP. It was appropriate for the time and place. I nodded along with the chorus until it faded with an incoming call. It was my father.

“Dad?” I asked, knowing it was him. After the greeting we proceeded to discuss what was going on with my life. It was prompted by his inquisitive nature. Before I knew it, I was heading into a monologue which he stopped abruptly, “Jake, what are you doing right now?” I explained that I had left the apartment to pick up items from the house that I used to call home. In typical dad fashion he assured me that I always had a home with him. I acknowledged his warm gestures and thanked him – but I desperately wanted to maintain my own space. I just started that new feeling and wanted to explore it more fully. In a few story turns, he enticed me to come to see him sooner rather than later. When we hung up, I instructed Alexa, “…go to dad’s… country route.” The music resumed where it had faded out, but I started it over anyway. Angry music soothed my soul. I changed the course and headed to dad’s.

In between sorting fragments of the discussion that I just had, I remembered my dad’s counter packed with prescriptions. I suddenly felt terrible that I did not pause and ask how he was. A slight chill raced through my body – cancer. He seemed to be in good spirits during our talk, I supposed. Surely, he would have shared results if they were major… I trailed off for a moment but reigned myself back in. I would see him in a short time. I looked up from the dashboard and gazed at the trees jogging by. The rain had stopped for a moment to rebuild strength, I imagined. The lighting and thunder were quick to emphasize that they had not left and had more work to do. The trickles turned to downpour as I neared dad’s. I could almost hear the wind howl as it picked up with the storm rolling in. I was going to get wet going into his house. I pulled my jacket over my head and took long strides running inside. I envisioned a slow-motion image of a child stomping in every puddle possible on the way in. I was inevitably saturated as I entered his home.

I greeted him with a warm hug. I was not thinking about my PPE and left it in the car. My dad did not care, he was much more in favor of natural processes. “It is what it is…” was a favorite saying as long as I could remember. I got inside, dried off and warmed up. I watched him grind beans and boil water. He carefully put the cone filter in his pour-over and put a pre-measured amount of beans in. With his thumb, he gently packed the grinds and poured just enough water to moisten its contents. Little bubbles climbed to the surface of the mound and he swore this was the proper way to do a drip. He lost me through most of the explanation but it had to do with acidity and unlocking the flavor without bitterness. He was meticulous and valued his ability to make…

We moved to the couch in his living room. The laptop was still most of his tech, aside from a phone. That did not matter to him. Despite the jokes, he was not less intelligent. He was not less capable. On the contrary… His bookshelves proudly displayed a series of notable books from historical staples to current noteworthy authors. A couple of digital photo frames, only 2D, were on the wall beside several printed pictures in frames. He only had the digital frames because I got them for him several years ago. Regardless, the room was peaceful and elegant. It felt like prim and proper, like what I imagined from stories long ago. It was classic even for my dad’s origins. To the eyes only, he never had much. My dad was an uncommon sort of wealthy. Wealth was determined by your value system.

The afternoon slipped away from us and the only reason that I realized it was the darkness crept in. We had not caught up like that in years. I had no idea what sort of isolation that I had created. The associations that I had made, materials I sought, and activities I immersed into created a life only like minded people knew to follow. I had created selective blinders for the world around me. Realizing all of this made the conversation hard.

It was through the conversation that evening I shared everything with my dad. He never judged me and only asked probing questions to understand my thoughts. He was very empathic, and somehow I had forgotten that. He asked me if I was hungry and then made us each a cold sandwich. I had not seen a handmade sandwich outside of an artisan restaurant in ages. He needed to eat something to take his pain medication. I noticed that he changed slightly as time progressed. I could see the aching in his occasional squinting eyes. It was after the sandwich, and prescription that he, in turn, confided in me. I was not prepared for the truth.

My father had been battling cancer for a long time. Like normal his care for others came first. He did not call me, or anyone else really, to share the news. Some of it was stubbornness and some of it was pride, but the vast majority was simply not that important in his eyes. His troubles should not impede on another person, so he thought. The irony was always that handling things that way, does, in fact, cause more problems from shock and last-minute circumstances.

The prognosis was only a couple of years and he was well on his way in that timetable. He had already gone through chemo once. He also tried experimental medicines and alternative healing methods. His remission only lasted a short amount of time and he made a different choice when it attacked again. This time he chose to live out his days as he saw fit. Other than some minor inconveniences, the implications of his illness were not barriers to him for a while. However, that was changing and recently he had to alter some of his lifestyle. Hence the tech he told me about in our first conversation. More stunned than scared, I listened, asked, and waited…

He was weak by the end of the evening. The medicine kicked in and the passion faded from his face. The pain had overtaken him and the reactions of the prescriptions made him numb. All of him. His cough worsened by the end of our talk, and I was certain he would sleep well that night, though I wished it was for other reasons. I made an excuse to leave and we wrapped up with an extended hug. Not an I love you hug, more of a goodbye embrace.

The rain had died off through the evening only to come back with a vengeance. Like the perfect movie scene – the lighting struck as I approached the car door. I made it inside the car and out of the driveway before I let the tears jump from my eyes. Snotty, whiney and tired, I called to Alexa, “Play my emotional playlist.” The guitars started strumming softly. The night sky strobed and the windshield wipers swooshed and swished. The unfamiliar route home seemed to take an obscene amount of time.

Seeing the drones I put on my PPE to go into the apartment. After making several trips I brought everything inside from my car. The emotion had been washed from my face by the time I finished. Both from rain, and exhaustion. I piled my wet clothes next to the door and rummaged in my toiletries to take a shower. The shower felt cleansing. It was quiet, without news headlines to read. I realized that I did not need to wait through the cycles like a car wash to clean my body. I was a functional human and was able to do it for myself. I felt in control for those few moments. The water streamed over my head and a lifetime passed in my mind. There was peace in the quiet.

I finished the shower, dressed in comfortable clothes, and wiped a circle of condensation off of the antique mirror. The aged lines and the dark circles were still unrecognizable. I wondered, “Who had I become?”I walked through the apartment turning off the lights. I made it to the couch, laid down, and closed my eyes. Heavy thoughts and feelings circled and I waded through them as best I could until I drifted to sleep. I was going to need a distraction. I had to work in the morning.

Read more of the Devastation Series.