Seneca Rebel

I DARTED AWAKE and grabbed my flexer. It was three thirty-three a.m. I’d slept for just over three hours– the longest stretch of sleep I’d had since right after my Necrolla Carne vaccination– or whatever that thing was. I couldn’t wait until the next time I saw Dom, though we hadn’t set a specific time. We didn’t even have each other’s flexer info.

I flipped on B3 and scrolled through the stations. The news was on with the same newscaster I’d seen the other day. She was an America’s sweetheart type to a T. Light brown hair, and bangs that framed her lightly freckled face. Soft blue eyes the color of dolphin skin and a button nose people pay good money to have done with plastic. Becky Hudson.

“An outbreak of the VCF2 virus is creating a frenzy in the metropolitan D.C. area and the department of health is warning of its high level of contagiousness. This is on the heels of the third strain of bird flu to cause over two thousand deaths on the eastern seaboard this past summer.”

Video images played of people sick in hospitals, wearing facemasks in public places, from the mall to the post office. Kids were being removed from schools on stretchers, crying parents– the whole nine yards.

“Seneca Senate spokesperson, Terence Murray, issued this statement from the capital: It is in the best interest of all Senecans to avoid contact with the American population until the Center for Disease Control has declared this disease contained. Any Senecan who has been in contact with anyone or anyplace these diseases have been present, will be placed in the Quarantine and Cleansing Sector, and potentially removed from the Seneca Society. Rest assured, we are taking these matters seriously to ensure the safety of our citizens.”

I flipped the channel. After what I’d heard from Dom I didn’t know what to think about all this. I forced myself to push it out of my brain altogether. Nothing good was on B3, so I hopped out of bed and squatted down next to my record player. I pulled my Michael Jackson “Thriller” L.P. from the stack and sat back to crank some Billie Jean– one of my favorite songs of all time. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the crackle on the vinyl. It always soothed me, and reminded me of my Mom. It was the one thing we loved doing together while we waited for my dad to get home after work. Sometimes he would come in the door and the two of us would be having the best dance party. We always danced like nobody was watching. Here, it seemed, maybe they would be watching. I wondered if I would still dance the same, knowing that. I thought I would.