3 sum, p.18
3 SUM,
p.18
The only light from the candles; electricity came from man, fire from Mother Nature.
Anais placed her finger to her lips, and went to the door.
“Stay here,” she said.
I checked my watch; 60 minutes to the funerals of General Rolliet and Fatale Eve.
My life flashed before me, the bras before Steve. He was struggling to fasten one. I couldn’t bring myself to help. Two female guards were approaching, marching in time down the corridor towards us.
“They can’t hide it forever,” said one guard.
“We should prepare for evacuation,” said the other, with a heavy lisp.
“I heard there’s a flotilla in the Chanel. They blew the tunnel.”
“Thank Mother Nature I got my ticket last night.”
“They’re giving them out already, to the rocket ship?”
“Well, not all of them, just the first lot I guess. I’m at Gate B.”
“You don’t think I’m ...”
“Of course not, see Amata after the service.”
“Come on. Let’s get back, that’s enough Lusterone for one morning.”
We waited all of five minutes, though it like seemed hours, until we surfaced. Anais greeted us smiling, she had three white cloaks.
Flowing robes with hoods over our heads, we traversed the marble causeway. The approaching guards were swinging a ball of burning incense in a golden globe. We turned on our sandals to the Council’s inner sanctum. For the first time in its history, the Holy precinct had been violated.
Two Council members sat on the marble steps; they were seven high on each side. They nodded, we reciprocated, sitting opposite and unsure what to do. We were only certain that, if the others joined us, a game of musical steps would ensue.
“Vespertina has closed all communication,” said one.
“You think she intends to use the bomb?”
“She has already used the codes.”
“And the Undiagnosed will retaliate.”
“Our time is ending.”
“I disagree; rather, our time is beginning.”
“You mean, sister, our rocket ship?”
“It’s desertion.”
“Then you won’t be coming?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then let’s go pack.”
There was a chill coursing through our veins, and we went to the warmth. We joined hands in a circle and prayed to Mother Nature.
Steve dropped a vintage bra from under his sleeve. He turned around to collect it, but stepping back knocked over the vestibule holding the sacred flame. The fire smouldered then died at my feet; Mother Nature had left the building. We took the exit behind the cymbal, convinced things were close to crashing down.
There were a few hundred gathered in the TV studio, a slice of Femocratic seedy cake. I looked at the screen; even my wreath was digital.
“Have you got the film?” I asked Steve.
“Sure, I took it from your room like you asked.”
“Well, I can’t think of a better time,” I said.
He handed over the case.
A councillor joined us, whispering.
“Vespertina has doomed the planet. The nuclear missiles have been launched. There isn’t much time left, follow me to our destiny. Sisters, are you coming?”
I couldn’t tell which came first, the realization we weren’t councillors or the shock at seeing Anais’ gun. I stepped up to be counted.
“Everybody needs to see this,” I said and put the film in the player. Maybe the missiles could be disarmed, diverted?
First there was music, and then as the truth dawned on me. “Her name was Sleazy, she could have been a real doll but that wasn’t her style.” Thanks Steve, ‘The Crazy Joy’ may have been my favourite film, but somehow, right now, just seemed the wrong time.
I could tell the audience didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and neither did I. I just shouted, “Vespertina has pressed the red button, everyone to the rocket ship.”
There was nothing but silence; people looked at one another, blank.
Was the nuclear button red? Did it mean anything, to anyone? Hell, maybe the only red button she ever pressed was on her TV, what did I know?
But then like the first rumbles of an earthquake, the elbows came out, followed by pushing, eventually punching. It should have been every woman for herself; instead it was every shemale, tranny, and crossdresser. It was nearly as bad as the TV sale in Moscow, and suddenly we had become invisible. The councillor scurried away. I grabbed Anais’ hand, and we headed for the lift. Trouble was the doors were closing, but I could still see a councillor waving me goodbye, she was fit too.
“This way,” said a lisp I recognised, the guard.
I placed a finger to my lips and we followed against the tide to Gate B. Everyone else was heading for the lift.
Maybe Chute B would have been a better name, maybe even Slide B. But we were pleased to be fumigated a second time at the bottom, even if the robots were unfamiliar.
This time there was no dressing gown, just a plastic poncho; I guess it was serious. I sat between Anais and Steve, no FU, no orderly checking of the seats. The escape hatches were locked down at two hundred passengers. You couldn’t tell who’d made it, who was on board; only that we were all relieved, and scared.
Air vents locked to the outside, and we were told not to look out of the windows as we belted up. I recognised the voice. It was my old friend Melody, from the white post outside Rinse Gardens.
There was no countdown, only the roar of the rockets before we were jettisoned into outer space. Those that looked back saw the mushroom clouds rising from their old home. There was a spider on the floor. I lifted my heel then decided to let the stowaway go.
The gate crashers were taken by surprise as the seats swung back and the sides enveloped us. The milky fluid was damn cold, bringing tears to my eyes, but I guess that’s why they called it cryo.
The last thing I saw in my mind’s eye was Anais’ smiling face. We’d travelled a long way together, and now we were heading even further: to the bosom of Eve.
~ FIN ~
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