Quoted By:
“The chaos and panic that seized everyone…” he shudders at some distant memory. “…madness. Martial law was declared across the world, not that it did anyone any good. Riots, mass looting, prowling gangs of rapists and murderers…the complete disintegration of the social order as mankind embraced the worst of our nihilistic tendencies. Some prayed. Some committed suicide en mass. Most…went mad. Some of the more belligerent powers used the apocalypse to settle old grudges. It seemed that every hour, someone somewhere was launching nukes as a final ‘fuck you’ before we all went extinct.”
Larkin sighs, and a nearby rigger takes the pause to refill the old man’s cup. “My family was lucky. Our neighbor had a fallout shelter that his great-great granddaddy built for Cuba. We crammed in there, about two dozen of us in that concrete bunker, slammed the door shut, and shot anyone who got too close for comfort. Didn’t matter if they were civies or looters, marauders or military.
“And when the radiation finally hit the earth…” his voice trails off. The old man’s head turns towards the ceiling, eyes wide and unblinking. His next words come in a reverent whisper. “I saw the sky turn green, blue, red…all manner of colors. A beautiful sight. One I can’t do justice with mere words. But I wouldn’t wish for any of you to see it. It was the last sight that I had in that small window from the bunker before the planet shattered.”
As if on cue, the entire room shudders as a rough wave hits the Duck. Someone curses. Everyone sways in rhythm with the rig as it rises and dips, but some of the rooks haven’t nearly gotten their sealegs. Larkin uses the interruption to let the image settle in the minds of his audience, whetting dried, cracked lips with a sip of moonshine. More than one rigger makes signs, mutters prayers or wards against the evil eye.
He continues, rasping: “…for one week, the Earth was scoured with cosmic energy. The magnetic field reversed, triggering a series of violent, tectonic movements. Tsunamis ravaged coastlines, wiped entire countries off the face of the map. The Ring of Fire erupted all at once, spewing lava, ash and smoke up towards the sky…and where the magnetic field just gave out entirely, pillars of light carved mile-long furrows into the very bedrock itself.”
Some whispers break out. Most of them in agreement or affirmation. It matches up with what many learned in those open-aired community schools, or family folklore. But with every fresh batch of rooks, there’s always at least one greenhorn who doubts that the old man is a the genuine article of a Rememberer.
This doesn’t go unnoticed by Larkin. On your first tour of the Duck nearly five years ago, he’d throttled a doubter, hissing and spitting in their terrified faces. But the years had mellowed him out somewhat. He isn’t nearly as aggressive, but no less abrasive or confrontational.
(cont.)
