Page 18 of Sky Song
“Morning, Emma.”
Cricket briefly considered telling Paloma to call her Cricket. She had almost done so on several occasions, but something always stopped her. “We don’t have any power?” she asked instead.
“Imagine that! Never happened before.”
Cricket blinked. “Never?”
“Have you had power go out?” Paloma asked to prove her point.
“No, but I’ve only lived here for six years.”
“Well, I’ve lived all my twenty-nine years here, and never had it happen.”
Paloma was older than her? The surprise revelation took Cricket aback. It must be Paloma’s fairy princess looks with her tiny stature and a delicate heart-shaped face with a pointy chin under a mass of soft dark curls. She also projected a distinctly teenage vibe, with her non-existent organization skills and a careless attitude toward self-improvement. And her sweatpants.
“It’s been going on for hours,” Paloma groused, unaware of Cricket’s internal contemplations. “My game was cut off in themiddle of the action, and now I’m gonna lose all my points. And the shower was cold.”
Cricket was of the opinion that not playing now and again would only benefit Paloma, but she didn’t voice it. “Cold water is good for your skin. Prevents wrinkles.”
Paloma’s unreal eyes narrowed. “I bet this is something your mom would say.”
“That’s exactly what she used to say. Our home on Earth used to lose power every week, even in winter.”
Paloma sighed. “I don’t know how you all didn’t die out like dinosaurs.”
“It’s going in that direction,” Cricket replied dryly. Then she thought about the delay the outage was going to cause to mama’s letter, and her spirits deflated.
A rental rider in an autopilot mode cruised at the end of the street, and two ladies who lived three doors down burst out of their house and dashed after it, flapping their arms and calling like it was a runaway dog.
“What are they doing?”
“Trying to catch the rider,” Paloma explained. “They’ve been trying to get a ride downtown all morning.”
The magnitude of the blackout was beginning to dawn on Cricket. “You can’t even call?”
“There’s no signal. Nothing. You can beat a drum. Or send a smoke signal. Folks are looking around for animals that will take to a saddle.”
Cricket plopped down next to Paloma. “Hopefully the backup systems will kick in soon.”
“That’s the interesting part. Why haven’t they?” Her neighbor took a sip of the lemonade and stretched her legs in front of her. One sock had a hole in it.
“Are you not going to work?” Cricket asked.
Paloma shook her head. “Took a day off.” A sigh that accompanied that statement was surprising, given that Paloma hated her job at a preschool a whole lot more than Cricket disliked the lab with its endless conveyor of piss vials and fecal specimens.
From what Paloma had shared of her life’s story, Cricket knew that Paloma came from a very rich, very old and connected family with roots going back to Earth’s European royalty. Her mother was a well-known actress who fully expected her daughter to replacemamanon the big screen when the time came. Paloma had been raised from day one with the expectations to fulfill that ambition.
Except Paloma didn’t want to be an actress. To add insult to injury, the introverted, clumsy child had grown into an introverted, clumsy woman who sharedmaman’sgood looks but none of her poise or love of limelight. It led her to do so poorly in class that the upscale school of arts she had attended couldn't in all honesty issue her a passing grade.
“All I ever wanted was to design games. I have so many ideas, Emma. But my older brother is an AI developer,” Paloma had shared with Cricket once. “And because our family already has a sibling in an IT occupation, I can’t follow. Unfair to prospects from other families, blabbity blah blah. Not to mention,I let down the movie industry. What a complete waste of good genes andmaman’s time! Anyway, it sucks to suck.”
After failing to graduate from her art school, Paloma had bobbed about her parents’ estate, occupying her childhood quarters and doing nothing productive while her parents claimed her as a dependent and paid her taxes. A year or so into observing this hot mess express going to Nowhere Station,mamanhad broached the subject of marriage as a way to fulfill Paloma’s life. Several potential grooms had already been vetted by her father and brother Peter, the AI developer.
It had taken Paloma less a week to agree to the only job opportunity available to her - a teacher at a daycare - and move into this little house. She took nothing of her old possessions with her.
“Today’smaman’sprofessional anniversary,” Paloma informed Cricket from the steps. “We don’t exactly know her age - never celebrated a birthday - but her inclusion into the acting rosters is upheld every year like a goddamn platinum jubilee. You’d think she was born again that day. I have to go, present myself like the dutiful daughter I’m not.”
Cricket fought a smile. “The power’s out. There’s no way for you to go.”
