SMOG - Chapters 1 & 2

1. Aftermath, 2. Family Time

1. Aftermath

Stellan was growing weary of sifting through the rubble. It was nearing dusk and everything had already been picked over. The hardware in his leg was bothering him again anyway. It had been months since he'd been inside the Jude's offices on Hyperion, and even longer since he'd wanted to be. When things finally returned to normal, or as close to normal as the interim local government could manage, the place had been condemned, quarantined and roped off as a forensic investigation site. Stellan wasn't going to get arrested though, not now. He could tamper with all the evidence he wanted and no one would bat an eye. He'd made his way to the second floor. The walls that were still intact were coated with dust from the blasts, the windows were spattered with faded, sepia blood and a few of those ridiculous manifestos lay crumpled on the floor. Stellan sat in the chair. The chair. For some reason, no one else had wanted to sit in it, and after a while it attained a mythological status before anyone had realized it was happening.

Out of instinct Stellan slid his hand along the underside of the massive table until his fingers came to an almost imperceptible groove. He'd fully expected it to be blown away or pried open but miraculously it had survived. He pushed on the groove and a panel slid away. He didn't look around to see if anyone was watching him because it didn't matter. He gingerly maneuvered himself down to the floor. This was fairly difficult because of the screws in his knee and the three shrapnel pieces that were too dangerous to remove from his ribs. Lying on his back, he found the safe's lock. He was probably the only person who knew the code, or the only person left anyway. It wasn't Minnie's birthday or an old address or the numeric value of a pet's name. Jude probably never would've wanted a pet even if he had been allowed to have one as a child. In any event, Stellan knew that Jude used what Lark said were the faulty measurements of the first dress she'd attempted to make. Stellan tried the numbers and found that the code hadn't been changed and it wasn't stuck. An unloaded .22, a few stray bullets, a scrap of fabric and a worn Moleskin notebook crashed onto Stellan's face, one after another. He made no attempts to roll out of the way after the first object hit him. He pushed the gun and the fabric away from him and grabbed the notebook. He propped himself back up in the chair and inhaled sharply.

The notebook had become an increasingly prominent prop as Jude's had flourished while the man behind the shoes nosedived into insanity. Juliet had suggested that he wasn't falling into anything, but whatever it was that she'd sensed at that reading years ago had finally wrestled its way up and out, seeping into the corners of those forced smiles and spilling out of those vacant eyes. That was the last conversation they'd had in person. Juliet still wasn't entirely convinced that Jude was dead and unable to retaliate. She only communicated with Stellan seldomly and through painstakingly untraceable methods. The last time he'd heard from her at all was more than a year ago.

Stellan made himself open the notebook. He almost didn't want to know what had been going through the mind of his friend/employer/mad man/despot/martyr. Stellan was surprised to find a neatly kept series of succinct observations. Jude had given them all headings based on their function and had kept them surprisingly brief. Stellan realized he was a little disappointed by this. He'd expected the ravings of a purported lunatic to be well, crazier, and longer, and maybe filled with existential questions. He'd assumed that his friend, the damaged, critically acclaimed writer would have written page after page of judgments about the folly in others, or at least Kubrikian notes about the havoc he'd intended to wreak. Stellan realized that finding the notebook had been his intention all along but he didn't feel like leaving just yet. This part of the block had largely remained a ghost town after several of the nearby business owners relocated. A feeble ray of descending sunlight forced its way through the grimy window. It caught something across the hallway in the beam for just a second. Stellan couldn't tell what it was, or even if he'd really seen it. He would investigate later. For now, he would read.