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Resilience is all about being able to overcome the unexpected. Sustainability is about survival. The goal of resilience is to thrive. - Jamais Cascio They agreed to stay five days before returning home again. Dave and Pernell owned a lovely house tugged away in one of the fenced suburbs of Los Angeles. A low crime rate, an active neighborhood watch, plenty of playgrounds for kids, and many amenities nearby. The ugly world was shunned, and nobody suspected a desolate and grim valley on the other side of the fence. In the middle of the so-called Shire, there stood an erect and modern looking twenty stories high building with everything rich people could want. Shops, restaurants, local art galleries, an ice skate facility, a museum, movie theater, tea parlors, coffee shops, a swimming pool, and a library. A gaming center for kids, and a small butterfly farm with indigenous plants and trees, set up as a science bio lab. You could spend days without ever get bored. It was the heart of the area, and Dave and Pernell spend a lot of time there. Naturally, they invited Daphne and Cuin to enjoy with them the riches of Mansion One, the hub of the Shire. On the program, a shopping spree, going to the movies, going ice-skating and swimming, and visiting the museum. They bought a three-days pass for Friday, Saturday, and Sunday and made arrangements to go on an all-male fishing trip on Monday. Cuin and Daphne would leave Tuesday next week. Strolling to the Mansion was pleasant enough. Dave took them on a small city walking tour and told some fascinating stories about the history of the place, the meaning of the iron spear statue expressing Earth’s relationship with the moon, and how the Angels saved the day. He also told the anecdote of one of his neighbors who had prevented a terrorist attack on the neighborhood by his citizen’s arrest of two Have-nots with guns. The sun was shining its light on the day, and although it was bitter cold outside, they kept warm with an upbeat pace. When they arrived at the hub, there was a lot of police and military. Apparently, that early morning a deranged Have-not wanted to steal a loaf of bread, but the shop owner shot her and the child with her, and they both died on the spot. Near the parking lot, a blanket was thrown over the bodies—a few people talking next to them. “That happens sometimes,” Dave explained. “Nothing to get excited about. Those Have-nots on the other side of the fence have no business coming here in the first place. But when they are robbing us blind, we have to stand up for ourselves and defend what’s ours.“ Cuin and Daphne nodded. That sometimes happened on the East coast as well. The next hours, they browsed through shops, looking for jewelry, clothing, expensive hats, and a fishing rod for Cuin. Butlers in the different shops made sure all the packages were delivered to the house. They drank some tea and ate biscuits in a lovely tea shop, had dinner in the Two Towels diner, and watched an old movie in the cinema, called The Day The Earth Stood Still. With popcorn and soda slash wine. They had a lovely time. At eleven p.m., they called it a night and walked over to the house again. Dave and Cuin had to help an intoxicated Pernell trudging steadily. Day two was all sporting activities. Although they were seniors, swirling on the ice and swimming their rounds were great fun. They left tired but very content. Pernell had made some lovely salades, and they had a barbecue under the roofed patio. The four of them hit it off. Very amicable. On Sunday, they slept in, had a brunch together at the Smale Acres, a little restaurant with an indoor fireplace, and took off to the All American National Heritage Museum in Venice. The AANH museum was famous for its coverage of the Great Covid-19 Pandemic of 2020-2025, when 4 billion people died worldwide. They saw a photo gallery of The GeePee in The States as America was called back then and shivered at the horrific stories of survivors who got infected but lived to tell the tale presented via headphones. At three o’clock, Cuin excused himself and left the others. He had to work an hour or so on an online project at Dave’s house while the other three marveled at the Botanic garden in Santa Monica. Cuin was alone in the house, having a hard time. What to do about the Baron? It seemed logical to make the kill tomorrow while they were fishing. But he had to come up with a plan as not to incriminate himself nor Dave. Kill or accident? That was the question. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that an accident resulting in Thruce The Unwell Everton's death would be what’s needed here. He went back to his profession's drawing table, his laptop, and worked on that very idea. The next morning, the three men met at a parking lot outside the Santa Monica Mountains. Dave knew a wonderful stream up there with trout. They had to hike for an hour, but it was worth the walk. They parked their vehicles and started the trail. All three had a day rucksack and their fishing gear with them. Dave brought a cooler with beer. “Set in an area originally settled by islanders, it offered hiking and canoe trips into the swamp and a good introduction to the wetlands environment surrounding the mountain. Even a brief walk on the boardwalks that went their way through the swamp would yield sightings of gators and egrets.” Thruce was reading out loud. Grasslands and bushes dominated the land. It was not a pristine wilderness, but wild animals and plants were abundant. “Better be careful out there,” Thruce looked at the other two. “I can’t swim!” Cuin could sheer; he almost couldn’t hide his enthusiasm. It all clicked in his head. Gators. Water. Could Not Swim! “Still fifteen minutes to go,” Dave shouted as he walked ahead. Change of plans, Cuin thought. “Walt Whitman – Song of Myself. Part six,” Dave said suddenly. And he recited: “A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.1 They all were silent for minutes. “Beautiful,” said Cuin, frowning. “That was great,” stated Thruce. “Let’s fish,” laughed Dave. After ten minutes, the three men had sat up camp and choose their ideal spot to find winter trout. Dave had found a spot downstream, and Thruce and Cuin stayed together. Perfect, Cuin thought as he cased the surroundings. Trees, flat bushes, a wild water stream that looked dangerous enough, perhaps some gators around, who knows. I’ll stick with the guy; let’s wing it. The stones on which to stand were slippery. Thruce had difficulties with finding his balance already, Cuin noticed. Thruce was fiddling with his rod. The line was entangled, and he tried to untangle it. "Hey, let me help you," Cuin said with a deceiving smile. He walked past the big stone towards the pebbles where Thruce was fighting with the fishing rod. Passing him from behind, he suddenly grabbed his arm in an attempt to throw Thruce into the stream. But, Thruce, startled, stepped aside, and instead of him falling in, Cuin lost his balance and fell right into the swirling water. Shit! Cuin tried to regain balance, but he got swept away by the current. He fell and hit his head onto the big stone, losing consciousness immediately. Thruce, who jumped to his rescue, could grab him and, with a lot of effort on his part, pulled Cuin back on land. At that point, he yelled for Dave, who came running. Both men dragged an unconscious Cuin to the grassland. There was not much to do other than to wait for him to wake up. WC:1375 Footnotes |
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