Story #6 - Epocalypse Now

Epocalypse Now

They'd called it the apocalypse, but too many pundits didn't agree. As communications dwindled, satellites fell from orbit and signal strength degraded, most of the modern word took to calling the Epocalypse for clarity.

It started with cellphones; even the most expensive providers couldn't deny their coverage had begun to suffer. Calls were dropped once a session, then twice, and within a month cellphone batteries were going dead just trying to make a one minute call.

Internet technology came next and experts rushed to find some evidence of viral infection, but despite recruiting the best legitimate (and not so legitimate) code breakers in the business, the Internet failed. Slowly at first and then in a massive avalanche of 404 errors and “waiting for reply” Web pages.

In the space of two months, the world had gone dark.

Informationally, at any rate. Cars still drove, gas pumps still worked and power still came to most home, but any wireless technology, any communication that involved the transmission of data over an open space went up in smoke.

Walt Derkham didn't mind; he'd been born before most of this new-fangled technology existed..

Taking a quick sip of his coffee he skipped the news section of the paper and headed straight for sports. The Panthers were doing well; better than anyone expected, and he was tired of reading about that damn UTP and the government's efforts to get it back. Technology came and went, but fierce human competition was here to stay. Who cared if some universal translation and transmission satellite fell from high orbit?

Walt “harrumphed” loudly enough to make Lucy look up from her knitting.

No television or radio meant talking or reading – both things Walt was good at. He'd been a salesman for years, with a real gift for convincing people they needed what he was selling, that what he had to offer beat whatever else they might be looking for. Technology had taken his job away, given it to some punks named Ebay and Amazon and left him in the cold. He had enough put away to retire but that wasn't the point; he'd really liked his job. None of the eggheads out there could come up with a reason that everything had gone kaput on them, and Walt hoped they never would.

It had been three months now and things were starting to change. Old businesses were finding new life, smart-mouthed teenagers were learning their place, and men like Walt were once again in demand. He might be pushing sixty-five, but this Epocalypse had him thinking and acting like a much younger man.

A moment more of self-congratulation and excitement and he forced his attention down to the paper; his sports scores weren't going to read themselves, and the guys down at Murray's would stick it to him if he didn't know what was going on around town.

He was just getting on to the state games when there was a knock at the front door. Waving Lucy off, he drained the last of his coffee and threaded his way through the narrow kitchen to the front hallway. Lucy liked it cluttered, and Walt liked his wife too much to tell her no. The way it should be, he thought.

Glancing through the peephole, Walt saw it was his neighbour, Arek. He had never been foolish – a stranger was a stranger until you saw them face to face, and though he'd suspected as much, opening the door without checking first was an easy way for a man to get himself killed.

The quick peephole examination gave him time to study Arek and enough time to see that something was bothering the man. He and Arek had never been close; the fellow thought that soccer was a better sport than good old American football, but they had always worked together to make sure their lawns and homes were as well-maintained as possible.

Arek had a broad face, wide cheeks and big mouth, and he always seemed a half-second from a smile, no matter the conversation topic. Today, his mouth was a cutting pink line and his cheeks seemed sunken and gray. He was troubled, of that there was no doubt.

Walt opened the door enough to meet the man but not so wide as to give the impression he was offering an entrance invitation. Too many people took liberties these days, too many grabbed before they asked and gained permission only as an assumed afterthought.

“Arek,” Walt said quietly. It was before noon; quiet was respect. “What can I do for you?”

The other man's face fell, his mouth drooping into a sad half-circle and tears coming to his eyes. Walt shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

“Pull it together!” He could hear Lucy moving behind him in the kitchen. He rarely raised his voice. “What's wrong?”

“Nye panimay!” Arek's voice was loud, and was waving both arms in front of his mouth. “Nye panimay!!”

“I don't understand!” Walt had never been good at dealing with whack-jobs, but he'd never thought Arek would go loopy on him.

Lucy joined him at the door, small frame tucked in behind his and tiny brow furrowed.

“Luce, maybe you understand him – I was never much good with language.” Walt looked at his wife for some kind of confirmation, but she stared back at him, eyes wide.

“Je ne comprends pas.” Her voice was soft, just like when he'd accidentally bowled her over during the war. Paris was a big city, and shore leave made a man less than alert.

“What?” His voice was soft now too, born of surprise more than nature.

“Je ne comprend pas!” There was a twisted look on her face, a haunting around the eyes he'd never seen.

The three at them stared at each other for a minute, confusion spilling into the small physical space they shared.

They began to babble.

- D