Mark Falkin - The Late Bloomer

KJL: I don’t think he was alone. There was that guy in France he was talking to.

KGM: I get the feeling a cabal of big-brained people like them were on to something.

KJL: If there were any scientists and theologians left, the debate would be raucous.

KGM: Yep.

KJL: Why did we make it? You’re shrugging.

KGM: Look at those fires.

KJL: No, really.

KGM: We’ve got the conch. The keepers of the flame.

[sounds of the ocean; whales rubbing against the pier; sounds of gulls crying]

KJL: Something I haven’t told you.

KGM: What.

KJL: I’m pregnant.

[sounds of the ocean; whales rubbing against the pier; sounds of gulls crying]

KGM: [whispering] We have to try to escape.

KJL: You insane? No way.

KGM: I still have my gun. And Maggie here.

KJL: I told you. I tried. It’s impossible.

KGM: You were alone. Two of us can do it, I think.

KJL: How many bullets you have there? I mean… they need us, Kevin. I don’t think—

KGM: I thought that. They had me thinking that, coming down here. The dreams. You and Bass kept telling me I’m special. I think you’ve been given a whole lot of Kool-Aid.

KJL: I’m sorry. What did you just say to me?

KGM: Not your fault. I don’t know. Maybe they want to keep us.

KJL: C’mon. Keep us? For what? I don’t think their intentions are sinister. I really don’t. I think they’re very confused.

KGM: Yeah, but… it doesn’t feel right. It never has. I’ve offered to help. We’ve offered. They don’t take us up on it.

KJL: But I don’t—

KGM: They’re too different now. I think what we are is in the way. They’ve been battling against something since day one. Now that I’m here, this doesn’t feel right . I’m telling you.

KJL: Kevin, then why didn’t they just destroy us when they had the chance? Why did they stop that night, kill Bastian, and leave us? Just us?

KGM: If I knew that… Maybe they want us to reproduce for them. Create an underclass, a slave race.

KJL: Oh, you’re being silly.

KGM: I’m not trying to be silly.

KJL: They brought me here, they brought you here, why separately, I don’t know. Clearly they fear you, but respect you on another level. Otherwise they would have brought us together. Oh, this is such guesswork. I don’t know.

KGM: Why bring us at all? Have you tried to talk to them about why?

KJL: Of course. I’ve asked and asked. They don’t answer. I don’t think they know.

KGM: I don’t think so either.

[sounds of the ocean; whales rubbing against the pier; sounds of gulls crying]

KJL: I am not defending them! I’m just not seeing the facts the same way you are. You haven’t been here. You haven’t seen.

KGM: They’ve been saving you. You’re pregnant. I think they used you to lure me down here. These repeated dreams where I’m sleeping. They seem so real. I dream I’m sleeping in this chrysalis thing and I’m tossing and stretching. Gestating.

KJL: Yeah, and… honestly, Kevin.

KGM: What? You’re looking at me with a duh face.

KJL: You’ve been having dreams of me being pregnant. A typical man, you’re terrified of fatherhood. Hel-lo? Attention. Calling Dr. Freud. Dr. Sigmund Freud. Please pick up a white courtesy phone.

KGM: Heh. But, I was dreaming that even before we did it. Know what I think?

KJL: What?

KGM: I think they need to keep us alive and breeding so that when they get old enough they can crossbreed with our offspring and… it’s like they’re haploids and we’re haploids. This beginning stuff.

KJL: You’re guessing.

KGM: Of course I’m guessing. And you’re not? You want to stick around and find out? What life will we have here?

KJL: At least we’ll have one.

[sounds of the ocean; whales rubbing against the pier; sounds of gulls crying]

KGM: I’ve never said I’m sure. Not about anything. But, if they really needed saving, you’d think there’d be a sense of urgency. They’d ask.

KJL: Looks like they’re celebrating down there. They’re gonna pop the question tonight: Sir…

KGM: Of course, they’re Dickensian street kids. Pardon me, but suh …

KJL: Right. Heh. Suh, will you ’elp us?

KGM: [laughing]

KJL: Why do you have to see this as bad? You’ve been advocating the theory that this is all evolution. An abrupt jump.

KGM: I never told you that.

KJL: You didn’t?

KGM: No. I told this that. [thumping the microphone]

KJL: Huh. No, in the car you said… Oh, shit. Let’s say they do need us to mix with them, to state it crudely.

KGM: No other way to state it. Let’s not be politically correct here. Talk about old world.

KJL: So, let’s just say. Why is that a bad thing? What are our choices?

KGM: I don’t know. I’ve not known anything for sure since the day I was born.

KJL: Except that your mother loved you.

KGM: Okay. Sure.

KJL: And now you know that I do.

KGM: [pause] Back ’atcha, kid. I’m making pistol fingers and winking one eye.

KJL: Be serious for a moment.

KGM: Kodie, there are whales on fire up the beach and into the night more numerous than I can count. Hundreds of thousands, maybe a million, kids on the beach among them, surrounding us. It’s serious.

KJL: Yes, but you’re not.

KGM: That’s because I’m scared. When I’m scared I get unserious. You need to know that about me if we’re going to repopulate the earth.

KJL: So say it then.

[sounds of the ocean; whales rubbing against the pier; sounds of gulls crying]

KGM: I love you, Kodie. How would you ever not know that? [pause] You’re smiling self-righteously.

KJL: I do. It’s just nice to hear you say it. [sounds of the ocean; whales rubbing against the pier; sounds of gulls crying]

KGM: We sit above them on the seawall, watching the fires, the silhouettes of children moving around them, noiseless. A silent million children groping for something in the dark. Winter’s come here to the beach and they are cold in the sand. She puts her head on my shoulder and we watch them move under a sky of stars and a moon so pure and bright that it makes a silver trail on the ocean leading to the shore and us. A pathway to the fathomless deep.

KJL: Wanted to be a writer, eh?

KGM: Still can be.

KJL: Who’ll buy your books? Doubt they read much.

KGM: I will write for myself. The craft is its own reward.

KJL: Ah, the mythical artiste.

KGM: I will write love sonnets for you. Batting your eyes again.

KJL: I kid. I’d love to hear one of your sonnets.

KGM: In time, me lady. [sighs; pause] These kids are humorless. Boring. Ain’t got no soul.

KJL: Ever heard of a collective soul?

KGM: One-hit wonders?

KJL: No dummy, the—

KGM: Yes yes. You’re being pseudo-intellectual. You don’t know crap about it. You’re just dropping the concept on me you read online from clickbait.

KJL: You’re totally right. Cosmo Online. O Magazine .

KGM: She wraps an arm around me.

KJL: [Snort]

KGM: She laughs.

KJL: Dear reader can hear that I’m laughing.

KGM: Oh. Right.

KJL: Speaking of souls. You remember when Bastian said he saw that ghost in the Driskill?

KGM: Yep.

KJL: Think he was lying?

KGM: Why would he?

KJL: So you believe he saw that woman ghost on the top floor.

KGM: Yes, I think he saw her.

KJL: So, you believe in ghosts.

KGM: Didn’t say that.

KJL: You’re saying you think he thinks he saw her.

KGM: Yeah, that’s right.

KJL: But you don’t really believe in the truth of the matter asserted.

KGM: Run that by me again.