Bastion Science Fiction Magazine - Issue 7, October 2014 by Manfred Gabriel Alvaro Zinos-Amaro Jeff Stehman Matthew Lyons Salena Casha William R.D. Wood Meryl Stenhouse Eric Del Carlo R. Leigh Hennig Read Free Book Online

of their air-conditioners. Henry watched. The muscles in their faces fell with predictable accuracy. He heard them say that Peter should have just come to them if he was in such financial trouble. They sighed and cried and whispered and wished. A gold chain glinted on Mrs. Flint’s wrist. Mr. Flint wore a timepiece. Yet neither of them had had their guts stapled with reminders of their mortality. To see a clock without flinching, without being reminded of their set time limit was their luxury.
    “Going out?” Mr. Flint wondered.
    Colin nodded. He asked for minutes, which his parents shelled into his hands. Henry’s gut turned as the plastic sheets filled Colin’s pocket. The Flints were government officials, higher ups, with salaries that they didn’t need to put toward their time on Earth. It was people like himself who had shit jobs because they hadn’t had any connections, because they’d failed out of university. But he was still around and, for some reason or maybe no reason at all, Peter wasn’t.
    Moments later, they were out the door. They spilled into the streets, flitted across concrete like smoke and shadows. Henry could see others walk around them, near them, feel their bodies breathe and tick. Girls in short spandex suits, hair pulled up in high ponytails that bounced after painted faces beckoned to them. Colin nodded at a few, whistled maybe, but Henry said nothing. Neon lights blinked above them as the Pleasure Dome buzzed to life.
    “We’ll have a fun night. On me,” Colin said as he slung his arm of Henry’s shoulder.
    “Just like every other night,” said Henry. He wanted to tell Colin to shove his parents’ credits, he really did. He wanted to let the barista scan his own account and make Colin watch the way his minutes slipped away. Show Colin what it felt like to spend life. But he was too tired for that tonight.
    Colin laughed. Henry didn’t. He shook out his shoulder. At the end of the night, he’d end up stumbling back to his shit apartment, his last refuge courtesy of his parents’ retirement. They’d been hardworking, although low-ranking, governmental specialists. They’d received benefits. They’d tried to help him. But he couldn’t take any more away from them than he already had. He scuffed the concrete and wished he could kick something, a bottle cap maybe. But he knew if he saw so much as the vintage head of a penny, he’d try to take it and feed it into his counter. His cheeks burned.
    They passed Franklin Memorial. The library stood apart from the three-story apartments made of recycled plastic bottles, walls of carbon-compressed metal sheets. The ancient columns, once marbled, supported a caving archway. The tile chipped into stone glared in the moonlight. Henry felt his eyes trace the ground. It was a reflex, the way he looked for a burnt patch, any sign where he’d last seen his friend.
    It was too dreamlike, the way flames devoured a body. He shook his head. No. The last time he’d seen Peter was at the bar. That was the image he was supposed to keep with him. Not the one of Peter burning before his eyes, especially just as they were getting to know each other. His tongue rubbed against the sore in his cheek. That night at the bar, Peter had told him about his parents. How at fifteen he’d seen them go up in flames and turn to ash to give him a future. How he’d wasted the minutes with Henry and Colin on booze and things that didn’t matter.
    “You’ve got to understand,” Peter had said. His movements ticked underneath the strobe light to match the techno. “Life isn’t just about this place. The Pleasure Dome. It traps you, sucks you down until there’s nothing but bone left to burn when you go. We should be learning, changing the world. Finding a way so that we don’t need to have timers anymore, don’t need to constantly be adding and subtracting.”
    And Henry had just shrugged and downed the drink until his lips were numb, stumbled home.
    He