I walk close to skyscraper with my hand reaching to touch its surface. The feel of the slightly rough cement and then the indent indicating the next slab keep me from screaming to the crowds of people going about their seemingly regular day. It will all end, this normal, it will end - is the running mantra in my head which wants to escape to warn this world the apocalypse will happen in three calculated measured days. This wonderful world will cease to exist in this trajectory and veer dramatically and it won't happen the way fiction continually predicts with disease or a dramatic catastrophic event of either manmade or natural causes but with precision, with a plan. The work that I never imagined would come to fruition is about to be played out. The lump in my throat is still there when my brain finally comprehended what was being conveyed in this morning’s meeting. Plan 5889 with amendment Q2F will be enacted at 6 am Friday, May 29, 2144.
Amendment Q2F is mine. The seduction to work with “The Group” started nine years ago. It was a slow beautiful seduction of subtle compliments that included the means for me to obtain my degree. Then, there were the dinner parties and getaways and enticements and the magic of letting one’s imagination create a world that could be better, could be magnificent, could be a utopia. The group of minds, though, knew new and brilliance started with destruction, with an end of one way before the next way could happen. How many years had some type of utopia tried to be achieved with slow measures? With a flurry of thought in this direction, plans were computed and measured. If this than that, if that then this and then the ultimate in achievement for humankind. When the fog of seduction lifted, I scrambled to preserve a small bit of what I love about daily life. It is amendment Q2F and today, I had to play my part as were a few dozen other members of the group setting out to do the same.
I pull away from the wall and stand in the crowd to wait for the signal to cross the street. I let the conversations into my thoughts-
“No, I can’t possible do lunch until one.”
“George, stand still.”
“The McEwen Case takes precedence. Stop everything else.”
“I can’t imagine the blue in that room. I am on my way to pick up the fixture.”
“George, hold my hand.”
The only one talking directly to a human is the mother of her child. The light changes and we walk on in our group. The lump won’t leave my throat.
Four doors down is my place of respite. While sitting at the bank of seats facing the street giving one the view of feet and legs walking by is where I sat when I overheard laughter coming from the main space which is below the bank of window seats. The circle of friends always seemed to be laughing. Some of the faces changed over the weeks and months since the first time I saw them. My life is solitary passing within the walls of the group. I’m not sure when that became the case. But because of my life which was solely that, the day I sat with them and laughed remains with me in every detail and is why I’m heading there now with lead chips.
The lead chips are tickets out of the destruction phase of the plan. They are a pass to one of nearly abandoned towns in the mountains or valleys beyond the cities.