pink_silk_glove
Literate Smutress
- Joined
- Feb 6, 2018
- Posts
- 3,601
"Where's California?"
"Look at the map." Remy encouraged him as she squatted next to his chair. "Sienna, can you show Luke California on the map?" Little Asian Sienna extended her tiny index finger across the old textbook's spread map of North America. At age six, she had all the territories memorized.
"I know on the map," said Luke, "just where is it in real?"
"It's over the mountains to the west," explained Remy.
"Have you been there?" asked Jordan. He was the oldest. He was ten.
"I used to live there."
"But nobody lives there."
"Not anymore. Not that we can be sure of," said Remy. "I lived there when I was a child." She turned the book to an angle better suited for all of their eyes and pointed to San Diego. "When I was your age. I lived here."
"What was it like?" asked Luke.
"I lived in the city," she began. "The streets were all pavement, not dirt, and if they began to crack up, they fixed them. We lived in houses and other buildings, instead of tents. The buildings were large and all stayed for years and years because they didn't have to move. No one attacked them. The schools were very large buildings with several classrooms and hundreds of children in them. Most people had their own cars. There were so many cars. Often there were too many cars. The streets would get jammed and no one could drive." She looked about at their faces, Luke's eyes wide with wonder, Sienna studiously taking everything in as always. Her brain was a sponge. Remy thought it funny that back in the day it would have been advertised as 'super-absorbent'.
"Did you have a car?" asked Jordan.
"No, I was too young. Only adults were allowed to drive," she said. "But when I was older I had one in Wyoming."
"What color was it?" asked Leah.
"Blue," she answered. "It was a light metallic blue."
"Why did you go to Wyoming?" asked Luke.
"When I was twelve," she told them. "Before the war started, my father thought that it was too dangerous to stay in the city, so we moved to a ranch in the hills." At the time, people thought that Father was crazy, the way that he talked of the world's political climate, and perhaps he was. Mother was unhappy too. Rural life never agreed with her and eventually she left, but by then Remy was off to university. Ultimately, by intuition or by chance, Father had been tragically right. In 2016, the results of a mega-solar flare leveled out the planet's technological playing field and the power mongers of the day seized the opportunity. The war that the masses never thought would happen broke out and the cities had become defenseless human targets. Within a year, every city on the coast was basically obliterated.
There were seven children gathered around one text. If only they had more books, the children could each have their own. As it was, they had to share, and when the lesson was over Remy had to retain the books and keep them safe in the library - two bookcases behind the tent curtain. No one was permitted to take any home. Long gone were the computers (well, the council had two, which they would employ most sparingly). Almost anything electronic was so terribly scarce, let alone any networks for reference. The little library had become something sacred.
"How long did it take?" asked Luke.
"To get to Wyoming? A couple of days," she answered. "But there were still good roads then and lots of places to get gasoline. And there were no restricted areas, no warlords and no bandits. It was much much easier. You could drive around the whole country and even to other countries, like Mexico or Canada."
When class ended, the children left. Sienna's and Paul's parents came for them but the rest went home on their own. Independence was gained early in those parts. Remy always watched them leave until they left her sight. Then, buy ritual, she put the books away, behind the curtain and back to their places on the shelves, their order diligently maintained by author or Dewey Decimal, and locked the shutters.
Outside, the afternoon sky was clear blue. There had been a time when she never thought that it would be so blue again, just like they were in her Wyoming teens (when Wyoming was still officially Wyoming and Colorado was still known as Colorado and California had still existed), but after three years it had quickly recovered and by 2023 the seasons had returned, summer having been missed the most. Beneath the blue were the dusty dry peaks to the east keeping a warden's eye on the shacks tents and teepees of Hotchkiss where they had stood since the spring thaw. It was a mobile town, almost entirely made up of temporary structures. Tents were easier to fix, or replace when destroyed. Many folks even lived right out of their wagons, with everything packed and ready to roll at the shortest notice.
Remy Szalk tied the flap shut on the library tent. If anyone wanted something to read they would know where to find her. Brushing away the tuft of dusty blonde hair left loose from her ponytail, she started off down the street, unzipping her faded magenta jumpsuit part way in the afternoon warmth. It was well-worn and quilted with several mends and fit comfortably loose over her sturdy hips and long toned legs. The hard-packed and rutted dirt avenue took her past the wagons, the grime of the smithy and the smell of the stables towards the mess hall. An armored pickup sat parked across from it, its knobby wheels caked with dry brown mud. Wade stood at the pintle with his weapon at the ready. She waved to him and the guard of the Town Protector nodded from behind black shades.
Wade's neck suddenly jerked to the west. Remy heard it too. It was the sound of engines - motorcycle engines. Remy looked westward to the distant brush covered hills as they began to become obscured by clouds of dust slowly drifting southerly in the breeze.
"Freedom fighters," said Wade to his driver, Tex. The enemy would not be on bikes.
"Freedom fighters!" someone shouted nearby. Suddenly people were appearing from their tents, dropping whatever task was at hand to catch the news. Someone was running down the road towards them, headed directly for Wade and Tex. It was Pete, all of fifteen years old and desperate to join the resistance effort.
"It's the Knight!" he shouted. As he came closer, Remy could see the excitement in his eyes. "It's Zak Knight! They're coming in!" Three long truck horn blasts from the town perimeter confirmed. There was sudden clamor all around as the excitement spread like a wildfire. Voices shouted and dogs barked. Zak Knight and his band of freedom fighters were the latest heroes of the resistance and it was apparent that they were about to roll in. Tex started up the truck and it rumbled to life as young Pete jumped onto the tailgate. As the streets prepared to rejoice, Remy knew that it might not all be good news. Someone had to keep responsibility. She looked to Wade with concern.
"There might be casualties," she said. "I'll find Sage and get the medical tent ready." Wade nodded again and Lex relayed the three horn blasts before putting the truck in gear to roll out and greet the visitors with civilians on foot trailing behind.
"Look at the map." Remy encouraged him as she squatted next to his chair. "Sienna, can you show Luke California on the map?" Little Asian Sienna extended her tiny index finger across the old textbook's spread map of North America. At age six, she had all the territories memorized.
"I know on the map," said Luke, "just where is it in real?"
"It's over the mountains to the west," explained Remy.
"Have you been there?" asked Jordan. He was the oldest. He was ten.
"I used to live there."
"But nobody lives there."
"Not anymore. Not that we can be sure of," said Remy. "I lived there when I was a child." She turned the book to an angle better suited for all of their eyes and pointed to San Diego. "When I was your age. I lived here."
"What was it like?" asked Luke.
"I lived in the city," she began. "The streets were all pavement, not dirt, and if they began to crack up, they fixed them. We lived in houses and other buildings, instead of tents. The buildings were large and all stayed for years and years because they didn't have to move. No one attacked them. The schools were very large buildings with several classrooms and hundreds of children in them. Most people had their own cars. There were so many cars. Often there were too many cars. The streets would get jammed and no one could drive." She looked about at their faces, Luke's eyes wide with wonder, Sienna studiously taking everything in as always. Her brain was a sponge. Remy thought it funny that back in the day it would have been advertised as 'super-absorbent'.
"Did you have a car?" asked Jordan.
"No, I was too young. Only adults were allowed to drive," she said. "But when I was older I had one in Wyoming."
"What color was it?" asked Leah.
"Blue," she answered. "It was a light metallic blue."
"Why did you go to Wyoming?" asked Luke.
"When I was twelve," she told them. "Before the war started, my father thought that it was too dangerous to stay in the city, so we moved to a ranch in the hills." At the time, people thought that Father was crazy, the way that he talked of the world's political climate, and perhaps he was. Mother was unhappy too. Rural life never agreed with her and eventually she left, but by then Remy was off to university. Ultimately, by intuition or by chance, Father had been tragically right. In 2016, the results of a mega-solar flare leveled out the planet's technological playing field and the power mongers of the day seized the opportunity. The war that the masses never thought would happen broke out and the cities had become defenseless human targets. Within a year, every city on the coast was basically obliterated.
There were seven children gathered around one text. If only they had more books, the children could each have their own. As it was, they had to share, and when the lesson was over Remy had to retain the books and keep them safe in the library - two bookcases behind the tent curtain. No one was permitted to take any home. Long gone were the computers (well, the council had two, which they would employ most sparingly). Almost anything electronic was so terribly scarce, let alone any networks for reference. The little library had become something sacred.
"How long did it take?" asked Luke.
"To get to Wyoming? A couple of days," she answered. "But there were still good roads then and lots of places to get gasoline. And there were no restricted areas, no warlords and no bandits. It was much much easier. You could drive around the whole country and even to other countries, like Mexico or Canada."
When class ended, the children left. Sienna's and Paul's parents came for them but the rest went home on their own. Independence was gained early in those parts. Remy always watched them leave until they left her sight. Then, buy ritual, she put the books away, behind the curtain and back to their places on the shelves, their order diligently maintained by author or Dewey Decimal, and locked the shutters.
Outside, the afternoon sky was clear blue. There had been a time when she never thought that it would be so blue again, just like they were in her Wyoming teens (when Wyoming was still officially Wyoming and Colorado was still known as Colorado and California had still existed), but after three years it had quickly recovered and by 2023 the seasons had returned, summer having been missed the most. Beneath the blue were the dusty dry peaks to the east keeping a warden's eye on the shacks tents and teepees of Hotchkiss where they had stood since the spring thaw. It was a mobile town, almost entirely made up of temporary structures. Tents were easier to fix, or replace when destroyed. Many folks even lived right out of their wagons, with everything packed and ready to roll at the shortest notice.
Remy Szalk tied the flap shut on the library tent. If anyone wanted something to read they would know where to find her. Brushing away the tuft of dusty blonde hair left loose from her ponytail, she started off down the street, unzipping her faded magenta jumpsuit part way in the afternoon warmth. It was well-worn and quilted with several mends and fit comfortably loose over her sturdy hips and long toned legs. The hard-packed and rutted dirt avenue took her past the wagons, the grime of the smithy and the smell of the stables towards the mess hall. An armored pickup sat parked across from it, its knobby wheels caked with dry brown mud. Wade stood at the pintle with his weapon at the ready. She waved to him and the guard of the Town Protector nodded from behind black shades.
Wade's neck suddenly jerked to the west. Remy heard it too. It was the sound of engines - motorcycle engines. Remy looked westward to the distant brush covered hills as they began to become obscured by clouds of dust slowly drifting southerly in the breeze.
"Freedom fighters," said Wade to his driver, Tex. The enemy would not be on bikes.
"Freedom fighters!" someone shouted nearby. Suddenly people were appearing from their tents, dropping whatever task was at hand to catch the news. Someone was running down the road towards them, headed directly for Wade and Tex. It was Pete, all of fifteen years old and desperate to join the resistance effort.
"It's the Knight!" he shouted. As he came closer, Remy could see the excitement in his eyes. "It's Zak Knight! They're coming in!" Three long truck horn blasts from the town perimeter confirmed. There was sudden clamor all around as the excitement spread like a wildfire. Voices shouted and dogs barked. Zak Knight and his band of freedom fighters were the latest heroes of the resistance and it was apparent that they were about to roll in. Tex started up the truck and it rumbled to life as young Pete jumped onto the tailgate. As the streets prepared to rejoice, Remy knew that it might not all be good news. Someone had to keep responsibility. She looked to Wade with concern.
"There might be casualties," she said. "I'll find Sage and get the medical tent ready." Wade nodded again and Lex relayed the three horn blasts before putting the truck in gear to roll out and greet the visitors with civilians on foot trailing behind.
