Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
I was reading a book when sleep ambushed me. I dreamed then that I was in a car, looking up at its pewter grey ceiling. Tucked and curved, the ceiling was made of the material sometimes called mouse fur.
The dome light hove into view. As I watched, the dome light changed into an eye. It blinked once. The iris was blue but changed into grey. The pupil enlarged. A second later, I floated up into the pupil. I awoke as I passed into its darkness.
“What are your goals today?”
It was the female without an accent asking. Accents and the apparent sexes their voices displayed were the only way of identifying the daily taskmasters. Identifying was a weak expression, as they remained nameless and without form.
He scratched and swallowed. He needed to get up and drink water but also pee. Was that ironic? No, coincident.
Goals. “I want to get up and pee.” That would get him no points but they didn’t remonstrate him. Still, sharp past responses made him moderate his approach.
“Write, of course,” he said.
“You always do that,” she said.
Did he imagine that she sighed? “Still counts,” he said.
Silence answered. They weren’t pleased.
He said, “Wash, vacuum, and gas the cars.”
A male overseer said, “Good,” with boredom as thick as flies on shit.
“Yard work.”
“Hmmm.”
“Finish reading a book.”
“Oh.” The female. “What book?”
“Donna Leon, The Waters of Eternal Youth”.
“Very good.” Happiness seemed to shower him. “That’s a good goal. Good luck.”
He was released. Opening his eyes, he sat up. Of all that he’d said, what would most count was reading the book. That was his number one priority. He was hungry and needed enough points to get a decent meal. He sensed that if he failed to read the book, they’d punish him.
Draining his bladder in the water closet, he snorted and chortled. His mind was a strange overseer.
‘Nuff said.
Well, so is writing, but we don’t go around bragging about it, do we?
You understand the expression, “mixed blessings”? Or do you know, “bittersweet” or prefer, “good and bad”. That’s how it is for us as we’re mourning and celebrating.
Our favorite book store is closing down. Yes, The Bookwagon will no longer be, and we’ll no longer see Karl.
We’d been suspicious that something like this was happening. We know some personal stuff that’d happened to Karl that I don’t wish to share. His hours had become erratic. He seemed worn, tired, and preoccupied. Suspecting he might be closing the doors on his business a few weeks ago, we asked him. He said, “No.”
Perhaps the situation has changed. Perhaps Karl was trying not to close but has changed his mind. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps… He enjoys reading books and being a bookseller. Closing the book store is the bad, the bitter, the depressing part of my initial rhetorical question.
On the other end, books are all being discounted, and we have a substantial from buying books and then trading them in for credit. Consequently, we bought six books, including three hard backs and one new book, and paid three dollars and seventy-five cents.
So, that’s great. We have reading material on hand should we get snowed in. (Well, we always have several stacks of books to be read and a few being read, and several that we enjoy so much that we keep them on hand to read again. Not having a book on hand wasn’t actually a problem.)
I’d rather, though, have Karl and The Bookwagon open rather than saving a few dollars on a book. We have three months to collect more books and say our good-byes, and he said that he’ll still be around.
You know that it won’t be the same.
Michael Seidel, writer 