70% PERCENT OF EUROPEAN POPULATION DEAD OR MISSING: TOP ECONOMIST WARNS OF DISASTROUS EFFECTS ON STOCK MARKET
-Headline dated to September 6th 2023, six days after the Fall
“Wakey wakey, kids!” Mom said as Marigold hurried into their room.
“I’m not a kid anymo-” Baldrian replied, before getting a big lick from Marigold.
Mom chuckled, peeked her head through the doorway. “Thirteen or thirty, you’ll always be my little boy. Now get up, you don’t want to be late for your first day!”
Evelyn propped herself up on her elbow and looked around their small bedroom. It had been hard to find a place to live after the evacuation, especially one to house a family of five. They’d gotten a small apartment outside of London, in the basement of her uncle’s house. Evelyn missed having her own room.
She forgot all that when Marigold found her way over, panting excitedly in her face.
Evelyn smiled. “Hi there, little bird,” she patted the mattress with her hand, “come on up.” Marigold looked at her hand, cocked her head, and put her forelegs on the mattress. Her hind legs weren’t as spry as they used to be, so Evelyn boosted her up. Marigold curled up next to her, and for a moment, all seemed right with the world.
Baldrian opened the curtains of their tiny window, letting in the overcast sky. Grey shafts of light tumbled through to the ground. Though small, the room still managed to feel empty. They had only brought a few meagre belongings with them in the evacuation, after all. Phones, clothes, Baldrian’s wooden sword.
She didn’t like thinking about that day, so she snuggled closer to Marigold. The big dog pressed closer, but they both perked their heads up to the sudden smell of pancakes.
A few moments later, Evelyn was seated at the table, facing a whole plate of them. Dad poured her a glass of apple juice with a smile. She took her little blue pill- one of the few she had left - with the apple juice. It didn’t taste the same as the one they used to make back home, but that was alright. Evelyn planned to get a house with a big orchard one day.
Dad sat down with a grunt, and Mom fed a pancake to a hungry-looking Marigold. “So, Quinton, any luck with the job search yesterday?”
Dad shook his head. “Deli had enough refugees already.”
Mom frowned. “What about that school?”
“They didn’t need more french teachers.”
Mom looked down. “Oh. Well, you could always ask Léon, he-”
“No.” Dad replied harshly. He looked around their small living room, really the size of a bedroom. A tiny kitchen area lined the faded blue walls next to the entrance. The kitchen table - which was also their TV-table - took up most of the floor. “I will not depend on him more than we already do.”
Evelyn took a bite. “I got a call from that electronics shop in the city. They wanted an interview today.”
Mom beamed. “That’s great, honey! When?”
“A few hours.”
Dad leaned in. “Fantastic, Evi! Do you want to practise your English beforehand?”
“No, I did some voice training in English yesterday.”
Dad gave her a proud look. “You never did have that much of an accent to begin with.” He winked. “And your voice wasn’t that deep in the first place.”
She chuckled. “I guess.”
With one pancake down, she ate another. “So, kid, ready for school?” she asked her brother.
He gave her a flat look. “I’m not a kid, I’m thirteen.”
“Right, so how’s school been, teenager?” she chuckled.
Dad shook his head. “Doesn’t roll off the tongue as easily, huh?”
“Nope.”
“Anyway,” Baldrian said, “it’s okay, but I hate this dumb uniform. It looks so stupid.” He tugged at the white button-up shirt. “I feel like a waiter.”
Mom reached over the table and pinched his cheek. “A handsome little waiter.”
The uniforms were very silly. She wondered if you had to wear them to university as well… One thing at a time, she told herself. The job was more important.
…
“So,” The sneering supervisor peered down at her application, then raised an eyebrow, “You’re Evelyn?”
Her stomach was a knot of anticipation, father’s advice running through her mind. Present the best version of yourself.
“Yes!” she said eagerly, holding out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
He shook it and furrowed his brow, examining her face.
Evelyn lost a little hope. Had she done something wrong? Out of all the places she had applied to, this was the one she had wanted the most. Evidently, she hadn’t made the best first impression.
They were in the musty office of the electronics shop, a cosy brick building. Dust lined most of the surfaces, and the trash smelled strange.
The manager smiled, and gestured towards a chair across from his desk.
Once she had sat down, she prepared herself for an interrogation. What if he asked something hard? What if she stuttered at something?
“Nervous?” he asked with a chuckle, looking at her hand. Her knuckles had gone white gripping the arm of the chair.
“What? O-oh, uhh, yes.” She said, with some difficulty. “Sorry, this is my first job interview.” She winced internally at her pronunciation. She smoothed out folds from her dress, even though it was under the table.
“That’s fine.” His voice was low and rumbly, yet oddly soothing. “Been a while since I’ve ‘ad one too.”
What does he mean by ‘ad’? The local accent was so odd.
“Anyway,” he said, looking at her application. He mumble-read it quickly. “Farm experience, 13 years of school, classes in applied electronics… Sounds good enough. No retail experience?”
She shook her head. Did I shake it too much? “N-no. We lived far from town.”
He read the part of her application that had been the most difficult to write. “Belgium, right… My condolences, Evelyn.” He gave her a kind smile. “Good to have you ‘ere, though.”
She blushed slightly. “Thank you.”
He simply nodded. “Still, with all the refugees, I’m required to see your papers.”
She nodded quickly, shooting a fumbling hand towards her little handbag. She dug around, eventually handing him her passport and immigration documents.
He skimmed them. “Looks alright.” He laid them down on the table, but gave them a suspicious glance.
Her heart sped up. Had her documents been wrong? Did she give him her brothers’? No, of course not. Dad packed them.
The big englishman read closer, comparing the two documents. He held up her passport. “Says ‘ere you’re female,” he held up her immigration papers, “And ‘ere you’re male?”
She looked down at her hands. “Yes, the- the immigration officers couldn’t change it because I hadn’t gotten my diagnosis here in England.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What diagnosis?”
She felt uncomfortable telling him this. Saying it felt like facing the darker memories of someone she had put aside. “Gender dysphoria.” she mumbled.
He looked at her again, and realisation became plain on his face. “Fuck’s sake…” he whispered.
She looked down at her hands, clasping them together in her lap. “Sorry.”
He waved a hand. “Don’t be. Look, I’ll be blunt with you. I don’t want to employ your kind.” .
Evelyn felt a pit in her stomach. “My kind? My English can improve-”
“Not your english, It’s serviceable. ” He looked her up and down. She had put on a long, semi-formal sundress, certainly not very revealing. Even still, it felt like he saw right through her.
He set his jaw. “But I’m not hiring a man in a dress.”
Her heart sank. “I’m… I’m not a man,” she said meekly.
“What are you, then?”
Her hands shook, and she felt like her breakfast would come back up at any moment. She didn’t want to speak, for fear of bursting into tears.
“Not gonna say anything?”
She could only mumble. “I’m a woman.”
He got up from his chair, startling her. “You’re a man in a dress, living out your little perversion. I’ll have none of that in my store” He handed her the application and ID and pointed to the exit.
She should probably have said something. How this was illegal, how wrong he was. She walked out all the same, doing her best not to cry.
Dad sat on a bench outside, looking at his phone. He seemed surprised to see her come out so soon.
“What’s wrong, honey?” he asked in french as she sniffled her way out of the door.
She sat down next to him, stuffing her stupid ID in her bag.
“What happened? Was he mean?”
She put her head in her hands. “The gender on the immigration papers.”
“Oh.” She could hear the anger in his voice. “Did he…”
“Yeah.”
He breathed a furious sigh, but calmed himself.
Evelyn talked through the lump in her throat. “I was doing so good, but then he just…”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“C’mere.” Dad said, giving her a hug.
She welcomed it. “Maybe if I didn’t wear a dress, or passed better, or…”
“No.” Dad said sternly, releasing the hug and patting her on the back. “Never change yourself for people like him, Evi. Girl or boy or whatever else, they will still find ways to hate you.”
She knew that. She didn’t understand it, though. “But maybe if I explained it to him, he could understand?”
Dad smiled. “I don’t think he can fully understand. And even if he did… Well, hate like that is learned. And he does not strike me as the learning type.”
“Yeah.” Evelyn sighed looking at a pigeon that crossed in front of them. “Still, it hurts.”
Dad nodded. “Even when he’s wrong.”
He is wrong, she told herself. The manager didn’t know her, know what she’d been through, all the sleepless nights on the verge of giving up. But she had come back from it. Of course you did. She told herself. It was either that or oblivion.
She stood up, looking around at the quaint street they were in. A few locals walked past, all giving her a short look before continuing on. Do they all think like he does?
“C’mon, Evi,” Dad slapped his legs and stood up, “Let’s get some food.”
London was a tall place, overwhelming compared to where she had grown up. Still, it was better than being on that big military refugee boat. Some people had begun living there, she’d heard.
Dad led them to the tube station. The sun had come out for once, and the streets were bustling further into the city. Cars and buses whisked by on the road, cyclists huffed and puffed, and the air smelled of concrete and exhaust. She longed for the fresher air back home, but… She remembered what the evacuation officer said. You’re never going back there. No one is, not in your lifetime. She looked at Dad, and thought about Marigold, and the rest of them. After two months on that dreadful ship, anywhere felt like home if they were there.
“What the…” Dad mumbled, when they came upon a newspaper stand.
“Huh?”
He pointed at the headline, reading aloud. “Immortality solved?” He scratched his head. “What does that mean?”
She skimmed the rest of the article. Some nonsense about a Norwegian inventor who claimed to be immortal.
Dad shrugged, then smiled. “Guess the tabloids ran out of stuff to print.”
“Yeah,” she gave way to a man on an electric scooter, “wonder why they print random stuff like that.”
“Right?” He scoffed. “Immortality. What’s next, unicorns in the exclusion zone?”
She chuckled, but didn’t like hearing about the mainland. So much suffering and confusion. She hadn’t heard back from half the people she knew. What if they never came back?
Walking into the tube station, Evelyn was reminded how large everything was. So many people. How did they all deal with it? The station was bright and cramped, with an oddly cosy smell of damp earth and exhaust. Crossing a bridge over the tracks, the people crowding in front of the subway doors looked like suckling pigs around the belly of a sow.
She clutched her little bag closer as they got on a different train. She felt safe with Dad around, but wanted to be home as soon as possible. It was where Marigold was, after all.
…
With Baldrian in school and Mom at work, Marigold ran as quickly as her old legs could carry her once Dad opened the door. Wagging with her whole body, she pressed herself against Evelyn’s legs and looked up with a smile as she stroked her fur. Evelyn sat down and gave her a good scratch under the ear, just like Marigold loved.
“Hungry?” Dad asked as he dropped the keys on a drawer.
Evelyn nodded quickly, already smelling the pancakes in her mind.
Marigold saw Dad walking to the fridge and - as quickly as she was able - waltzed over to beg for something. He gave her a scratch under the chin and a slice of cucumber.
Sighing, she walked to the bedroom and sat down on her little bed. She looked down at herself, at the dress. Wearing it felt right in a way she couldn’t quite explain. I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t made that choice.
Would everyone dislike her for that choice? Surely not. There would be good people here, too. Especially at university. She felt a bump of excitement at the thought; that acceptance letter would come any day now.
She pulled out her phone. After scrolling mindlessly for a time - scowling at the ever present AI-generated slop - she opened WhatsApp. The group chat of the few friends who survived evacuation was catching up with André. He’d only now been able to get a phone, after living on one of the big refugee ships for the last few years.
Evelyn didn’t write much. She was simply happy to see her old friends interacting.
“Pancakes are ready!” she heard from the living room, and darted out.
The kitchen radio was on, a news segment about that immortality thing.
Dad sat down, taking a pancake. “He says it’s gonna be for sale.”
Evi spread some jam on a pancake and rolled it up. “Immortality? How much?”
“They didn’t say.”
“Hmm.” She looked down at Marigold, who waited patiently for a snack. “Did they give any details about it?”
Dad shrugged. “They’ve started clinical trials. And that Idunn guy claims to be indestructible. Says he fell fifty meters to the ground, unharmed. He’s getting shot on BBC tomorrow.”
That was difficult to wrap her head around. Probably just hokey mystic bullshit, but if the BBC were reporting on it… “I’ll believe it when I see it,” she said.
Dad nodded. “Could you imagine, though? The five of us, together forever.”
She smiled, giving Marigold a few pats and a bit of pancake. She hoped it would work on dogs.
“We’d never have to worry about injuries, either.”
“Mhm”, she said. It was too strange a concept to even think about.
She had some more pancakes instead, and thought about where to apply next. A grocery store wasn’t optimal, but it seemed the most likely option, if she didn’t get that acceptance letter soon. Either way, she knew things would turn out well.
The radio rattled on, punditry about immortality’s political ramifications.
On reflection, it didn’t seem too far-fetched. The little she had seen of the gargoyles, and the many things she’d heard, made them seem supernatural. There probably was some scientific explanation for them, but no research had been published yet. How would one even study them? Especially with that giant seawall being built.
She had read about that wall. A huge undertaking, building 6000 kilometers of wall - a big fence, really - around the entire western coastline, just to keep people out and gargoyles in. How were they gonna accomplish that? Especially with all the coastal erosion…
“Evi?” Dad said, snapping her out of her thoughts.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Wanna help me clean up?”
“Sure!” Evi put the leftover pancakes in the fridge, and they cleared the table. She missed having a dishwasher, but work went quickly with the two of them, especially with Marigold helping clean up any food that had found its way to the floor.
Mom returned a few hours later with Baldrian, who wasn’t in a very good mood.
“What’s up?” Dad asked him, stirring a pot of soup.
“Nothing.” Baldrian said, dropping off his backpack and heading for his bed.
Dad gave Mom a puzzled look as she walked over to him. They hugged and gave each other a little peck on the cheek.
“Is he alright?” Dad asked.
Mom looked back at the bedroom door. “He wouldn’t say.” She sat down at the table, next to Evelyn. “I don’t think his first day at school went too well.”
Evelyn felt bad for him. Yes, her first interview had gone badly, but starting at an entirely new school after leaving everything behind was not something she envied him.
“Oh,” Dad said, turning to the soup to give it a taste. “I’ll go talk to him.”
Mom shook her head, whispering. “I think he needs some time.”
Dad considered. “Yeah, you’re right. But he’s strong, he’ll get through it.”
“I think so too,” Mom said, before turning to Evelyn. “So, how did the interview go?”
She fidgeted with her hands. “Poorly.”
Dad turned away from his cooking. “Vivian, we are never shopping there again.”
“Why, what happened?”
Evelyn explained it, feeling drained.
“But that’s illegal! We should sue!” Mom said, looking at Dad. “Quinton, please tell me you told him off.”
He shook his head. “No point. We don’t have the money to sue, and it wouldn’t have helped to shout at him.”
Mom sighed. “You’re not going to defend our daughter?”
He sat down in the chair between her and Evi. “Honey, I wanted to. But it could’ve turned violent, and that wouldn’t have helped anyone.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “Still, you could’ve-”
“Mom, it’s fine.” Evelyn said. “I just want to move on from that.”
She sighed again, held Evelyn’s hand.“That’s good, honey, I just don’t want to see my baby get hurt.”
Evelyn smiled. It felt great to see that she cared. “Like I said, it’s fine. I’ve heard all of that before, and none of them know what they’re talking about.“ She got up, gave the two of them a hug. “Thank you both for being so good to me.”
Baldrian sulked in his bed, scrolling mindlessly on his phone, screen still cracked from the evacuation three years ago.
“What do you want?” He said when Evelyn sat down in her bed, right across the room from him.
“Nothing,” she said, settling her head on a thin pillow. “Find any good looking roofs on your way to school?”
He nodded begrudgingly. “A few.”
“Climbable ones?”
“Yeah.”
She sat up and gave him a grin. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
He looked away from his phone, and gave a faint smile. “Not today.”
“Wrong answer,” she said.
…
What better way to pull him out of a funk? Evelyn thought as she pulled her brother up by the arms and onto the roof of the school building. He clambered up the sheet-steel awning and rolled down onto the dark, abrasive felt that lined the top of the schoolhouse.
Evelyn dusted the grime off her hands, closed her eyes, and took it all in. The school, a newly built, four-story square of a building, was the tallest in the area. The air was warm and cozy, perfect for a summer night. A rare occurence, if Dad was to be believed.
“That was harder than I thought,” a red-faced Baldrian said between heavy breaths.
“Yeah,” Evelyn said. “Worth it for that view, though.”
Seemingly endless rows of brick houses with a small patch of lawn in front littered the dark landscape, streetlights illuminating the hazy night air in orange and yellow. Looking over it, she felt nostalgic for a time she had never experienced. It was enough to make her forget it for a moment, the dreadful things she had seen from the car window on their way to the coast.
She wouldn’t think about that now, however. She had a brother to help.
“Still regret coming along?” she asked.
He stood next to her. When did he grow so much? He would be taller than her in a few years, it seemed.
“No, not really.” He conceded.
Satisfied, she looked around the roof, and found a ventilation tube to sit down against. Facing the coast, she could faintly see the lights of a massive ship anchored far off in the distance, lights much like those below them.
Baldrian sat down next to her. “Do you think anyone saw us?”
“No, it’s probably fine.” She smiled at him. “Besides, I didn’t see a ‘no trespassing’ sign.”
He looked at the ledge they had used to climb up here. “You’d think the fenced off staircase would mean something.”
“No sign, no problem,” she said, stretching her arms out. That always felt nice after a climbing session. “That’s the first rule you learn in roof climbing class, you know.”
He snickered. “I’d rather have that than maths.”
“Same.”
A few minutes of silence passed, but silence in Baldrian’s company was no problem at all. But she had a mission.
“So, how was the first day?”
He frowned. “Not you too…”
“Look, it’s just that we care about you.” She gave him a little clap on the back. “I don’t like seeing you sad.”
“I’m not sad.” He said, definitively.
She took her hand back. “That’s good.”
“And even if I was, Jean says that it’s okay to be sad.”
Jean? Right, his old teacher. “Yeah.” She looked out at the faint cityscape, thought about that asshole of a manager. “It’s okay to be sad. In moderation, of course.”
He nodded at that.
“Is there a reason that you’re sad?” she asked carefully.
“I said I wasn’t.”
“Right, right. But if you were, would there be a reason?”
He put his arms around his knees. “I miss Jean. I miss home.”
“Me too.”
He sniffled. “It feels like Dad doesn’t.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “He never mentions it. Just keeps talking about what we’re gonna do next.”
Evelyn thought for a moment. “I think he does miss it.”
He looked at her. “Then why doesn’t he say anything?”
“However bad we have it, it must be worse for him. I don’t think he wants to feel weak in front of us. Or he might not want us to think too much about it either.”
“Well, he failed.”
She nodded. “Still, I’m not as worried about it.”
He looked at her with mild shock.
“After all, as long as we have Marigold and the rest of us, is it all that bad?”
He leaned against her shoulder, and she leaned her head against his. They studied the skyline together. So different from home…
“Jean says it’s okay to cry too.” Baldrian whispered.
Evelyn’s jaw tightened up, and she felt that familiar lump in her throat. A few tears fell as she thought about that old home she hoped to return to. Maybe the cleanup-efforts will be done some time. The politicians said they would be back soon, after all.
But the innermost part of her knew that would never happen. She would never eat pancakes under that oak tree again, never chase after Marigold in the knee-high snow. That house felt so solid, too, she thought. But brick and mortar was no match for chaos.
She looked down at Baldrian, nearly asleep, and uninvited thoughts of immortality entered her mind.
What if?