Chronicle 1
“Prologue:
Fallen Los Angeles”
Present day,
14:27 local time,
Santa Monica, Republic of Los Angeles
“Blue!”
The wolf ignored Tabitha.
“Blue, get your furry a** back here!”
Blue bounded over what had once been the front steps of a
building before disappearing through the remains of its doorway. Tabitha
groaned and started after him, only for Benji to grab her arm.
“Don't,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because the floor is gone.”
Tabitha looked through the doorway and saw that Benji was
right. About ten feet inside, the concrete floor simply ended, exposing what
remained of a basement below.
“Blue!” she called again.
The wolf's head emerged through what had once been a window.
“Oh, f*** you.”
Blue disappeared again.
“He knows what he's doing,” said Benji.
“He's a wolf.”
“Exactly.”
“That's not an argument.”
“It is to him.”
Tabitha rolled her eyes before walking around the side of
the building, carefully stepping around pieces of broken glass, chunks of
concrete and what appeared to be the remains of a cash register. That caught
her attention.
“Oh!”
She crouched down and pulled it free.
Benji sighed.
“What?”
“You think nobody found that in fifteen years?”
“You don't know.”
“I know because the drawer's missing.”
Tabitha looked.
The drawer was indeed missing.
“A**holes.”
“The a**holes were probably here twelve years ago.”
Tabitha tossed the cash register aside and continued towards
the back of the building.
It had been a lousy day.
The easy scavenging in Los Angeles had ended years ago.
Anyone could have made money in the first few years after the Fall, when
abandoned stores still had merchandise on the shelves and apartment buildings
were filled with everything their former residents couldn't carry with them.
Now you had to work for it.
Copper had been ripped from walls. Cars had been stripped
for parts. Appliances had been gutted. Anything that could easily be sold had
usually been sold by someone else a decade ago.
Tabitha and Benji had therefore spent the morning looking in
places nobody sensible wanted to look.
They found three copper pipes, an intact bathroom mirror,
six ceramic tiles, two sealed bottles of shampoo, a box of screws, several old
magazines and a toaster Benji insisted he could fix.
Tabitha insisted he couldn't.
Blue suddenly howled.
Tabitha stopped.
Benji stopped.
They looked at each other.
“Oh!” said Tabitha.
They ran.
Blue stood several metres away, pawing furiously at a pile
of dirt and broken plaster.
“What'd you find?” said Benji excitedly.
Blue howled again.
“Food?” said Tabitha.
Blue continued digging.
“Money?”
“He doesn't know what money smells like.”
“You don't know that.”
“I do.”
Blue finally stuck his snout into the hole before pulling
something out.
It was red.
Tabitha's eyes widened.
“What is it?”
Blue trotted proudly towards them with the object hanging
from his mouth.
“Drop it,” said Benji.
Blue didn't.
“Blue.”
Blue wagged his tail.
“Drop it.”
Blue finally complied.
Tabitha crouched down.
It was a rubber bracelet.
She wiped the dirt away with her thumb.
MORAL
Tabitha stared at it.
Benji stared at it.
Blue looked very pleased with himself.
“Oh, for f***'s sake,” said Benji.
Blue's tail stopped wagging.
“Don't yell at him,” said Tabitha.
“I thought he found something.”
“He did find something.”
“A bracelet.”
Tabitha cleaned it against her shorts.
The lettering underneath MORAL was almost illegible, but she
could still make it out.
MOVEMENT FOR ORDER, RESPONSIBILITY AND LAW
“Oh s***,” she said.
“What?”
“This is Rydell.”
Benji crouched beside her.
“No way.”
“Yeah. MORAL. Rydell used to give these things out.”
“He gave people bracelets?”
“He sold them.”
“Of course he did.”
Tabitha slipped it onto her wrist.
It was faded, dirty and probably older than either of them.
“You're not actually wearing that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you're not a Rydellian.”
“I'm not keeping it for me. Some Rydellian might buy it.”
“Who's buying a forty-year-old rubber bracelet?”
“Someone who calls himself a Rydellian.”
Benji considered this.
“Fair.”
Blue barked.
“…and you get a finder's fee,” said Tabitha, scratching
behind his ears.
They continued up the hill, eventually reaching a spot where
much of central Los Angeles was visible through the haze.
The city wasn't dead.
That was something outsiders never seemed to understand.
People still lived there. Lights still came on at night.
Buses still ran on some routes. Shops opened every morning. Children went to
school. There were neighbourhoods where someone could almost convince
themselves that Los Angeles was still Los Angeles.
There were just far fewer people to do any of those things.
Whole blocks had been abandoned. Some roads had deteriorated
to the point where nobody bothered driving on them anymore. Buildings damaged
during the Fall remained exactly as they had been fifteen years ago, except now
nature and weather were finishing what people had started.
Tabitha looked towards the distant skyline.
“You remember Venice Beach?”
Benji laughed.
“What?”
“You say that like it's gone.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah.”
“My mom used to take me there. The beach was packed. Like
actually packed. You couldn't put a towel down without somebody stepping on
it.”
“Sounds horrible.”
“It was.”
“So why do you miss it?”
Tabitha shrugged.
“Because now half the s*** washing onto the beach isn't even
seaweed.”
Benji smiled.
“I remember Rodeo.”
“You remember Rodeo Drive?”
“Course I do.”
“You were like eight.”
“I still remember it.”
“What do you remember?”
“The stores.”
Tabitha laughed.
“What?”
“That's what you remember about Rodeo Drive?”
“They were nice stores!”
“Sure.”
“My dad took me down there once and there were all these
cars and restaurants and expensive places. Everybody looked rich.”
“Everybody wasn't rich.”
“I was eight, Tabs. I didn't check their tax returns.”
They kept walking.
“Now half of it's boarded up,” Benji continued. “Other half
sells fake shit.”
“My Gucci bag is real.”
“You bought it for twelve dollars.”
“I got a good deal.”
“It says Gucky.”
Tabitha frowned.
“It does not.”
“It absolutely says Gucky.”
She looked at him.
“F*** you.”
Benji laughed.
They reached what remained of a major road, where dozens of
dead vehicles sat in various states of decay. Some were little more than rusted
shells. Others had been pushed onto the shoulders years earlier to keep a
narrow path open.
A battered pickup passed them.
Then nothing.
Tabitha watched it disappear.
“You know what I miss?”
“What?”
“Traffic.”
Benji stopped.
“You're f***ing insane.”
“No, seriously.”
“Los Angeles traffic?”
“Yeah.”
“Nobody misses Los Angeles traffic.”
“I do.”
“You spent your whole childhood listening to adults complain
about traffic.”
“Exactly. Traffic meant there were people.”
Benji looked down the road.
There were more dead cars within sight than moving ones.
“Okay,” he said. “That's depressing.”
“Sorry.”
“You should be.”
A voice suddenly came from behind them.
“You kids planning on taking any of those?”
Tabitha spun around.
An old man stood in the doorway of what she had assumed was
an abandoned house.
The house certainly looked abandoned. Plywood covered two
windows and a blue tarp had replaced part of the roof, but there was smoke
coming from a metal chimney Tabitha hadn't noticed before. A small solar panel
had been bolted above the doorway. Several buckets collected rainwater along
the side.
“No,” said Tabitha. “They're stripped.”
“I know they're stripped. I stripped some of them.”
“Oh.”
The old man looked at Blue.
Blue looked at the old man.
“He bite?”
“Only people we don't like,” said Benji.
Tabitha elbowed him.
“No. He's fine.”
“Good.”
The man stepped outside carrying a plastic bucket.
“You two scavenging?”
“Trying to.”
“Nothing left.”
“We noticed.”
“Should've been here ten years ago.”
“We were children ten years ago,” said Tabitha.
“Should've thought of that before being born late.”
Benji snorted.
The old man walked towards a small vegetable garden that had
been hidden behind a corrugated metal fence.
Tabitha looked at the house.
“You live here?”
The man stopped.
“No. I commute from Pasadena every morning to water my
tomatoes.”
Tabitha smiled.
“Sorry.”
“Been here thirty-eight years.”
“You stayed through the Fall?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
He shrugged.
“It's my house.”
That answer appeared sufficient to him.
The man poured some water around his plants.
Tabitha looked around at the hollow buildings, dead cars and
cracked pavement surrounding his little patch of green.
“What was it like?” she asked.
“When?”
“Before.”
The man laughed.
“Expensive.”
“No, I mean-”
“I know what you mean.”
He stood back up.
“Loud. Crowded. Dirty. Took an hour to get anywhere.
Everybody complained about everything.”
Tabitha smiled.
“Sounds nice.”
“It wasn't.”
He paused.
Then looked towards downtown.
“…but I'd take it back.”
Nobody said anything for a moment.
Blue wandered over to the old man and sniffed his bucket.
“No,” said the man. “You can't eat that.”
Blue sat down.
“He thinks sitting makes food appear,” said Tabitha.
“Usually does.”
The old man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small
piece of dried meat.
Blue immediately stood.
“Traitor,” said Benji.
As Blue ate, the old man noticed the red bracelet around
Tabitha's wrist.
He froze.
“Where'd you get that?”
Tabitha looked down.
“Blue found it.”
The old man stepped closer.
“MORAL.”
“Yeah.”
“Haven't seen one of those in years.”
“You a Rydellian?”
The old man laughed.
“No.”
Tabitha shrugged.
“Worth asking. I'm trying to sell it.”
The old man looked at the bracelet again.
“My wife had one.”
Tabitha's expression changed.
“She liked him?”
“Everybody liked Rydell.”
Benji raised an eyebrow.
“Everybody?”
“All right, not everybody. Enough people.”
“What did you think of him?” asked Tabitha.
The old man went quiet.
“Thought he was an a**hole.”
Benji laughed.
“…but?”
The old man looked towards the skyline again.
“…but the lights worked.”
Tabitha said nothing.
“Stores were full,” he continued. “Roads were jammed.
Beaches were packed. You could b***h about your mortgage and taxes and traffic
because those were the things you had time to b***h about.”
He looked back at her.
“People remember the President. What they really miss is
everything that was around him.”
Tabitha slowly turned the bracelet around her wrist.
MORAL.
“Think somebody'll buy it?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
“How much?”
“No idea.”
“Helpful.”
“You asked if somebody would buy it.”
“Fair.”
The old man picked up his bucket.
“There's an old pharmacy about three blocks east. Basement
wasn't accessible until part of the building came down last winter. People have
been poking around there, but I don't think anybody's gotten all the way into
the back.”
Tabitha's eyes widened.
“Anything in it?”
“If I knew that, I'd have gotten it myself.”
Benji grinned.
“Come on.”
Blue was already heading east.
“BLUE!” yelled Tabitha.
The wolf broke into a run.
“Goddammit!”
Tabitha and Benji raced after him.
The old man watched the three disappear down the empty road
before shaking his head.
“Kids.”
He returned to his tomatoes.
A few seconds later Tabitha came running back.
“Which building is the pharmacy?”
“The one with the giant f***ing PHARMACY sign!”
“Oh.”
She turned around.
“Thanks!”
The old man shook his head again.
Los Angeles had changed.
Some things apparently hadn't.
The Ferris wheel wasn't moving.
Tabitha wasn't sure why that bothered her.
It hadn't been moving when they arrived that morning either.
There wasn't anything unusual about it. The wheel worked when it worked, which
was often enough that people still bothered maintaining it and rarely enough
that nobody made plans around it.
Still, every time she came down here she looked.
“It's not moving,” she said.
Benji looked up.
“No.”
“It was moving last week.”
“I know.”
“Think it's broken?”
“Probably.”
Blue sniffed something beside the railing.
“Don't eat that.”
Blue ate it.
Tabitha sighed.
They continued along the pier.
There were still shops here. Not many, and not the shops
Tabitha remembered.
One sold fishing tackle, batteries, bottled water,
cigarettes and canned food. Another repaired bicycles and small engines. A
third sold clothes, most of which hung outside beneath a sun-faded sign that
advertised souvenirs nobody had wanted in years.
SANTA MONICA
CALIFORNIA
CASCADIA
All three were available.
Nobody seemed particularly concerned about the
contradiction.
There was even somewhere to eat. The menu consisted mostly
of fish, potatoes and whatever else its owner had managed to buy that morning.
Benji stopped outside.
“You hungry?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“I could eat.”
“You can always eat.”
“That's why I'm still alive.”
“You're still alive because I stop you from doing stupid stuff.”
Benji looked at Blue.
“She thinks she's in charge.”
Blue sneezed.
“Exactly.”
They passed another shuttered storefront. Someone had
spray-painted PROPERTY OF THE REPUBLIC OF LOS ANGELES across the plywood
covering its windows.
Someone else had written THEN FIX IT underneath.
Tabitha smiled.
“What?”
She pointed.
Benji read it.
“Fair.”
Neither of them knew whether the Republic actually owned the
building.
There were a lot of things the Republic of Los Angeles
technically owned.
There were fewer things the Republic of Los Angeles actually
did anything with.
At the end of the pier, an old man sat fishing. Two
teenagers leaned against the railing sharing something out of a paper bag. A
woman had set up a table selling jewellery made from shells, old coins and
pieces of coloured glass.
Blue wanted to investigate the fishing bucket.
“No,” Tabitha said.
Blue kept walking towards it.
“Blue.”
The wolf stopped.
“Thank you.”
He looked at her.
“You're not eating somebody's fish.”
Blue whined.
“Life's hard.”
Benji pointed towards the beach.
“Let's check down there.”
They took the stairs.
Tabitha could remember when the sand had been almost
impossible to see.
Not literally, obviously.
…but there had been umbrellas everywhere. Towels. Coolers.
Children. Volleyball games. Tourists turning themselves red beneath the
California sun. People walking around barefoot without giving the ground
beneath them a second thought.
Her mother had brought her here once when she was six or
seven.
Maybe eight.
Tabitha couldn't remember.
She remembered the people, though.
Thousands of them.
She remembered complaining because some family had put their
umbrella in front of them and she couldn't see the ocean.
She remembered her mother telling her to put sunscreen on.
She remembered taking her shoes off.
That seemed insane now.
“You ever come here when you were little?” she asked.
“Couple times.”
“Barefoot?”
Benji looked at her.
“Everyone was barefoot.”
“Yeah.”
They both looked down.
Tabitha wore boots.
Benji wore boots.
Even the handful of people sitting closer to the water had
shoes beside them, within easy reach. Most sat on thick blankets, plastic
sheets or folding chairs rather than directly on the sand.
A little boy ran towards the water.
“Shoes!” his mother shouted.
The boy stopped.
“Mom!”
“Shoes!”
“…but-”
“Put them on!”
The boy trudged back towards her.
Benji watched.
“That's f***ed.”
“Yeah.”
Blue pushed his nose into the sand.
“Don't.”
Blue looked up.
“You don't know what's in there either.”
The wolf apparently accepted this and moved on.
There were people who cleaned the beach. Tabitha had seen
them. The Republic sent crews occasionally, when it had crews to send. Locals
organized their own cleanups more often.
It didn't matter.
There was always more garbage.
Plastic was the least concerning thing.
Glass. Needles. Rusted metal. Fish hooks. Things nobody
could identify and therefore nobody particularly wanted to step on.
Closer to the pier, where people still congregated, the sand
was reasonably clean.
Go far enough in either direction and you were on your own.
Tabitha looked towards the water.
“You know what I remember?”
“What?”
“People complaining about tourists.”
Benji laughed.
“My dad hated them.”
“My mom did too.”
“They were annoying.”
“They were.”
A gull landed several feet away.
Blue immediately became interested.
“No.”
The gull flew away.
“I remember Mom saying she wished they'd all go home,”
Tabitha continued.
“Well, she got her wish.”
Tabitha looked at him.
“By Jove.”
“What?”
“That's terrible.”
“You laughed.”
“I did not.”
“You almost did.”
“I smiled.”
“Same thing.”
They continued walking.
There were maybe fifty people on the beach.
Once there might have been thousands.
Tabitha tried to picture it.
Sometimes she could.
Sometimes the old Los Angeles felt less like something she
had actually experienced and more like a place people had collectively invented
afterward.
A place where every building had electricity.
Where stores threw food away.
Where traffic was something people complained about.
Where you could stand on Santa Monica Beach and be angry
because there were too many other human beings enjoying Santa Monica Beach.
“I miss them,” she said.
“The tourists?”
“Yeah.”
“I don't.”
“You just said your dad hated them.”
“He did.”
“That's not an answer.”
“I don't miss tourists. I miss tourist money.”
Tabitha laughed.
“There you go.”
They climbed back towards the pier.
Something groaned overhead.
Both stopped.
Blue's ears shot up.
There was another mechanical groan.
Then a clunk.
Then another.
Tabitha looked up.
The Ferris wheel moved.
Only slightly at first.
One carriage swayed.
Then another.
The wheel jerked forward and stopped.
“Holy s***,” said Benji.
A few people on the pier applauded.
Someone farther away shouted, “Come on!”
The wheel moved again.
This time it kept going.
Slowly.
Painfully.
…but going.
Tabitha grinned.
“See?”
“See what?”
“I told you it still worked.”
“You said you thought it was broken.”
“I was wrong.”
“You can't turn being wrong into being right.”
“Just did.”
The lights didn't come on. It was daytime and nobody was
wasting electricity on that.
…but the wheel turned.
A man opened the gate beneath it.
“Ten dollars!” he shouted. “Ten dollars! If it stops, you
wait!”
Benji stared at him.
“That's reassuring.”
Two children immediately ran towards the gate.
Their mother followed.
“You want to?” Tabitha asked.
“No.”
“Scared?”
“Of being stuck at the top of a broken Ferris wheel?”
“Yeah.”
“Yes.”
“Coward.”
“You going?”
“No.”
“Coward.”
They kept walking.
The Third Street Promenade wasn't dead either.
That would have been easier to understand.
Instead, it had become something else.
The old storefronts were still there, although Tabitha
recognized almost none of the names anymore. Some had been boarded up. Some had
been divided into smaller shops. One former clothing store had become a grocery
market. Another building contained a dentist, a cobbler and four apartments.
There were thrift stores everywhere.
Benji hated thrift stores.
Tabitha loved them.
“You can find good shit.”
“You can find other people's shit.”
“That's what scavenging is.”
“Scavenging is free.”
“Ah.”
There were still restaurants. Fewer than there had once
been, but enough to draw people from the surrounding neighbourhoods. Someone
was selling tacos through a window. A bakery had six people waiting outside.
A street musician played guitar beside an overturned milk
crate.
Tabitha stopped.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You stopped.”
“I remember there being more of them.”
“Musicians?”
“Performers. People dressed up. Guys doing tricks. That
weird silver guy.”
“What weird silver guy?”
“I don't know. He was painted silver.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“I was a kid.”
A Republic flag hung limply from a building farther down the
promenade.
Beneath it was a government office.
At least the sign claimed it was.
REPUBLIC OF LOS ANGELES
SANTA MONICA COMMUNITY SERVICES OFFICE
Someone had taped a piece of paper to the door.
CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE
Underneath that, someone else had written:
TRY TUESDAY
Underneath that:
WHICH TUESDAY?
Benji stopped.
“Government.”
“Don't.”
“I'm just appreciating our institutions.”
“They'll arrest you.”
“Who?”
Tabitha looked through the darkened windows.
“Good point.”
Blue suddenly howled.
Both of them jumped.
Then looked at each other.
“Oh, s***,” said Benji.
Blue was already running towards an alley.
Tabitha's disappointment vanished.
“BLUE!”
They ran after him.
The wolf disappeared behind a pile of broken furniture.
By the time Tabitha caught up, he was furiously scratching
at something beneath an old wooden panel.
Benji arrived seconds later.
“What is it?”
“I don't know.”
Blue howled again.
Tabitha crouched beside him.
“Okay. Move.”
Blue didn't.
“Move.”
He moved approximately six inches.
“Thank you.”
She grabbed the edge of the panel.
Benji grabbed the other side.
“One, two-”
They pulled.
The wood shifted.
Something red appeared beneath it.
Tabitha's heart sank.
“No.”
Benji stared.
“No f***ing way.”
Blue proudly shoved his snout underneath and pulled the
object free.
Tabitha took it from his mouth.
She wiped away the dirt.
MORAL
For several seconds, nobody said anything.
Blue wagged his tail.
Tabitha turned the old red bracelet over in her hand.
The smaller letters were faded but still readable.
MOVEMENT FOR ORDER, RESPONSIBILITY AND LAW
Benji looked personally betrayed.
“That's it?”
Blue barked.
“We ran half a block for that?”
Another bark.
Tabitha laughed.
“Don't yell at him.”
“I thought he'd found something useful.”
“He did.”
“What are you going to do with the bracelet?”
Tabitha slipped it into her bag.
“Do what I’m going to do with the other bracelet we found. Sell
it.”
“Do you really think we’ll find two Rydellians who will buy
our bracelets?”
“Sure, why not?”
Benji stared at her.
“Dude’s persona non grata now.”
“He was persona everyone grata just two decades ago.
Many of those voters are still alive.”
Benji considered that.
“Okay.”
Tabitha scratched Blue behind the ears.
“Good boy.”
Blue's tail wagged furiously.
Benji shook his head.
“We better get more than ten dollars for that.”
“Why?”
He pointed back towards the ocean.
“Because apparently that's what a functioning Ferris wheel
costs.”
From several blocks away came a distant mechanical groan.
Then silence.
Tabitha looked towards the pier.
“Oh.”
Benji grinned.
“Told you.”
“They'll get it going again.”
“Sure.”
“When?”
Benji shrugged.
“Try Tuesday.”
Ocean Avenue felt bigger than Tabitha remembered.
She knew it wasn't.
The buildings hadn't moved. Nobody had widened the
sidewalks. The street hadn't somehow gained another lane while she wasn't
looking.
There were just fewer people.
Fewer cars.
Fewer everything.
Tabitha and Benji walked north for a while before turning
back towards downtown, Blue trotting several feet ahead of them until something
smelled interesting enough to make him stop.
Which happened approximately every twelve seconds.
“Blue.”
The wolf had his nose pressed against a garbage can.
“Leave it.”
Blue ignored her.
“Blue.”
He reluctantly withdrew.
“Thank you.”
They reached an intersection just as the light turned red.
There were three cars waiting.
Nothing came from the other direction.
They waited.
…and waited.
Benji looked both ways.
“I'm going.”
“Don't.”
“There's nothing there.”
“It's still red.”
“Tabs.”
“What?”
“There isn't a car.”
“Then you won't have to wait long.”
Benji stared at her.
The light remained red.
One of the drivers honked.
Not at anyone in particular.
Just at the light.
“See?” Benji said. “He agrees with me.”
“He's an idiot too.”
Another thirty seconds passed.
The pedestrian signal finally changed.
Benji threw his arms into the air.
“Thank you!”
They crossed.
Behind them, the three cars finally moved.
Tabitha looked back.
“Why don't they fix that?”
“Fix what?”
“The lights.”
“What about them?”
“They're still timed for when there were actually cars.”
Benji shrugged.
“Republic.”
That explained many things.
The street had once been built to move enormous numbers of
people through Santa Monica. Tourists, commuters, buses, delivery trucks,
taxis, people looking for parking, people who had found parking and were now
trying to leave it.
Now a dozen cars could make the road look busy.
They passed another intersection.
Red.
Nothing moved.
“By Jove.”
“Just walk.”
“I am walking.”
A crowd had gathered at a bus stop ahead.
Tabitha counted maybe thirty people.
“Something happen?”
“Bus.”
“Oh.”
An old woman sat on the bench. Everyone else stood around
her, some checking watches, some staring down the street as if doing so might
make the bus arrive faster.
A man leaned against the shelter reading something on his
phone.
“Been waiting long?” Benji asked.
“Twenty minutes.”
“That bad?”
The man shrugged.
“Normal.”
A bus appeared in the distance.
Several people stood straighter.
“Here we go.”
The bus approached slowly.
It was already full.
Very full.
People were standing in the aisle. Someone was pressed
against the front door.
The driver pulled over anyway.
The doors opened.
Three people got off.
Five people got on.
The sixth tried.
The driver shook his head.
The sixth argued.
The driver shook his head again.
The doors closed.
The bus pulled away.
Twenty-two people remained at the stop.
Benji watched it go.
“That's f***ed.”
The man with the phone sat down in the place vacated by the
old woman.
“She'll send another.”
“When?”
The man shrugged.
“Eventually.”
Tabitha and Benji kept walking.
“Republic,” Benji said.
“Shut up.”
Santa Monica Place was busy.
That surprised her.
Tabitha stopped just inside and looked around.
“Huh.”
“What?”
“People.”
“Yes, Tabs. Those are people.”
“I know they're people.”
“You sounded uncertain.”
“I didn't think there'd be this many.”
Neither did Benji, apparently, because he looked around too.
The mall wasn't what Tabitha remembered.
Most of those stores were gone.
The expensive clothing stores had disappeared first. Then
the jewellery. Cosmetics. Designer stuff. Everything people could live
perfectly well without when suddenly they had considerably less money with
which to live.
Some storefronts were still boarded up.
Others had been replaced.
A little grocery occupied what had once been an enormous
clothing store. Someone had divided another store into four separate
businesses. One repaired phones and radios. Another sold shoes. A third sold
household supplies. The fourth had a handwritten sign offering haircuts.
There was a pharmacy.
A laundromat.
A hardware store.
A woman selling children's clothes.
Nothing glamorous.
Everything useful.
Blue immediately attempted to enter the grocery store.
“No.”
Blue stopped.
“We're eating.”
That got his attention.
The directory beside them was hopeless.
Half the names had been covered with stickers. Several
stickers had been covered by other stickers. Someone had crossed out three
businesses in marker and written new ones underneath.
Benji studied it anyway.
“Where's the food?”
“Upstairs.”
“How do you know?”
“I've been in a mall before.”
“That doesn't answer the question.”
Tabitha pointed.
“Also, that says FOOD.”
“Oh.”
They walked towards the escalator.
It wasn't moving.
Benji stopped.
“No.”
Tabitha stepped onto it.
“Come on.”
“There's stairs.”
“This is stairs.”
“This is a broken escalator.”
“Which makes it stairs.”
“I hate broken escalators.”
“Why?”
“Because they're bigger stairs.”
Tabitha continued climbing.
Benji followed, grumbling.
Blue bounded past both of them.
“Show-off,” Benji said.
The second floor was quieter.
There were still businesses, but empty storefronts appeared
between them now.
A clinic occupied one.
A tailor occupied another.
One former boutique had been converted into what appeared to
be an office for an electrician.
Another was sealed behind plywood.
CLOSED- STRUCTURAL DAMAGE
Someone had added:
SERIOUSLY. DON'T GO IN.
Underneath that:
WE MEAN YOU, KEVIN.
Tabitha stopped.
“Who's Kevin?”
“I don't know.”
“I want to meet Kevin.”
“I don't.”
There were three elevators.
One had a handwritten WORKS sign taped above it.
The other two did not.
Benji pressed the button.
Nothing happened.
He pressed it again.
“Don't.”
“Maybe it didn't register.”
“It registered.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the light came on.”
They waited.
“Could take the stairs.”
“I already climbed the escalator.”
“You're in your twenties.”
“Exactly. My knees are still good. I'd like to keep them
that way.”
The elevator arrived.
The doors opened with a noise that inspired absolutely no
confidence whatsoever.
Tabitha stared inside.
Benji stared inside.
Blue walked in.
“Traitor,” Tabitha said.
They followed.
The third floor was almost empty.
Not abandoned.
Empty.
There was a difference.
Most of the storefronts were dark, but several had curtains
covering the old display windows. Someone had built a wooden wall behind one.
Another had flowerpots outside.
Laundry hung from a railing.
Tabitha stopped.
“People live up here?”
A woman watering a plant looked over.
“Where else would we live?”
“Sorry.”
The woman shrugged.
“Rent's cheap.”
Apparently so.
Several former stores had become apartments. Not
particularly good apartments, from what Tabitha could see, but apartments
nonetheless.
At the far end of the floor was a general store.
MARTY'S
Underneath:
FOOD - WATER - SOAP - BATTERIES - TOBACCO - EVERYTHING
ELSE ASK
Benji looked inside.
“Do you have everything else?”
The man behind the counter didn't look up.
“No.”
“Then why does the sign-”
Tabitha grabbed Benji's arm.
“Come on.”
They went back downstairs.
This time she made him take the broken escalator.
He complained the entire way.
They smelled the hamburgers before they saw the restaurant.
Blue smelled them considerably earlier.
His ears went up.
His head turned.
“Oh, no,” Tabitha said.
Blue ran.
“BLUE!”
He disappeared into the crowd.
“S***!”
They chased him.
Then Tabitha saw the line.
“What the f***?”
It stretched out of the restaurant.
Then along the storefront.
Then around the corner.
People were standing everywhere.
The restaurant itself was packed. Every table was occupied.
The tables outside were occupied. The general food-court seating was occupied.
Even the mall benches were full.
Someone was sitting on the floor.
“What happened?” Tabitha asked.
Benji pointed towards the sign.
IN-N-OUT BURGER
“I can see that.”
Blue appeared beneath a table.
“BLUE!”
Someone dropped a French fry.
Blue ate it before it hit the floor.
“Blue!”
The wolf emerged.
His tail wagged.
“No.”
He stared at her.
“You cannot just run around eating people's food.”
A little girl deliberately dropped another fry.
Blue ate that too.
The girl giggled.
“Don't encourage him.”
Her father laughed.
“Sorry.”
Blue moved towards the next table.
Tabitha grabbed his collar.
“You're staying with me.”
Blue strongly disagreed.
The line moved.
Slowly.
Behind the counter, the staff worked at a speed Tabitha
found stressful just watching. Burgers went out almost as quickly as they could
make them. Fries disappeared. Drinks disappeared.
More people joined the line behind them.
Tabitha looked around.
“This is ridiculous.”
“What?”
“All these people.”
“They're hungry.”
“There are other restaurants.”
“Not In-N-Out.”
“It's a hamburger.”
Several people in front of them turned around.
Tabitha raised her hands.
“Sorry.”
They turned back.
Benji leaned towards her.
“You almost got us killed.”
“Apparently.”
It took nearly half an hour to order.
Finding somewhere to sit looked even less promising.
Benji carried the food.
Tabitha held Blue.
Blue stared at the food.
“No.”
They circled the food court once.
Nothing.
Twice.
Nothing.
Then a couple stood up.
“Go!”
Benji ran.
Tabitha followed.
A man approaching from the other direction saw what was
happening, sighed and surrendered.
“Sorry!” Tabitha called.
He waved her off.
They sat.
Blue immediately shoved his head against Tabitha's leg.
“You're getting some.”
Blue stared.
“When I'm ready.”
More staring.
“Stop.”
She pulled a fry from the carton.
Blue ate it.
Benji unwrapped his burger.
“Oh, fuck.”
“What?”
“I forgot how good these are.”
“You had one like three months ago.”
“Long time.”
At the next table, a man laughed.
“You should've seen this place when they opened.”
Tabitha looked over.
“Worse?”
“Better. Worse. Depends whether you owned the place.”
He was maybe fifty. A woman beside him was feeding pieces of
hamburger bun to a toddler.
“This is new?” Tabitha asked.
“Couple years.”
“I thought it was older.”
“Nope.”
The man pointed towards the restaurant.
“Guy bought the space cheap. Everybody thought he was nuts.”
“Why?”
The man looked around.
Tabitha followed his gaze.
Boarded storefront.
Boarded storefront.
Empty storefront.
Broken escalator.
“Right.”
“He figured people still had to eat.”
Benji raised his burger.
“Smart man.”
“Lease cost him practically nothing. That's what I heard,
anyway. Mall was desperate to get somebody in.”
“…and now this?”
The man nodded.
“Now this.”
Tabitha looked around again.
Every table was occupied.
People sat on benches with bags of food balanced on their
knees.
A family had spread a blanket on the floor near the railing.
Someone was sitting on an overturned bucket.
The line had gotten longer.
“Nothing used to be cheap here,” Tabitha said.
The man laughed.
“No.”
“My mom complained about it constantly.”
“Your mom was right.”
“She said you couldn't breathe in Santa Monica without
somebody charging you for the air.”
“That sounds about right.”
Tabitha smiled.
She could almost hear her saying it.
Parking was too expensive.
Food was too expensive.
Rent was insane.
Everything was crowded.
There were too many tourists.
There was too much traffic.
Tabitha looked towards the boarded stores.
Then towards the line at In-N-Out.
Blue rested his head on her knee.
She gave him another fry.
“My mom would've loved this.”
“The burgers?” Benji asked.
“The cheap rent.”
Benji looked around.
“Think she'd want to live in a mall?”
“No.”
“Then why-”
“Eat your f***ing burger, Benji.”
He did.
Above them, the broken escalator remained perfectly still.
The working elevator dinged.
Somewhere downstairs, a baby started crying.
The line moved forward.
…and Santa Monica Place, despite everything, remained open.
“I still think it was Opus Grant.”
Tabitha sighed.
They had been having this argument for eleven minutes.
“You have absolutely no reason to think it was Opus Grant.”
“I have several reasons.”
“Name one.”
Benji pointed back towards the McDonald's they had just
left.
“Big house.”
“The house isn't there anymore.”
“It was a big house.”
“You never saw it.”
“I saw pictures.”
“You saw one picture of the rubble.”
“It was expensive rubble.”
Tabitha rolled her eyes.
The McDonald's had been built on the site of what had once
been a mansion. That much everyone knew. Who had actually lived there was
another question entirely.
The mansion had been abandoned during the Fall and
subsequently stripped of virtually everything that could be carried away,
followed by several things that probably shouldn't have been carried away. By
the time someone finally demolished what remained, there was little left to
indicate what sort of person had once lived there.
Naturally, this meant everyone had a theory.
“Easy Breezy,” said Tabitha.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Didn't live here.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.”
“You don't.”
“Opus did.”
“You don't know that either.”
“I heard it.”
“From who?”
Benji paused.
“I don't remember.”
“Exactly.”
Blue walked several feet ahead of them carrying the remains
of a hamburger bun in his mouth.
Benji wasn't giving up.
“Could've been Sally Lawrence.”
“She would've been like a hundred years old.”
“She could've owned it before.”
“Then it wouldn't have been her house when it fell.”
“People would still call it the Sally Lawrence house.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because it could've been Opus Grant's house.”
Tabitha stopped.
“You just went in a circle.”
Benji smiled.
“I know.”
They resumed walking.
“I loved Dragon Fist,” he said.
“You love all those movies.”
“Because Opus was f***ing awesome.”
“Half his cool moves were wires.”
Benji stopped.
“What?”
“Wires.”
“They weren't wires.”
“They were wires.”
“He jumped over a car.”
“On wires.”
“He kicked six guys without touching the ground.”
“Wires.”
“He ran up a wall.”
“Benji.”
“You don't know that.”
“I know people can't run up f***ing walls.”
“Opus could.”
“No, Opus Grant was hanging from a wire while pretending he
could.”
Benji looked genuinely disappointed.
Tabitha laughed.
“I'm not saying he couldn't fight.”
“He could.”
“I know.”
“He was a kung-fu champion.”
“I know.”
“He would've kicked your ass.”
Tabitha thought about it.
“Probably.”
“Definitely.”
“I wouldn't want to fight him.”
Benji grinned.
“See?”
“I also wouldn't want to fight a bear. Doesn't mean the bear
can run up a wall.”
Blue stopped and looked back at them.
“Not you,” said Tabitha.
They continued through Brentwood.
The neighbourhood had survived better than many parts of Los
Angeles, although survived meant different things depending on which
side of the street they looked at.
There were still mansions.
Some were obviously abandoned.
One had half its windows boarded up and a swimming pool that
had long since turned green. Another was almost completely hidden behind
vegetation. A third had lost its front gate and apparently several sections of
its fence.
Others were very obviously occupied.
Solar panels covered roofs. Water tanks sat behind walls.
Cameras watched the street. Gates that had probably once been decorative now
looked capable of stopping a truck.
One house had razor wire.
Benji stared at it.
“Friendly.”
“Probably rich.”
“They were all rich.”
“Still rich.”
“Oh.”
That was different.
A security camera followed them as they walked past.
Benji waved.
The camera continued following him.
“Think anyone's in there?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“The camera just watched you.”
“Could be automatic.”
“Could be.”
Benji stopped.
Tabitha looked at him.
“What?”
“Let's find out.”
“No.”
He walked towards the gate.
“Benji.”
There was a small intercom beside it.
“Don't.”
Benji pressed the button.
They waited.
Nothing happened.
He pressed it again.
Nothing.
“See?” Tabitha said.
“Could be broken.”
“Or nobody lives there.”
“Or they're ignoring us.”
“That's what I would do.”
Benji pressed it a third time.
Still nothing.
He shrugged.
“Unoccupied.”
“You don't know that.”
“That's the game.”
“What game?”
“Is It Occupied?”
Tabitha stared at him.
“That's a terrible game.”
“Your turn.”
“I don't want a turn.”
“Coward.”
Tabitha immediately looked towards the next mansion.
“That one.”
It looked immaculate.
The lawn was maintained. The gate was intact. There were no
obvious signs of life, although several cameras were mounted along the wall.
Benji smiled.
“Go.”
Tabitha walked over.
She pressed the button.
There was an immediate burst of static.
“Yes?”
Tabitha jumped.
“Oh. Hi.”
“State your business.”
A man's voice.
“Uh...”
Benji covered his mouth.
Tabitha glared at him.
“We were just wondering if anyone lived here.”
There was a pause.
“You pressed a private security intercom to determine
whether someone lives here?”
“Yeah.”
Another pause.
“Do not press this button again.”
“Okay.”
“Do not approach the gate.”
“I wasn't-”
“…and leave the property.”
“We're on the sidewalk.”
“Leave.”
The intercom clicked off.
Benji burst out laughing.
“F*** you.”
“He was mad.”
“No shit.”
“You won.”
“What's the prize?”
“Knowing it's occupied.”
“Great.”
They walked another block.
Tabitha pointed towards a large house behind a high wall.
“Your turn.”
“That one's too obvious.”
“How?”
“Gate's clean.”
“So?”
“Occupied.”
“You can't just decide without pressing it.”
“That's literally what we've been doing.”
“Press it.”
Benji approached.
He looked at the intercom.
Then pressed the button.
Nothing.
He looked back at Tabitha.
She smiled.
Then the intercom came alive.
“Hello?”
Benji straightened.
“Hi.”
“Yes?”
“Is this house occupied?”
Silence.
Then:
“What?”
Benji looked at Tabitha.
She was already laughing.
“We're playing a game.”
“What game?”
“Is It Occupied?”
Another silence.
“Are you delivering my package?”
“No.”
“Oh, by Jove.”
Tabitha suddenly stopped laughing.
She knew that voice.
She stepped closer.
“Wait.”
Benji looked at her.
“What?”
Tabitha pressed towards the intercom.
“Are you David Kleinberg?”
There was another pause.
“Yes.”
Tabitha's eyes widened.
“Holy shit.”
Benji mouthed, Who?
Tabitha shoved him.
“You're David Kleinberg?”
“I just said yes.”
“I love your movies!”
“Thank you.”
“Can I have your autograph?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“I am waiting for a package.”
“We don't have it.”
“I know.”
“I could come back.”
“No.”
“It'll only take-”
The intercom clicked off.
Tabitha stared at it.
Benji started laughing.
“Shut up.”
“Who the f*** is David Kleinberg?”
Tabitha turned around.
“You don't know David Kleinberg?”
“No.”
“He directed The Long Goodbye.”
“Never saw it.”
“August Fire?”
“No.”
“Seven Days in Heaven?”
“No.”
“By Jove.”
“Did he direct Dragon Fist?”
“No.”
“Then I don't care.”
Tabitha looked back at the mansion.
“He could've signed something.”
“He doesn't like you.”
“He doesn't know me.”
“He knows enough.”
Blue barked.
“You too?”
They continued walking.
Behind them, a delivery van turned onto the street.
Tabitha looked back.
“Oh.”
“What?”
“His package.”
Benji looked.
“Should we tell him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“He doesn't like me.”
By the time they reached the Getty transit stop, Tabitha's
feet hurt.
Benji had complained about his feet six times.
Tabitha had complained about Benji complaining about his
feet four times.
Blue seemed perfectly fine.
“F***ing wolf,” Benji muttered.
Blue wagged his tail.
The lower tram station was busier than Tabitha expected. A
few dozen people waited beneath the shelter, some carrying groceries, others
returning from work. A woman had a stroller. Two men were hauling several boxes
tied to a handcart.
Above them, the Getty sat on the hill.
Home.
It still looked strange to Tabitha sometimes.
The pale buildings had been designed for art, tourists and
rich donors. Now several thousand people lived up there.
Her mother was one of them.
Tabitha checked the board.
GETTY TRAM
NEXT DEPARTURE: 19:43
She checked the time.
19:42.
“Holy shit.”
Benji looked.
“It's on time.”
“Don't say that.”
“What?”
“You'll scare it.”
“It's a train.”
“Tram.”
“Whatever.”
A bell sounded.
The tram appeared.
Tabitha smiled.
“See?”
Then it stopped.
Halfway into the station.
Everyone waited.
Nothing happened.
Benji slowly turned towards her.
“Don't.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“Don't.”
The tram moved forward again.
It stopped in the correct place.
The doors opened.
Tabitha exhaled.
“Barely.”
People began getting off.
Then everyone waiting started getting on.
Blue immediately pulled towards the doors.
“He knows where he's going,” Benji said.
“He knows Mom feeds him.”
“Same thing.”
They stepped aboard.
Tabitha found somewhere to stand near the window while Benji
held Blue's lead.
The doors closed.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Benji looked at her.
Tabitha pointed a finger at him.
“Don't.”
The tram started moving.
It carried them away from Brentwood and began climbing
towards the Getty.
Towards the old museum.
Towards several thousand apartments that had never been
intended to exist.
Towards home.
Tabitha looked down at the bag hanging from her shoulder.
Two old MORAL bracelets.
Some copper.
A mirror.
Tiles.
Shampoo.
Screws.
Magazines.
…and a toaster Benji still insisted he could fix.
Not a great day.
Not terrible.
She looked up towards the Getty.
Her mother was waiting.
That made getting home the only thing that mattered now.
The old gallery didn't look much like a gallery anymore.
Someone had tried to preserve the original architecture when
the Getty was first converted into housing, but practicality had eventually
won. Temporary walls became permanent walls. Pipes appeared where pipes had
never been intended to appear. Electrical conduits ran along ceilings. Former
exhibition spaces had been divided and divided again until several hundred
apartments occupied buildings that had once displayed some of the world's most
valuable art.
There were still reminders.
Tabitha, Benji and Blue walked past an old sign mounted
beside the corridor.
REMBRANDT AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES
Underneath it, someone had added:
APARTMENTS 420–447 →
Another sign beneath that pointed in the opposite direction.
LAUNDRY ←
Benji looked at the Rembrandt sign.
“Think they left any behind?”
“Any what?”
“Rembrandts.”
“Yes, Benji. They converted the Getty into cheap apartments
but forgot to check the walls for Rembrandts.”
“Could happen.”
“No.”
Blue knew where he was.
The wolf raced down the corridor, stopping outside apartment
436.
“Show-off,” said Benji.
Tabitha unlocked the door.
“Mom?”
She stepped inside, dropped her bag beside the entrance and
immediately pulled her shirt over her head.
Benji followed her inside.
He took his off too.
Tabitha stopped.
She looked at him.
Then smiled.
“You're staying?”
“I guess.”
“You don't have to.”
“I know.”
Tabitha hugged him.
Benji grunted as she squeezed him.
“You're sweaty.”
“So are you.”
“That's why I took my shirt off.”
Tabitha released him.
Public nudity had once been among the many things Thomas
Rydell considered an affront to Cascadian morality. The Republic of Los Angeles
had repealed the old indecency laws years ago, though changing a law was
considerably easier than changing several generations of social conditioning.
Inside one's own home, nobody particularly cared.
“Benji?”
Pauline emerged from the hallway with her walker.
She moved slowly, but she was smiling.
“You're here.”
“Hey, Pauline.”
“Oh, that's wonderful.”
Tabitha immediately went to her mother.
“Hey, Mom.”
She kissed Pauline on the cheek before wrapping both arms
around her.
Pauline winced.
Tabitha immediately loosened her grip.
“Sorry.”
“I have cancer, Tabs. I'm not made of glass.”
“I know.”
“You're squeezing me like you're trying to find out.”
Tabitha laughed and kissed her again.
Blue pushed between them.
“…and hello to you too.”
Pauline scratched behind his ears.
Blue's tail thumped against the wall.
“He ate half of Santa Monica today,” said Tabitha.
“I did not,” said Benji.
“I meant Blue.”
“Oh.”
Pauline looked towards the bag.
“So? What did you find?”
Tabitha brightened.
“Stuff.”
“Good stuff?”
“Stuff.”
“That doesn't sound promising.”
Tabitha brought the bag over to the table and began emptying
it.
“Copper.”
Pauline nodded.
“Good.”
“Mirror.”
“Useful.”
“Tiles.”
“All right.”
“Shampoo.”
“Very useful.”
“Screws.”
“Always useful.”
“Magazines.”
Pauline looked less impressed.
“…and-”
Tabitha reached into the bag.
She produced the first red bracelet.
Then the second.
Pauline stared at them.
MORAL.
MOVEMENT FOR ORDER, RESPONSIBILITY AND LAW.
“Two?” she asked.
“Two.”
“Why?”
“We found two.”
“I understand the number, Tabs.”
“Collectors.”
“What collectors?”
“Rydellians.”
Pauline picked one up.
“I used to have one of these.”
Tabitha looked at her.
“You did?”
“Of course I did.”
Benji smiled.
“Rydellian.”
“I was not a Rydellian.”
“You had the bracelet.”
“Half the country had the bracelet.”
“Sounds pretty Rydellian.”
Pauline threw it at him.
Benji caught it.
“So,” said Pauline, looking over the haul again, “it's
something, I guess.”
“That's what I said,” said Benji.
“No, you didn't.”
“I thought it.”
Tabitha pulled out the toaster.
Pauline's expression immediately changed.
“Oh.”
“Benji says he can fix it.”
Pauline looked at him.
“Can you?”
“Yes.”
Tabitha looked at him.
“Probably.”
Benji glared at her.
“I can fix it.”
“Wonderful,” said Pauline. “After that, you can fix the air
conditioner.”
Benji stopped.
“The what?”
“The air conditioner.”
“What happened to it?”
“It stopped conditioning the air.”
“That's usually bad.”
“Especially when the air is hot.”
Benji sighed.
“I'll look at it.”
“I'll pay you.”
“No.”
“Benji.”
“No.”
“You're fixing my toaster and my air conditioner.”
“So?”
“So I'm paying you.”
“No.”
Pauline frowned.
“Why?”
Benji looked at her as if the answer was obvious.
“Because you're you.”
Pauline's expression softened.
“You don't owe me anything.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“No, you don't.”
“I care about you,” said Benji, “and I care about Tabs. So
I'll fix them.”
Tabitha smiled.
Pauline looked between them.
“All right.”
“Thank you.”
“I didn't agree.”
“You stopped arguing.”
“That's not agreeing.”
“Close enough.”
Pauline shook her head.
“Oh, Tabs. Before I forget.”
“What?”
“Marty called.”
Tabitha's smile disappeared.
“Why?”
“Your shift tomorrow is cancelled.”
“What?”
“He doesn't need you.”
“F***.”
“He said business has been slow.”
“Business wasn't slow yesterday.”
“Well, apparently it's slow tomorrow.”
Tabitha sat down.
“Great.”
“It'll be all right.”
“I know.”
…and she did know.
They weren't starving.
Their apartment was rent-controlled. Pauline received a
cheque from the Republic every month. Food was affordable if they were careful.
The lights usually worked. They had water. They had medicine.
Most of the time.
What they didn't have was much room between fine and problem.
A broken air conditioner was a problem.
A medical expense was a problem.
A bad week at the general store was a problem.
Anything unexpected was a problem.
“We're okay,” Pauline said.
“I know.”
“We are.”
“I know, Mom.”
Pauline sat carefully.
“We're lucky.”
Tabitha looked around their apartment.
“You always say that.”
“Because we are.”
“We live in an art gallery.”
“You live in an art gallery. I live in an internationally
renowned cultural institution.”
“There's mould behind your toilet.”
“Internationally renowned mould.”
Benji laughed.
Pauline smiled.
“You know what I paid for my first apartment in Los
Angeles?”
“No.”
“Three times what we pay here.”
“For what?”
“An apartment.”
“I know. What did it have?”
“A bedroom.”
“…and?”
“A bathroom.”
“…and?”
Pauline thought.
“A kitchen.”
Tabitha stared at her.
“That was it?”
“That was an apartment.”
“For three times this?”
“…and mine was cheap.”
“Bullshit.”
“Ask anyone my age. People worked three jobs just to keep a
roof over their heads.”
Benji had begun examining the toaster.
“Three jobs?”
“Sometimes four.”
“How did anyone have time to live?”
“They didn't.”
Pauline leaned back.
“Los Angeles was ridiculous. Beautiful. Fun. Exciting.
Completely f***ing ridiculous.”
Tabitha smiled.
“You still miss it.”
“Of course I miss it.”
“You make it sound terrible.”
“It was terrible.”
“Then why-”
“Because terrible and good aren't opposites.”
Tabitha considered that.
Pauline picked up the MORAL bracelet again.
“I liked Rydell.”
Tabitha raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, you were absolutely a Rydellian.”
“Shut up.”
“You had the bracelet and everything.”
“I liked him. I didn't worship him.”
“What's the difference?”
“I wouldn't pay money for forty-year-old rubber.”
“Someone will.”
“I hope so.”
Pauline turned the bracelet over in her hand.
“He meant well about a lot of things.”
Benji looked up from the toaster.
“Order, responsibility and law?”
“Oh, he loved those.”
“Moral obligation,” said Tabitha.
Pauline laughed.
“God, yes. Everything was a moral obligation with that man.”
She put the bracelet down.
“Poverty was a moral obligation. Homelessness was a moral
obligation. Hungry children were a moral obligation. Affordable housing was a
moral obligation.”
“Sounds good,” said Benji.
“It sounded wonderful.”
Pauline paused.
“He just wasn't very good at explaining what the government
was actually supposed to do about any of it.”
Tabitha leaned back in her chair.
“So he sucked at poverty.”
“I wouldn't say he sucked.”
“You just did.”
“I said it was a weakness.”
“You said people needed four jobs to afford an apartment.”
“That wasn't entirely his fault.”
“…but he was President.”
“Yes.”
“…and you liked him.”
“Yes.”
“…and you bought his bracelet.”
“I swear to God, Tabitha-”
Tabitha laughed.
“All right.”
Pauline shook her head.
“You kids think everything was simple.”
“No, we don't.”
“You do.”
“We really don't.”
Pauline looked at the bracelet for another moment.
“Neither did we.”
That ended the argument.
Benji turned the toaster upside down.
Something fell out.
All three looked down.
A dead cockroach lay on the table.
Tabitha recoiled.
“Oh, f***!”
Pauline stared.
“You brought that into my house?”
“It came with the toaster!”
“Take it back.”
“To Santa Monica?”
“I don't care where you take it.”
Benji picked up the cockroach with a piece of paper.
“I can fix this.”
“The cockroach?” asked Tabitha.
“The toaster.”
“Good.”
Blue tried to sniff the cockroach.
“NO!” all three shouted.
Blue backed away.
Pauline sighed.
“How was the rest of your day?”
“Fine.”
“Anything interesting?”
“We went to Santa Monica Place.”
“Still there?”
“Mom.”
“What?”
“Yes, it's still there.”
“I haven't been in years.”
“The In-N-Out was packed.”
“The what?”
“They opened an In-N-Out.”
Pauline's eyes widened.
“At Santa Monica Place?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe Los Angeles is recovering after all.”
Tabitha laughed.
Then she looked at her mother.
“How are you?”
Pauline knew immediately what she meant.
“I'm fine.”
“Mom.”
“I'm tired.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“Pain?”
“A little.”
“How much?”
“Tabs.”
“How much?”
“The same.”
Tabitha's smile disappeared.
“Did they call?”
“No.”
“Did you call them?”
“Yes.”
“…and?”
“Still pending.”
Benji stopped working on the toaster.
“For the surgery?”
Pauline nodded.
Tabitha stared at the table.
“How long now?”
“Don't.”
“How long?”
“Tabs, you know how long.”
Years.
The tumour had been discovered years ago.
The doctors had decided years ago that it should come out.
…and the Republic of Los Angeles had spent years deciding
when, where and how it intended to pay for that to happen.
“They can't keep doing this,” said Tabitha.
“Apparently they can.”
“Your doctor said-”
“I know what my doctor said.”
“He wants it out.”
“I know.”
“What if it spreads?”
Pauline looked at her daughter.
“I know.”
Tabitha went quiet.
Benji put down the screwdriver.
“Maybe tomorrow.”
Pauline looked at him.
“What?”
“Maybe the letter comes tomorrow.”
Pauline snickered.
“Benji.”
“What?”
“I've been waiting for years.”
“I know.”
“If I expected it tomorrow every day, I'd have gone insane
by now.”
“Still could.”
Pauline smiled.
“That's sweet.”
“I try.”
“There was some good news.”
Tabitha immediately looked up.
“What?”
“My refill went through.”
“The medication?”
“Yes.”
“All of it?”
“All of it.”
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
Tabitha visibly relaxed.
“Thank Jove.”
“I pick it up Monday.”
“I'll get it.”
“You don't have to.”
“I'll get it.”
“Tabs-”
“I'll get it.”
Pauline smiled.
“All right.”
Blue came over and rested his head against Pauline's leg.
She scratched behind his ears.
Benji returned to the toaster.
Tabitha picked up one of the MORAL bracelets.
ORDER.
RESPONSIBILITY.
LAW.
Her mother was still waiting for the Republic to decide when
it could remove the cancer growing inside her.
…but at least the medication had been approved.
Tabitha put the bracelet back on the table.
“So,” said Pauline, “about my air conditioner.”
Benji closed his eyes.
“I knew we'd come back to that.”
“It's hot.”
“I just walked seven miles.”
“…and now you're indoors.”
“In a hot apartment.”
“Exactly.”
Benji stared at her.
Pauline smiled.
“Sounds like a moral obligation.”
Tabitha burst out laughing.
Benji pointed the screwdriver at Pauline.
“You're lucky I like you.”
“I know.”
Blue barked.
Pauline looked down at him.
“…and apparently he agrees.”
The air conditioner worked.
Benji had announced this approximately seventeen times.
The first time had been informative.
The next sixteen had been because Pauline had doubted him.
“I told you I could fix it.”
“Yes.”
“You didn't believe me.”
“I believed you.”
“You offered to pay me.”
“That generally happens when someone performs a service.”
“You thought I'd break it.”
“I thought you might break it.”
“…but I didn't.”
“No.”
“I fixed it.”
Pauline had eventually retreated to her bedroom.
Tabitha had dragged Benji into hers before he could explain
the repair for an eighteenth time.
Now the apartment was pleasantly cool.
Blue slept on the floor beside the bed.
Tabitha lay against Benji with her head on his shoulder,
both of them staring at the television.
Neither had any idea what the movie was called.
It was an old romantic comedy from the 1980s. The sort of
movie where an attractive man with an implausibly large apartment had met an
attractive woman with an equally implausible job and they had spent the last
hour finding increasingly stupid reasons not to admit they liked each other.
Tabitha didn't care about them.
She cared about everything behind them.
Los Angeles.
Not her Los Angeles.
Another one.
The man drove along a freeway surrounded by cars.
The woman ate lunch outside a restaurant where every table
was occupied.
People walked along sidewalks without looking over their
shoulders. Storefronts glowed at night. Houses stood behind hedges instead of
walls. Cars filled parking lots.
There were people everywhere.
And nobody in the movie seemed particularly impressed by any
of it.
“Look at that,” Tabitha said.
“What?”
“The street.”
Benji looked.
“What about it?”
“People.”
“Yeah.”
“That's f***ing insane.”
“They had people in the eighties.”
“I know they had people.”
“Sounded like you were surprised.”
Tabitha elbowed him.
“Ow.”
“Look at all the cars.”
“That would suck.”
“It does.”
“You miss traffic?”
“No.”
“You said you missed traffic today.”
“I miss what traffic means.”
“What does traffic mean?”
“That there are enough people going somewhere to get in each
other's way.”
Benji thought about it.
“Still sounds annoying.”
“It probably was.”
On television, the woman walked into a restaurant.
Someone immediately seated her.
Tabitha narrowed her eyes.
“Bulls***.”
“What?”
“She didn't have a reservation.”
“How do you know?”
“She just walked in.”
“Maybe she called.”
“They didn't have phones.”
Benji looked at her.
“They had phones in the eighties.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I really don't.”
“Phones you carried.”
“They had those too.”
“F*** you.”
Benji smiled.
The movie continued.
Los Angeles looked clean.
Not perfectly clean. There was graffiti. There was garbage
beside a curb in one shot. One character complained about crime.
…but it looked alive in a way Tabitha found almost
unsettling.
“How much of this do you think was real?”
Benji glanced at her.
“The movie?”
“The city.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, did Los Angeles actually look like this?”
“Probably.”
“All the time?”
“I don't know.”
“Movies lie.”
“Yeah.”
“They probably picked the nicest streets.”
“Probably.”
“They would've moved garbage.”
“Probably.”
“They would've made everything look better.”
“Probably.”
Tabitha lifted her head.
“Can you say something other than probably?”
“Possibly.”
She dropped her head back onto his shoulder.
“A***hole.”
Benji laughed.
The movie cut to a wide shot of the city.
Tabitha watched silently.
“I don't think it was all fake,” Benji said.
She looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because people miss it.”
“People miss everything.”
“Not like this.”
“My mom misses paying three times as much rent.”
“She doesn't miss the rent.”
“She misses the city that charged it.”
“Exactly.”
“That doesn't prove anything.”
“It proves there was something worth missing.”
Tabitha thought about that.
On television, the couple argued outside a movie theatre.
Behind them, people streamed past.
Nobody scavenged anything.
Nobody had fortified anything.
Nobody waited years for the government to decide whether
they could have surgery.
Nobody seemed aware that the world they inhabited could ever
stop existing.
Maybe that was movie magic too.
“I think people miss knowing what came next,” Tabitha said.
Benji looked down at her.
“What?”
“Before the Fall.”
“What about it?”
“They knew what they were doing.”
“Did they?”
“You know what I mean. You went to school. Got a job. Rented
an apartment. Complained that the apartment cost too much. Bought stuff. Got
married. Had kids. Complained about traffic. Got old.”
“Died.”
“Thanks.”
“It's part of the process.”
She elbowed him again.
“Ow.”
“People knew what tomorrow was supposed to look like.”
Benji went quiet.
Tabitha looked towards the television.
“Then everything fell apart.”
The romantic leads were kissing now.
Neither Tabitha nor Benji had been paying enough attention
to understand why.
“Maybe that's what they miss,” she continued. “Not Los
Angeles. Not Rydell. Not Cascadia. Just...before.”
“Before everything got f***ed.”
“Yeah.”
Benji reached for the remote and turned the volume down.
Tabitha looked at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Why'd you turn it down?”
“They were annoying me.”
“They finally stopped arguing.”
“Exactly. Movie's over.”
“It has twenty minutes left.”
“Then they're going to break up again.”
Tabitha smiled.
Probably.
She looked back towards the screen.
“I wish people would stop doing that.”
“Breaking up?”
“Looking backwards.”
“Oh.”
“Everybody talks about what Los Angeles used to be. What
Cascadia used to be. What Rydell did. What happened during the Fall. What they
lost.”
“We lost a lot.”
“I know.”
“So?”
“So it's gone.”
Benji looked at her.
Tabitha sat up.
“The old LA isn't coming back.”
“You don't know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Maybe it'll recover.”
“That's not the same thing.”
Benji said nothing.
“We could rebuild every building. Put every store back. Fix
every freeway. Fill Santa Monica Beach with tourists again. It still wouldn't
be the same city.”
“No.”
“So why does everybody want to make it the same?”
“I don't know.”
“I want to know what comes next.”
Benji smiled slightly.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're looking at me weird.”
“No, I'm not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I'm looking at you.”
“Weirdly.”
He laughed.
Tabitha lay back down.
“I just think somebody has to start thinking about the
future.”
“Okay.”
“Otherwise we're just going to spend the next fifty years
trying to rebuild something that doesn't exist anymore.”
“Okay.”
“…and stop saying okay.”
“Probably.”
Tabitha elbowed him for the third time.
He caught her arm.
“No.”
“Hey!”
“You've lost elbow privileges.”
“Give me my arm.”
“No.”
Tabitha made an exaggerated attempt to yank it free.
Benji grinned and held on.
“Help me,” she told Blue, playfully pleading.
Blue opened one eye.
“I'm being attacked.”
Blue closed it again.
“F***ing useless.”
“He knows you're the aggressor.”
“Blue, whose side are you on?”
Blue rolled onto his other side.
Tabitha laughed and gave Benji a shove with her free hand.
“Fine. Give it back.”
“Promise not to elbow me?”
“Yes.”
Benji released her.
She immediately elbowed him.
“Ow! You fucking liar!”
Tabitha collapsed against him laughing.
“You believed me!”
Benji could only smile and shake his head.
For a while they watched the movie.
Then Benji spoke.
“What about yours?”
“My what?”
“Future.”
Tabitha looked at him.
“You said everybody should think about the future.”
“Yeah.”
“So what's yours?”
“I don't know.”
“That seems hypocritical.”
“I said we should think about it. I didn't say I had the
next forty years scheduled.”
“All right.”
She waited.
Benji didn't say anything.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Benji.”
He stared at the television.
“What?”
“You're doing the weird thing again.”
“What weird thing?”
“The thing where you obviously want to say something and
then pretend you don't.”
“I don't do that.”
“You're doing it right now.”
He took a breath.
“Am I in it?”
Tabitha frowned.
“What?”
“Your future.”
The question landed differently than she expected.
She stared at him.
Benji still wasn't looking at her.
“Of course you're in my future.”
He finally looked over.
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Tabitha laughed softly.
“What kind of question is that?”
“A question.”
“I love you.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you asking?”
Benji hesitated.
“What kind?”
Tabitha's smile faded.
“What?”
“What kind of love?”
She understood.
Neither of them spoke.
The movie continued quietly in the background.
Somebody was running through an airport now.
Tabitha could hear her own breathing.
Benji swallowed.
“Like...friend love?”
Her eyes began to sting.
She smiled.
“Benji.”
“Or something else?”
Tabitha moved towards him.
She kissed him.
Benji froze for barely a moment before kissing her back.
There was nothing tentative about the second kiss.
Tabitha wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer.
Benji's hand came up against her back. She kissed him again, harder, laughing
softly when they briefly bumped noses before finding each other again.
When they separated, it was only far enough to breathe.
Benji stared at her.
“Oh.”
Tabitha's eyes were wet.
She smiled.
“Does that answer your question?”
“Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“I might need additional evidence.”
She laughed.
Then kissed him again.
On the television, Los Angeles remained young and crowded
and impossibly certain of itself.
Neither of them was watching anymore.
Blue raised his head.
He looked at them.
Then, apparently deciding there were some things a wolf
didn't need to supervise, he stood, stretched and walked out of the bedroom.
Tabitha reached for the remote.
The television went black.
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