The Random Generator

The heat sucked,

the heat sucked the air,

the heat sucked the air until the air was not and all that was left was no air, no air but this hot nothing.

Desmond held on valiantly to the flimsy plastic hand-hold as the bodies pressed against him and the wagon rocked in its tracks, he held on as the sweat itched at his neck, his armpits, and the crack of his arse. He held on valiantly as the bodies of the others pressed against him, as they leaned on him to the random swaying of the way, with no mind to their own equability as they stole his place, his place in the suffocating wagon. Just two more stops he thought, just two more stops.

An arm reached out and pushed itself across his face into his place, to grab the bar that held the hand-hold which he was holding. Teeth pressed hard on teeth, Desmond’s jaw knew no better, Desmond did not notice.

Two more stops, just two more stops... sweat trickle met trickle and stream flowed, sweat met already wet pants and all Desmond thought was …two more stops, just two more stops.

“Ice cold water, with gas, without gas, how you like it, Ice cold water...’’

The vendor pushed, sharp elbows pushing through no space, his space, onward towards the sale. Ice cold water, Desmond thought, and then did not think more for the sad lack of coin in his flaccid pocket. The vendor pushed and teeth ground and hot bodies touched, pressed against his hot body, and the wagon rocked to a stop. Doors opened, people pushed to get in, people pushed to get out. Desmond’s fingers slipped from the handhold, un-held he was transported further and back, deeper into a space between doors. Teeth fixed, face rigid Desmond faked calm.

I’ll fucking kill you, and you, and you...

Daytime fantasy, nothing more, Desmond knew how to push it down. Desmond was proud of his down, his deep down. Nobody could bottle it up like himself, hadn’t he crossed the border from Permia to the peninsula through poverty and pain, had he not left all his possessions, his things his years of accumulation at the drop of the proverbial hat to escape the knocking on doors and the awkward questions of fitting in. Hadn’t he, Desmond alone and lonely, spent every last penny, so to speak, for a one-way ticket to freedom and here?

Doors open, push, push, push and people get in and people get off and Desmond is trapped between doing and being, between doors on the wagon, and the wagon rocks on, on its way to the next stop. I’ll get off at the next one and double back he thought, simple as, no problem, and the skinny guy in front moved to squeeze a space for the vendor to pass back along the wagon. Elbow in face, armpit in eye, stink of old clothes on unwashed bodies, pressed up, pressed up until the deep down swallowed it all and Desmond faced the door. Simple as, just get onto the other side of the tracks and double back...

Door opens people push in, Desmond washed back, people push out, Desmond lost track...doors close, I’ll get off at the next one and double back.

Through the observation portal of The Montecristo, the Earth could be seen far below for all the world like a smokey-blue-green marble.

ERROR ALERT.

FILE CORRUPTED EJECT: FILE 19741004

“Corrupted my ass...’’

A slim-blond-male figure mutters ignoring the ‘error alert’ flashing in their inner sight as they continue to download the massive data set onto their neural net’s backup driver.

“... think you can fool me that easy Raffa, eh?’’

Only the dull humming of the ion drive could be heard as the youth moves from workstation to workstation filling their driver as they go.

Whoop, whoop, whoop...

“Ah ballcocks, well... time for this genius to skidadelo!’’

They ducked out the door and into the maintenance closet beside, seconds before the night duty officer came into view of the education block.

“So where ya going Mister?’’

It took Desmond a moment to notice that this overtly intimate and direct question was meant for him, he could just about make out the young lady who was pressed up against his back in the reflection of the dark window.

“Um... Salvador...um... station.’’

Desmond was unsure exactly why he had answered her but had little time to think about it.

“You’re going the wrong way so Mister, you’ll have to get off, cross the track and double back!’’

The girl said loudly into his ear, finishing with a smile and a wink. He watched a tortured expression sweep across his reflected face before it was swallowed by the deep down.

“That’s what..!’’ - Desmond began.

“Come on.’’

She grabbed his sleeve and started pushing her way towards the carriage doors and out, with Desmond dragging along in the turbulence of her wake.

People milled around them on the platform, she, the girl, moved like a shark through a shoal of fish, he moved like a log down a rocky river with her hand clasping his shirt front every time he slipped behind. Desmond could not well decern his surroundings as he was washed along with the crowd, desperately seeking out the stairs to cross the tracks. The girl turned abruptly, grabbed his shirt, and tugged him forward, he was whipped about as warm air washed over him, a hair-dryer breeze began sucking the oily sweat from his creased brow. The ground now yielding underfoot, a dry sponge-like feeling.

“You see...’’ - the girl said - “...a shortcut!’’

Desmond raised his gaze from the sunburnt, blue-grey succulents that dominated the ground beneath his feet to the enormous mountains that split the sky in twain, jagged fingers gouging the cornflower sky. He could not remember a doorway, nor remember walking through any frame nor touching a hand to handle and this was definitely not Salvador station.

“A shortcut...’’ - Desmond repeated, eyes locked on those fierce, umbra peaks. - “...to where?’’

“Shouldn’t you ask me my name first, say thank you or something before this dreary ′where′ question?’’

Desmond was struck dumb for a second as the sirocco blew about him robbing moisture like a thief.

“Um, eh...’’ - His eyes rolled in his head as if possessed by a mad horse, thought and memory colliding in his mind before he could re-engage his vocal cords.

“...what is your name?’’ - The question spilt limply from chapped lips.

“And the thank you?’’

She asked back, her arms folded over her chest, foot pointing and tapping like an irked professor. He looked at her, mouth slowly dropping open, seeing her in detail for the first time. She was petite, her hair was like rich mahogany with an electric-blue strip running from her left temple to the nap of her neck on the far side. Her violet eyes unusually large in her neat heart-shaped face. Dressed in a light-denim dungaree with some pop star’s face peeking out from beneath, a finger to their lips in ’shush’. She wore skate shoes, not that Desmond knew what skate shoes were.

“Wellll..?’’

“Ah, ehem..eh...thank you!’’

A knot the size of a fist gripped his guts, sweat gleamed brightly on his panicked brow, voice pitched to the edge.

“My name is Adelmina, you can call me Mina...everyone does...’’

Mina smiled at him, her left incisor reflecting brilliantly with its platinum cap.

“...what’s your name Mister?’’ - Arms now uncrossed, shoulders loose.

“Desmond...eh people call me...’’

He struggled to remember being called anything other than Desmond. The only people to call his name lately had been border officials or state officials or other officials of other kinds, functionaries, points of call and duty, and not people as such, in the grand scheme of things... and mostly they called him Mr? in a bored, uninquiring tone of voice.

“...eh...Des.’’ - He lied.

“Nice to meet you...Ehdes, now... we better keep moving if we’re to get there on time Ehdes.’’ - Her voluminous violet eye winked a long slow wink and he was left with a constriction which pulled his heart to his arse in the most uncomfortable manner.

“Des, just Des...not eh...Ehdes.’’

He tried to correct her mistake, as his deep down sucked hard on the strangeness and panic, confusion and the not knowing.

“Sure thing Ehdes, sure thing...follow me.’’

She turned on her heel and was away off to the left while Desmond stood with his right hand held out proffered to the empty air.

Unconsciously wiping his hand on his pants he set off after her, searching for a memory of a doorway in his mind. Shuffling after as fast as he could he caught up just as she was approaching the stark sun-bleached skeleton of some long lost tree, again she grabbed his shirt, tails pulling free from neat brown belt, and stepped towards the slim shadow between.

Desmond was rendered once again con-fuddled as the shadow wrapped about him and he stepped out onto the Platform of Salvador station, ground once again concrete beneath.

“Nice to meet you, Ehdes.’’

She blew him a kiss and a wave and was gone...lost among the crowd.

“Um...’’

Was uttered once more as sweat rose to sheen hot forehead.