Douglas Coupland - Girlfriend in a Coma

"And … ?"

"People didn't evolve. I mean, the world became faster and smarter and in some ways cleaner. Like cars—cars didn't smell anymore. But people stayed the same. They actually—wait—what's the opposite of progressed?"

"In this case, devolved."

"People devolved. Hey, Jared—how come you know so many words now?"

"How to best explain … there's a certain aspect of the afterworld that's like English class and you're not allowed to skip. Anyway, forget that. You were talking about devolution."

"Yes. Megan—my daughter—she didn't even believe in the future before the world ended. She thought the future was death and crime and lawlessness. And as soon as the future actually did end, she took it in stride. She had a daughter, Jane, born blind and brain defective— probably because of all the crap in the air these days—and she simply assumed that's the way life should be. Actually, nobody believed in the future: Richard, Wendy—it's like they expected the end."

"How?" My body temporarily flares orange with anticipation.

"Drugs. Pam and Ham did smack—still do—or whatever they can find that's still fresh after one year because the notion of forty more years of time was, and continues to be, too much for them. Wendy lost herself in grueling routine. Linus apparently went away for years trying to figure out the meaning of life and he never found it and so he curled up inside himself and became dusty and slightly bitter. Megan had the baby born blind and with mental problems and sonow Megan's gone slightly autistic as a result. And Richard—Richard drank and placed all his hope in me. He thinks I don't know, but I do. You have to remember, Jared, I wasn't supposed to ever wake up. Richard could have spent his life mooning away about me and never have to deal with real life."

"All good points. But a bit harsh, wouldn't you say?"

"Jared, use your brain—look at me. I'm a monster. I'm like some UFO woman that Linus or Hamilton cooked up for TV movies. I gave up my body just so I could learn that the modern world was becoming sort of pointless and empty? A crappy trade."

"Okay, but answer me this: Would you have believed in the emptiness of the world if you'd eased into the world slowly, buying into its principles one crumb at a time the way your friends did?"

She sighs. "No. Probably not. Are you happy now? Can I have my body back?" Karen grabs Pam's cigarettes from the dashboard, lights one up, and then coughs.

"You smoke?" I ask.

"You jock. Yes, I'm smoking again as of now. Ooh. My head's dizzy. Hey—how's God?"

"Aw, Karen—don't be flippant. It doesn't suit you. This isn't social studies class."

"Oops—careless and stupid. But, how are you? I mean, you're dead. I don't want to be flippant. I'm really curious. Who wouldn't be?"

"Don't worry about me. I'm totally cool. But I am worried about you and the rest of the crew, though."

"Us? Forget us. We're losers. Who'd worry about us? Go find some winners and worry about them."

"Don't say that, Karen. It's just not true. It just isn't." Karen stares at me as though I've made a lame joke. "I have to go now—into the Save-On."

"Well I'm not going anywhere with these chopstick legs of mine. I feel like one of those glass birds that dips its beak into a glass of water. By the way, if you go in to see the others, Hamilton and Pam are going to drive you nuts.They spend their days shooting up and watching biography videos about the Duchess of Windsor, Studio 54, and Hollywood stars. They're losing themselves back in time. They talk all crazy."

"I can handle it."

"Hey Jared, you haven't answered many of my questions. Don't go. Quick, tell me, what's the deal? What happens next? Ten more years of this? Twenty? Thirty?"

"I can't answer that, Karen. You know how the deal works."

"You do know something then."

"Come here, Karen—open the door." Karen opens the door. "Swing out your legs," I command, and she does. "Here—" I approach Karen and kneel before her. I kiss both her shins and then rise. "Stand up," I say, and Karen, coltish and unsure, steps down onto the parking lot. "Run," I say.

And she runs—around the van and then around the lot, whooping with joy. Her legs are whole again.

"I love you, Jared," she says, to which I reply, in words she can't hear because she is now so far away, "I love you, too."

Inside the blackened supermarket, scores of animals, birds, and insects have made the building their home. Shit of all types splotches the floor, as do tussles of feathers, fur, bones, and soil. Squirrels and raccoons have reduced the cereal aisle to fiber while the meat department's offerings have been entirely looted by wildlife. The smell of rot, a year later, is ebbing away, masked by the smell of shampoos and cosmetics fallen to the floor in a small earthquake six months prior. Birds rustle in the ceiling while down below flashlights carried by Richard, Hamilton, and Pam klieg their way across the store's floor. The trio daintily minuet above the muck and locate the pharmacy in the middle of the store. A white-smocked Leaker sits at the counter—a beef jerky skeleton.

"Lord, I am sick of these things," Hamilton says, draping the corpse with a spare smock. "I, Hef, last of the Famous International Playboys have no time for rot. Agnelli, Niarchos, the Prince of Wales—all gone now. I alone must keep up their grand tradition. Voulez-vous un Cadillac car? I live solely for nightclubs, hooch, and rides on the Concorde."

"Hamilton, f'Chrissake, shut up," Richard says. "Did you bring the awl and hammer?"

"Presto."

"Thank you."

Richard and Pam prod and jimmy a locked cupboard storing untold pharmaceutical gems. After some expert elbow grease, it flies open, causing plastic tubs to tumble onto the floor.

" Brush me, Daddy-O!"

"Just give me the rucksack, Hef," Richard says as a shadow runs across his feet. "Squirrel alert."

"Oh look! Look—it's so sweet," Pam says. "We can take it to Babe Paley's place in Bermuda for dinner."

"It's Jamaica, dear. Who's on the guest list?"

"Twiggy. The Sex Pistols. Jackson Pollock. Linda Evangelista."

"You two are driving me up the fucking wall with your fantasies," says Richard.

"If having a fantasy is a crime, I stand guilty as accused." Hamilton makes a big huffy sniff of the air and then quickly regrets it.

Richard ignores this. "Aye yi yi. Oh, look—bingo!—two thousand Vicodins." Something screams and scampers across the store down Aisle 3. "Oh, man, this place is a creep show. Let's grab and scram. Hamilton, go get a shopping cart for the loot."

"Roger." In the greeting card section, Hamilton finds an abandoned cart. It squeaks and rubs across the sludgy floor. Richard and Pam pile the pharmaceuticals into the cart.

"Oh, Christ. Karen wants some cotton balls and a hot oil treatment. Where are they?" "Next aisle over."The trio walks slowly through the store's cobwebbed, stinky carcass, and the farther away they get from the front, the blacker it gets. They pass two Leakers along the way, but of course, after all this time they are casual about such a sight. Slowly, slowly they move when suddenly they bump into three raccoons who hiss and try to escape, scaling a Matterhorn of soggy paper towels. "Oh shit…"

"Do I hear Karen calling us from outside?"

Koonk-koonk.

The lights in the ceiling pulse into operation, scorching brighter than daylight—the light all the more painful for its unexpectedness, illuminating the store and casting all of the wildlife into shrieks of panic, revealing the extent of devastation.

My friends scream and look up above, where they see me, Jared, in the rafters. "It's me," I say, and I tell them, "I've come back to you to bring you light."