Twenty-First Century Blues
By Geoffrey Dean
01 – Meeting New People
“Would you please just listen to me? He wants me
out of the Department, and is trying to get me to quit!
How else do you explain this shit assignment?”
The voice of a desperate man travels far and wide, especially when it’s reverberating through the hallway of a concrete apartment building.
“What do you mean what do I mean?
I know you wouldn’t be caught dead in this place, and
don’t even get me started on paying my dues, I –”
Like many complexes with paper thin walls, the tenants of 5021 Tercet Court are enthralled by the lives unfolding all around them. Who can blame them?
“I am calm, Karl. It’s so frustrating when–”
Strangely, on the morning of October 15th, only two sets of ears were privy to the conversation happening in the creaking elevator on the fifth floor, and neither were supposed to be there.
“What kind of a fool do you take me for? There’s no one
here but me, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t follow proper–”
One of the observers was a stranger to 5021, guarding the door leading to the stairwell. The other was the Tenant of apartment 505, latching his left eye onto the peep-hole like an artist to a viewfinder.
“Yes sir, I understand my language came off
quite aggressive, but I wasn’t insinuating –”
Hungry for new material, desperate for a fresh story, the Tenant drank from the monotony of life.
“Oh, there was something I wanted to ask you:
looking at my last paycheck, I noticed a few discrepancies in -“
And it was delicious.
“Hello? Hello? Karl? Are you there? son of a –
You have got to be fuckin’ kidding me.”
Satisfied, the Tenant pried his eye from the door, carefully slinking away toe-to-heel so as to not disturb the Actors.
Ding!
The Stranger guarding the stairwell called out,
“Yes sir, no sir, right away sir.
What happened to your spine, huh?
Oh, I think I passed it in the Rift!”
The guard’s voice was nearly identical to the other’s, only more gravely and used. This was no mere monotony, thought the Tenant, and he carefully peered through the looking glass once again.
“You knew what this conversation was about,
and still you said nothing? I mean,
what the hell’s wrong with you?”
The two spoke in the same voice, from the same mouth, with expressions from the same face, yet the guard looked to be some thirty years older.
Twins? No, couldn’t possibly be. Son? No. More like a clone.
“Hey, I didn’t get a warning either! And how
was I supposed to remember what this was about?
It was decades ago! What a dick that Karl used to be, huh?”
Dumbfounded, the Tenant could only blink and listen to the two Strangers argue with themselves.
“I keep telling you, this whole you’re responsible
for yourself therefore you must relieve yourself of duty
policy is just so they can keep us from processing
how fucked up this whole operation is!
I mean, why bother when this is the response?”
A reminiscent sigh seasoned with the bittersweet salt of nostalgia swept through the hallway, wafting through the 2 inch gap below the Tenant’s door like microwaved fish,
“Oh, what passion of youth swept me up
and spat me out, I cannot remember.
But it is good to see a fire in my soul!
You’re only as old as you feel, you know?”
“I’m serious, they assure us they can’t make a mistake
which is just bullshit ’cause we all do, of course,
and it’s just the universe’s oldest excuse so
they can throw all the blame downstream –”
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
The guard squints at a small black pager,
“Whoops! Looks like my shift’s up.”
The air in the hallway sizzles, boiling with an unnatural Heat.
“Come on! This is exactly what I’m talking about!”
Pop!
A molten ball of white light, the size of a golf ball, appears over the head of the guard, hovering just in view of the peephole.
“You know how it is: don’t want to keep them waiting.
They sure hate spending more than they need.”
The ball grows to the size of a baseball, oozing thick light like molten glass as it bubbles and pops. The falling globs of viscous light droop from the ball to the floor, shredding through Spacetime to reveal a lacy celestial curtain made from ancient stars and space dust.
A light breeze passes through the curtains into the Rift, catching the fabric of Spacetime with a gentle wave, welcoming the Tenant still pressed against the door.
The elder draws back the Veil and steps through,
“Good work champ. Keep up the good fight.”
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
A strong gust of wind blasts through the Rift, shattering the fragile Curtain into a flurry of fireworks cascading with glitter made of a million stars.
“Why did I have to become such a dick?”
Opportunity only strikes twice in a lifetime, thought the Tenant, and he brazenly stepped out from the comfort of his abode, locking the door with a smile and a deep breath.
“So, how’s your day going?”
Smooth as ever, like silk made from horse hair.
“Pretty shit to be honest.
I mean,
how many plans do you need to see come to fruition
before you start to act upon your own?
How many times can you fail
before you’re allowed to throw in the towel?”
“Sounds like you’re running a marathon, my friend, not a sprint. It’s easy to get them confused when you’re solely focused on each and every step, pun intended. The steps are plentiful, painful, impacting on both your mind and body, and vitally important to finish the race.”
“What are you going on about?”
The Tenant smiled at the Stranger,
“Having troubles at work? Sounds like you need to take some time off and come with me for a drink and a good meal.”
“It’s 10am.”
“Yup.”
“I can’t just leave right now,
I’ve got important business to tend to.”
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
The air boils again, bubbling and oozing with the bright white light of molten Spacetime.
“Shit.”
“So what do you say?”
The Veil opens once again and a voice calls out, not as used as the last but still older than the Stranger,
“He said yes, obviously. Now hurry up, kid,
you know we’re not getting paid for this.”
With a smile and two outstretched hands, the Tenant introduces himself,
“I’m Leland. Leland Fritz.”
“My name’s Garrock, and this one here is Gary.”
“I –
What the hell are you –
We aren’t even
supposed to –
I told you not to call me that!”
02 – Small Talk
Leland gestures to the creaking elevator,
“Oh hell no. I wouldn’t be caught dead
in that rickety piece of shit.”
Garrock smirks,
“Stairs aren’t much better.”
A dangerous flurry of words is suppressed with a few silent blinks as Gary stares daggers into his older self.
Leland throws open the door to the neglected stairwell of The Standard Manor, greeting the many deceased beetles and flies strewn about the windowsills, piping, and webbed hunting grounds.
“Oh to be a spider in this stairwell!”
“What does that even mean?”
A young boy and his guard dog hastily pass the two on their way to the 6th floor with nothing more than a timid glance.
“Talk about a perfect existence: plenty of food to eat, permanent residence, and practically everyone avoids you!”
Leland’s laugh dances around the stairwell as the two pass the open door to the 3rd floor hallway. The stench of a dozen apartments filled with rotting garbage, overfilled litter boxes, and mildewed laundry spill into the stairwell.
“Smells a little like Death, doesn’t it? When I first moved in, the landlord said I got the best floor in the building.”
“I believe it.”
A fresh pile of dog shit bakes into the carpet of the first floor landing. The Harsh rays of the summer sun penetrate the thin windows of the stairwell, cooking the excrement for the next wave of flies the spiders will feast upon.
“What’s wrong with people?”
“I find that people tend to mirror their environments.”
Clunk, crunch!
Another cemetery of insects are eviscerated as the two exit the stairwell, shuffling onto a narrow sidewalk surrounded by a parking lot.
“What a shame.”
“How so?”
“Do you know what this Valley used
to look like? A sea of trees crashing into
dramatic mountains, spilling over sheer cliffs
like waterfalls greater than Niagara.”
“Yeah, I often wonder what this lot used to look like before Quartz Parking took it over. You know they own, like, all the parking in the state? And they keep buying more lots, big and small, to expand their rule.”
The two imagine far away worlds unmade by the chaos of time and the greed of humanity.
“So, which one’s yours?”
“What’s that? Oh I don’t have a car. Sold it a week after moving here. Plus, we’re not going too far.”
A hundred cars squeeze into eighty spaces, fifteen motorcycles huddle next to three filled dumpsters, and a looming sign monitors the lot declaring vehicles will be towed at owners expense. Leland crosses the parking lot, confidently transitioning to a rotting sidewalk lining the main thoroughfare of the city,
“Why’d you sell your car?”
Leland points to several Quartz Parking lots in view,
“Can you believe they’re charging $100 per month for the opportunity to park in the single lot of your choosing? No guarantees for a spot and it’s non-transferable to other parking lots.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, plus I got a crazy offer that was too much to pass up.”
“Doesn’t it bother you?
Breathing in all this smog and asphalt,
the constant rattle of construction,
the chattering of honking horns
and absent minded drivers?”
“No, not really. My legs work just fine for now so I figured I’d just get used to relying on them for the time being. When you walk everywhere, you see a different side of life.”
“I’ve gotta ask, what exactly is your job?”
“I travel a lot
and observe.”
“What exactly are you looking for?”
“Anything worth mentioning.
What do you do all day?”
“I exhaust my energy.”
“Doesn’t everybody?
How do you spend it?”
“Well, it could be a long phone call, listening to a bunch of random people rant and gossip on the internet, Oh, recently I’ve started to follow politics! That usually burns me out by noon, and then I go for a walk.”
Leland gestures towards a two-story box of an apartment; functional, reliable, efficient, and space conscientious.
“Talking about observing, twice an hour a woman exits from that apartment; first floor on the left. She steps out wearing the lushest looking cloud and rainbow printed robe, lights a cigarette, and I have to believe she’s got the real fuckin’ deal unfiltered Lucky’s too, like the real lung stripping kind, and she observes the world.”
A woman steps out from the apartment, wearing a sky blue fleece bathrobe riddled with smiling cartoon depictions of rainbows and clouds.
“Twice an hour you say?”
The woman lights a fresh cigarette, takes a long drag, and contemplates the world.
“Makes sense though, right? Cooped up for so long, probably going to school or working from home, I mean we know kids are a possibility on the table, and everyone’s gotta have some me time. How do you unwind?”
“I sleep, watch some entertainment,
swim, read. I relax, you know?”
“Never been much of a reader, to be honest, and I haven’t had a pool since I was a kid. I know there’s a plethora of unbelievable pieces of literary and visual art, but it’s so hard to find something I like. Got any recommendations?”
“Oh, there’s a great documentary detailing –
Wait, no not that one, it hasn’t come out yet.”
From Main Street to Crawford Avenue to Herring Way, Leland and Gary observed the world around them, commenting on all they saw. Leland pointed out the many fusion restaurants, the only nightclub in the city that no one ever goes to, and dozens of vacant small business locations.
Their journey ended as Leland gazed up the facade of 51 + 50 Herring; an eleven story student housing project split into two structures connected by a series of sky-bridges, boasting a capacity of over 3,500 students with three outdoor courtyards and rooftop decks.
“I don’t know who thought black and white boxes would look nice against a blue sky. You used to be able to see André’s Butte from here.”
Between the pair of hundred foot structures, shrouded in their tremendous shadow, was an alleyway with a door at the far end marked by a small purple neon sign flashing: The Crossroads.
“Okay. I know this looks bad, but I promise I’m not trying to murder you. Just…come with me down the alley and into the best place in town, bar none.”
“I thought we were going to a bar.”
“We are.”
As the sun set on an unseen horizon, the thin white strip of clouds above their heads glowed with pastel purples, yellows, whites, and red.
“Nature always finds a way.”
Leland opened the door to The Crossroads revealing a dark room.
“Come on, quickly now.”
Gary entered, stumbling in the dark with arms outstretched, guided by a familiar breeze. A thin lacy curtain grazed Gary’s cheek and another door latched in the darkness.
Whoosh!
A series of gas lanterns lining the walls ignite, illuminating the Victorian entryway in a warm glow. Paintings and portraits cover the square paneled walls, revealing a thousand faces greeting the travelers.
“Right this way, good sir.”
Leland crosses a scarlet rug, ascending the tall wooden staircase lined with gas lanterns. A dark green door with stained glass accents beckons the two at the top of the stairs.
“What the hell is this place?”
“Not what, but when? See? Look at the sign!”
All are welcome at The Crossroads,
Even the Devil cannot be turned away.
Find rest and comfort, weary travelers.
Lay your heavy shields at the door and
Sheath your swords, for these grounds are
Hallowed by these presiding human souls.
Beyond this threshold, honesty is the only policy.
“How fun is this?”
Leland knocks three times and an old butler dressed in a black tailcoat opens the ornate door. The frail man greets the two with a toothless smile and a nod. Leland nods, reciprocating with a smile of his own. Behind the door, a solitary drum beats a somber rhythm, weeping to a quieting audience.
“They say faking a smile can get you to smile for real. I don’t think it’s the sort of thing you should only use at work, I mean, it’s the sort of thing you should do for yourself. It doesn’t cost anything, so what do we need to save it for?”
A smile forms on Gary’s face and he nods to Leland, then to the butler, and back to Leland again. The three nod and smile and the butler steps aside, welcoming the two inside The Crossroads. Dancing with the wailing music, the butler leads the two down a golden hall of crystal chandeliers.
“People hide the strangest things, don’t they?”
“What is this place?”
“I think it used to be a theater, hence the huge red velvet curtains at the end of the hall.”
A golden drawstring, thick enough to tie down a boat, rests in the hands of the pirouetting butler. He smiles another toothless grin and heaves the heavy curtain open. With one final beat, the drum quiets, and the venue holds its breath.
A lone drummer, dressed in a green tunic and a feathered hat, commands the stage. Displayed in the middle of the theater, encircled by his audience, he hangs his head with a stick in one hand and a bodhran in the other.
“So Gary, what do you find yourself thinking about lately?”
The Bard picks up the mournful beat once more and Gary listens,
So many mistakes
So many wasted words
So many moments
I could not move towards
So many hours
Left by myself
Too many a year
Spent cautiously
Refusing love
Lying abundantly
So I take the plunge
Into darker seas
My mind has been aching
These hands are a’shaking
I am what I am
And I know it’s frustrating
I find myself thinking
New pits I’ve been sinking
My past is behind
And my future is shrinking
Old voices keep calling
Past visions are sprawling
I am what I am
All my life I’ve been hauling
Self-doubt found appalling
Now done with the stalling
I’m crawling, I’m crawling
Beneath my stonewalling
Still the Burden
the Burden
the Burden’s
Too much to bear!
