Will McIntosh - Soft Apocalypse

“Sure,” I said, my mouth full. “But I doubt you’re going to find any converts here.” I thought of Deirdre, falling end-over-end to her death.

“That’s fair enough.” He covered his mouth with his palm, considering for a moment. “I have to alter my pitch, because you already know so much. You know this virus was engineered by scientists. These scientists realized that if the human race was going to survive, we have to take the next leap in evolution ourselves. What do we need to survive? We don’t need more hands, or two heads, or to fly. We need to be healed. Our violence, our sadness, our loneliness, our fear… they are a sickness that is killing us.” The cadence of his speech was mesmerizing. It was like listening to a good sermon.

“Look at what’s become of the world under yesterday’s people.” He swept his hand around the room with a flourish, as if all the suffering and death in the world were spread out before us. “What do you think? When the ashes settle, shall we let the same people have another try?” He laughed. “Would you like another helping of the same rotted stew?”

No one responded. Rumor went on.

“We are the future, my friends. We’re going to build a world based on loving kindness, not ego. We convert violent people every chance we get, against their will if we must. If you’re violent, you forfeit your right to choose. But for others like you, it’s your choice. We offer you food, companionship, a safe home. We offer you the future.”

“Hold on,” I said. “This safe home—it wouldn’t be Athens by any chance?”

“It would indeed.”

“Son of a bitch!” Cortez said. “Everyone in Athens is infected?”

Rumor bowed his head. “Only the converted are permitted to live there.”

“Sebastian, you bastard,” Cortez muttered.

“When did he plan on telling us?” Ange asked. She looked angry enough to pull Sebastian’s ears off if he’d been there.

Rumor spread his hands. “Can I finish, please? What questions do you have for me about joining us? Why are you so angry? Tell me your doubts.”

Sophia spoke up. “I’m happy the way I am. I’m not killing anyone; I’m not filled with hate.”

“Clearly you’re a good person,” Rumor said, moving to face her directly. “But don’t we all strive to better? Don’t we all want to reach our greatest potential? This will lead you toward that self-actualization. It’s like an extremely nutritious vitamin, only for your mind instead of your body.”

He waited for Sophia to respond, but Sophia only crossed her arms and shook her head.

“There are thousands of foreign entities already in your bodies! Consider all the helpful bacteria in your digestive tract. And this virus won’t change you. I’m still me.” He pointed at his chest. “I’m more me than I was before I felt the needle’s song. Only in my case it was not a needle, it was a water gun!” He laughed merrily. “The virus freed me to be far more me, far less of the streets I grew up on. I’m still me, just a much friendlier version of me.”

I looked around at my tribe, gauging their reactions. You couldn’t help but get a little caught up in Rumor’s words. But it was irreversible, and there was Deirdre to consider. What if it wasn’t as pleasant as it seemed from the outside? The scientists behind this had also created the bamboo, and that hadn’t turned out all that well. Who knew, maybe over time Doctor Happy would drive its hosts insane.

“Isn’t it also important for people to remain human in the full sense of the word?” Jeannie asked .“Being human means experiencing both the good and the bad, feeling both happiness and sorrow.”

Rumor laughed. “The fundamental human experience has led to ruin. Yes, humanity is both good and bad, but the good has not adequately balanced the bad, and probably cannot. The bad must go.”

The more I considered it, the more it seemed like giving up. Maybe one day I would be ready to give up, but not today. “You’re a good salesman,” I said, “but I don’t think we’re your target audience.” I put my hands on my knees and leaned forward. “Now, is that your patter? Are we free to go?”

Rumor sighed. “Jasper, your wings can carry you wherever you like, after my patter or before. You are a free bird.” He came over to me, put his hand over mine, his rough palm touching me gently. I resisted the urge to pull away. “We mean well. I hope you believe that.”

I pulled my hand away and stood. “We do, too. We appreciate the meal, and the offer.” The others gathered up their stuff.

“Where are you going to go?” Rumor asked. “You’re not going to survive anywhere but in Athens, I promise you.”

We looked at each other. “We’ll do the nomad thing for a few more months, then go back to Savannah and see if things have settled down,” I said.

Rumor shook his head. “There is nothing for you in Savannah. The Jumpy-Jumps cut off the federal army’s supply route. Their push collapsed quickly after that. The soldiers who aren’t dead are thirsty like everyone else. And don’t head northwest from here, whatever you do.”

“Why’s that?” Cortez asked.

Rumor frowned. “You haven’t heard about Redstone?”

“What’s Redstone?” Jean Paul asked, impatient.

“Redstone Arsenal, outside Huntsville, Alabama,” Rumor answered. “Millions of rifles are stored there—literally millions. The governor of Alabama conscripted the unorganized militia, which means that every male between the ages of eighteen and forty-five was to report for military duty to restore peace and quiet. The problem was, no one told the Jumpy-Jumps, the Civil Defenders, the city-block warlords that they should stay home when the rifles were passed out.”

We digested this little nugget. There were a million rifles running around northwest of us.

“Well, we’ll figure something out,” Colin said.

With that, we left the Doctor Happy recruiting station.

There was a path of sorts through the bamboo—we squeezed around three people heading toward their free meal and patter.

“Good luck,” Jean Paul said as they passed.

I woke from a dream in which I was walking on cookies. Lots of cookies—enough to carpet the ground. That’s it, not much of a dream, not very profound or insightful. Dreams become less insightful, less draped in deep symbolism, when you’re hungry.

Ange rolled onto her stomach. Her eyes had that bleary just-awake look, where dread was still raw and refused to be closeted.

“Morning,” I said.

“Hungry,” she said sleepily.

I wondered what she’d dreamed. Maybe popcorn falling from the sky like snow.

The Doctor Happy cult recruitment meal we’d had ten days earlier had been our last decent one. Since then there had been days when we ate nothing at all. We gave Jeannie much of what food we could find so baby Joel could be nourished.

Something had to give, and last night as I was drifting to sleep, I’d gotten an idea. There was another Young Mozarts song that I liked better than the one the Doctor Happy recruiters had been playing. One of the lines in it was Chances are before you’re done, you’ll beg, you’ll borrow, and surely you will steal . I’d never stolen anything in my life. Of course I’d killed someone, so it was a giant step backward as ethical transgressions go. I decided I wouldn’t involve my tribe, just as Cortez didn’t broadcast that he’d killed someone’s ex-pet to provide the first meal on this shitass journey to nowhere. I dressed, stuffed a few things in my pack, and stood on the stoop of our current domicile with the crickets still chirping.

“Where are you going, exactly?” Cortez asked.

“I won’t go far,” I said. “I spotted a place that looks like a good spot to find wild mushrooms. I may be a while if I find a bunch.”