Anomie.02

Characters/Origins/Spoilers: Bel, Kade, Olivia, Anna, Alice, Faith (Year Zero/The Alters) Mic (Dark Skies)

Local Network World: 0333

“Liv!” Bel shouted, pounding on the door. It had been minutes. Just hammering away, hoping and praying. She didn’t have any particularly good reason for thinking Olivia would have -

“ - What, Bel?” Olivia groaned, the front door cracking open and two wary, slightly bloodshot eyes peering through the gap. Bel lurched forward, pushing the door open and forcing Olivia to stumble backwards. She kicked it closed behind her, grabbing for Olivia and pulling her into a tight hug.

“Thank fuck you’re still here…” Bel squeaked out.

“You’re shaking…” Olivia wheezed out through her suddenly compressed, air-deficient lungs. Bel felt Olivia’s arms creeping up her back, pulling her in tight. She felt lips on the side of her head. She heard the words, whispered: “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

“It’s not. It’s really not.” Bel insisted, forcing the sentence up and out through her aggressively, involuntarily contracting throat.

“Tell me what happened.” Olivia murmured. Bel sighed, trying - unsuccessfully - to take manual control of her muscles, to force them to un-tense, one by one.

“I got up, this morning.” Bel attempted: “Tried to go to work. There’s…nobody, Liv. No sign of a person, living or dead, between West End and South Bank.”

“Seven - “ Olivia growled, pushing away from Bel.

“ - No, it’s…not her.” Bel shook her head, eyes down on her feet. “You know she can’t do that kind of thing.”

“We’re taking that on faith?”

“We’re taking it on power. Something’s wrong with my world. We both know that. Dampened abilities, no leaving…we’re all just stuck here together. Seven can…barely give you a headache at this point. She can barely move a mug. It’s not her.” Bel gritted her teeth, eyes locked on the worn leather of her Docs. “Also, I…met the thing that did it.”

“An Alter?” Olivia asked. Bel couldn’t help but find it a little jarring, hearing Olivia…like this. So very serious.

“I thought so at first, but…no. I don’t think so.” Bel looked up to meet Olivia’s eyes. Olivia nodded slowly. She took Bel’s hand. Bel let Olivia lead her through the house and into the living room. Let her sit her down on the shitty, sunken, off-white IKEA couch and bring her a mug of water.

“You’re being so…kind.” Bel commented, holding the mug with both hands.

“Tell me what it was.” Olivia stood over her, arms folded across her chest.

“I don’t know what it was.” Bel hedged.

“You clearly do.” Olivia seemed set on not letting her hedge.

“No, it’s…I know how it felt.” Bel sighed, clarifying. Olivia waited patiently. Bel took a deep breath before continuing. “You know that dream we used to have, when we were younger? The uh…the one from when we worked at a grocery store? We’d be stocking the shelves. Everything would be normal. And then someone would come up beside us. Just a stranger. They’d ask something…we’d turn to them, and…it’d be…our own face, but…it was as if the entire world shifted on its axes. Everything inverted. That…fight-or-flight fear flooded in, the sense of being absolutely and completely helpless in the jaws of something huge and…violent. Alien. Senses welding together, sound and colour intensifying, augmenting the terror, and then - “

“ - It would smile.” Olivia nodded. Bel nodded back. She was aware that her hands were shaking around the mug of water. She raised it to her lips. Took a slow, careful sip.

“And we’d wake up screaming.” Bel completed. Olivia inhaled sharply, then exhaled slowly.

“Yeah. I remember.” She confirmed.

“Yeah. That was the feeling I got, when it spoke to me. I didn’t think I could feel that feeling outside of a dream. Not…like that.” Bel looked down at her arms. She could feel hairs prickling and little bumps forming under the black, woollen fabric of her cardigan. “Do you think it’s just us? Just you and me?” She asked. “I can…I can feel the others, but I don’t know if that means anything in this context.” Olivia looked down, meeting Bel’s eyes. She shrugged, quietly pulling her phone out of the pocket of her jeans. She sat down next to Bel, letting her see the screen, and opened the Find My app.

“The girls are still moving, it looks like. Faith and Mic.” Olivia pointed to a couple of splotches, making their way through the Central Business District. “I saw Kade before she left this morning. I can see Anna wandering around Stones Corner…” Olivia moved to Messenger, texting the group chat.

Everyone alive…?

Bel watched her type out. Watched the near instant ‘oh thank god’’s, ’unfortunately, apparently’’s, and the ‘omg why didn’t we fucking think to text’’s roll in.

“Looks like an Alter Party.” Olivia muttered.

“Do you wanna…” Bel started. Olivia slowly nodded for her to continue: “…Can we…?” she slowly shrugged.

“…Pretend this isn’t happening, steal weird booze from Dan Murphy’s and get fucked up on incompetently made cocktails?” Olivia hazarded. Bel nodded. “Yes babes. I got you. Let me put on some shoes.”

“Have you ever seen Botan Kamiina Fully Blossoms When Drunk?” Olivia asked, pushing the cart through the silent store, the squeak of trolley wheels…the padding of Bel’s Doc Martens and her own shitty Converse against industrial linoleum echoing through the space. There were perhaps twenty aisles of liquor. From experience, Bel knew that the vast majority of what she found interesting was in the first aisle: dedicated to spirits and fortifieds.

“Is that one of your little animes?” Bel asked, raising a single eyebrow in the same sort of way as she might have done noticing a hair in her pasta.

“Not mine…not little…and has anyone told you that being pretentious about your taste in media isn’t a good look? Liking things is fun, Bel.”

“I just…don’t love the whole…anime tendency towards really overwrought exclamations? It takes me out of it.” Bel justified, hearing her tone edge a little more defensive than it really needed to be.

“You don’t like overwrought? You? Bitch, have you read your own fucking work? I write angsty sapphic poetry and even I’m thinking you need to fucking chill, one chapter out of every three.” Olivia laughed. Bel tried very hard to look offended, but the pout gave way to a wide grin almost instantly.

“Just tell me what it’s about? It’s not about robots, is it? Kinda seems like it’s always about…fucking robots.”

“That’s not even - “

“ - Pick a hill to die on, Liv. Argue about robots, or tell me about the bowtie…blossom thing, one or the other. Not both.” Bel rolled her eyes.

“Botan Kamiina.” Olivia corrected, choosing her hill. “It’s a Yuri anime about college girls being cute and gay and drinking a lot - like a lot - and taking baths together - “

“ - Huh?”

“Not like that. It’s not weird. It…makes cultural sense, it’s a thing in Japan.”

“Oh. Sure.” Bel shrugged doubtfully. “At least it’s not robots, I guess.”

“Anyway, something about this made me think of it. Slow, boring end-of-the-world vibes, and our first move is to get a drink. Very ‘genre’. Very Tonami-sama.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I think we’re just alcoholics.” Bel nodded to herself.

“I mean…yeah. I don’t see us beating those allegations anytime soon.” Olivia admitted, pausing and squinting at a bottle of vodka. “How is it vodka if it’s made from grapes?” She picked up the tall, tapered bottle, inspecting it.

“Oh. Yeah. I watched a Youtube video on that stuff. Apparently the ‘grape’ part is a whole thing.”

“Should I get some?” Olivia held up the bottle in one hand, miming a set of scales.

“No, like…it’s an apocalypse. Go top-shelf or weird-shelf.” Bel decided. “Hey, do you know what a ‘Bellini’ is? I’m not sure, but I saw a bottle back there.”

“You like it cause it’s pink?”

“Fuck you.”

“It’s Prosecco and peach puree. I wouldn’t trust a pre-made thought, personally.”

“It sounds lovely.”

“Mmhmm. Go grab some Prosecco. We’ll hit a grocery store after this.” Olivia offered.

“I’m sure they’ll have peach puree here…”

“No, bitch. I’ll puree you some actual peaches. It’s the end of the world. Good excuse for maximum effort. Then I’m gonna make you watch anime.”

“Nooo, Liv…” Bel whined.

“This is happening. Make peace with it.” Olivia smirked, picking up and inspecting a bottle of Absinthe. “Why do they never have interesting Absinthe, just this…dyed fluorescent crap?” She muttered.

“No robots, though?”

“I mean…you’re missing out, but sure. No robots.” Olivia conceded. Bel walked ahead, taking a left and moving a few aisles over. She skimmed the white wine until she found the Prosecco, instinctively reaching for the nicest bottles before correcting for the highest price tag. She settled on three options, taking them back to Olivia and dumping them in the rickety little metal-grid trolley. “Oh, nice. Those’ll work.” Olivia nodded. Bel moved back, walking silently alongside Olivia for a few moments before asking:

“Liv…do you think we should…care more?”

“Which bit? Apocalypse, now, or hunted by a freak?” Olivia queried.

“You’re a shitty reference machine.” Bel chuckled.

“We’re millennials, is the thing. We’ve been expecting this shit our whole adult lives. Watching it half-happen again and again? Getting edged by extinction, y’know? Any of us paying any fucking attention have had to like…feel it in our bones, for always. It’s…exhausting. I dunno about you - well I do, but…you can tell me if I’m wrong, speaking for you on this - I think we’re mostly kinda relieved it finally, actually happened, so we can stop drowning in the ambient fucking dread of the possibility of it.” Olivia quietly added a bottle of Umeshu to the trolley.

“Also, you’ve seen worse.”

“Also, yes. I *have * seen worse. Anna’s world…Alice’s world were not…whatever the fuck this is. So far it seems…pretty chill. No apocalypse-brained misogynists. No street gangs. No cowering in a gym. Just…Bellinis and Botan Kamiina. Nothing to run from.”

“Other than…‘it’.” Bel frowned.

“Bad guys who wanna play games with you aren’t real bad guys.” Olivia waved her off dismissively: “They’re just…bored and lonely. It’s kinda relatable. Anyway, we’ll probably win, right? We’ve got the girl who wrote the world on our side.”

“Was that a Nirvana reference?” Bel raised an eyebrow.

“I mean…kinda? The reference thing is more like a tic than an actual…intentional behaviour.” Olivia admitted.

“Still. You have a fucking problem.”

“No, I have a fucking autism. Don’t pathologise me. Ooh, Spiced Rum. We could do a big thing of Perfect Storm cocktails for everyone?”

“Sure, whatever. Do you have like…a jug?” Bel asked doubtfully.

“I have a bowl.” Olivia shrugged. “We’ll make do.”

“We’ll steal a jug from Woolies.”

“Yeah. Fuck the Man.”

“There is no Man. The Man got blinked out of existence. Now it’s just…”

“A bunch of versions of this one trans girl being mean to each other and occasionally they kiss? Yeah, not my first barbecue, cupcake.” Olivia smirked, palming a bottle of Angostura Bitters into the trolley.

“Fuck.” Bel hissed.

“What?”

“Should’ve made that the elevator pitch for my fucking book.”

“Ha. Yeah. Goes kinda hard.”

“Okay, so,” Faith was on her feet, holding up the worst cocktail Bel had ever seen - a ‘Whisky Mac’, she’d called it…two parts whisky, one part green ginger wine, and fuck-all ice for some reason - for emphasis: “Me and Mic are heading into South Bank. I park, we walk, there’s no one around, and we’re wondering if there’s some big event we missed? But it’d have to be Ekka level for things to be that quiet - “

“ - You saw the crosses.” Bel finished. Faith turned her attention to Bel, wide-eyed. Bel distractedly watched Mic getting up off the couch to change the music. Without consulting anyone. Which, admittedly - in Bel’s estimation - very ‘Mic’.

“We saw the fucking crosses, with fucking ropes and blood on them! What the fuck?!” Faith collapsed back in her oversized armchair, sipping at her drink.

“What about the crosses? What crosses? What’s this drunk bitch going on about?” Anna slurred slightly, eyes so narrowed they were almost closed. Olivia pulled her into a hug, squeezing her around the shoulders. Anna hiccuped sullenly into Olivia’s shoulder.

“Hey!” Alice frowned from across the room, standing at the threshold of the kitchen, pausing mid-cocktail-shake.

“It’s okay, baby: I am a drunk bitch, ‘s fine.” Faith waved it off. “So like…hundreds, Anna. Fucking hundreds of these big wooden ‘X’’s, all bloody and shit, right from Victoria bridge to where the fake beach thing is. Fucking wild.”

“I absolutely thought we were about to get murdered.” Mic sighed.

“Well, night’s young.” Faith shrugged and winked. Mic rolled her eyes.

“What’s in that drink?” Kade raised an eyebrow, pointing at Faith with one hand while sipping her vodka-and-Agrum with the other. “I’ve never seen you like this. You’re fucking gone.”

“Oh it’s like Green Ginger Wine, and…this…rare-ass Lagavulin stuff I found at this one place in the city? Me and Mic hit up a specialty booze place.” Mic side-eyed Faith. “What?”

“It’s nothing, just…some would consider mixing those two things like…a crime?”

“Is ‘some’ you, Mic? The girl who immediately suggested trying to find coke when we worked out what was happening?”

“Oh get fucked like that’s an unreasonable reaction to the end of the world…” Mic snorted, but not - Bel suspected - in the way that she would have preferred. “Speaking of which, if anyone’s down - “

“ - It doesn’t work on us.” Kade clarified.

“I’m sorry, cocaine doesn’t ‘work on you’?” Mic raised an extremely skeptical eyebrow.

“No. Strong coffee vibes. Not really worth the sniffling.” Kade shrugged nonchalantly, sipping her drink. Alice and Olivia nodded.

“Do you think it’s like…a ‘powers’ thing?” Anna queried. Faith squinted like she was trying to decipher Anna’s words. Bel smiled to herself. It was like watching two people who spoke the same language in different dialects, only…the language happened to be ‘drunk’.

“I think it’s probably an ADHD medication thing.” Olivia stepped in to translate: “Killed MDMA for us, too. No serotonin release. Show of hands?” She suggested. Faith, Kade, Alice, Bel, and Olivia herself raised their hands. Everyone except Mic and Anna. “Of course. The two cis ones never got misdiagnosed. Figures.”

“Baby?” Anna pouted. Olivia visibly melted, taking Anna’s face in her hands.

“No! Not a judgement, sweetheart. Just…we were all AuDHD, but we probably didn’t need to be medicated, it’s just that gender dysphoria can present like a bunch of different things, and end up making psychiatrists want to…uh…”

“Throw pills at you?” Faith finished around a mouthful of improbably amber-hued alcohol.

“Pretty much, yeah.” Olivia nodded. “And I mean, they kinda helped, I’m sure they’re great for a lot of people but for us they just…kinda helped the wrong thing.”

“I see.” Anna nodded solemnly. Bel watched the gears turn behind Anna’s eyes. Intense processing, it seemed. “Liv, I think Mic and I should find some cocaine.”

“Fuckin’ A.” Mic grinned

“Sure, baby.” Olivia nodded to Anna. “It is like…the end of the world, so…”

“She’s so sweet and supportive.” Anna informed Kade, who rolled her eyes.

“When she feels like it, sure.” Kade muttered. “So what do we do here?”

“Coke, apparently.” Faith shrugged. Alice returned from the kitchen with a Singapore Sling, settling in half-on Faith’s lap, sharing the armchair.

The room froze as a quiet knock echoed out from the door to the apartment. The background ambience of Mogwai’s Happy Songs For Happy People wafted through the otherwise silence. Breath held, they waited. Another knock. Soft. Paced. Kade got to her feet.

“I can - “ Bel started. Kade held up her hand.

“I’m the only one who still has powers worth a damn.” She rationalised, moving for the door.

“Yeah but still, they’re not…strong…“ Bel murmured, watching Kade slowly open the door. Seven stood there, in a grey and red flannel over-shirt, buttoned down over her sports bra…ripped up blue jeans and bare feet. There was…a lot of blood. Soaked into her clothes; smeared across her neck and chest. Her bottom lip was split and swollen. The skin around and to the side of her left eye was puffy and purplish, slightly reflective in the apartment lamp-light. Bel grimaced as her eyes drifted down to Seven’s wrists. Angry, aggravated crimson. Like…rope burn.

“Guess you’re all okay.” Seven croaked out in that very specific, very identifiable way: Bel could tell she’d been crying. “Fuck me, I guess.” She turned, limping out into the corridor.