The Flip

“I heard the high is 94. They say it’ll be the coldest day all year.”

“94? Do you want to try going outside?”

I peek through the blinds covering the only window on our dome. “They sky is blue today.”

“The pink haze is gone?”

“For now, anyway. I haven’t been outside in, well, do you remember the last time?”

“I think it was thirty years ago. When the boys were little. We took one last trip to the playground on the west side of town. You remember, the one with the slide shaped like a car.”

“Oh, yeah. They loved playing there. I’ll get my shoes on and we can open the dome.”

When we are ready, covered in sunblock, clad in large brimmed hats, long sleeve tops, and respirators, Gary pressed the button to open the escape door at the top of the dome. The hinges squeak in protest.

I climb up the ladder first, he follows.

“So this is what out-of-doors feels like. I vaguely remember this.”

“Coldest day of the year, my ass. Did it ever snow when you were little?” Gary asks poking his head out of the dome. He climbs out onto the silver slanted roof behind me.

“Once,” I say, a warm breeze blowing across my face.

We climb down from the dome to the sandy yard. Landscaping had stopped being important years ago. Nothing can grow in these conditions, even if they could, water is rationed. Once a dome’s allotted amount is used for the week, the water is turned off. No one would dare waste their water on something as frivolous as ornamental grass.

We are the only ones out. I see the Morrison’s looking out the window of the dome across from ours and wave.

Mr. Morrison— I can never remember his first name— cracks the window open ever so slightly. “What are you doing out there?” he asks.

“Coldest day of the year,” I say and rub my arms to mimic a shiver.

I hear Mrs. Morrison laugh, but Mr. Morrison gives a stern, “Be careful out there,” before closing the window.

We make our way out of the neighborhood, weaving our way between domes built only feet from each other.

“Let’s see if there are any fish still left in the pond,” Gary says and points ahead.

“Don’t be ridiculous. And if there are fish in the pond, I’m sure they have multiple heads. Some may even have legs,” I say.

Gary laughs, “Don’t you think that would be worth seeing?”

We trudge on ahead and finally come to the pond. The water bubbles intermittently and sports an unnatural green hue.

“I don’t see any two headed fish, do you?”

“No, none with legs either,” I say, voice trailing off. I do see something though. There is something under the surface of the water. It shimmers up at me, calls to me. I don’t know what it is, but it scratches at an irresistible desire I do not even know I have.

I have to respond. I reach for it and am filled with immediate regret, the water burning my hand when I grace the surface.

“What are you doing?” Gary asks, and wraps a steady arm around my shoulders.

“I… I don’t know. There’s something there. Do you see it?”

“I think you’re hallucinating. The air our here is toxic. Maybe your respirator isn’t working properly. Let’s get back to the dome.”

“No,” I say, “I have to see if I can reach it.”

I shrug and cast Gary’s arm away. I take a step forward, but as I do, I lose my footing on the slippery black rock at the edge of the pond. I move my arms in circles, searching for something to grab and catch Gary’s shirt. He wraps a strong hand around my arm.

“Shit!” he exclaims and tries to pull me back from the water.

“If you hold me, I can reach it,” I say and bend to meet the water.

“You’ll pull me in with you,” Gary gives me a tug.

But that thing I see under the water needs me and I need it. The pull it has on me is stronger than Gary. “Then let me go,” I say and yank my arm free. The force sends all of me splashing into the water.

I move my arms around the shimmering object that had called to me. But as I do it disappears. There is nothing there. Nothing but water.

“Jan!” Gary screams. But it’s too late. I’m gone. I’m sinking deeper and deeper in the green pool of thick, acidic water and waste.

I flail my arms and kick, fighting the swirling current pulling me down. But I can’t win. I’m not strong enough. Darkness closes in around me and I let out what I am sure is my last breath.

I feel something grab me. It pulls me further down. No, up. I’m moving upward, at least I think. I open my eyes and see light above me. The surface of the water breaks. I’m overcome with uncontrollable coughing. Once the water that had been in my lungs seems to be clear, I take a deep breath of clean, fresh, air.

I lay back, gasping. My red, burning skin finds instant relief when it touches the cold ground. It’s only a moment before I realize what I’m laying on. It’s puffy, but crisp and pure white. Snow cradles me as I return to my body.

“Where am I?” I ask, panting.

“What are you?” a woman’s soft voice replies.

I sit up, “Dead. I think I’m dead.” I turn my head over my shoulder to see the source of the voice. A woman, half my age, with long straight dark hair and sapphire eyes wearing a heavy winter coat looks me over.

“You’re definitely not dead. It’s like minus thirty out here. They anticipate this will be the coldest day of the year. Does this look like paradise to you?” She gestures to the surroundings.

“Yes,” I say, and lay back onto the snow.