Макс Брукс - Devolution - A Firsthand Account of the Rainier Sasquatch Massacre

But that’s all it was, an illusion.

Her eyes wander to the vast expanse of empty map behind the volcano.

It’s great to live free of the other sheep until you hear the wolves howl.

From my interview with Frank McCray, Jr.

As far as emergency supplies, or lack thereof… Look, I don’t blame Tony, even back then, when they first discovered what was left of Greenloop.

You can’t blame Tony, not as an individual. That’s just how the tech industry thinks. They don’t plan for what can go wrong. They “move fast and break things.” It didn’t occur to Facebook that the Russians might hijack their platform to hijack our elections, even though they’d been doing it to other countries for years. It doesn’t occur to Google, still, that while they’re racing, balls out, to corner the market on driverless cars, terrorists could hack those cars and drive them into crowds.

Hell, I was at a Menlo Park conference once where a guy showed us how he’d hacked his hand, literally. Attached electrodes to the skin above the muscles in his forearm to play the piano. He didn’t know how to play. Just typed in the commands, clicked “execute,” and shazam ! “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” And that was just the beginning. What about a full exo-suit that could stimulate the entire body?

“Think of the possibilities.” That was what the guy kept saying. Disabled individuals. The elderly. “Think of the possibilities.”

I could think of a few. I raised my hand and asked, “Isn’t it possible for someone to hack that suit once you put it on, force you to pick up your perfectly legal assault rifle, and walk down the street to the local preschool?” He looked like I’d just kicked over his sandcastle. He hadn’t wasted one neuron on that thought, because, in his mind, it was just that. A waste. All positivity all the time. Learn to fly, even if it’s in the Hindenburg.

Move fast and break things.

Potatoes. That’s why Mostar sent me to Yvette’s meditation class. “We need them,” she said. Again with “need” and “we.” She’s convinced that potatoes are the “perfect” survival food, that you can actually live on them alone. I was charged with trying to get a few seed potatoes for the garden.

Which I’m not supposed to mention, along with any defense of Mostar. “If they say anything, go along with it.” She was very clear about that. “Agree, contribute, laugh with them, even at my expense. Be diplomatic.”

Nobody needs to tell me how to do that. I’m a diplomat by nature, and still not really on board with Mostar’s crazy plans. But I will say my mental needle’s moved a little bit in her favor since I heard the news. And there’s been a lot of news. Vincent listened to the car radio for an hour after the meeting, until Tony offered to relieve him. According to both of them, the reports from Rainier are pretty bad.

There’s something called a “lahar,” a boiling mudslide. According to the radio, it’s what killed thousands of people at a place called Armero [16] On November 13, 1985, the eruption of Nevado del Ruiz in Colombia caused the deaths of approximately 23,000 of the 29,000 people living in the nearby town of Armero. in the ’80s and it’s exactly what’s happening to Rainier now. The reports seem to focus on the far side of Rainier, the side facing all those towns: Orting? Puyallup? (Did I spell them right?) I’ve heard of Tacoma, which is supposed to be in danger right now. We seem to be safe, just like Tony predicted, but it looks like we’re also cut off. The valley below us, the main road, Vincent thinks he heard something about it being covered by a lahar.

“Some people might have been killed.” That was Bobbi. “They tried to drive away and got stuck in their cars when the mudflow came.”

Yvette sighed. “That could have been us,” and she reached out for a group hug. “Imagine what could have happened if we’d all just driven down into the valley last night, if Tony hadn’t predicted the road being gone…”

Wait, wasn’t that Mostar?

Hadn’t she been the one to talk about the road being gone? What happened to Tony’s argument about false alarms and traffic jams? No one seemed to remember that. Or maybe they did, and figured the result was the same. Both Tony and Mostar had pushed for staying, but now, Yvette said with moistening eyes, “Tony saved our lives.”

I kept my mouth shut, nodded with all the others. I didn’t even react when Yvette said, “I wish Mostar was here.” This was after we broke our embrace, when we were just taking our places on the floor. “We all need each other now more than ever.”

It was a test, the kind I’ve been passing since preschool. Sometimes obvious. Sometimes snarky. This one came wrapped in concern. “I hope she’s okay.” That was Carmen. Sympathy all around. “After what she’s been through.”

What has she been through? I might have asked but got cut off by Yvette. “Has anyone talked to her?”

There it was. The line in the sand.

Shaking heads, myself included. A pained sigh from Yvette. “Maybe she’ll show up tomorrow. I think she needs healing more than anyone.”

That gave me a little churn of stomach acid. I can pass the test but it always comes at a price. I hate lying, hate conflict, hate having to choose sides. At that moment I hated Mostar for putting me in this position as much as I hated myself for allowing her to.

I tried to play along. Tried to focus, relax, feel the “physical manifestations of this traumatic event” and give myself “permission to release my pain and guilt with deep cleansing breaths.”

I tried to picture “Oma,” that guardian of the woods spirit Yvette had mentioned in our last session. The embrace. Warm, soft arms holding me. It worked the last time. Not now. I wasn’t in the mood for guided imagery.

I tried to act like my “burden had been lifted” when the session ended, and tried to appear as nonchalant as possible when asking for potatoes.

“I was thinking of making hash browns this morning.” More lies. More acid.

And all for nothing.

Again with the concern, and this time it seemed sincere. Carmen and Effie looked truly sorry that they didn’t have any, and Yvette told me to stop by for anything else.

Bobbi, though. I won’t say she acted weird. I mean, how would I know what’s weird when I don’t know her well enough to know normal. But I know what it feels like to be uncomfortable, so well that I’m pretty good at reading it in others. Bobbi seemed genuinely uncomfortable when she answered. I could be wrong. It could be the news.

I watched everyone head home, Bobbi with this, yes, weird look over her shoulder, Yvette over to Tony, who, I just realized, was still sitting in his Tesla listening to the radio, Carmen and Effie waving up to Palomino, who stared down at them from her upstairs window like in a ghost story.

I’m sorry. That’s not fair. But it is how I felt. Spooky little horror-film girl maniacally squeezing her beanbag fidgeter.

I had to go for a walk. Clear my head. Dan was asleep when I got home, and I assumed Mostar was mercifully out as well. “We’ll work at night,” she’d said before I left, “so no one will see us.”