A-Void

be happier and healthier. We’ll actually be living!”
As she slapped her Organelle against the counter, she said, “I didn’t want to tell you, Billy, but today as I was leaving, fifteen minutes late and with all the lights turned off, he asks me, ‘You’re going home already?’ He even asked me to move closer to work. And then, he made this ‘funny’ comment that I need to work harder.”
I caressed her arm. She embraced me and her tears soaked into my shirt.
“‘Work/life balance’ says it all,” she said. “There’s ‘work’ and then everything else?”
“Do you know how much time I actually spend treating anyone versus reading the newest guideline? Basically, I’m always failing on some parameter.”
“I know. Look at this.” She pulled out a stack of papers from her purse. “Today they passed out a handout about high performers, medium performers, and low performers.” She pointed with her finger. “‘Low performers ‘feel rushed or hurried.’” She pulled away and walked to the window. “Billy, you need to get those vaccines. Whatever it takes.”
Someone rang the doorbell.
TIME 1
LOS ANGELES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
5:03 PM
The sky is the color of barbecued tomatoes. A fire in one of the terminals has captured one of the fighter jets bordering the deserted airstrips of LAX. No one could flee anymore.
The sliding doors at the United-American-Continental-U.S.-Alaska Airlines terminal do not open. I peer inside for military personnel. Debris and loot from the Things You Forgot to Bring store covers the floor.
The last time I picked up Jasmine here was on Halloween. The old woman beside her looked like she knew the story. She stared at Jasmine, who was leaning against a post, caressing her arm and shoulder.
We still went trick-or-treating with Isabella. The few parents who were out paraded their children door to door by car. Isabella preferred candy apps on the Organelle, anyway.
TIME 2
“Did you see this?” Federico barged into our house, waving the latest PC Rulebook in the air. As if we don’t have enough to worry about, the new Rulebook is out and it’s twenty-five thousand pages.” His cheeks ballooned like a saxophonist’s and then he hurried to the window and scanned the street. “Damn PC Police!” He paced in the foyer and the way his eyes wouldn’t focus frightened me. “Don’t say this, don’t say that. Ensure no one’s feelings get hurt.”
Jasmine motioned me to end the conversation.
“We went to the Vaccine Claim Station today, Billy.” He turned to peer out the window. “We were denied.” His mouth quivered. “The rich pay someone off, and if you’re poor, the more children or pets you have, the further up the line you go.” He placed his hands on his knees as he sat down.
I pressed my palm to his shoulder.
“Imagine it, Billy. What if they all survive and we don’t? It’s real.”
“I’m sorry, Federico. We’re in the same boat, stuck between both ends.”
He stood up and patted me on the shoulder as he walked to the front door. He turned around once more and asked, “You’re coming to the Boredom Society meeting tonight, right?”
“Yeah, we’ll be there.”
After I closed the door, Jasmine entered the hallway. “He doesn’t know about Plan B, does he?”
“No. And if he finds out, we might die.”
TIME 1
SUNSET BOULEVARD
12:12 AM
On Sunset Boulevard, a yellow sign reads, “Star Maps.” I jerk the wheel to the curb to pull a map from the yellow bucket. Scanning names, I select M_____’s house; a recluse in her old age.
A gravel driveway splits a wide field infected by singular tall weeds. I step out into the falling ash before what I assume is the attendants’ quarters and study the toady green ivy that is strangling the tiled roof of her Moroccan castle.
Sirens alarm after I smash a stained-glass window with my bat. I use the bat to slide away the glass shards before crawling inside and deciding on a corridor. I pass dusty scaffolding against a steep staircase, below which clear plastic sheets cover an orange piano and tarnished brass harp. The corridor opens to a kitchen, from where I observe two swans in a pond, tailing one another through a marina of ketchup-red and mustard-yellow pedal boats.
A hosting podium blocks rows of leather booths from the neighboring kitchen. Beyond this restaurant are a bowling alley, a replica movie palace, and an ice-skating rink, but the grandest space is underground, housing a Ferris wheel.
Upstairs, I find M_____’s bedroom. A hospital bed strangled with medical equipment faces one of those giant fireplaces I’ve seen in old movies, the ones I imagined people could walk into if they’d had enough of life.
A glittering oval container pulls my attention. Inside, beneath its lid of a marbleized photograph of a little girl, I discover another little box with “First Demo” marked across it. Inside, there is a flash drive and booklet of photos, which I stick in my pocket as I turn to leave.
Purses have vomited their contents onto the sidewalks; dirty, flapping magazines are hanging over the gutters. A motorcycle lies in the middle of the boulevard. A billboard atop the Argyle Hotel advertises the never-released Star Wars Episode XX: The New Emperor. My gut wallows at the sight of a hotdog cart stationed between the hotel and an empty tattoo parlor with a lit neon OPEN sign.
I retrieve the peanut-butter jar and make two sloppy sandwiches, one for me and one for Cleveland. I notice that his nails have scratched the leather seats in the back of the car, but I wonder if I should care anymore. Once I finish, I lock the doors and attempt to join him in sleep, wondering if without me he would die.
“I hope you’re all having a wonderful New Year’s Eve. My name is Kayla and I’m taking over as your server tonight. Are you guys going to the party across the street? You’re all so dressed up.”
“We’re having our class party there,” I replied, looking to the crowded white tent. “Do you have to work all night?”
“Yeah, unfortunately,” she said, watching