Worn Out Places

A cockroach ran across the shattered linoleum floor of the Laundromat, looking for food in the midst of a structure that could not have been natural. For as insignificant as the insect may have been, it was amongst the few life forms that have come to inhabit the Laundromat along with the plants growing through the cracks in the walls. As the roach stopped and looked at its surroundings, it could not make sense of the washing machines nor the dryers whose uses have been discontinued for decades. Needless to say, the roach could not have any idea of what it was inside of.

            A slight wind blew through a rubber factory in Dublin, Ireland, and a few hours later that same breeze would grace an office building in Gaborone, Botswana. Countless other winds presented themselves to other abandoned structures across the globe, as their purposes had been unfulfilled since the last human had met their fate.

            While humans were alive, it was always assumed that the end of their species would be via war or extreme natural circumstances made by their own doing. This was not the case. For as brilliant and creative as the species formerly known as Homo Sapiens were, they had their own destructive and negative side as well; some would even argue that positive attributions were mere exceptions to their violent behavior. But the flash of a nuclear explosion did not bring about their end, nor by a tidal wave, earthquake or other such disaster; no, the end of humanity was brought about by disease. Not a disease that festered in humans and robbed them of their health (ironically as humans did to the Earth) but a disease that affected their mentality, an inundation of nihilism, if you will. As humans lived longer and improved their rationality and common sense, they all saw that there was no point to life and decided that they would be better off not existing at all. Populations decreased over a period of time as more and more people understood the burden of a higher level of perception. Eventually, with the human populations engulfed in a sense of hopelessness, the last humans perished with the belief that the universe did not have a single care for them.

            The world truly had ended with a whimper instead of a bang, as many expected it to.

            From the minute that the last human ceased to exist, the Earth took control of itself once more. The world was no longer guided by the codes of humanity; instead, it was guided once more by the ways it had been before the arrival of humans: a renaissance of sorts. Of course, the monuments of humanity lasted far longer than their creators, but without a purpose they succumbed to the rule of the planet. Factories, which produced the most technologically advanced devices on the planet, became overrun with plants and animals struggling to understand its place in the new world. Homes, buildings, and other structures soon became the markers of the once proud species, who built themselves up, and destroyed themselves. But without anybody to understand what their purpose was, what was a monument, but a structure that might as well have been built by creatures from another planet?

            A squirrel ran into a synagogue in Buenos Aires, Argentina; a place once beloved by those with the ability to perceive of an existence higher than their own. Running through the aisle and up to the Rabbi’s pedestal, the squirrel happened upon the open pages of a Torah. Not understanding what the symbols meant, the squirrel continued its quest to find food in order to fulfill its most basic animal instinct of survival. The squirrel abandoned the synagogue when it found nothing that could sustain its metabolic needs.

            Days turned to months and months turned to years, all the while the world kept on turning just the same. By and by, evolution continued to take its place as insignificant and small changes were becoming more noticeable. Offspring began to gradually look less and less like their parents as their biological composures became more adapted to the world. The shells of insects grew thicker, birds could fly for longer periods of time without as much need for food, and plants became suitable to fight off diseases that had the ability to wipe out entire swaths of vegetation. Meanwhile, the structures of humans fell into yet more decay as the Earth attempted to recover any nutrients or minerals left behind by humanity.

            Once the worms and microscopic organisms purged the structures out of every mineral that was to be found, the rest was left to nature. The centuries wore on as various insects attempted to extract as much nutritional value from the Lincoln Memorial as they could, but once it was picked clean, it was left to the weather, the winds, and the erosions of time. Honest Abe’s eyes still look out for the slightest sign of intelligence that would appreciate his life’s work.

            The same could be said for the monuments dedicated to Mandela, Washington, Churchill, Susan Anthony, Curie, Cleopatra, amongst many others. Their works, accomplishments, goals, and purposes were cast out of a world that had no higher sense of perception and saw no need for one. The plants and animals saw no reason why the United States Constitution, the invention of the steam engine, or the World Wars should have any bearing on their existence if it didn’t have a hand in aiding their survival. For the sparrow in what used to be Mozambique, the berries on the trees had more significance on it than the country’s independence in the year 1975.

            A catfish swam up in what used to be Boston Harbor in the wake of ships that sank long after their use was discontinued. In the catfish’s limited mind, the ships were an oddity, and something that it could not comprehend. But a school of tiny fish emerged from the porthole on the side, and the catfish saw on opportunity to eat. In a harbor that hosted much political significance to the country formerly known as the United States, the catfish amongst any other sea creature could never behold the importance of the waters it swam in,

            Within one millennium of the last human’s passing, changes still happened across the world. Whatever was left of the mark of humanity was reduced to little more than crumbling buildings and any pollution that took a long time to decompose. Yet, already the Earth had become what it had been prior to the arrival of humans. Only the laws of survival and the universe guided the animals through their lives on the planet, and while some fared better than others, the laws of nature reigned supreme. Plants continued to grow stronger and live longer depending on the amount of water and sunlight they were exposed to. In Moscow, Russia amidst the crumbling of the political building known as the Kremlin, an ivy vine growing for years eventually found its way into the Prime Minister’s office and wrapped itself around the desk and chair where Stalin, Khrushchev, Gorbachev, Yeltsin, and Putin once sat.

            Predators continued to hunt prey much as they had done for millennia past, even while humans were still around. A mongoose hunted a mouse in the Marne, Hawks continued to hunt over Hastings, Armadillos searched for food in Antietam, and snakes sought out pray in Stalingrad. Competition continued to flourish in the world based on the principle that only the fittest will survive. Once a plant or animal was able to secure enough food to stay alive and live to pass on its genes, there was little need for much else. No lands to conquer, no riches to acquire, no propaganda, no large-scale attacks, simply nature catering to the strongest and abandoning the weakest, as harsh as that principle may sound.

            The process of natural selection went on for millennia until evolutionary adaptations gave animals new abilities never thought possible before. While the progress of humanity came to a complete halt, nature flourished and branched out in ways that humans never would have thought possible before. Plants took on properties and features that made them grow stronger, quicker, and able to harvest their food in lesser, but more substantial qualities. Land animals grew larger and with more defensive attributions to ensure that their genes would pass on to the next generations. Birds took on otherworldly characteristics that made them the masters of the sky; what was once a sparrow was little different than a pterodactyl. But the most impressive evolutionary advancement took place beneath the waves.

            Groups of fishes began to sprout appendages and grow air sacs within their bodies that would allow them to briefly walk on land. A few more generations later, they had lungs, arms, legs, and a mind that was accustomed to living and surviving on land. A couple thousand years later, they took to the trees, and when they got down they spread all over the planet, despite how far apart the continents began to drift. As time went on, they began to use tools, farms, politics, writing, and language all based on which region of the Earth they migrated to. Eventually, the meekest species of all inherited the Earth and made it their own.

             

One Night in December

           

            “Boy, this place sure has changed a lot since I last worked here,” the man in the black jacket said to himself.

            With the temperature at a chilling nine degrees Fahrenheit, and snow gently making its way to the ground, it felt nice to be inside a warm restaurant and passing the time. It wasa Friday night, but the restaurant was not as busy as it should have been; maybe it was the cold weather, or something else that deterred business. In one of the rooms nearby, there was a sweet sixteen going on, but aside from that, there were only three tables occupied on the main floor.

            The man in the black jacket looked longingly at the restaurant and how much it has changed since he last worked there. He could even see himself, as a nineteen year old, going to tables, filling up water, and bringing out food. He still heard the bands playing at the stage up front, even though there weren’t going to be any more bands. The staff was not too busy and was mostly standing around, waiting for something to do; some of them were still there when he worked there last. Other members of the staff had either been fired or quit for one reason or another. When those who worked with him saw him, they gave him hugs, and inquired about how his life has been.

            The man looked forward to seeing them again, and told them that he was doing fine and how life had opened new doors and opportunities for him. He didn’t go into too much detail since he didn’t want to overburden them with how he was. One of the waitresses he spoke to filled him in on what has been happening since he left, and what she had to say wasn’t all too good:

            “It’s been quiet around here. We still have a birthday, a party, or a catering event every now and then, but business has been really slow, and the former manager and head chef have quit. I’ve already started looking for new jobs because something tells me this place does not have too much longer to go,” the waitress said.

            “Really? Has it gotten that bad?” The man in the black jacket asked.

            “I’m afraid so. The menus have been changed up more than it should, and the owners really have stopped looking out for this place. We have a new head chef, but she’s not as good as the last one, and it really has shown in the feedback we get.”

            “Wow, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

            “It’s no problem, it’s out of my control anyway.”

            The man in the jacket gave the waitress a hug to let her know that he was glad to see her again, and went back to his place at the bar. To him, the place looked dramatically different than it had when he was working there. He remembered when it had opened the summer of his second year of college and how the manager promised he would make good money. It had a great view of the Hudson River and the food was a blend of Mediterranean cuisine. Some of it was French, Italian, Balkan, Middle Eastern, Israeli, North African, and even from countries he had never heard before. He wasn’t entirely sure whom this was supposed to be marketed to, but it found its customers, and the atmosphere seemed more of the jazzy, cool type where old men would bring their illegally young girls on dates.

            The restaurant attracted all kinds of weirdos, but as long as it was making money there was no reason to complain. Once again, he saw the younger version of himself rushing to tables of customers who once ate at the restaurant, but never returned. He delivered the trays of those little cheese puffs, which were addicting little things. The cheese puffs he ate now were rock hard, cold, and dry, as opposed to the puffs he snuck when he was younger. They were buttery, bursting with flavor, and one could never get enough of them. But now, these puffs lost all flavor, and even seemed to have lost all its life, leaving just another tray to be eaten; but not consumed.

            The man heard noises coming from the kitchen, which sounded like yelling, but from a voice that didn’t sound like it belonged there. He didn’t know who exactly it was, but he didn’t care enough to find out. It was a voice that simply didn’t fit in the atmosphere. It passed through the kitchen doors and into the bar area where it struggled to find a place, any place, where it could resonate in peace. But the place was too different and the voice too foreign. When the place opened two years ago, it could have found a place, but now that the restaurant solidified its identity, there was nowhere the voice could feel safe in.

            The time for identity searching was over. The days when the restaurant was a vacuum were finished. It had steeped itself in what the owners and the customers made it into, and the man in the black jacket agreed that it was a good identity to have. The only problem he had with it was that he knew it wouldn’t last too much longer; it couldn’t last too much longer. As with anything, it had to find out what it was to become. When it did, IF it did, then it would have to hope that it could survive as that.

            The more the man looked around, the more ghosts he saw. He saw himself, along with the other workers who were no longer there. He saw the first manager, the second one, and the third one, all doing what they did to keep the place afloat. He saw the people eating in the different parts of the restaurant, and the messes they made when they left. The urgent need arose in him to grab a napkin and wipe down every table on the floor, but there was no need to. There was someone else who was being paid to do that, someone that wasn’t him. He knew where the water pitchers were kept, where to get those cheese puffs and how to prepare them with the olive oil and herbs. The worker’s station was beckoning him but the man knew that he couldn’t go back there since he no longer worked there.

            The ghosts of the man and the previous workers scrambled across the restaurant, trying their best to provide the service they could. Customers waved them over and told him what they needed; some were pleasant and fun to talk to while others, he remembered, were unreasonable and unbearable. For those customers who were awful, he remembered wanting to end their existences by either slipping something into their food, or outright stabbing them. Thankfully he didn’t do it, but they caused more trouble than they were worth.

            But there were some customers who were happy to have him and made the job worthwhile. Sometimes he would talk to them about the election of 2016 and give them a little history on the restaurant. These kinds of customers were the ones worth having and always left a generous tip if you got to know them beyond consumers. Good luck getting them to be your customers though.

            The man in the black jacket continued to look around the restaurant as the ghosts from the past faded away into the ether of memory. It was still snowing outside and looked as though it wouldn’t stop until at least the next morning. The sweet sixteen was winding down now and whatever few tables remained left for the night. In a few minutes, the decorations would be taken down and the room would be set up as usual again; but for now, the girls were enjoying the last few minutes they had. The man stood by the bar and watched as people gradually left the restaurant one by one. When the last person from the party left, the room was nothing more than empty plates, deflating balloons, and faded party decorations. He offered to help the servers clean up some of the mess, but they declined his offer and assured them that it was under control. The man in the black jacket watched as the tables were moved back into place and set up.

            “This was the last party we have for a long time to come.” The waitress said to him.

            “Do you know when the next party is, if there is one scheduled?” The man said.

            “There’s supposed to be a luncheon for a funeral next month, but until then, there’s nothing planned. There’s not even anything after that so far.”

            “Times really have been tough here haven’t they?”

            “Yep, but I’m just a waitress. I don’t want to be co-owner, head chef, or manager, because when this place goes, I’ll have lost my job, and nothing more.”

            The waitress continued to set up the plates and move the tables as the man recalled catering for a wedding in that room. It was quite a scene with flowers and bells and boughs all over the place and the happy couple seated at the front of the room. That was all a long time ago, and the restaurant was still in its prime when it happened. Now, it was downhill from there. The restaurant had its youth, its fun, and its rites, but the man and the rest of the staff knew that it wouldn’t be too much longer until it met its end.

            The man in the black jacket made his way back to the bar and paid for his drink and the cheese puffs. Since there were no more customers, the manager decided to close up early. The wait staff said their goodbyes to the man, as he said his to them, promising that he would see them again at some point or another. The snow outside was starting to build up, and he decided that it would be best to head home.

            Before the man turned the key in his car, he could see the snow pile up on the restaurant as the roof was covered in an inch of snow. The lights were switched off inside and he could see the manager locking the door as he pulled out of the parking lot. He knew that it would open the next day; it had to. But the man knew that one day its doors would close for good. What was horrifying was that it was closer than him or any of the staff could think; and no amount of nostalgia could bring it back.

42 Waterfront St.

“So, what did she say?”

            “She said that for this time around, we’ll have to plant our crops on the east fields.”

            “Really? What about the tins of food in the warehouse, aren’t those any good?”

            “No, the old woman said that those tins contain toxic molds that would kill us if we were to eat them.”

            “Okay, I’ll round up the others and tell them.”

            The year is 2017, but to the people of Marlboro, Wisconsin, a small hamlet nestled deep within the post-settled wilds of the Great Lakes region comprised of no more than 40 people, the year has stagnated and stopped in 1917. Miraculously, the people of Marlboro have not been found out by the outside world and remain a small band of people lost in a crumbling period in history invisible to people who never would have known of their existence. The people, as dilapidated and forgotten as the hamlet may be, have managed to survive this long thanks to a mysterious old woman who lives in the house at 42 Waterfront Street.

            Nobody in the hamlet has seen this old woman, say, for a woman in her mid 40’s by the name of Dolores Bay. Much like the other people in the hamlet, Dolores has relinquished her trust to this mysterious old woman; but unlike the others, Dolores has seen her. At least three times a week, Dolores goes to the house on Waterfront Street to ask the old woman when is a good time to plant or harvest the crops, whether is something is safe to consume, or even what the weather will be amongst other things. Some of the townspeople believed that she was psychic or even a spiritual entity with knowledge far surpassing that of the people. Whatever the case was, or no matter how difficult the problem may have been, not once in the entire time has she been called upon has she been wrong. Thanks to her, the people have stayed alive as long as they have. However, the one thing she asks of the people is that they do not leave the hamlet.

            Even though it may seem ideal to leave such a place, Dolores has relayed this message time and time again, to ensure that the people not leave. The reasoning the old woman gives is that they are not ready for the outside world, and that it will corrupt them and feed them lies, drivel, and spread skepticism amongst each other. Instead, the people stay in the hamlet and continue to lead their lives, but to what ends?

            The hamlet itself was full of disintegrating structures that only housed vermin and disease, waiting to strike upon the people. The people of Marlboro have worn the same dust-covered clothes they have worn for years and only get by on meager portions of food that barely contain enough nutrition for a human being. The children have nothing to look forward to, the elders have nothing to look back on, and everyone in between is concerned with survival for survival’s sake. In short, it was a degrading American town that could not manage to progress as quickly as the rest of the country, and as a result, it stagnated itself into a pit as dusty as the road that cut right through it.

            Nonetheless, the people continued with their daily lives scrounging, scavenging, and harvesting whatever they could in order to make ends meet, all the while, sending Dolores up to the old woman to see what could be done about food, water, medicine, or whatever else the people needed. The old woman never left her house, and Dolores acted as the diplomat between her and the people; giving her their questions and demands and wondering if there was anything they could do for her.

            The answer was always no, except to stay in the hamlet.

            On a bright summer day, Dolores returned from the house on Waterfront Street and the people flocked around her to hear what it was the old woman had to say about the local food and water supply.

            “I’m sorry everyone, but neither the water nor the food is fit for consumption,” Dolores said.

            “Oh come on, that water in the pond has lasted us a long time now, and the food we found in the corner store is in pristine condition,” a man said.

            “I know you’re upset Harvey, but she said that the mercury levels in the pond are too high, and the food in the store is oxidized and dangerous to consume.”

            “Well that’s just great, now where are we supposed to find food and water? Some days I think that old lady likes to screw with us.”

            “Now, now, she has told me that about a mile east there is a pond which contains water safe enough to drink as well as some trees bearing fruits that will keep us nourished. We just need someone to make the trip over and bring us back some of the food and water.”

            A couple in their mid- 20’s named Carter and Betsy Ardham stepped forward and offered to make the journey. Carter was given two buckets to carry the water in and Betsy was given a burlap sack to carry the fruits in. The two began their trek through the woods to this land that promised food and water, and travelled close by one another.

            While the Ardhams made their way to the pond, the townspeople disperse, except for Harvey, who wanted to talk to Dolores about the old woman.

            “Dolores, listen, you know and I know that our lives here are miserable, and what’s keeping us back is that damn old lady who tells us not to leave here, yet makes our lives as bad as possible,” Harvey said.

            “Harvey, I know that life here is not ideal, but you can’t argue with the fact that as long as we’ve been here, and as long as our parents have been here, that old woman has kept us alive,” Dolores replied.

            “But you don’t know that, for all we know, we could be tricked by her into eating the craps while she has a feast all to herself. After all, all she does is sit in that house while we are busting our asses trying to make do with what little we have. Not once have I seen her leave that house, which could mean that she has everything she needs, if not more, to survive.”

            “Harvey, I’ve been to that house well over a hundred times, and she doesn’t have a thing to claim to herself except the four walls that surround her. What then would her motivation be for sending us on this wild goose chase of survival if it meant nothing to her?”

            “I don’t know, but look at us, we are destitute, and why is that? Because we take advice from some crusty old woman that only you have met. Without her, we’d be so much better off.”

            “Without her, we’d all be dead, besides, there is more to that old woman than you’d think.”

            “Oh yeah, what is it?”

            “I cannot tell you, I mustn’t tell you. If I told you the truth about that old woman, nobody would be able to handle it.”

            “Uh-huh, I thought so. Just another blind follower to an idea,” Harvey said as he walked away.

            However stubborn Dolores came off as, she was right about keeping the truth hidden from the people of Marlboro, despite how immoral it might have been. The people of Marlboro were a paranoid bunch, and if the truth did get out about the old woman, then it could well mean the end of Marlboro, even though everyone else forgot the hamlet a long time ago.

            Sadly, the truth comes in many different forms; it can come in the form of animals, books, ideas, but for the people of Marlboro, it came in the form of a loud-mouthed journalist from New York City. Given his assignment while in Madison, Wisconsin to cover a baseball game, this particular journalist, who goes by the name of Fred Dawson, travelled to Western Wisconsin to uncover the veiled hamlet.

            Fred Dawson, by all accounts was the kind of man you would meet at a bar, see that he’s an interesting guy, then find out how incredibly annoying he is five minutes later. He is best described as boorish, rude, nosy, no idea of personal space, and one of the most irritating people anyone could meet in their lives. Needless to say, he was the ideal journalist.

            As he was driving from Madison to Marlboro in his bright red Toyota Camry, he happened to pass by the Ardhams who were gathering the water and fruit for the hamlet. Fred pulled up next to them and spoke to them in a New York accent that only they couldn’t recognize.

            “Hey, would you folks know where this village called Marlboro is?” he asked.

            The Ardhams did not listen to him as they were too busy gawking at Fred’s car as if it were a machine from another dimension. The reactions held by Carter and Betsy held awe in the vehicle and how it was newer, faster, and cleaner than anything they had ever seen before. Fred, on the other hand, saw it as another car on the market, and was thinking about trading it in for a newer model

            To get the attention of the Ardhams, he repeated his question a little louder, which successfully worked. Still in shock over the car, the Ardhams told Fred where Marlboro was and as quickly as he arrived, he was gone, leaving the Ardhams with only a cloud of dust to remember him by. They didn’t know what to think and looked to each other for an answer, but found none in their expressionless gazes. Neither knew what to think and returned to the task of gathering food and water.

            Meanwhile, Fred arrived at Marlboro less than five minutes later. He pulled up in the middle of the hamlet as people began to walk up to the car and surround it. Like the Ardhams the car and its other-worldliness too entranced them. When the door opened and Fred stepped out, the rest of the town was surprised when they saw that it was a human.

            “Howdy, how’re you folks doing? The name’s Fred, Fred Dawson,” he said, oddly delighted.

            At once Dolores stepped forward, a little shaky to approach Fred, but when Fred made direct eye contact with her, Dolores stopped dead in her tracks. When she recovered she asked in a limited tone of voice who he is and why he was there.

            “A little birdie told me that up in this neck of the woods, there is an abandoned village around these parts. However, I now know that it’s not abandoned, and this is going to make quite a scoop,” Fred said.

            “Well Fred, you’re welcome to stay in our hamlet, and if you want to, you’re more than welcome to stay in our motel,” Dolores said.

            “Thank you, but looking at that hotel over there, it doesn’t seem like it would be a safe place to stay in.”

            “Oh, don’t worry about that, we checked in with the old woman about it a few days ago, and it is in good enough condition to stay in.”

            “Old woman, who’s this old woman?”

            “Oh it’s just some old lady who lives on Waterfront Street and thinks she can see things that we can’t and tell us what’s safe to eat and what isn’t, even though she never leaves her house,” Harvey said.

            Fred looked at Harvey, Dolores, and the other townspeople in disbelief until he came to the realization that what they were saying wasn’t a joke. When the news of this shaman of an old woman sank into Fred’s mind, he couldn’t help but laugh to himself. The idea alone was ridiculous to Fred, but was even funnier when he realized that the entire hamlet was in on it.

            “Okay, I’ve read some pretty weird stuff about native South American tribes worshipping some unga-bunga gods. I’ve read about various cults all over the world, worshipping made up religions, and I’ve even read about this one guy in Iowa who trashed his apartment after he claimed to have gone to hell, but out of all the stories I’ve heard, this one takes the cake,” Fred said.

            Dolores looked puzzled at what Fred said, but knew that she had to defend the old woman in the midst of Fred’s claims.

            “This isn’t a story, the old woman has kept us alive for this long and we live by what she says. Why, just last week she told us to stay out of the house on Braker Road, and one day later, the whole thing collapsed and destroyed everything inside of it,” Dolores said.

            “Haven’t you heard that correlation does not always equal causation? Any of these buildings look as though they could fall over at any moment, but just because some old lady says that they will doesn’t necessarily mean that they will crumble by her word,” Fred said a little testily.

            At that moment, the Ardhams came back to Marlboro, dripping with sweat and struggling to carry the food and water. Fred looked at them, as they were panting and exhausted, and thought of them as the perfect counter-point to the old woman.

            “Oh yeah? By the way, I saw these two earlier lugging those jugs of water and that sack of apples as if they were mules. Is this what your old woman wants? For you to work yourselves to the bone for basic survival?” Fred said.

            “You know, he’s got a point, how come this old woman makes us go out of our way for necessities, while she stays in that house of hers?” Harvey joined in.

            Dolores saw the unrest that was spreading from Fred to Harvey and to the rest of the townspeople while they were questioning the old woman. They threw their suspicious glances towards one another and asked why this is so. Sensing the potential danger from the crowd, Dolores knew that she had to step in and quell the unrest.

            “Folks, please, appeal to your sense of reason and think about this. The old woman may have led us through some backwards ways for survival, but she has never been wrong once. Remember last year, when she said not to leave our crops out in the open and to keep them inside. Even though it was a lot of effort on our part, they were safe and protected from that storm that hit us the next day.

            “I understand that as time has gone by, you have grown impatient with the way things are, but keep this in mind: if it hadn’t been for her, we most likely wouldn’t even be alive today,” Dolores announced.

            “You call this living?”

            “That old lady makes us scrounge for our food as if we were insects.”

            “You only say that because you’re the only one who has seen her.”

            The townspeople grew even more impatient at Dolores’ words and began to take a liking to Fred, who didn’t even care about the people so long as he had an idea for an article on his hands. When Fred had them right where he wanted them, he asked Dolores where the old woman lived. Dolores did not trust him and decided to not reveal her address. Instead, she warned:

            “If you know the truth about that old woman, if could mean the death of every man woman and child in this hamlet. So I suggest that you put that thought out of your head now, or you’ll all be sorry.”

            Fred’s gaze softened a little bit to show that Dolores’ words made an impact on him. He ordered the people to calm down and take heed to Dolores’ warning.

            “You know what Dolores, you’re right, I’m sorry I doubted you. If exposing the truth to these good people means the death of every one of them, then I won’t pry, because I don’t want any innocent blood on my hands. Come on now, everyone, we should go,” Fred said.

            Dolores was surprised to see Fred surrender this easily to her words, for this, she did not trust him in the slightest…and she was right to do so. As mentioned before, Fred was the ideal journalist, he knew how to get his way and was known for playing people better than he played poker. Deep inside the crevices of Fred’s mind, he had a plan to expose this old woman for what she really was, not only for his assignment, but to show Dolores that she was wrong as well. When Dolores and the townspeople disbanded, since night was falling upon the hamlet, Fred saw this as an opportunity to engage in his quest for the ugly truth.

            It was 9:00 at night and it was as dark as could be, but with the help of a miniature flashlight Fred kept in his pocket, he was able to navigate through the darkened landscape. When he arrived at the rickety house on Waterfront Street he saw that the door was slightly ajar and asked if anybody was inside. Nobody answered. Fred let himself inside and when he was inside the foyer, he saw that there was absolutely nothing inside the house. It looked as though it had been looted clean; there wasn’t even so much as a piece of cloth. The only thing that was there were the four walls, the floor, and the ceiling.

            Fred checked the other rooms in the house and he found no other possessions, and no old woman whatsoever.

            “What is this? Some kind of sick joke?” Fred said to himself impatiently.

            He decided that he would give up his search after looking in the basement. He shone his flashlight across the bare concrete walls until he came across something that stuck out from the rest of the scenery. It gave him a shock at first, but when Fred saw what it was, he was astounded by it.

            When Fred inspected it in its entirety, he thought that this could be an award winning story; a Pulitzer maybe. What Fred saw was a computer drive, about as tall as him and as thick as a milk crate, it was covered in various buttons, dials, switches and little lights. To Fred, who had seen plenty of computers before, this was something far more advanced than anything he had seen before. The sheer complexity of the computer juxtaposed with the depressing scene Marlboro presented led Fred to have a few questions. But the first thing that crossed his one-track mind was the prospect of fame and wealth. But before any of that could happen, he had to prove this discovery to the people of the hamlet.

            Taking a few quick pictures on his camera, Fred immediately left the house, but was disappointed that he didn’t find the old woman. Nonetheless, he was still pleased that he found something worth mentioning. He went back to the main center of the hamlet where he saw the other townspeople gathered around a bonfire, eating and drinking the apples and water the Ardhams brought back. It clearly wasn’t enough and it had seemed as though the old woman had duped them again; this was the perfect opportunity for Fred to show off his discovery.

            “Hey, everybody, over here, you’re going to want to take a look at this,” Fred said eagerly.

            “What is it?” A random person in the crowd said.

            “I took the liberty upon myself to go into that house you said that old lady lived in and do some investigating.”

            Dolores’ blood ran cold when he said this and she knew that he was brash enough to reveal the truth in front of everyone. Like she said, the exposure of this truth could lead to the death of everyone in the hamlet, and that she had to keep the truth safe at all costs. But she knew that at this point, the truth was going to come out one way or another, and there was nothing she could do about it.

            Harvey, on the other hand, could barely wait to see what it was that Fred discovered. He had waited for so long to finally discover who this old woman was and he was prepared for anything, especially the worst.

            Fred continued to announce his discovery and exaggerating it in places it didn’t need to be.

            “When I walked into that house, I didn’t know what to expect, but when I did, I saw that there was absolutely nothing inside of it, except for the walls, floors and ceiling. However, when I ventured into the basement, I saw this, the only thing in the house.”

            Showing the photograph to everyone around the fire, people murmured amongst themselves on what it was until Harvey yelled out:

            “What the hell is this? I told you all that this old woman was pulling one over us, and Dolores here was…”

            At that moment, all eyes turned to Dolores in anxious anticipation in what this was all about. She was nervous to say anything since there was nothing she could say that would fully appease the people, nor satisfy any of their questions they hurled at her.

            “Yeah! What have you been hiding from us Dolores?”

            “The old woman tells us not to leave the hamlet, but for what purpose? We’re here, day after day, year after year, and for what?

            “Dolores, we are dying in this hamlet and this old woman is nowhere in sight; who exactly is it we have been following if not an old woman who has some sick desire to see us suffer?”

            Each question regarded either the old woman’s absence, Dolores’ misdirection or the computer in the basement. Dolores had to try her best to fight off the onslaught of questions, but Fred’s incontrovertible evidence left her no choice but to tell the truth. She thought that if the people of the hamlet were going to perish, then they may as well know the truth since there was nothing she could do to return the status quo.

            “Enough fooling around Dolores, I’ve been alive for about as long as you, and I want to know, without beating around the bush, what this is all about. What is this machine? What are you hiding from us? And most importantly, where and who is this old woman?” Harvey shouted over everyone else.

            Dolores stood up, ready to announce the unbearable truth in a steady yet nervous voice.

            “That machine is the old woman.”

            Nobody could believe what she said, but listened keenly as Dolores continued.

            “My parents designed this machine to instruct the hamlet what to do about our condition. If we couldn’t progress as fast as the rest of the country, we had to at least make do with our survival, and that was the singular purpose given to the machine. However advanced the machine is, we only asked it simple questions such as where to get food and water and how to prolong our lives. Yet, we relied on it too much, we didn’t ask how we could improve our lives, nor did we ask it what we could have done for each other. We became dependent on it, we were reduced to the status of newborn children, we couldn’t take care of ourselves, and the machine kept us in this hamlet because it knew that we would never be able to comprehend what lay outside.

            “As time went on and survival became the only thing we were focused on, the computer came to know us better than we knew ourselves. We became scared little creatures who lost our way if the computer didn’t provide us with one. What was built as a monolith of knowledge became a mere supervisor, a babysitter for us, telling us what we should or shouldn’t do. However, it doesn’t make a difference by this point, I now realize that whatever action we take now will have absolutely no meaning whatsoever.

            “So, with that said, do whatever it is you feel you must, but don’t say that I didn’t warn you,” Dolores said.

            The townspeople looked at Dolores, unaware of what to do now, until Harvey took advantage of the vacuum of opinion. Despite hearing everything Dolores said and knowing the truth, he decided once and for all that if they were to truly be free, the computer must be destroyed.

            “Did you hear that? She said that our lives are being ruled over by some machine. I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve had just about enough of this ‘old woman’ and if we’re going to be free, then we have to show it that we won’t submit to it any longer. So grab something from the shed and follow me,” Harvey said.

            Harvey’s brief speech fired up the townspeople, including Fred, and went to the aforementioned shed to grab and axe, shovel, pick, or whatever else they could find. Once everyone had a weapon in hand, they arrived at 42 Waterfront Street, under the guise of Harvey to carry out their revenge against what it was that kept them alive. Despite the door having no lock and even being slightly ajar, Fred took it upon himself to chop the door down with his axe. When the door was in mere splinters, the people of the hamlet ran in, led by Fred and Harvey and made their way to the basement where the computer was.

            Standing in front of the machine, the angered people, and Fred, bore their tools in the hopes of instilling fear into the computer; inevitably, it had no effect since it was a machine, capable of knowledge, but not emotion. Raising a sledgehammer, Harvey provided the first blow to the computer, in its screen. The resulting crash resulted in a flurry of sparks and glass shattering into fine shards. When the initial strike was finished, everybody else surrounded the machine and gave it strikes and blows, which caused it to emit smoke and make sounds it was not supposed to make.

            After a minute or so, a couple of people moved it away from the wall and tipped it over. However, when it fell over, the computer let out a series of sparks, similar to the way a person would bleed if cut in the jugular area. One of the sparks caught itself onto a dry and splintery load-bearing wall and soon grew into a fire.

            The fire quickly travelled up the wall and since the wall was dry and splintery, the flames were able to spread quickly. Once the wall was enveloped in an orange conflagration the people began to make their way outside. Everybody made it outside safely, but the fire had quickly enveloped the entire house as it became engulfed in a raging inferno in about 6 minutes. As the house was burning, the people looked in awe at the fire and loudly cheered for the destruction of both the machine as well as the house.

            After a little while, the house’s infrastructure gave out and the house collapsed unto itself, releasing a cloud of smoke and ash. Dolores who saw the whole thing from far behind the crowd, could only watch in silence as the people destroyed the only thing that had bothered to keep them alive for so long. Thanks to Fred and the brashness of Harvey, the computer, the rationality, and trustworthiness of the hamlet was dead…and in due time, the people. Dolores was not angry at the people, she knew that it had to come to an end one day, but knowing that they were completely free and subject to their own responsibilities was a thought that terrified her.

            She addressed the crowd and asked them:

            “Do you all understand what it is you’ve just done?”

            “Yeah, we’ve just liberated ourselves from that bucket of bolts that ruled over us,” Harvey claimed brashly.

            “Ms. Bay, I’m sorry, but I had to do this, besides, it’s 2017 America and you people were no more than hermits in this backwoods town, away from the progress and civilization. When I saw how destitute you folks were, I went beyond my journalist protocol and felt a moral obligation to help you out. You may have survived under that machine, but you might as well be dead since you were so miserable and destitute.

            “But now that you’re free you can do whatever it is you want without being told you can’t. You can eat and drink what you want without any opposition,” Fred said to Dolores/

            From the crowd, a woman’s voice reminded everyone of the food they had in the warehouse that the old woman told them not to eat. All at once, the crowd moved to the warehouse filled with the forbidden comestibles and grabbed as much as they could. The old woman told the people not to eat that food since it was old, rotten, or contained some deadly and poisonous mold. Yet, the people, disregarding the word of the old woman, engaged in a gluttonous orgy, eating and drinking whatever they found on the shelves. That is, everyone except Dolores, who still believed in what the old woman said.

            As Dolores saw everybody gorging themselves silly, she knew that they had all made a big mistake and would pay the ultimate price. She decided to walk up to Fred and Harvey who had already finished two bottles of wine and while intoxicated, were enjoying the company of one another.

            “Oh come on Doloresh, don’t be shuch a tight-ash. Enjoy the freedom,” Harvey said slurred.

            “Yeah, let’s face it, you don’t got to listen to no computer no more. You can do whatever you, uh…want,” Fred said, just as drunk.

            Dolores wanting nothing to do with the scenery, and seeing that close to ¾ of the food was consumed decided that this could be the last time she will see Fred and Harvey. There was a lot she wanted to say to them, to everyone, but since she knew that they were all doomed from the first bite they all took, she decided to let them have their fun. Yet, there was one last thing she had to say to them:

            “You two, and everyone else here might as well enjoy what little time you have left since you’ve paid for your freedom at an unbelievably high price. I hope you’re happy for the short time you remain alive,” Dolores said and walked away.

            “Sheesh, what’sh her problem?” Harvey said still drunk.

            “Don’t worry about it, she’ll get over it soon. Anyway, we still have plenty left to eat and drink, after all, you know that saying, ‘enjoy today for tomorrow we die,’ or something like that,” Fred said.

            “Amen brother, amen.”

            When the next day came, the sun rose over Marlboro and Dolores awoke to the unsettling quiet of the hamlet. On most mornings, she would often hear the people walking about doing their tasks for the day, but on this morning, she heard no such thing. Going outside, she saw the thin strand of smoke rising from the ashes of what was once 42 Waterfront Street, and she couldn’t help but think that underneath the rubble was the proclaimed old woman who had kept them all alive. The strongest and smartest being in the hamlet, now deceased by the people whom it was created to protect. Without saying a word, Dolores walked to the main part of the hamlet, where she found out why it was so quiet.

            In the midst of the chirping birds and the buzzing insects, there lay every member of the hamlet, including Fred, sprawled out on the ground, deceased. Their faces bore no expression of pain nor suffering, perhaps the molds had killed them quickly; whatever the reason, Dolores did not know. All she could do was walk around the bodies of everyone and wonder where she would go from there.

            The scene was no quieter than it would have been without any people to break the silence. With the dead bodies in front of her and the smoke from the old woman’s house behind her, Dolores was free from the old woman and free from everybody else, but was struggling to come to terms with this newfound freedom. To her, it was a jarring and unnerving feeling, to have the knowledge that she is now fully responsible for every little thing she does and only having her instinct and common sense to guide her. No more old woman to tell her what’s safe and what’s not, no more Harvey to dissuade her of her beliefs, and no more Fred to prove anything wrong to her; she wasn’t so sure if she liked her freedom. Yet, with her freedom, the first choice Dolores made was not to leave Marlboro since she knew fully well that she would not be welcome in a world that has long since forgotten her.

            With the noon sun up in the sky, Dolores went back to the hamlet center and had a nice feast of the apples and water that the Ardhams had gathered the other day.