Black Sun by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 33

Leaving the mall, they walked the short distance back to Abigail’s apartment. Once inside, they emptied the backpacks and sorted through what they had collected. On their way back, Abigail came to a sudden realization that she had not considered until now and as they sorted through their ill-gotten supplies Ryan glanced up at her preoccupied expression.

“What is it?” he asked.

She wasn’t quite sure how to word it but, after of thought, managed to convey what had so suddenly taken her over. “Well,” she began. “Doesn’t the quiet ever bother you? I mean, everything is so quiet. Doesn’t it seem kind of creepy to you?” Ryan stopped and, sitting back, took a moment to consider her question.

“I never really thought about it,” he replied. “I don’t know. I guess it’s a bit comforting for me. Why do you ask?” Now, her mind became flooded with the full realization of what was really bothering her, something that she had been distracted from by their escape into Albany.

“What’s the first thing you hear when you go into a mall?” she asked.

Ryan was not expecting her question and was left a bit confused.

“I don’t get what you mean. The sound of people, I guess.”

“Alright,” she replied. “But what about when it’s around the holidays? What do usually hear?”

Of course, the answer was music, and Ryan was now beginning to understand.

“Oh, right, music,” he replied.

“Yeah,” Abigail continued. “Do you know how to play an instrument?”

“No,” Ryan replied. “I never really had an interest in that kind of thing.”

“Okay,” she said. “So, without power or batteries, if you can’t play an instrument, when are you going to hear music again?” The conversation may have been unnecessarily long, but Abigail felt it was important to point out the loss of something that represented one of humanity’s greatest accomplishments, the creation of music. Like other forms of art, music existed to move the soul, to play with our emotions, and bring the mind to a state of enlightenment. Now, with the collapse of society and technology, music would no longer be heard, and the world be dead without it.

With a full understanding of Abigail’s concern, Ryan sat silently as he absorbed the reality of life without music. Electric instruments would no longer sing out their melodies, CD players were rendered useless, and unless one of them could somehow learn to play an instrument there would be no music. Silence would continue to render the world sterile of the beauty and emotion that once covered it in the warm blanket of human existence conveyed as music. Certainly, it wasn’t enough that the world had been cast into darkness, but to be robbed of music, one of the few things that separates humans from animals, could be seen as a crime of God. One last punishment laid upon a species of beings bent on destroying themselves and each other. Art, like everything else the world had lost, would somehow have to be remade, or at least restored.

They sat for what felt like an eternity as this new reality washed over them, committing a cruel insult against their existence as emotional beings. Finally, Ryan broke the heavy silence that had weighed down on them both.

“Shit,” he said. “This sucks. Why did you have to tell me that? I think I would have been better off not thinking about that at all. Fuck.”

He wasn’t chastising her or trying to make her feel guilty. There were just some things he didn’t want to think about, and this was one of them. But Abigail did feel guilty and, with tears in her eyes, crept over to Ryan. Putting her arms around him, she tried to comfort him in his unusual loss that seemed to effect more than she had expected.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. It just kind of hit me when we were in the mall. I won’t bring it up again.” Ryan felt his own eyes tear up as well as a cold loneliness clawed its way into his soul. This, however, was soon replaced by an idea he thought would help bring, at least, some joy to Abigail’s life. “Well, we can’t listen to music anymore, but what about art? I mean, you’re an artist, right? There has to be an art gallery somewhere, right?”

Abigail looked up as her eyes brightened with the thought of going to a local gallery. Although any gallery would do, there was only one she was interested in.

“That’s a great idea,” she began. “We can go to the state museum downtown.”

A warm smile came to Ryan’s face. He knew that Abigail needed a distraction and an involvement in the arts, no matter how brief, might bring her out of the hopeless state she had fallen into. Now, he needed to know where the state museum was, and the word ‘downtown’ gave him the impression that it would not be close-by. “And how far is that?” he asked.

Abigail gave it some thought and realized just how far they would have to walk.

“Too far, I guess,” she replied.

Ryan could see the disappointment on her face as an obvious question came to mind.

“Well,” he began. “Albany’s a big place, right? There have to be other galleries around. We just need to find one.” Now, the wheels began turning as Abigail considered other places they could go. As part of her studies in art, she was required to attend galleries and write papers on what she saw, and she really needed to take in anything that had been produced by the hand of humankind. If nothing else, it would remind that she was still human.

“Oh, wait,” she began. “There’s the plaza. It’s not far from here, and there’s a small gallery there.”

Ryan was relieved to see Abigail’s eyes brighten with excitement as a smile stretched broadly across her face. “And you said it’s not far from here?” Ryan asked. Her speech quickened as she described the plaza’s location. She had been there before and now remembered it by name. “Stuyvesant Plaza! Have you been there before?” Ryan had lived in Troy his entire adult life and rarely strayed elsewhere. He didn’t care to be around people much and aside from going to work, he tended to be something of a home-body. “Um, I’ve heard of it,” he replied. “But no, I’ve never been there.” Abigail continued to be surprised by his lack of adventure and decided to, occasionally, give him a bit of a push. Not that they hadn’t already taken the adventure of a lifetime, but she thought that a few positive experiences would be good for him, maybe even get him to relax a little.

“So, when do we go?” she asked.

Ryan hesitated in his response. He wasn’t much of an art person and would have easily chosen to say in the comfort of Abigail’s apartment, leaving only when necessary. But, he wanted her to be happy, and after that brief moment relented to her request. “Yeah,” he answered. “We can go. How about tomorrow? It’s going to start getting late soon.”

Abigail could hear it in his voice that he wasn’t really interested in going. She needed to do something that didn’t involve foraging for creature comforts, and she wanted Ryan to take in some culture, in spite of the grave circumstances that surrounded them. For now, they would organize their supplies, prepare lunch, and ready themselves for another night of passion as well as some much-needed sleep, the only things that allowed them to escape the insanity of what the world had become.