I’ve finished my AI Sequel novel and it’s going through editing but now I’m excited to start a new project — a compilation novel. This is the first chapter.
From wikipedia: A compilation novel, often referred to as a short story cycle or composite novel, is a collection of short stories that are arranged to create a cohesive experience, where the stories can stand alone but also interrelate to form a larger narrative. This format allows for various themes or characters to connect across the stories, enhancing the overall reading experience.
The order to shelter in place had been given five days ago. The new governor said that there were no essential workers; everyone had to stay inside. She said it was a perfect storm (the fourth this year) that seemed like God himself was telling everyone to stay inside and safe. True enough, this one was worse than the last three. This one was deadlier.
My daughter, Beatriz, had called twice already today. She was worried about food. Despite all my advice and attempts to teach her, she never learned how to manage food or how to cook. She said it was old-fashioned and today everyone ate out or did Instacart or DoorDash — some such nonsense. She had just turned 23 and didn’t have a job but had her own apartment. Her father and I divorced five years ago. She was Daddy’s girl, and he supported her. Last year, when she graduated college, he helped her with an apartment and did all he could to help her find a job, too, but still nothing. I’d told her that a degree in psychology wouldn’t be enough, but he’d encouraged her. As a tech writer, I’d known it was all heading toward robotics and AI skills, but even I had to admit she had no skills in math and science.
Her father called me yesterday. He was almost in panic mode. As an independent contractor, if he didn’t work, he didn’t get paid, and his work was all outdoors. He was a licensed oilfield service operator who thought he’d hit the jackpot when he landed the contract to clean up abandoned and orphaned wells. Texas has over ten thousand orphaned oil and gas wells. “Who could be better to work for than Texas?” he’d crowed. He wasn’t crowing now.
My pantry’s still full. Bins of rice and beans and bags of root veggies in the cellar would see me through at least another month, maybe more. There was no place I wanted to go anyway. Only the looters were out there, and we knew that from the TV news drones that were monitoring our small town. They weren’t having much luck either; the police drones were armed and were shooting to kill.
No place was open, so there was nowhere to go. As if the new virus weren’t bad enough, all the forest fires had made the air toxic. The virus, though, was really something else. The CDC said it came from melting permafrost. This prehistoric pathogen is airborne and invaded the body undetected until it burst forth in all its glory to shut down your major organs. The R-factor was higher than that of measles. It wasn’t going anywhere.
I’m an author who works from home, so life goes on for me. Article and book sales are skyrocketing as more and more people turn to reading for escape and entertainment. The problem is, the only stuff I want to write about is gloom and doom, and no one wants to read that. Too much like real life. So I keep this journal and try to focus the dark stuff here and then work on my wellness articles or romance books. I’m so sick of writing romance novels. I don’t believe in happy romantic endings, so it’s getting harder and harder for me to create them.
On this last call from Beatriz, she proposed coming over here and staying in the house with me. I don’t know why that girl would want to do that when she’s Daddy’s girl. She and I have never seen eye-to-eye. She’d ask my advice just to do the opposite. Everything about me annoys her. And honestly, I feel the same way about her. I was gentle in putting her off, but knowing her, she’ll just show up here and expect to move in and have me do everything for her.
Perhaps I’m overreacting. This really may be the end of things. People all over the world are dying at a rate that boggles the mind. Perhaps it would be in my best interest not to be alone during a time like this. Bahahahahaha. Just the thought of it makes me laugh. In two days, we would be ready to kill each other. And I know why she wants to come here; Beatriz can’t stand her stepmother.
Seems like most people can stand others these days. There is so much fighting and violence taking place everywhere. The local government is completely ineffective, as are its state and federal counterparts. They broadcast memes and reels, trying to be funny or clever, but no one is buying it. The days of effective leadership are long gone. So much has changed in just her lifetime, it is almost disorienting. Carol, my best friend, believes we’re living in a simulation. I used to think that was an idiotic thing to believe, but it’s really not that bad. There’s something soothing about it.
It’s all so exhausting. I’m young, but I feel like I’m ancient. I’m an introvert, but I hate being stuck in the house. I need nature; to hear birds, to watch the squirrels play, to be part of what really matters. But apparently, this virus affects all animals, not just humans. The birds drop out of the sky. The squirrels fall out of the trees. My dog died two weeks before we even knew what was really happening. I’m not so sure I want to live in a world like this. Not so sure at all.
I’m tired. Maybe I’ll take a walk outside and take my chances.
