I doubt these letters get to you; it’s all wishful thinking on my part. Alas, I shall write anyway as Sisyphus would, right?
I have since been taken out of the fish tank-like home again and, this time, placed on a desolate planet. Well, I can only assume it’s a planet. A never-ending ocean of sand surrounds me, and the heat from two suns bears down on me; it’s unbearable. I have sunburn and blisters galore all over my skin.
The only company I have is two mannequins; they stand hand in hand, ivory coloured, with the suns beaming down on their bald heads. Sometimes, the suns shine from such an angle that it blinds me to look at their heads.
I don’t know if this is a punishment and, if so, what it would be for.
I go in and out of delirium, and I’ve had many a moment where I think up a sordid joke inside my head, and a tumbleweed rolls past as if the world has read my fragmented mind and I’ve become the butt of the planet’s irony.
I have seen no other living thing, though sometimes I could swear the mannequins are watching me. I swear that sometimes they move; I have seen them lift a hand and wave at me! One day, I awoke to find only one mannequin standing in place, the sand heaping around its feet, and when I turned around, the other one stood inches away from me. Between its legs was a hole, and water started to gush forth from it. I knelt underneath and let that water pour, lappin it up with a ferocious thirst. The mannequin returned to its previous spot next to the other, and again, they stood hand in hand. ‘You’re alive!’ I shouted toward them, ‘Come! I need more water!’ I bellowed. But they stood stock still as if neither had ever moved before.
I don’t know what else to say right now, so I shall leave this here.
Yours faithfully, Holden Mcgroin.
P.S. I must amend my first observation that no other living thing is here with me because since I first wrote this letter, I have seen those little boobacious spiders falling from the purpled night sky. And, my, what a sight they were! And a sight they’ve left behind! They glowed as if bioluminescent, something I had never observed in the boobacious species before. The purpled sky lit up turquoise like that plankton you have in the ocean on Earth! The boobacious spiders fell to the sand and crawled in stop and start jerks, before riding their webs back up into the sky and slowly one by one the turquoise disappeared. But now, in the sky, a tapestry of silk has been left behind and sometimes baubles of dew sparkle before dropping into the sand. I don’t know what any of this means. Maybe I’m hallucinating the whole damn thing at this point.
Jameson’s men were getting louder and more belligerent as they drank day away into night.
‘Where do they think their main man got t’?’
Merrick and Jackson sat under the window with their backs against the wall. Merrick peered out the window every now and then.
‘They ent thinkin’ too much.’ Merrick replied, this time looking through the splintered door frame.
‘So let me get this straight, ya man,’ Jackson pointed behind the wall at Jameson’s body, ‘got your boyfrien’ kilt ‘cause ‘e were gay and nothin’ else?’
Merrick frowned, ‘’I dunno that ‘e ordered it. But one of ‘is men killed ‘im ‘cause ‘e were gay.’ Merrick swallowed, ‘What don’t ya believe ‘bout that?’
Jackson shrugged.
The light outside was fading past and the shack was fading into dark shadows. Merrick turned to Jackson, ‘In they cidy, they accept gay people now. But ‘ere in bum fuck Coventry, they send gays out to Coventry, Coventry!’
Jackson looked puzzled.
‘We’re all freaks ‘ere in one way or t’other. But if you’re a man who likes dick, they’ll fuck ya up like you’re the freak of fuckin’ freaks!’ Merrick remarked.
There was a silence between them as the shack grew darker, ‘I were beaten up as a teenager ‘cause of me chest.’ Jackson broke the silence.
The sound of the men blabbering came in from outside.
‘Ah knew of a lad who ‘ad been thrown out of t’ cidy. His freakishness wasn’t readily obvious. Not till ‘e got older and ‘e realised for ‘imsel’ a few things. So anyway, ‘e got sent ‘ere to live with the misfits.’ Merrick looked out the window to check on the men before continuing, ‘People kept askin’ ‘im, ‘Why ‘ave ya come ‘ere? Why? You could’ve hid in plain sight and carried on livin’ t’ cidy.’’ Merrick shook his head, ‘He replied that ‘e couldn’t live there ‘cause ‘e felt too closed in, unable to be ‘imself. ‘e said ‘e’d been t’ one of those suicide booths they ‘ave in the cidies. When they brought ‘is clone out for a second round of life, ‘e realised the suicide booth was pointless. So ‘e told t’ truth and thee sent ‘im t’ only place he could get a gun.’
‘T’the land of nowhere fer a gun.’ Jackson remarked.
‘Yea,’ Merrick continued, ‘So the idea was ‘e would come ‘ere and blow his soul out so ‘e couldn’t be brought back.’
‘So what med ‘im a freak? That ‘e wanted t’ die?’
‘In the cidy’s eyes?’ Merrick asked, ‘Well, ‘e ‘ad a vagina.’
‘So ‘e were a she?’
‘I guess. Meybe.’ Merrick thought on this a moment, ‘’Ah think it was a brain thing.’ Merrick shrugged, ‘Anyway, the point is ‘e came ‘ere to get a gun and blow ‘is soul out. But then when ‘e got ‘ere, ‘e chickened out. ‘E couldn’t find it in ‘imsel’ to place a gun to ‘is neck and do it. So ‘e went around askin’ people to shoot ‘im dead, dead. ‘Will you do it?’ ‘e said, handing ‘is gun t’ people. ‘Please?’ He’d plead with ‘em. But none of ‘em would.’
Merrick continued, ‘then one day he asked a woman and her ‘usband, ‘Will you do it?’ he handed ‘em the gun, tilting ‘is head to the side and pointin’ to ‘is neck. ‘Just shoot here.’ He told them. And the woman looked at the man and ‘er ‘usband looked at him in a sort of stand off. Then the woman says, ‘Ah’ll do it if ya tell me why. And if I deem ya reason acceptable, ah’ll shoot’’
Jackson whistled, ‘Who made ‘er judge and jury?’
Merrick ignored him and continued, ‘Anyway so the lad turns to the woman and asks, ‘’ow do you feel about gays?’ The woman goes, ‘I woudn’t shoot ya for it. But I’d set ya reet!’’ So the lad goes, ‘What about trannies?’’ The woman claps ‘er ‘ands t’gether and says, ‘Ya jus’ another on of us!’ And she hugs ‘im. She tells ‘im, ‘Welcome to nowhere land.’ But ‘er ‘usband is frowning and grimacing somethin’ fierce. And then there is a flash and a bang, and the woman’s face is splattered in blood. ‘er mouth gaped open, ‘er body shakin’ as the lad’s body drops to the floor. She turns to ‘er ‘usband still shakin’ ‘Why did ya do that?’ ‘er ‘usband points across the road to a man who is standing there, gun still hot in ‘is hand. ‘What did ya jus’ do!’ The woman screamed at him with fury and anguish on ‘er face. ‘Can’t ‘ave one of them freaks ‘ere!’ The man bawled at her.’
Jackson shook his head, ‘’ow do you know of this? I don’t even believe it,’ Jackson shook his head again, ‘No, I don’t damn well believe ya, fella.’
‘I can tell ya it did ‘cause I lived in a little wooden shack next to that ‘usband and wife.’
‘I don’t get ya point though; why are ya tellin’ me this?’
‘T’ tell ya, even freaks can find a scapegoat too freakish for their sensibilities. It don’t madder if ya live in the cidy or the exclusion zone!’
‘I don’t see why that person couldn’t jus’ live in cidy as a woman.’
‘There is a long ‘istory frem my understandin’. ‘fore invasion, there was a point way back when it looked like acceptance was growing. But then progress went backwards. Anyway, I think don’t think they wanted t’ live as a woman. That was the point.’
‘We don’t choose shit like that though.’ Jackson said.
Merrick shrugged, ‘Who say’s we choose anythin?’
Merrick looked out through the window, and it was darker now, but from the light reflecting from the bar he could just make out Jameson’s men. They were in a heap on the ground.
‘Sayin’ ya a lad when ya a woman is a choice.’ Jackson said.
‘I dunno ‘bout that.’ Merrick replied, ‘Ah sure never chosen ‘ow I felt ‘bout nothin’’ He crept to the door, ‘Wait ‘ere.’ He told Jackson. Creeping up to the heaps on the ground, he saw it was the two men, collapsed in drunken stupors, and one of them was lying in a puddle of his own piss. He scampered back to the shack, ‘Time fer us t’ leave.’
Jackson looked up at him in a daze, ‘What?’
‘Time fer us t’ leave ‘fore they wake up!’
Jackson heaved himself back up and staggered toward the door.
#
‘I was thinkin’’ Jackson started, his breath on Merrick’s neck as he rode behind him on Tucker.
‘Yea?’
‘Do you think we’re freaks, Mer?’
Merrick’s body stiffened, ‘Don’t call me that.’
Jackson laughed.
‘Ah mean it Jack. Don’t call me that.’
‘It’s jus’ shortenin’ ya name!’ Jackson protested, ‘Like ‘ow you call me Jack!’
‘Do ya not like Jack?’
‘Nah, I’m fine wit’ it.’
‘Well, there ya go, you’re fine wit’ it. But I’m not.’
‘Alright.’
Silence descended between them, the sound of Tuckers hooves ticking down the time as they trotted in the direction of the lady with the gun. Lines of trees on either side of them sped by.
‘Still, what do ya think?’ Jackson asked, breaking the silence.
‘Do ah really think we’re freaks?’ Merrick scratched at his stubble, ‘In terms of the cidy vs us? Yea, we’re freaks.’
‘Ya don’t mind bein’ called a freak?’
‘Not by our lot.’ Merrick replied.
‘Even when our lot call gays freaks?’
‘No, cause they mean it the same way the cidy means it about all of us.’
On the space station, there is another me in the flesh. I am down here to explore the recovery of the earth or the lack thereof. I have seen that the land is parched, and no life is in sight. Any trees still standing are in the long drawn, out process of death and decay, leaning precariously. I trailed a camera into the holes of such trees, and there was nothing. Like staring into an abyss. There was no life in that death. This is not what death is supposed to be. My big metal feet journey through vast expanses of land. Death used to mean something, life. It meant life of some kind or other. Now it means…nothing. Which in turn makes life mean nothing.
And so up there myself in the flesh amongst others in their flesh, they are cocooned from the truth. This is where I depart from myself, my soul, in the space station. Where I become someone new. We travelled different terrains, and new paths were forged inside ourselves. He is of the flesh; I am of wheels, oil, plastics and metals.
‘Fox,’ Came the voice in my ear. ‘Max?’ I replied. ‘meet me at the mother tree.’
The mother tree is a huge colossus of a tree; it is dead. Its enormous girth leaning now to one side. A massive hole within where even we humanoids can fit.
‘An earthquake or something is approaching,’ Max told me.
Earthquakes were common.
There were no birds, and my flesh self loves watching the birds in documentaries. My flesh self has never seen a real bird, nor have I. He thinks one day he will be able to come back down to earth – in the flesh – and see the birds. I don’t know what to tell you, Fox. There are no birds, and none of our namesake either. I’m sorry. I wish to tell you better news.
Max and I stood in the hole of the mother tree, and she groaned from inside like a tormented soul. It was painful to listen to.
In my head, I imagine contorted faces made of wood, a mouth open with screams unhearable to the human ear. ‘It’s time we tell them, above,’ I told Max. Max nodded.
We signed off our lousy news with, ‘The only thing left of the earth is you.’
The truth is, fellow humans, you didn’t see yourself as the earth enough, so you used it like a commodity, not as a relationship between reciprocal beings. The world was your oyster; the sky was the limit. But you didn’t even stay to that supposed limit either, did you?
We all have and had an aversion to death which was only natural, but now I have seen there is no worse fate than the death of death.
Will the world ever recover? Maybe. But not in our lifetime. It’s too late for us.
And in my metal body, there are no tears I can cry.
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