by Steve Lang
“This clock represents your doom, Max, and if it ever strikes midnight your colony on earth will be exterminated. I’m not without compassion, but I’ve made a decision. Most of what you said made sense, and if humanity can reverse much of the damage done, and progress toward a more civilized society then you will continue to evolve. At this moment every television in your world is displaying these proceedings, and while we can’t intervene to help you fix your bigger problems, we will grant you a stay. The people of earth have ten years until we return, and pass our final judgment. Your testimony has given me hope, and in case you all begin to feel as if this was a hallucination, or trick of your news media, I would like to show you the last planet over which we were forced to pass judgment.”
The large view screen flashed from earth to a planet relative in size, but this one was covered with ice. Satellites with lasers attached orbited aimlessly around the lonely frozen planet, crashing into one another like space debris. The camera moved forward to the planet’s surface displaying massive cities covered in hundreds of feet of snow and ice. A pleasant female voice began to explain what they were seeing over a PA system.
“Colony 567-IFGJ4 was judged, and after having been deemed unsuitable for interdimensional community membership they were rebooted. The reboot involved a complete blackout of their sun, and constant snow for ninety-nine years. Currently the colony is in a state of regrowth, and is coping with survival after nearly becoming extinct. Survivors were driven underground for a period such that they are unable to remember how to use the technology that led to their conviction, or why it is there in the first place. Those who retreated to the tunnels have begun a slow ascent back to the surface as their eyes adjust to sunlight.” Survivors could be seen dressed in rags and animal skins, carrying spears.
“Colony 567-IFGJ4 will undergo monitoring and in approximately twelve thousand years will be judged once more for interdimensional community membership.”
After this short narrative the room was graveyard silent. Their mood had changed from raucous to somber. The big hand on the Judge’s clock moved back one minute, and Max let out a sigh of relief. The people of Earth had come so close to eradication that Max could not comprehend the enormity of it.
For the next ten years the people of earth put their petty differences aside, and worked together to fix their greater issues. In the face of overwhelming technology there was nothing their guns and bombs could do to stop the judgment. The Judge’s promise was ever present in every mind, and each colonist knew what the price was for failure. For another decade earth was two minutes from midnight.
transistor radio
Alex’s wife is missing in the jungle, presumed dead, but can her tiny transistor radio lead the two of them back to each other?
Alex Robins was driving home from work one afternoon when Sergio Gonzalez, a Bolivian police captain phoned to inform Alex that his wife, Angela was missing. She had been gone for about a week on a research trip for a novel she was writing about an ancient Bolivian fort where, it was rumored, a monster of paranormal origins lived. The man speaking to Alex had such a thick South American accent, that it was difficult to understand everything he said, but Alex got the gist. Sergio explained to Alex that a man who claimed to be her guide walked into the station, and reported that while Angela was hiking the Nocivo Trail, in an area west of Sucre, Bolivia she slipped on loose gravel and plummeted off the side of a steep drop. Her guide said that he had searched for her but no body was found, just her backpack. The man told him that a search was ongoing and she may have walked out through the jungle before her guide could get to her.
“Sir, is this some kind of joke?”
“No, Señor. No joke.”
Terrified for his wife, and in shock, Alex listened as the man on the other end of the phone explained that his men would find her soon. Tears ran down his cheeks in rivers of cold, wet pain, and as Alex listened in distress he narrowly avoided wrecking his beat up station wagon into a telephone pole.
“Do you have ANY idea where she might be? I mean, there’s still a chance she’s alive, right?” Alex said.
“Señor, I’m very sorry I don’t have more information. Someone from my department will call you when we know more. Maybe one or two days.” Sergio said.
“Thank you.” Alex hung up. He tossed his phone onto the passenger seat.
A hole opened in Alex’s heart while his mind worked, trying to make sense out of Angela’s mysterious disappearance. As he was driving home he began to think of the people he had to call and inform. Her parents had not been fond of him staying in the states while their daughter had been gallivanting all over Bolivia, but his job had required him to stay in the states and work. Angela was dead set on that trip, not because she was writing about Bolivian culture and ruins, but because the country was home to an ancient fort from prehistory that was on her bucket list. Alex was not going to try and stop her from leaving, because Angela was a human tornado, and if he had tried to step in her way he would have been blown over in the attempt. After stopping by her parents’ house to break the news Alex almost immediately regretted doing it in person. Beth, her mother began to cry and Bill, Angela’s father turned purple with anger blaming Alex for not going with his daughter. A few days went by and he heard nothing from Sergio or any of the policemen who had promised him a call, but one day after work he opened the mailbox and removed a small box wrapped in brown paper. There was no return address or name.
Alex stared at the box as if any minute a flying saucer was going to pop out and attack, but nothing happened so he walked into the house. He unwrapped the package, and inside was the small transistor radio that Angela’s mother had bought her when she was a little girl. Angela had kept the radio with her on treks into the unknown when she was researching for her writing, or simply experiencing what the world had to offer. She had held the radio with sentimental value, and it was the only piece of his wife that Alex was able to recover from her trip thus far. Alex rolled the dial on the radio’s side, felt it click on, and then a tiny red light began to shine on top.
At first he heard static, but as Alex turned the station dial a far away rock station was playing Angela’s favorite song, Stargazer, by Mother Love Bone. Alex began to sob.
The next day at work Alex ate lunch outside with Tony Barrett, a long time friend.
“Angela’s radio showed up in the mail yesterday, and it still works,” said Alex.
“That’s…interesting. I wonder why someone would mail you her radio?”
“I’ve got no idea either. The police said her backpack was returned to them so, you’d think they would have sent the whole thing back.” Alex replied. He was sullen.
“Hey man, I’m really sorry to hear about all of this. You think maybe you need to take some time off from work? This ain’t the most therapeutic location for grieving lost loved ones, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I hear you, but that house is so damned empty without her. I’m stuck, man. I don’t want to come here, but I don’t want to be at home either.” Alex said.
“You need to get out of here for a little while. Seriously, I love you man, and I’m not trying to be a dick but your bringing everyone down, and this environment is not healthy for your healing process.” Tony said.
Alex knew he was right, and some time away might be a good idea. The company had a bereavement policy and he would be able to take a few weeks off to get his mind right before coming back. After talking with his boss, who agreed with Tony, Alex went home.
Alex’s loneliest time without Angela was at night, when their house seemed so large it threatened to swallow him. Her ghost was everywhere, but he suspected she was still alive, somewhere. A picture of the two hiking in Ashville, North Carolina rested on his lap, as Alex sat on the back porch drinking one beer after another. He was listening to a nineties grunge station on her transistor radio, and drowning his sorrow. Mother Love Bone was playing Stargazer again, as he spiraled further down the
rabbit hole of self-pity. About a minute into the song he began to hear static.
“…Stargazer you call the shots, I take all…sssshhhhhh…Alex…gazer won’t you kick with me.”
Alex held the radio with both hands, staring wide-eyed as music continued to play, a moment later he heard her again.
“…Stargazer you cry in blue…sssshhhh…Alex, I’m here…Succccrrrrre…it ain’t as good as you child.”
That was all she said for the rest of the night, even though his intent eyes stayed transfixed on the radio for another half hour. Stargazer now had a new meaning, and Alex swore that if he found his wife alive he’d never let her go alone again. Before he got too blitzed, Alex booked a flight to Bolivia for the next day, and packed his bags. The nine beers he had consumed effectively knocked him out, so that night he slept for the first time since her disappearance, and dreamed of Angela. In the dream she fell from the Nocivo Trail over, and over again, but he could see no further. She dropped out of view, and each time she disappeared he screamed her name. In this world of nightmares he was a passive observer, with the camera eye fixed permanently on her final moments. Alex woke up with tears streaming his cheeks, and rolled over to see that his alarm clock read four-thirty. His flight would leave in a few hours so there was no point in going back to sleep. He rolled out of bed; dressed, and made sure he had everything he needed for the trip.
After preparing, he sat in his leather chair, laid his head back, and clicked the small radio on again. There was nothing but static this time but he continued to listen in the early morning darkness of their living room. Then he heard Angela as a spectral voice spoke through the radio.
“…sssshhhhh…Sucre…sssshhhhh…Sucre…”
Sucre was the city he would be flying into, and as he heard the word Alex almost fell out of his chair. Angela’s radio went silent. Alex shook it, and then opened the battery compartment to see if maybe a battery had corroded, but to his surprise, he saw that there had never been one in the radio. Goose bumps rose on his arms as he contemplated how the radio could function without a power source. Before he could answer this question, his phone alarm went off and it was time to leave.
When his plane landed Alex hailed a cab and took the first one that stopped. This cab was a beat up, white Toyota Corolla, with a bad muffler that backfired when the car stopped.
“Señor can you take me to the nicest hotel you know? Maybe one for American tourists.”
The cab driver was a portly man in his late forties, with a gruff beard who wore too much cologne. His nameplate read Juan Castillo, and Alex could see he had a Pearl Jam T-shirt on through the rear view mirror.
“Sure, sure, you want to go to the Raintree Resort. How long are you staying?” Juan asked.
“Just for a few days, or until I find my wife. She’s missing, so I’m here to find her.”
“That’s very brave, man. I commend you, and I hope you find her. My wife’s missing too, but that’s because she ran off a few years ago with my friend Pepe. Women.” He shook his head.
Juan dropped Alex at the Raintree Resort, an upscale hotel downtown grinning as Alex leaned forward to pay him.
“Gracias Señor. Que tengas un buen día!” Juan said.
Alex would find Angela, no matter what it would take, because he refused to go home without her. The hotel had a beautiful lobby fountain shaped like a lion, and colorful decor hung from walls of stucco like Christmas ornaments. Had she been with him it may have a wonderful vacation from their problems at home, but without Angela the scene lacked luster. Alex rented a room for the week, and asked that a bottle of tequila be brought to his room.
“Make that two, please, and charge it to the room,” said Alex.
The front desk attendant looked young, and he had the face of a kid who has yet to see how hard the world can be. Alex saw something in his bright, cheery eyes he used to recognize in himself. What was it, he thought. Hope?
“Yes sir and we sincerely hope you enjoy your stay in Bolivia!”
By the time Alex got to his room there was a bottle of La Casa Del Diablo tequila chilling in a bucket by his bed.
“Hello beautiful,” he muttered. Alex held the bottle like a trophy, opened the top, and poured a tall glass. Alex certainly felt as if he entered the devil’s house with a rough first shot.
He ordered room service while he drank and looked outside his window to the busy city street below. Since the flight had been long, and his head was already buzzing from the trip, it did not take long for Alex to get bombed. He opened his balcony doors and sat outside listening to the cars go by as his mind relaxed. Alex turned on his wife’s radio and against all logic and reason; the music began to play once again. Tonight it was Ozzy Osbourne singing No More Tears, which caused Alex to chuckle. He could smell her Sunflowers perfume wafting up to his nostrils, caught on the night breeze, and when he closed his eyes Angela was there with him. They were walking together hand in hand through the park near their house on a cool spring evening. The air felt fresh and sweet as crickets serenaded their stroll around the lake.
“Come with me to Bolivia, Alex.” Angela said. Her pretty eyes pleading with him.
“I can’t get off work for that long. They’ll fire me, and jobs are hard to come by these days.”
“My writing pays for our bills, screw your job! Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Next time. I promise.”
The disappointment in her eyes haunted him now. Why had he let her go alone?
I’m losing her, he thought.
“Alex, look for me…follow…music…jungle,” she said.
Alex’s head snapped forward with a jolt as he woke up. He had been dozing, and Tesla’s What You Give, was now blaring on the tiny black box. Too drunk and jet lagged to feel anything but tired, Alex stumbled inside and promptly passed out on top of his covers. The next morning his head was ringing from the booze, and with no aspirin it was going to be a long day. The empty bottle of tequila floated inside his melted ice bucket, and his head hurt more when he looked at it.
“These are the good times. You don’t get them back.” Alex murmured.
The restaurant downstairs was still serving breakfast so he walked down and ordered an omelet. While he was waiting, Alex walked over to the concierge desk to ask if there were any locals available for hire as a guide. The pockmark faced man behind the counter this morning was a bit older than the kid he spoke with yesterday, sported a handlebar moustache, and had a distinctive Z shaped scar on his right cheek. His nametag read Filipe.
“I need to get into the jungle and back out again once I find my wife. You know anyone who could help me?” Alex said. Felipe looked at him with suspicion for a moment.
“Señor, my cousin Jefe might help you. He knows the tribes and their customs.” Felipe said.
“How much will he charge?” Alex asked. Felipe seemed to consider this question for a moment.
“Where are you going?” Felipe asked.
“I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I have a map that may show where she is.” Answered Alex.
Felipe tilted his head side to side twice and then said,
“I don’t know you, but I think in this case we can do it for seventy-five American dollars per day.”
Alex was never much for the barter system, and at this point he wanted his wife back more than he cared about being gouged for a guide.
“Agreed, and I’m guessing that could have been higher?” Alex said.
“Oh, much, but I feel a kind of kinship to you. Go eat your breakfast my friend and Jefe will be along soon.” Felipe looked at Alex with solemn eyes.
He scheduled a time to meet with Jefe and get started on their jungle trek, and returned to his table for a plate of freshly cooked eggs. Twenty minutes later, Alex was finishing his coffee when a tall, well-built man with chiseled muscles of granite appeared beside his table.
“Buenos dias, Señor. My name is Jefe. Felipe told me you were looking for a guide. Do you ha
ve the money on you?” Jefe said.
Alex was at first taken aback by Jefe’s size, and soft voice. He was easily six feet tall, and had a square jaw that looked like it would take a wrecking ball to smash. At first Alex was unsure if Felipe’s intention was to help, or rob him.
“I’ve got the money, sure. When can we leave?” Alex said. He hoped his statement sounded cool and collected, but to his ears it sounded more like a nervous kid paying the bully protection money.
“I’m ready now. Felipe said you needed to find your wife, but you have a map?” Jefe said.
“I do…sort of, but it’s a little difficult to explain, and if I try it won’t make sense. I’ve got enough money to pay you for five days. My name’s Alex, by the way.” Alex extended his hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, Alex.” Jefe clapped Alex on the back. “Don’t worry; you look worried. I think it’s great what you’re doing, and I’m happy to help you find your wife if I can.” He grinned. Jefe’s two front teeth and canines were silver, giving him the look of a James Bond villain. Alex thought he might never want to owe this man anything more than a thank you.
Angela’s transistor radio began broadcasting static as the two men walked out into the bright sunlight of a beautiful day. Jefe nodded.
“That’s not your map is it?”
“Yeah, told you wouldn’t make sense.” Alex replied.
“My friend, it’s your money.” Jefe shook his head.
Jefe drove them in his pickup truck through the city and into the jungle. They changed direction based on the strength of the static signal from the radio. They started to head in the wrong direction and the static faded, so they turned down one road after another until finally they both heard the music begin to play again. The song playing this time was Sultans of Swing, and it got louder as they neared a narrow path leading into the dense forest.