Comet
dream; too much Lucifer's Hammer before bed
There was a comet coming, and it was probably going to hit the Earth. Not head-on or anything, just that the two bodies were going to sideswipe each other and we were going to get a lot of tiny little meteorites burning through our atmosphere with incredible force and speed. It would be more sensible to worry about what people could do than what the comet could.
I was thinking about the news and everything, outside of the family's house in Medford. Matie and I had driven home to be with Mom and Pop, just in case. I was outside putting a tarp over the Chevy when I saw a black dot in the sky. The sky was a bright and greasy yellow, almost overexposed, so it hurt to stare into it, but it seemed like a little grey-black smudge was coming closer and closer to me. Everything moved in slow motion as I started to realize that I should run, but before I could get inside or even across the yard it hit me, right on the middle finger of my right hand.
I couldn't tell if it was broken, but it swelled up immediately. It didn't hurt very much yet, though, so I was more concerned with finding the meteorite. It turned out to be about the size of a marble, black, jagged and pockmarked, and dust was still rising around where it had landed in the driveway. The meteors weren't supposed to come for a few more hours, so I thought that maybe I should take a picture or at least call someone; maybe I was the first person in history to be hit by a meteorite. More people would be getting hit soon, though, so I had to act fast.
I went into the house to find the camera but got distracted; everyone was packing survival gear or watching the TV news about the comet. I realized that I had better get a whole lot of insulin - I only had about a month's worth on hand. I asked Mom if the pharmacy would fill my prescription, even though it wasn't quite a month since the last time. She kind of hemmed and hawed over the answer, and told me that the insurance wouldn't pay so early. I tried to explain that I wouldn't mind paying full price; if society collapsed my bank account would be worthless anyway, but I really didn't want to go into a coma and die just because we had some meteorites hit.
That's when I remembered I had better get a gun, too, so I went to the gun store. There was a new one right next to the 7-11 a few blocks from the house, in the bad location that had been a video store, a laundromat and then a Mexican restaurant. There was a long line of people waiting outside of the gun store; I really wished I'd brought a book. The day was pretty hot. I talked to some of the other people standing in line for guns; they all seemed pretty awkward and bored as well. I told them I was going to get a shotgun, because I figured I probably wasn't a good shot. The guy in front of me said that was a good idea, but he was going to get a pair of matching pearl-handled revolvers that he'd had his eye on. I wanted to tell him he sounded like a bad GURPS character, but I realized I had to stay in line for a while and didn't want to piss him off.
As it turned out, they were also selling burritos at the gun store, so that was part of why the line was so long. You could put your order in when you got inside, so they'd be done when you got to the counter. I thought about it, but the painted menu was big and confusing and I didn't want to hold up the cashier trying to figure out what was in the various burritos. About half of the people in the line were just there for the burritos, so the line started moving more quickly. Before I knew it, I was at the counter.
I was worried I hadn't brought the right ID, especially because my student ID was kind of ill-gotten and invalid, but all I had to do to get a shotgun was to sign a fancy certificate that said I wasn't going to do anything illegal with it. I wanted to ask if there was a holster or anything I should get, but the guy at the counter looked pretty harried so I just bought a big box of ammunition. It had built-in handles, like a case of beer. I tried to balance it and the shotgun and realized that the shotgun had little knobs on it like a guitar, so I could just use my ukulele strap to hold it up.
Then there was kind of a dissolve, and it was later. I came back from the drugstore and was bringing bags of stuff in. Mom asked what I ended up doing, and I showed her that I had a brown paper bag full of vials of various kinds of insulin. "I got all kinds, because I figured, why be picky?" Then I showed her my idea for test strips, of which I was very proud: "See, I stole one of each kind of monitor there is, so no matter which kind of strip I can find later, I can use it." Mom thought that was a great idea. I was already feeling less anxious about the end of the world.
I was thinking about the news and everything, outside of the family's house in Medford. Matie and I had driven home to be with Mom and Pop, just in case. I was outside putting a tarp over the Chevy when I saw a black dot in the sky. The sky was a bright and greasy yellow, almost overexposed, so it hurt to stare into it, but it seemed like a little grey-black smudge was coming closer and closer to me. Everything moved in slow motion as I started to realize that I should run, but before I could get inside or even across the yard it hit me, right on the middle finger of my right hand.
I couldn't tell if it was broken, but it swelled up immediately. It didn't hurt very much yet, though, so I was more concerned with finding the meteorite. It turned out to be about the size of a marble, black, jagged and pockmarked, and dust was still rising around where it had landed in the driveway. The meteors weren't supposed to come for a few more hours, so I thought that maybe I should take a picture or at least call someone; maybe I was the first person in history to be hit by a meteorite. More people would be getting hit soon, though, so I had to act fast.
I went into the house to find the camera but got distracted; everyone was packing survival gear or watching the TV news about the comet. I realized that I had better get a whole lot of insulin - I only had about a month's worth on hand. I asked Mom if the pharmacy would fill my prescription, even though it wasn't quite a month since the last time. She kind of hemmed and hawed over the answer, and told me that the insurance wouldn't pay so early. I tried to explain that I wouldn't mind paying full price; if society collapsed my bank account would be worthless anyway, but I really didn't want to go into a coma and die just because we had some meteorites hit.
That's when I remembered I had better get a gun, too, so I went to the gun store. There was a new one right next to the 7-11 a few blocks from the house, in the bad location that had been a video store, a laundromat and then a Mexican restaurant. There was a long line of people waiting outside of the gun store; I really wished I'd brought a book. The day was pretty hot. I talked to some of the other people standing in line for guns; they all seemed pretty awkward and bored as well. I told them I was going to get a shotgun, because I figured I probably wasn't a good shot. The guy in front of me said that was a good idea, but he was going to get a pair of matching pearl-handled revolvers that he'd had his eye on. I wanted to tell him he sounded like a bad GURPS character, but I realized I had to stay in line for a while and didn't want to piss him off.
As it turned out, they were also selling burritos at the gun store, so that was part of why the line was so long. You could put your order in when you got inside, so they'd be done when you got to the counter. I thought about it, but the painted menu was big and confusing and I didn't want to hold up the cashier trying to figure out what was in the various burritos. About half of the people in the line were just there for the burritos, so the line started moving more quickly. Before I knew it, I was at the counter.
I was worried I hadn't brought the right ID, especially because my student ID was kind of ill-gotten and invalid, but all I had to do to get a shotgun was to sign a fancy certificate that said I wasn't going to do anything illegal with it. I wanted to ask if there was a holster or anything I should get, but the guy at the counter looked pretty harried so I just bought a big box of ammunition. It had built-in handles, like a case of beer. I tried to balance it and the shotgun and realized that the shotgun had little knobs on it like a guitar, so I could just use my ukulele strap to hold it up.
Then there was kind of a dissolve, and it was later. I came back from the drugstore and was bringing bags of stuff in. Mom asked what I ended up doing, and I showed her that I had a brown paper bag full of vials of various kinds of insulin. "I got all kinds, because I figured, why be picky?" Then I showed her my idea for test strips, of which I was very proud: "See, I stole one of each kind of monitor there is, so no matter which kind of strip I can find later, I can use it." Mom thought that was a great idea. I was already feeling less anxious about the end of the world.