the blues of oblivion
They appeared on the doorstep of Philip and Amelia’s place, wet from the pouring rain, Eleanor clutching a bottle of French Condrieau they wrenched from the wine section of the nearest Waitrose, Jeremy calmly holding a soaked box of chocolates. They rarely socialized and it always felt a little awkward.
‘Come on, I thought we were a six pack and a pizza kind of friends’, greeted them Philip with a smile. The apartment had changed since the last time Jeremy and Eleanor were here. New gray wallpapers, new LED lights, new TV. It seemed like the only thing that didn’t change was the painting of a lighthouse lost in the middle of a sea. It still hung in its old place above the new couch, the souvenir of the long gone days when Jeremy and Philip were best friends. Before he met Eleanor. Before his father died.
‘Times change. We are now the wine and a pizza kind of friends. Hope it’s alright’, Eleanor said. Philip smiled. ‘It’s deviously good to see you two. Now let’s order some pizza.’
The awkwardness slowly melted. They discussed Eleanor’s new job in the engineering firm - better than the previous one, though she could’ve negotiated a bigger pay, Philip’s art project - all the same as before, though the newfound artist Jerry Rope showed promise, Ollie Smith’s retirement from music - about time, the woman turned into a shameless sellout, and the prices of the sailing boats - too high for their own good.
It was an evening of free-flowing drinks and pleasant lazy conversations. The party went on long into the night. When Jeremy and Eleanor looked at the alarm clock back at their apartment in Newhaven, it read 3:56. Nobody noticed that the observatory on Calton Hill has disappeared.
***
There was blood, not too much, but enough to scare her out of her wits. Jeremy was lying on the ground in an awkward pose, staring at the endless blue sky above. Not that Mary saw it herself. She was too busy fumbling with her phone, trying to dial three nines with suddenly numb fingers. She listened to the operator as the small crowd gathered around. ‘I need an ambulance’.
There was no doctor among them, just concerned parents and crying kids. The merry-go-round Jeremy’s fallen from still kept spinning. She wished the crowd would just shut up.
‘Male, five. He had a cold recently, and chickenpox a year before. He has a peanut allergy if it matters’. There was a sound of a siren in the distance. She was hoping it was the ambulance, but she glimpsed a police car on a road to the right.
‘We’re on the playground near Preston street, Brighton. BN1 something’ The birds were chirping, and the helicopter was flying high above. Someone from the crowd was taking pictures.
‘Even breathing. Ten beats in fifteen seconds. No response.’
They told her later that the ambulance got into an accident, and they had to dispatch another. It took twenty four minutes before it finally arrived. Jeremy was still breathing evenly. His pulse was still 40 beats per minute. He was still unconscious.
***
Jeremy’s phone was showing signs of life, its tiny red light blinking rhythmically. He removed his earphones, making the sounds of Ollie Smith’s voice and the accompanying electric guitars muffled, almost inaudible. He looked at the phone. There were three missed calls from Eleanor. He picked her name from the contact list and tapped on it with his finger. He was beginning to worry. She picked up after the fourth beep. She sounded nearly hysterical.
-I... I was trying to go to the office. And I can’t. I just can’t.
-Where are you?
-I’m in front of the damn building, but I can’t see it. Like it’s not there. And I know it should be. It was there yesterday. But there’s nothing now. Was there something in the news about the building thieves? - she giggled nervously. It felt bad.
-Don’t go anywhere. I’ll come pick you up.
He rushed to the garage without closing the spreadsheet or turning off the computer. Ten minutes later he brought their trusty Ford Fiesta to a halt near Eleanor’s office. Only he couldn’t see it too. As if it both was and wasn’t there. You knew that something was there, sure. But you just couldn’t concentrate on it at all.
Eleanor sat on the lawn on the opposite side of the road. She was crying.
-I called everybody from work, again and again, and they’re unavailable. As if they all just vanished. I called Lorna, my boss’s wife, and she says she can’t reach Lynn either. Should we call the police? What if they just ignore us?
-They won’t. Not sure if they’ll help, but let’s call them and see.
***
He was going to die. The doctor appeared very sorry, looked at her with big eyes full of sympathy that seemed real, not feigned. He said his words in a low solemn voice. The wound was superficial, but they’ve found an aneurysm. There was nothing that could be done. He would never return to consciousness. Her son was going to die eventually, but they could make it easier for him. Just let him drift away. Would she sign the papers? She walked away then.
She just walked, seeing nothing in front of her, delirious with pain, ignoring the cars, and red lights, and lawns, and pedestrians. There was nothing in the world that would help. She called out to gods, all the deities she has ever heard of or read about, one by one, but there was no answer, and she knew there would be no help. There was nothing. Just nothing. She waded blindly through desperation, her surroundings blurred through the tears, familiar places giving way to the ones she has never seen in all her life in the town. An arch, an empty lane, down the stairs towards the narrow street past the old decrepit houses covered in graffiti and a sidewalk strewn with old cigarette butts and glass from what seemed like myriads of broken bottles. They looked weird in Brighton, too alien to be true. For a second it got really dark. It was like darkness under your lids when you’re afraid to open your eyes in the morning. Then she saw it. A flash, reflecting in the dirty railing and in the waves of a strangely silent black sea below. And then another. And another. The pain has almost gone, there was a terrible numbness instead. She lit a cigarette with shaking hands and stood in front of the entrance to the lighthouse, inhaling the smoke in jagged breaths. When there was nothing left but a stub, she flung it onto the ground and pulled the door open. It gave way with a screech. It sounded like the end of the world.
***
-Hello, my old friend.
-Come on, not too old yet. What’s up?
-Just checking for vitals.
-1800 beats per second. Rock is the power and all that.
-That’s the spirit.
-Seriously, what’s up? Oh, wait. It’s the anniversary of your mother’s disappearance. My condolences, dear. Any new developments?
-No, nothing. But still, I’m calling to toast the gods of remembrance for our friendship, my darling young dudette. And ask you a thing maybe.
-I’ll raise a glass in their honour today. And ask away.
-Ever heard about buildings just disappearing?
-Funny you should mention that. Just yesterday I could’ve sworn the whole street just fucking vanished before my eyes. Thought I just drank too much.
-Shit.
-Wait, you’re saying you too?
-Yep. Eleanor’s office vanished yesterday. With everybody who was inside. Still no trace of them.
-That’s some serious shit, man. Is she alright?
-She’s here with me. It’s ok. For now. What about you?
-...
-Hey, what’s happening? Are you there?
-...
-Lora! Are you...
-Hahaha, gotcha. Like anything would happen to me.
-You old butt, scared the shit out of me. Still, stay safe out there.
-I will, dude. I will.
***
She woke up with a start. Yet again. There was something on the edge of her consciousness, something she needed to remember, something important, something big. For a couple of blissful seconds her mind was empty. Then it all came flooding back.
She got up and took the pack of cigarettes from the bedside table. She opened it and counted them. Fourteen. Or was it thirteen? She pulled one out and lit it. Closed the pack, reopened and counted them again. Looked like thirteen. Or maybe fourteen? The pack hasn’t ended in all the days she has been here. How many were there, actually? She couldn’t say. She went to the cupboard and opened it, holding the cigarette in her teeth. Rows of cans shined in the bright morning light. Tuna, and beef, and beans, and peas, and corn. She tried to count them again, pointing with her finger as the numbers ran through her mind, but quickly lost count. Again. She picked a can of peas and a can of beef, and went to the kitchen to eat.
After she was done with her meal, she climbed up to the lantern room, opened the creaking door and went out onto the landing. She smoked as she walked around and looked at the impossibly blue sky above the impossibly blue sea surrounding her lighthouse from all sides. No other living soul for miles around. She stood there for a long time. She had a lot to keep in her mind.
***
Jeremy drove through the familiar streets stricken with horror. Houses disappeared all around the city, and took their inhabitants with them. Some of them he knew.
From Commercial street to Shore. Apocalypse or not, you still had to eat something. From Henderson street to Cables Wynd. Maybe it’s all reversible? Maybe they will come back one day? Mill lane has disappeared too. He reached what was Tesco Express on Great Junction street just yesterday, but there was only emptiness instead. Hard to concentrate. Nothing to see. There was another store just a bit further on Duke street. Most houses on the street were gone, but the road remained. Every little helps. The back of the store has gone too, but most of it was intact. For a second, Jeremy’s glance clung to a giant ad depicting a lighthouse in the middle of a sea, but he was too distracted to care. He parked on the empty lot, sighed, entered the store, took the nearest shopping trolley, and went ahead to fill it with anything edible he could see.
The cashier at the lane 19, the only other person in the store, smiled at him. He smiled back.
There was a long road home ahead.
***
The days were flowing by too fast. She missed music the most. There was a small bookshelf from which she picked books at random, but she was yet to read the same thing twice. She read ghost stories, and classics, and strange fantasy, and biographies of people she never even heard about. She has just finished reading the tale about two cities existing on a side of a playing card. Not that she understood much these days.
How long has it been? Years? Decades? There was still no one else. Just the old lighthouse, canned food, cigarettes and books. And the sea. Always different, always the same.
She remembered she wanted to smoke. She took a cigarette out of the pack, lit it and inhaled deeply. There was too much to remember. She wished she was younger. She wished her mind was not so foggy.
She looked at the ashtray and counted nine stubs. Hadn’t she cleaned it just then? Didn’t matter. There were more important things to occupy her mind with. She climbed the stairs to the landing to look at the sea, feeling the ache deep in her bones. The door was open. Hadn’t she closed it before? There was no escaping it. She got old. Mary sighed and stared at the ripple of the waves, gentle and lulling. She wanted to sleep then. She knew death was near. But there was still time to remember.
***
Jeremy stared at the alarm clock. It was 3:57. The sky looked almost bright. The sunrise was near. He yawned and went to look out of the window. He didn’t see much, even though the seventh floor usually offered a pretty good view of the city. There was a strange emptiness all around. He woken up Eleanor, and she understood without words.
They both got dressed, cast the last glance at their former home, the plants, the mock fireplace and the painting of a lighthouse in the middle of a sea, and went down to the beach. The sea was almost black, and the sky above was gray, the colour of ash, the colour of rain, with a strip of red to the right. The sun was crawling up from beneath the emptiness that was once the city of Edinburgh. As they looked behind, the last bit of it disappeared. Their house. Only the beach remained, the endless strip of sand before the endless expanse of water. They knew that both would soon vanish too. They sat down onto the sand to watch the sunrise. It didn’t take long.
‘Come on, I thought we were a six pack and a pizza kind of friends’, greeted them Philip with a smile. The apartment had changed since the last time Jeremy and Eleanor were here. New gray wallpapers, new LED lights, new TV. It seemed like the only thing that didn’t change was the painting of a lighthouse lost in the middle of a sea. It still hung in its old place above the new couch, the souvenir of the long gone days when Jeremy and Philip were best friends. Before he met Eleanor. Before his father died.
‘Times change. We are now the wine and a pizza kind of friends. Hope it’s alright’, Eleanor said. Philip smiled. ‘It’s deviously good to see you two. Now let’s order some pizza.’
The awkwardness slowly melted. They discussed Eleanor’s new job in the engineering firm - better than the previous one, though she could’ve negotiated a bigger pay, Philip’s art project - all the same as before, though the newfound artist Jerry Rope showed promise, Ollie Smith’s retirement from music - about time, the woman turned into a shameless sellout, and the prices of the sailing boats - too high for their own good.
It was an evening of free-flowing drinks and pleasant lazy conversations. The party went on long into the night. When Jeremy and Eleanor looked at the alarm clock back at their apartment in Newhaven, it read 3:56. Nobody noticed that the observatory on Calton Hill has disappeared.
***
There was blood, not too much, but enough to scare her out of her wits. Jeremy was lying on the ground in an awkward pose, staring at the endless blue sky above. Not that Mary saw it herself. She was too busy fumbling with her phone, trying to dial three nines with suddenly numb fingers. She listened to the operator as the small crowd gathered around. ‘I need an ambulance’.
There was no doctor among them, just concerned parents and crying kids. The merry-go-round Jeremy’s fallen from still kept spinning. She wished the crowd would just shut up.
‘Male, five. He had a cold recently, and chickenpox a year before. He has a peanut allergy if it matters’. There was a sound of a siren in the distance. She was hoping it was the ambulance, but she glimpsed a police car on a road to the right.
‘We’re on the playground near Preston street, Brighton. BN1 something’ The birds were chirping, and the helicopter was flying high above. Someone from the crowd was taking pictures.
‘Even breathing. Ten beats in fifteen seconds. No response.’
They told her later that the ambulance got into an accident, and they had to dispatch another. It took twenty four minutes before it finally arrived. Jeremy was still breathing evenly. His pulse was still 40 beats per minute. He was still unconscious.
***
Jeremy’s phone was showing signs of life, its tiny red light blinking rhythmically. He removed his earphones, making the sounds of Ollie Smith’s voice and the accompanying electric guitars muffled, almost inaudible. He looked at the phone. There were three missed calls from Eleanor. He picked her name from the contact list and tapped on it with his finger. He was beginning to worry. She picked up after the fourth beep. She sounded nearly hysterical.
-I... I was trying to go to the office. And I can’t. I just can’t.
-Where are you?
-I’m in front of the damn building, but I can’t see it. Like it’s not there. And I know it should be. It was there yesterday. But there’s nothing now. Was there something in the news about the building thieves? - she giggled nervously. It felt bad.
-Don’t go anywhere. I’ll come pick you up.
He rushed to the garage without closing the spreadsheet or turning off the computer. Ten minutes later he brought their trusty Ford Fiesta to a halt near Eleanor’s office. Only he couldn’t see it too. As if it both was and wasn’t there. You knew that something was there, sure. But you just couldn’t concentrate on it at all.
Eleanor sat on the lawn on the opposite side of the road. She was crying.
-I called everybody from work, again and again, and they’re unavailable. As if they all just vanished. I called Lorna, my boss’s wife, and she says she can’t reach Lynn either. Should we call the police? What if they just ignore us?
-They won’t. Not sure if they’ll help, but let’s call them and see.
***
He was going to die. The doctor appeared very sorry, looked at her with big eyes full of sympathy that seemed real, not feigned. He said his words in a low solemn voice. The wound was superficial, but they’ve found an aneurysm. There was nothing that could be done. He would never return to consciousness. Her son was going to die eventually, but they could make it easier for him. Just let him drift away. Would she sign the papers? She walked away then.
She just walked, seeing nothing in front of her, delirious with pain, ignoring the cars, and red lights, and lawns, and pedestrians. There was nothing in the world that would help. She called out to gods, all the deities she has ever heard of or read about, one by one, but there was no answer, and she knew there would be no help. There was nothing. Just nothing. She waded blindly through desperation, her surroundings blurred through the tears, familiar places giving way to the ones she has never seen in all her life in the town. An arch, an empty lane, down the stairs towards the narrow street past the old decrepit houses covered in graffiti and a sidewalk strewn with old cigarette butts and glass from what seemed like myriads of broken bottles. They looked weird in Brighton, too alien to be true. For a second it got really dark. It was like darkness under your lids when you’re afraid to open your eyes in the morning. Then she saw it. A flash, reflecting in the dirty railing and in the waves of a strangely silent black sea below. And then another. And another. The pain has almost gone, there was a terrible numbness instead. She lit a cigarette with shaking hands and stood in front of the entrance to the lighthouse, inhaling the smoke in jagged breaths. When there was nothing left but a stub, she flung it onto the ground and pulled the door open. It gave way with a screech. It sounded like the end of the world.
***
-Hello, my old friend.
-Come on, not too old yet. What’s up?
-Just checking for vitals.
-1800 beats per second. Rock is the power and all that.
-That’s the spirit.
-Seriously, what’s up? Oh, wait. It’s the anniversary of your mother’s disappearance. My condolences, dear. Any new developments?
-No, nothing. But still, I’m calling to toast the gods of remembrance for our friendship, my darling young dudette. And ask you a thing maybe.
-I’ll raise a glass in their honour today. And ask away.
-Ever heard about buildings just disappearing?
-Funny you should mention that. Just yesterday I could’ve sworn the whole street just fucking vanished before my eyes. Thought I just drank too much.
-Shit.
-Wait, you’re saying you too?
-Yep. Eleanor’s office vanished yesterday. With everybody who was inside. Still no trace of them.
-That’s some serious shit, man. Is she alright?
-She’s here with me. It’s ok. For now. What about you?
-...
-Hey, what’s happening? Are you there?
-...
-Lora! Are you...
-Hahaha, gotcha. Like anything would happen to me.
-You old butt, scared the shit out of me. Still, stay safe out there.
-I will, dude. I will.
***
She woke up with a start. Yet again. There was something on the edge of her consciousness, something she needed to remember, something important, something big. For a couple of blissful seconds her mind was empty. Then it all came flooding back.
She got up and took the pack of cigarettes from the bedside table. She opened it and counted them. Fourteen. Or was it thirteen? She pulled one out and lit it. Closed the pack, reopened and counted them again. Looked like thirteen. Or maybe fourteen? The pack hasn’t ended in all the days she has been here. How many were there, actually? She couldn’t say. She went to the cupboard and opened it, holding the cigarette in her teeth. Rows of cans shined in the bright morning light. Tuna, and beef, and beans, and peas, and corn. She tried to count them again, pointing with her finger as the numbers ran through her mind, but quickly lost count. Again. She picked a can of peas and a can of beef, and went to the kitchen to eat.
After she was done with her meal, she climbed up to the lantern room, opened the creaking door and went out onto the landing. She smoked as she walked around and looked at the impossibly blue sky above the impossibly blue sea surrounding her lighthouse from all sides. No other living soul for miles around. She stood there for a long time. She had a lot to keep in her mind.
***
Jeremy drove through the familiar streets stricken with horror. Houses disappeared all around the city, and took their inhabitants with them. Some of them he knew.
From Commercial street to Shore. Apocalypse or not, you still had to eat something. From Henderson street to Cables Wynd. Maybe it’s all reversible? Maybe they will come back one day? Mill lane has disappeared too. He reached what was Tesco Express on Great Junction street just yesterday, but there was only emptiness instead. Hard to concentrate. Nothing to see. There was another store just a bit further on Duke street. Most houses on the street were gone, but the road remained. Every little helps. The back of the store has gone too, but most of it was intact. For a second, Jeremy’s glance clung to a giant ad depicting a lighthouse in the middle of a sea, but he was too distracted to care. He parked on the empty lot, sighed, entered the store, took the nearest shopping trolley, and went ahead to fill it with anything edible he could see.
The cashier at the lane 19, the only other person in the store, smiled at him. He smiled back.
There was a long road home ahead.
***
The days were flowing by too fast. She missed music the most. There was a small bookshelf from which she picked books at random, but she was yet to read the same thing twice. She read ghost stories, and classics, and strange fantasy, and biographies of people she never even heard about. She has just finished reading the tale about two cities existing on a side of a playing card. Not that she understood much these days.
How long has it been? Years? Decades? There was still no one else. Just the old lighthouse, canned food, cigarettes and books. And the sea. Always different, always the same.
She remembered she wanted to smoke. She took a cigarette out of the pack, lit it and inhaled deeply. There was too much to remember. She wished she was younger. She wished her mind was not so foggy.
She looked at the ashtray and counted nine stubs. Hadn’t she cleaned it just then? Didn’t matter. There were more important things to occupy her mind with. She climbed the stairs to the landing to look at the sea, feeling the ache deep in her bones. The door was open. Hadn’t she closed it before? There was no escaping it. She got old. Mary sighed and stared at the ripple of the waves, gentle and lulling. She wanted to sleep then. She knew death was near. But there was still time to remember.
***
Jeremy stared at the alarm clock. It was 3:57. The sky looked almost bright. The sunrise was near. He yawned and went to look out of the window. He didn’t see much, even though the seventh floor usually offered a pretty good view of the city. There was a strange emptiness all around. He woken up Eleanor, and she understood without words.
They both got dressed, cast the last glance at their former home, the plants, the mock fireplace and the painting of a lighthouse in the middle of a sea, and went down to the beach. The sea was almost black, and the sky above was gray, the colour of ash, the colour of rain, with a strip of red to the right. The sun was crawling up from beneath the emptiness that was once the city of Edinburgh. As they looked behind, the last bit of it disappeared. Their house. Only the beach remained, the endless strip of sand before the endless expanse of water. They knew that both would soon vanish too. They sat down onto the sand to watch the sunrise. It didn’t take long.