The Wakeful Wanderer's Guide to Disillusionment

Bound Away

One has to admit, to an outsider, our ways resemble madness. We dream when we wake, think to each other, make offerings to each other, and hallucinate together. We watch each other, and invite ourselves to be watched. For us, this is Bethlehem, to others it's Bedlam. Either way, the boundary of our world is the wall of a madhouse. We imagine we are outside that wall. The Feudalists think we are inside it.

– The Wakeful Wanderer's Guide, Vol. 2, line 324

The swollen Allegheny River was overflowing its banks again, and her waters looked deadly and laden with silt. From her vantage on a hill on the Western shore, overlooking the dilapidated towers of downtown Pittsburgh, Gladys Reynolds grimaced. Her town was overrun by the Powers That Were, along with all of their perverse equipment. She wondered if it was wise to allow them to use her town as a base, or if she had refused, whether that would have made a difference. She had never seen so many archaic vehicles, maintained from an age of global conquest, on the move at once. The arachnoid robots added to her sense of foreboding.

Her husband's condition had deteriorated, even with the exceptional medical treatment of the doctors of the Memoria, which was the ineffable name the Powers That Were gave themselves. Samuel had been hanging on with a grim determination these past weeks as the cancer ate away at him. He was angry at everyone now, Gladys included.

Archie had gone to fetch Estelle. One of the loyal vagabonds revealed her probable location somewhere in the xombie infested Berkshires. He took a chopper for speed and security. If all went well, he would be back with her soon. It was time for Estelle's little soul-searching excursion to end. She was needed at home.

It was mid-morning, going on 10am. Gladys had left her home early to check on the gardeners and ended up taking a walk to clear her head and get some perspective. Her brief excursion outside extended from ten minutes to what was now three hours. She had taken no breakfast, and she was feeling sudden hunger pangs. It would take her at least another hour and a half to walk back to the house and order up something to eat. She wished she had brought along a piece of fruit or some toasted lavash.

There was the sound of an engine and a jeep pulled up, driven by one of the uniformed Memoria acolytes. Vanessa was in the passenger seat. She flirted with the male driver, blowing him a kiss in lieu of payment, and stepped out toward her mother, her green dress billowing in the steady breeze. "What are you doing, Mother?" she shouted. "I had to drive all over the place looking for you."

Gladys turned again to look at the river. The current looked strong enough to suck a tugboat down. "You never drive," she responded, too quietly for her daughter to hear.

"What did you say? I couldn't hear you over the wind." Vanessa had just reached the hilltop and was standing less than a yard from her mother now.

"I said, you weren't driving. You got someone to drive you. Heavens knows how you do that," Gladys said, knowing the answer, but wanting to get a reaction.

"Please, Mother," Vanessa replied, "stop pretending to be thick. There's no point. What are you doing out here, anyway?"

"I was walking," Gladys told her. "I needed some space to think."

"Do you think you could have warned us first?" Vanessa said, "The wallpaper people came, and you said you were going to..."

"Oh, shit, that was today," Gladys said to herself. "Well, they'll have to come back another time. Things are hectic right now."

"They said they would wait all day for your ladyship. They actually called you 'your ladyship.' That's too much."

Gladys looked down her nose into her daughter's face. She had to tilt her head back pretty far to do it. "It's exactly right, Vanessa. You need to learn that showing proper respect works both ways. Now, it's too bad you dismissed that driver, I would rather not have to trudge all the way back home from here."