4 — Craig Kenworthy

Why was Peace­andlove act­ing like a tourist who’d never seen the crater before, when she had walked out of death’s front porch there, (located right next to the for­mer Army-Navy sur­plus store, which had been renamed “Sup­plies for Guys” dur­ing the Robert Bly revival of the 2040’s)?

Because she knew this:
The Venu­sians were real. And they were watching.

For­tu­nately for her, they just liked to watch.

Mar­vin, on the other hand, had a prob­lem. The forces that caused the final chain of events lead­ing to Bozeman’s destruc­tion (and the relo­ca­tion of the main Mon­tana State Cam­pus to a pub out­side Boise) were still out there. And they wanted one more thing.

The mon­keys knew what, but they weren’t talk­ing. One per­son on the Plen­ty­wood did know. They were sit­ting in the sus­tain­able busi­ness class sec­tion (mean­ing they were each ped­al­ing a sta­tion­ary bike at their seats to power the com­postable pay toi­let. But it was a very com­fort­able bike seat)

That per­son was in the mid­dle of grad­ing the papers of her EMADFR’s (Eng­lish Majors Actu­ally Des­tined For Retail) writ­ten about the Great Unde­fined Event of 2011. She reread one junior’s take on the final moments:

The sight of snow’s absence under the heart
of a dark pine,
a con­stant spring that never spread

The sound of one hand rest­ing on a shoul­der,
fab­ric stilled by a motion made a thou­sand times,
this last time

The smell of soup, not fin­ished,
the spoons laid out
like tin sol­diers never called to serve

The taste of a beer so dark
it could blot out the sun
when there was still the sun

And the touch of fin­gers run­ning through hair
one hand play­ing, one hand puz­zling
and one on a dog just happy for his owner’s long, long nails

She gave it a B.

Mar­vin took the seat next to her just as she was about to give out her third D (That Rate My Pro­fes­sor crap hav­ing been elim­i­nated dur­ing the Re-Enlightment Move­ment of the 2030’s).

I see you are still try­ing to improve the world, Shelia.”

I see you are in still in it, Mar­vin, so per­haps it is a lost cause.”

Mar­vin was about to reply when…

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