conte [issue two - Intro to Narrative]

Seven months ago, at least one of those satellites fell to Earth and the Cold War became officially irrelevant as the missiles aboard the satellite were detonated in the atmosphere and over two decades’ worth of biochemical research, done in the name of defending America, resulted in the end of the world and the waking of the dead.

Civilization is held together by social conventions.

Mort said that one night at Arnold’s. He said that when social conventions are abandoned, so goes civilization.

I’ve thought about that some since then. It does help to explain why every Friday night we would gather at the home of one (or more, depending) for food and drinks. That was, in fact, a kind of social convention and one I had begun to develop a disinterest in, but a convention nonetheless and so it was that we had gathered at Barry and Dina’s, the six of us, Megan and I having hosted the previous weekend. Dina was still at work (she had called to say to start without her, Barry had said), so Barry was soloing on the grill. He and Mort were talking about football over the chicken and weinies and burgers. Nathan and Arnold were tossing a frisbee and I was trying to think of the right way to say something to them, my friends, about the pregnancy. I mean, this was the biggest thing ever, right? Right. Megan had wanted it so bad. She used to talk about it back when we were dating, about how happy she would be when we would have our own life together and our own family and how we’d have vacations and birthdays and Christmases and school and we’d have to have a couple of kids and it never seemed to matter to her if we had boys or girls or one of each. She always said she didn’t care, she would be happy no matter what. That day in the kitchen, when I realized what she was telling me (that she was pregnant, twins, and it was all starting now), she actually seemed to start glowing right before me. And every time the conversation offered an opening for me, I would open my mouth and be overwhelmed by the enormity of what I had to say and I would just nod or chuckle or nod and chuckle and that’s mostly what I did that night. I mean, you know, whatever.

That got old and as soon as I felt like I could argue that, yes, it was in fact getting late, I faked stifling a yawn and overtly finished my beer, but the conversation around me kept right on going – Mort trying to convince the others (Dina still hadn’t come home, but she hadn’t called either and small pockets of worry had started to punctuate the night) to listen to his joke. I looked at Megan and shrugged helplessly and she nodded sympathetically, understanding, knowing these guys as well as I did by now.

Well, knowing them as well as a woman could, you know.

I got another beer and Mort began his joke again.

“These three lesbians die and go to Heaven. They’re standing in front of Saint Peter and he’s busy checking his list, not looking up, right? The lesbians stand there waiting, growing bored, and still Saint Peter has his head buried in his list. So finally, one of the lesbians steps forward and casually clears her throat. Saint Peter quickly looks up, obviously surprised to see them there, and says, ‘What the fuck is that?’…”

Only it wasn’t Saint Peter saying it; it was Mort. We all looked in the direction he was pointing.

Just off the horizon, a low blue streak made its way across the night sky.

“Shooting star,” Nathan said, although he didn’t seem particularly confident of his answer.

“No way,” Mort quickly fired back.

Then the power died and the lights went out.

"Oh shit," Arnold whispered and there was a general buzz of agreement among us which was interrupted by an explosion and a huge flash of blue light from town.

“Goddamnedest shooting star ever,” Mort said and I could hear a subtle amused quality to his voice.

Barry ran inside the house and I checked my watch.

Dina had to be on her way home, I thought. I said so to Megan and Barry came back outside.

“Phones are gone,” he said, searching the sky.

“Whatever that thing was, it’s gone,” Mort added. “It crashed.”

Everyone was quiet for a second and then Megan said Dina would be home soon and Barry simply nodded without looking at her.

Megan squeezed my hand and I drank the rest of my beer.

“Oh man,” Arnold said loudly, looking at the frisbee he had just picked up again. “What if it was a UFO?”

It was then that Mort must have gotten the same idea I did, but since he moved first, I just got another beer.

Barry and Nathan and Arnold saw Mort leaning into his car and I could almost see the light bulbs coming on over their heads. Mort came back and told us his radio was just static.

Arnold and Nathan volunteered to go into town and see what they could find out. I started to say something, but I hesitated. Megan must have sensed it and squeezed my knee.

“Well, you can follow us down,” I said to the two wannabe scouts. “We’re going to call it a night.”

Barry apologized for Dina’s absence and Mort suggested that perhaps Nathan and Arnold would pass her as they drove. I told Barry that if he needed me he knew where to find me and then Megan and I walked to the car.