Transcription (38 page)

“And what about you?” Danielle asked. “You’re just going to be doomed for the rest of your life?”

“I was before,” James said, “and I still am now. I haven’t lost anything.”

“Opportunity,” Chloe said. “If you go back to writing those terrible stories, you’ve lost an opportunity. What if this is your chance to break the cycle? Everything would go out on a positive note. And you would also be living in an unstable place, and sitting on top of a potential powder keg. Another fire and the whole region turns back into cannibals? Is that what you want.”

“No,” James said, “of course not. But you don’t understand—some of the men my father researched, they were able to hide their sickness for days, weeks even. What if I turned into a monster tonight, you guys didn’t realize it, and then I went crazy a week from now?”

Danielle was barely listening. She interjected with a different thought. “There’s another reason why I think the curse might be broken—it’s because you didn’t write the whole night. You were only in the closet for a few hours when you busted out with the story. Doesn’t that suggest that the pattern has changed?”

James shrugged. “I don’t know, and that’s my point.”

They sat in silence. Bo collected the trash from Danielle and Chloe, added it to his own, and put it in the same garbage can that James had used. He kicked at some of the scattered glass and then looked up towards the sky.

“What if you write another uplifting story?” Bo asked, turning around.

“Uplifting?” James asked.

“Like last night? Danielle could give you the idea for another uplifting story, and then you could write that. We could even burn it, like we did today. You could make the world better, instead of stockpiling nightmares, like before,” Bo said.

“I don’t know if that would…” James began.
 

Danielle cut him off. “Who says it has to be one of my stories? We could raid a library or a bookstore and come up with uplifting or motivational short stories. You could write those.”

“Do it for a year,” Chloe said. “If you go crazy, we’ll just shoot you. If you don’t, then we’ll figure you’re cured.”

James leaned over and rubbed his temples.
 

He thought about what they were suggesting.

“I know you guys are trying to do, but I can’t help thinking about the risks. What chance will you have at a normal life if you’re always worried about whether I’m going to turn into a homicidal maniac?”

Bo started laughing.

After a second, Chloe started laughing too.

“What’s so funny?” James asked.

“A
normal
life? Normal? Look around, James. I think normal went out the window a week ago. Remember when society broke down and everyone started killing each other? You think normal is on the agenda?”

Danielle smiled and nodded.

Eventually, James smiled as well.

“You think we should still head for Gilbert?” Chloe asked.

“We might as well see how the rest of the area is doing,” Danielle said. “And I really would like to get my hands on a portable setup so I can type and print.”

“The more I think about it, I bet they have one of those battery-powered typewriters I was talking about,” Bo said. “I bet the new ones will save and print for you. Then we wouldn’t have to find a generator.”

“Or maybe there’s a printer with a battery,” Danielle said.

“No offense, Chloe, but we need to get a different car,” Bo said. “We can knock on doors, I suppose, and find the house of someone who didn’t make it.”

“Or we could just go to a car dealership, right?” Danielle asked. “Wouldn’t something new be better?”

“Good idea,” Bo said. “Let’s make that our first stop. In case society gets rebooted quicker than we expect, at least we can get our major felonies out of the way.”

Bo came back to the bench and held out his hands for Chloe and Danielle.

They stood up. Danielle stretched and Chloe brushed herself off. The three of them turned back to James, who sat on the bench.

“Come on, old man,” Bo said. “We’ll make Gilbert before dark and you can write another feel-good story tonight.”

He put out his hand for James.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” James said.

“We’ll figure out the details as we go,” Bo said.
 

He gestured for James to take his hand, but James simply sat there.

“The way I see it,” Chloe said, “you have two options. You can go back to writing about terrible things, and potentially bring more misery into the world, or you can do like last night, and maybe use your words to help people. Even if it doesn’t work, isn’t it worth a shot?”

James took Bo’s hand.

CHAPTER 33: ANNIVERSARY

Diary of James E. Hicks, Day 364, October 8

I
T
HAS
BEEN
A
year of startling change.

In my wildest dreams, I figured people would eventually migrate back to their old habits, and the world would be a slightly dirtier, more fatigued version of what it was. We were all sullied by the realization of how fragile our civilization really was. Our belief in humanity, and the inherent goodness of people, was demolished.
 

Instead of tentatively reaching for their old tools, old lives, and old habits, people seemed to gravitate to a new way of living. Forgetting about greed, jealousy, and revenge, they came back together and only picked up the tools that would help them live a life of purpose, fulfillment, and meaning.

I never would have imagined that humanity’s darkest time would result in a leap forward in the evolution of society. At first, I thought the change was only happening in this part of the world. I was wrong. As technology and travel came back online, we heard stories from across the country and the other side of the globe. People everywhere in the world had evolved, even people outside the reach of Danielle’s story about Sweet.

I wonder if there is some global consciousness that evolved with mankind. I wonder if these events brought us so close to extinction that they triggered some buried genetic sensibility, meant to safeguard our race. It certainly seems that way.

Instead of holding on to mistrust from the Torture-cise incident, people seem to trust each other completely now, and they even tell their children stories about the bad days, back before the enlightenment.

It’s hard to fathom that all that death and destruction could lead to an explosion of kindness.

Danielle still thinks it’s the stories.
 

She thinks that people have changed because the stories made them change.

I’m not so sure.

Chloe believes that human nature was always geared towards cooperation, and that our lust for conquering nature brought about an age of greed and consumption. She may have a point. Once people were forced to focus on survival, their priorities realigned immediately. The popularity of altruism is surprising though. You might think that a meal given to a stranger is one less meal for yourself. People I meet don’t seem to think that way. There’s a prevailing sense that none of us will make it if we all don’t.

I guess I see both sides.

Still, I’m writing these stories every night, so maybe the larger part of me agrees with Danielle.

Tonight, my focus changes. Instead of writing a short story, I’m going to begin writing down the chronicle of this whole adventure, starting from the beginning. I don’t have any of my father’s notes, so I’m going to have to recreate those from memory. Fortunately, I don’t have the original text of any of those terrible stories. I may or may not write those down—I want to, just for completeness, but I’m also afraid of what might happen if I do.
 

It seems important to record everything. There are only a few people in the world who know what really happened, and it seems like it would be a shame to lose that history. Perhaps the story will help some future generation overcome their own hardship.
 

Maybe the story will be lost and forgotten.
 

There’s a good chance that I’m just writing it for myself. In the past year, I’ve gone back and forth about the notion of the curse. Some days, I believe that it’s all over. Other days, it seems like the stories I write are still having an effect on the people around me. I think it’s impossible to know unless I stop.

For me, habits are hard to break. At least I don’t write all night anymore. In fact, sometimes my writing only takes an hour or two. That’s a good thing, since most of my time is spent surviving. Water has to be hauled, crops tended, and animals cared for. Without these chores, I would either perish or be a burden on my roommates. I’m lucky to have them. I suspect that Danielle and Chloe will move on soon. I can only hope to maintain a friendship with them once they do. They’ve been the only friends of my adult life, and I wouldn’t trade their company for anything.

So, I write every night, but not nearly as long. That’s how I will record the history of the curse. I’ll start at the beginning and put down everything I recall from my dad’s story. Then, I will add my own part of the tale. Maybe Danielle will help with some of the scenes where I wasn’t present. She’s a better writer than I will ever be.

I like the course that humanity is on right now. I’ve heard there’s more of a bartering system near the coast, but around here, everything is freely given. If someone needs food, or mechanical help, or medical attention, there’s always someone who will help. I don’t know what history will call this system—communism?

I’m sure we’ll run across a freeloader eventually, and people will get stingy. Then, trade will ensue. Worse things could happen. Up north, they’re all on money again. Of course, they have their utilities back in working order, so I guess they need some way to pay for those.

I like to think that we can stay agrarian, but that’s just me.

I’m not sure how long it will take me to write this story, but when I’m done, I think I’m done writing for good. If I go crazy, someone will put me down.

For everyone who has passed due to my ignorance, or helped me along the way, I am sorry, and I am grateful. Tonight’s a new story, and tomorrow’s a new day.

#
 
#
 
#
 
#
 
#

Ike Hamill

October, 2014

Topsham, Maine

About
Transcription

I hope you enjoyed reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you have a moment, I would be thrilled if you could post a review to Amazon. Without your review, a lot of people won’t bother to take a chance on this book.

I like the concept of infectious ideas. It’s a theme that has shown up more than once in my stories. In this one, I began to wonder if maybe we write things down so that we can take our most important lessons and implant them in someone else’s head. If so, we should be careful on what we choose to write. I’m going to have to think about that more. A notion like that could stifle my output.

The idea for
Transcription
sat in my notebook for a long time. One day, I realized that I couldn’t ignore it any longer. When I put an idea in my notebook, I only write a short sentence, knowing that the idea will need room to grow later. This one was starting to grow anyway. I was surprised at the direction it took.
 

Again, please think about posting a review. It doesn’t have to be much—just a line and a rating would help. If you have any questions, comments, or complaints, please email me at any time (
[email protected]
). I would love to hear from you. As always, if you sign up for my mailing list (find it at
http://www.ikehamill.com
), you will receive my next book free. I hope to see you there.

-Ike

More by Ike Hamill

Extinct

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Miles away, Brad Jenkins battles the same storm. Alone, he attempts to survive as snow envelops his house. When the storm breaks, Brad makes his way south to where the snow ends and the world lies empty. Join Brad, Robby, and the other survivors as they fight to find the truth about the apocalypse and discover how to live in their new world.