Give Us A Decade and We'll Be Fine

The water was churned up from the boat passing, their balance faltering for a moment until a hand steeled them. Mason’s hand, his other still clutching the rock beside him, a face crisp and focused in displaced worry. Tatum just grinned back, picking their feet up lightly as they maneuvered themselves closer to shore. 

“Do you think it’s safe?”, they had asked, “To like- swim here?” 

“Umm, short term? Maybe you’d cut your feet up on some old machinery or get caught up in some vessel’s stream and get sucked in. Long term effects? Cancer, heavy metal poisoning-” 

And he cut himself off after that, because if he didn’t, he knew he wouldn’t stop. And bringing up public health atrocities wasn’t great date material. Not that this was a date; dates were things where you went out to restaurants and to movie theaters and talked about miscellaneous nonsense. For people with white-picket fences and trust funds- 

Mason had spent a couple nights on Tatum’s coach when he was between living situations. And then he spent a couple of nights in their bed. Now they share clothes and food, and their parents disapprove. 

But that was before school had yet again conquered their lives. Now they cry and day drink and rant while Tatum points out insects for Mason to catch. 

The Mississippi river continues to lap up as the couple maneuvers themselves up the hill, going higher until they see power plants and green and unknown government facilities on one side and abandoned Snowizards and to-go Daquiri places on the other. Every once in a while, Mason waves his butterfly net dramatically at a passing dragonfly, but quickly gives up with little provocation. Tatum just studies him fondly. 

~ 

They knew he would say that of course; they’ve heard him mutter things of that nature over the past few weeks. It’s just gotten worse since those flyers have papered the city and students have disappeared from campus. 

The Stasis Trial was a lot of different things, depending on who you asked. A government official would tell you it’s a science-breaking experiment that will ‘change the way we visualize time and space’. The scientists will yammer on about continuums and impacts on human brains and overpopulation. College students, teens, and anyone who just didn’t want to be there for the moment see a pause bottom with a big check attached. And Mason: 

“The science is bullshit; this is a way for the government to silence us and perpetuate a status quo they decide. That’s literally all it is.” 

“It’s just a few thousand people.” 

“Yes, a few thousand young people, minority voters, the same people who protested over the summer and would vote HIM out in the election. Who’s to say they would even unfreeze you anyway, after the ten years? Who’s to say some ‘accident’ happens and their nervous system is left impaired, or they die?” 

“There’s been studies, dude, you’re read the studies-” 

“I-I know, and yes, the data looks promising, but I- you just can’t trust anyone anymore.” 

“Shh, yea, I know it’s scary.” 

~

And he would curl up into Tatum, and Tatum would pin back his hair with flowers. It would be easier if he was gone-but they couldn’t bear it yet. 

You see, they have an appointment next weekend. And they weren’t going to tell them; not if they couldn’t help it. 

Yes, they know how bad that sounds. 

The money helped, but it was never really about the money, or the college degree earned, or any ‘scientific furthering’. Sure, it was nice to feel like you were part of something important-but they weren’t dumb. They weren’t naïve enough to think they were anything but an exploitive asset, but as long as they could escape, wasn’t it worth it? 

They didn’t want to live in this decade anymore, and stasis was a hell of a lot less permanent than the alternative. 

It was like that story they murmured to Mason: 

“So, when I was a kid, I was an exhibit at the Guggenheim.” 

“Yea?” 

“Oh yea. I mean, me and a bunch of other folks. You see, they had gotten people from all different age ranges, from babies to the elderly, and you were just this little part of a big thing. Like, the experience of life, and all that. And you knew it wasn’t about you, but it's nice to feel your part of something bigger than yourself. Even if that something is passe as fuck.” 

“Did they like- they gave you something right?” 

“I mean-maybe they paid my parents? I was about five and got a cupcake and a race car at the end of the day, so I was happy with it.” 

This was just their cupcake at the end of the day-giving the world a chance to catch up, grabbing a cheat code as the world continues without them. 

~ 

He was so scared. And it’s just, frightening, you know? That everything is changing, but not fast enough. This world is so slow, everything was so slow, and it just got worse by the day.  

But that’s the thing they didn’t understand, change is necessary. And anything that wasn’t this must be good. 

~ 

Mason was a hypocrite and a horrible liar and had an appointment for next weekend. 

Yes, he knows how that sounds, but it’s complicated. And he didn’t think he could bear waiting for another decade to pass. 

He had already done waiting before this, you see. In the empty attic echoing the choir below, in the wispy blows of a tempest coming to shore, in the maneuvering of a dress over his body and curls of goldenrod through his hair. 

He had lived in the future already for much too long. Let this world change enough so that he isn’t forced to. Let him start over, begin again as a new person, a true new identity.  

Let the world forget he even existed- if he could he would have stay frozen for the millennia. 

It’s like that fable he was told once: 

There was a boy who was given his string of life in a ball of twine 

And whenever he grew bored, he would snip it free to the next time 

So, he went, from child to marriage, but too quickly came 

Him standing within his own grave. 

He was a teenager standing within a 21-year old’s body, he had skipped too quickly, lived too much of his life already within his own skull, he couldn’t risk waking up a decade later a 31-year old still to terrified to open that door. This world had taken too much from him, the least he could grab was a chance to stop and breathe. 

~ 

Mason had grown up in a dying town engulfed with greenery. Tatum had grown up in dying greenery engulfed by town. And now they lived together, in the middle of both. The two of them would taste like irony together, Mason’s bitterness tanging to Tatum’s sweet. 

There’s a type of love in knowing each other, even if it’s not fully realized yet. 

This is their last weekend together, that’s what they whisper in touches to each other. This is a precious moment that’s realized in the occurrence. They force it to be special, because that’s how tragedy works, isn’t it? 

Who knows, maybe they will meet each other again in that new life. Maybe it will be easier next time.