Neverending

16

I get a Haylo from Sebastian. Delta reads it for me.

'Tinder, we're here. Jim's already set us up with a place. There's plenty of room. And it's safe here.' Delta pauses. I'm not sure if the pause is a pause in Seb's message or Delta's connection. 'Let me know how you are. Send me your spot, if you can.'

Relief floods my veins, making me realise I was more on edge than I thought.  And I very much thought I was on edge.

I take a few breaths. 'Delta, send Sebastian my spot.'

'I'm sorry, Tinder, I can't do that right now.'

AI. Ugghhh.

'Keep trying, Delta,' I sigh, resigned to the perpetual frustration that is the expectations of technology versus the reality.

Delta flashes green once, then pulses amber.

I notice the wind seems to have died down a little. This is good, I'm sure. I'm still half-expecting something to come crashing through the worrying thin alloy that is my car roof at any moment but it's funny how you quite quickly get used to feeling so stressed that it almost no longer feels stressful. I suppose it's a sort of mildly unpleasant holding pattern, one I hope I don't have maintain indefinitely.

Two things to think about here. Ok, three. But the third I haven't stopped thinking about since this whole thing started so...

One. The thing that hit my car. 

We did a lot of climatology in Year 19; old enough to understand the importance of keeping house so that we could continue to live here but young enough to be malleable and to take it seriously. As I remember it, the likeliest of horrible scenarios were: tidal waves destroying most things, then leaving 88% of the planet underwater. Stuff about how moon mining had inadvertently disrupted tidal activity, despite data scientists suggesting it would absolutely fine. The third was more meteors than we could deal with getting through Earth's atmosphere because sulphur hexafluoride had all but destroyed the bit around the edge that burns most space junk up.

I crane my neck to try to get a good look at the sky. Is it meteor-laden? Hard to say but I imagine it's not like a thunderstorm where you can see it coming. I think they just... land on you. Fourth horrible scenario: super-viruses wipe us all out. Well, all but the lucky/unlucky (depending on which angle you come at this from) 2% who have by chance inherited or mutated immunity. There have been precisely seven global pandemics since I was born. So we have enough data to know that they're simply not capable of killing off everyone. It's just not possible, given the elements we have available on Earth and the way viruses are structured (or something) (my final year virology grade: C-).

I ask Delta to read me the Level three alert again.

'CHAOS NOTIFICATION – LEVEL THREE (3)

Stay home. It is no longer safe to attempt to evacuate the City. Those who are driving to South Dome within with State border may continue to travel.

Please retreat to your designated bunker and await further updates.'

I can't help but laugh. There's probably about fourteen law-to-the-letter citizens out there who will actually do as City Hall suggest. But honestly, those bunkers are disgusting. Rows and rows of strangers sitting arm-by-arm. The strip lighting. The noise of the wind generators. It's the stuff of dystopian nightmares. I imagine it's not far behind the Ministry of Love, atmosphere-wise.

The state of South Dome will be better but obviously now hellishly over-crowded.  Some hastily pushed alert isn't going to stop people from running. We've all seen what happens when you stop.

The alert tells me nothing about what's actually happening outside, to the world. Thinking about it, the Level One notification only really hinted at any sort of climatic event. I guess it could be something else - but I have no idea what. Unless the mystery object that landed on my roof earlier was completely random, it's looking like it might be door number three. There's not much more I can find out right now, though, with only one radio station broadcasting pre-recorded music.

The second thing to think about: Terrafirme.

It is GREAT that Seb and Susie have made it there. Some of my family are safe. It sounds like Jim came through and I blink back a wave of gratitude as I realise what this means.

Donna: she's a badass. There's no way she's not making it there.

I'm going to – I'm having to – work on the assumption that Juliette is either already there or on her way.

I glance at my phone. Old habits. 

Though it should be the furthest thing from my mind, muscle memory reminds me to start feeling awkward and anxious about the prospect of Juliette and Sebastian being in the same room. Adding Donna to the mix just doesn't bear thinking about.

I decide to compartmentalise this for now as I think about what I'm actually driving towards.