rabble

Chapter 1: River Life

Magnus was a grizzled middle-aged man hardened by long years spent fishing the radioactive Mississippi. He was cautious and quick to react. He was not loving by nature, but he tried his best.

The river was as tranquil as Magnus' mind that day. Her cool black waters rolled gently onward, and the boat drifted with it. Magnus stood at the edge of the boat, waiting to feel a bite. His apprentice, Mercutio, did the same.

Mercutio's focus broke. He looked at Magnus. "Did you hear that?" he asked.

"No," Magnus said, "what was it?"

"A gurgle. No, a growl. No, both—perhaps neither. There it is again."

Magnus heard it this time—the low growl of a drooling beast. He swore and reeled his line in. It came from the left-hand bank, which also happened to be the side of the river they lived on.

"Hungry mutant bobcat, you think?" asked Mercutio.

"No, it's clearly a unicorn," said Magnus, taking his rifle out of his bag. "Now shut up or I'll beat you sore.'

Mercutio rolled his eyes but held his tongue. Magnus would never lay a finger on him, but he only threatened physical violence in no-shit situations.

They passed the patch of dead trees and tough riverbank weeds where the bobcat waited for them to get within jumping distance of the bank. Magnus would not let that happen. He searched for a sign of fur. His eyes weren't what they used to be, but he saw it—the crusty and bloodshot eyes of the poor cat. He aimed carefully and fired. He never missed.

"Nice shot," said Mercutio. "You should teach me how to do that."

"Hell no, you'd shoot yourself in the—"

"You're right, I'm not cut out for killing stuff."

They both remembered the rabid cat incident of 2387.

Magnus cast his line as if nothing had happened. He thought of a conversation he'd had with his wife the night before.

"Magnus, did you see the sky at noon today?" Lily had asked brightly. "The clouds nearly parted."

Magnus had scoffed at the thought, but a glimmer of foolish hope remained that night and he dreamed of green leaves filtering golden sunlight on his youthful skin. He woke up with tears on his cheeks and a strange sentimental feeling.

"You know, Mercutio," Magnus said, "Last night I dreamed about the sun. Do you think it will come out today?"

Mercutio scowled. "Last night I dreamed that you chased me with a fish and told me that the gods would send me head lice if I kept writing with my left hand. I'm right-handed. Dreams don't mean a thing."

"Dreams are a reflection of your 'subconscious mental state,' whatever that means."

"No, dreams are a bored man's entertainment. The queen of dreams is a useless fairy who stole your wife's thimble and wears it as a hat. She zooms up your nostrils while you sleep and fiddles with your thoughts. That's why you feel so groggy when you get up. She just gave you a lobotomy. Bet you feel dumb now 'cause your frontal lobe has fairy dust from her wings in it. You know, I think sleep is a pretty stupid concept in general. Why do we need to power down to get our energy? Why can't we get it from calories? This just makes it easier for us to get eaten! If I could redesign humans-"

"Oh my God, shut up," Magnus said. "You are saying an awful lot while also saying nothing at all."

"That's the point, Magnus. Dreams say a lot, but they don't mean anything. We won't see the sun today. I probably will never see it, and you definitely won't." Mercutio said this very matter-of-factly.

"Are you calling me old?" asked Magnus, feigning offence.

"Yes."

"Wow," said Magnus, rolling his eyes.

They continued to fish and their haul slowly grew until it was late afternoon.

"Best get ready to sell this and get home," Magnus said.

They docked and chained their boat to the pier and moved on foot to the city, lugging a bag of fish with them. Not a bad haul, but it would be better if they didn't have to release some fish. No one would buy a fish with two heads, after all. Best to just discard it.

The local market tended to avoid the inner city's jungle-like urban sprawl. Those old, big buildings were unsound and prone to collapse. They stuck to less-deadly areas. The merchants were using trial and error to determine the least deadly area of the city to permanently set up. Magnus wasn't hopeful—they had been doing that for the past thirty years.

Today the market was conveniently close to the river and therefore his house. He sold the fish to the old man who ran the meat tent.

"Wow, these are good," he said, admiring the fish. "As usual. I must know your secret."

"Luck," said Magnus, flattered. He hadn't thought the haul was that good, but he supposed the old man's eyes were failing.

Magnus took his money and bought the least green bit of beef he could find. He wandered the stalls accompanied by Mercutio, who kept a running commentary. "Ooh, some comically small potatoes, they look bigger than usual...salt! Why, it's your twin, Magnus! Get it? Cuz' you're salty...? Anyway...ah, some lovely coral necklaces, I think they would look quite fetching on you—"

"How much for this?" Magnus asked the merchant, pointing at a delicate thing of blue coral and silver chain. The merchant told him, and Magnus paid.

"Surprised you're taking up my suggestion. Good choice—blue is absolutely your color!" Mercutio teased.

"It's for Lily, smartass," said Magnus, smirking in spite of himself.

"Didn't think of you as much of a romantic gift-giver."

"Well, as usual you thought wrong."

They arrived at Magnus and Lily's riverside shack. It was 5:00 p.m. She had been home for two hours. In the days, she worked as a conservationist, acquiring plant samples to take back to the greenhouses. At night, she was a very heavy sleeper. Magnus loved her. Mercutio looked up to her.

She stepped out of the house to greet them. While Magnus presented her with the coral necklace, Mercutio drifted off. Old people romance wasn't his thing. He sat on a rock and gazed at the clouds, squinting. For all his life, the sky had ranged from dark grey to grey. Nowadays it was almost white.

There was a point in the sky where all the whiteness radiated out. Mercutio figured that must be the sun. In the years before, there was no visible source for the light. Everything was kind of flat. Not so today. It was so bright that Mercutio could see the cloud texture. He didn't know that clouds were puffy. This was really rocking his world.

He was deep in his cloud contemplation when he noticed something abnormal. Clouds were fluffy, yes. But were they supposed to have what looked like tower silhouettes? He was very confused. Then, a thicker cloud blew over the faint image. Mercutio figured he must have imagined it.