Episode 6

it happened here. The Weeks family comes together in Canada and establishes a commune. has to work shit out of. And we all got through it alive. She got out of the car and came over to us. all Kate Cool, and said, Hey Mickey, what's happening? He said, Going sailing, you wanna come? She said, Maybe later, dude. Then she choked up and he came over to her. I heard her say, I thought you were dead. And he said, You too. She pushed him away and then she hugged him. There.

I buried my head against Paul, making a sniffling, snorting sound. He put his arm around me and whispered, You're an embarrassment, Ruth. If we weren't separated, I would leave you so fast. I couldn't see Ruth's face. I just saw her moving towards. Mickey like she was in a trance. She threw her arms around him and they both just held each other. It was way beyond words.

Of course, I remember a lot of this, but there was some stuff I didn't know. Like Grandpa Garrett and Uncle Terrence kidnapping Mickey. What I don't get is when did everyone decide to stay? I mean, we go to a wedding and we never go home? What's that about, Aunt Ruth? We never did decide to stay. It just happened.

I think we were so relieved and happy to be together at the wedding. We needed each other so much, even if there were times we drove each other crazy, and things were so horrific back home.

We really missed the ones who weren't there, like the general. Since we'd never planned to stay in Canada, we didn't think of bringing him up to join us. I'd call him every Sunday, and he was getting worse and worse at hiding how lonely he was. I said to Paul, it's all well and good for us to not make any plans, but we really have to do something for the general. He said he'd talk to Garrett. Everyone was so busy they never even thought about the general.

I finally said to Paul, let's fly him up here. So we did. I decided the general should be with us and Garrett picked him up at the airport. Everyone made a big fuss about him, which is all he ever wanted from the human race. I was struggling with the situation. I couldn't in good conscience be a part of it. Why politics? I didn't want to argue with them and I didn't want to pretend I lined up with them either. I was feeling like a hypocrite.

I had to go back home and make the best of it. My plan was to leave Sunday morning when everyone gathered in the barn to sing semi-religious whatnot, and I could slip away unnoticed.

I finished packing my car when Mickey came out of the cottage and said, No goodbye, Uncle Gary? I told you. This was best for everyone. Bottom line, my beliefs are different from everyone else's. And he said, that's exactly why I should stay. One of the problems I have with Mickey is I disagree with everything he says and does. But I can't help liking him. Even when I was about to drive him back to the USA to turn him in.

He suggested we get coffee and sit on the porch, and I said it had to be quick because I want to be gone before church lets out. I went point by point. how I disagreed with him. He said, Uncle Garrett, sitting here on a porch in Canada, we can go head to head on politics. But that's not possible any more in the USA. If you don't line up with the great leader, you're a traitor. He was right. And I wasn't about to agree with him. He said the country was going to change real soon.

I asked how and he said What do you think we're doing here, Uncle Garrett? Like any true conservative, Uncle Garrett was appalled by the ruling party. But he sure wasn't on our side either. We talked long enough to realize there were a few things we agreed on, like how the world was becoming unlivable for the human race. Sometimes all it takes is the looming extinction of one's species to open up the conversation.

It was the longest one on one I'd had with him since he convinced me to play football at the U. Mickey heard Daniel in the kitchen and went inside and I realized, damn, I stayed too long. Everyone's coming back from the barn. I was just about to get up when Pam Raynar appeared in the doorway, saying, Oh, I'm sorry, you probably don't want company. I told her it was fine, since I was leaving anyway, so

I never was much of a group person, but I've spent so much time alone, it's a comfort to be around people. I told her I've been spending a lot of time alone too, but I still wasn't sold on the human race. She laughed and said it was nice to know at her age she's still capable of changing. And I said, the way the world's spinning, we have no choice.

What stood out about Pam was that she wasn't afraid of silence. Some people, and I use the term loosely because I'm talking about my family, DJs, afraid of dead A. They have to fill it, even if they have nothing to Inside to get lunch. Can I bring you something?

One of the new units we built in the field was designated as the Clinic. Sophie and I set up shop there, and people would come in if they got the flu or rolled an ankle or were involved in some fluky nail gun accident. With all the construction projects, there was always action of some kind. But our patient hours were mainly devoted to a single individual. The general Was a world class hypochondria.

One afternoon, Sophie was wheeling him back to Howell House so he could recover from not having a heart attack when I saw someone making the long walk down the dusty road to the cottages. He had the unhurried pace of a man travelling the world on foot who wouldn't accept a ride. I went rushing out and yelled Dr. Morales He came strolling over. David. It was the first I'd seen of him since our long-ago Thanksgiving chess match. I walked him down to the cottages where he met me.

Yeah. I spent my online time telling people to get offline. Stop being data points they can use to manipulate your beliefs. Our only defense against the madness is to live in the world. Dr. Morales joined me in Sophie at the clinic. He fit right in, but was still on the gruff side, just as I remembered.

My dad was old school, but he had a totally unconscious gift for marketing. The more he told people to get offline, the more followers he gained. What sold his rap was that he meant it. Then they started to show up in person. Sophie and Dr. Morales and I were in the clinic and heard laughter. We looked out. And several 20-ish wanderers were ambling down the drive toward the cottages. I asked where they were headed, and they said they wanted to meet Dr. Paul We.

They kept coming. Survivors who'd managed to crawl out of the quick. twenty thirty nine parched for what they couldn't find in the United States. Camaraderie and informant-free fun, and a chance to cavort nude in the sunshine without surveillance tapes to be used against them at a later date. They knew us from the whiskey hour and were up for anything, yearning to create wild, transgressive tales they could someday recount to their grandchildren or alien captors.

I was taking a break with my dad when a few backpackers came up on the porch and said, How does this place work? My dad said, feed the community and the community feeds you. They mumbled, heavy shit. My dad had become a master of the oblique non sequitur that left people in respectful confusion.

They camped in the field, and most found a way to fit in. Some left pretty quickly when they realized this was a working community, not some hedonistic orgy of drugs, sex, partying, and all-around bad behavior. We saved that for the weekend. The community was catching on in a big way. To me and my dad, who didn't buy the politics, that meant trouble.

We'd served and sacrificed for our country, and we were uncomfortable being part of a group working against it, even though the United States had turned into something we could hardly recognize. Uncle Paul and Mickey and Daniel were great at stirring things up. But we started to wonder if they had any idea where all this was headed. Pam Rayner helped me translate the family's radical politics into something that almost made sense.

It helped that I cared so much for her, which opened up a part of my life I thought had died with Hadley. There were times I worried I was compromising my ideals, but I was happier than I'd been in years. So I moved in with Pam and I kept a steady watch on what was happening. I overheard Mickey and Daniel strategizing about all the people showing up from the States. Mickey said, the problem is we're full. We can't take anymore.

I said, dude, you sound just like the great leader talking about immigration. He flared up until Daniel started laughing, and then Mickey said, Fuck you, Terrence. But he might as well have been saying, I love you. Daniel was the best thing that ever happened to Mickey. Terrence and I were the only ones who saw the potential danger of a bunch of doped up, unvetted peace and love migrants moving in.

Paul loved being the center of attention, but he was clueless about how the world actually worked. My dad and I handled security and started checking out the folks showing up. Nothing obvious, just casual conversation. You can find out a lot if you know what you're doing. Oddly enough,

It was Garrett who found out Mickey's plan. He mentioned it like I already knew. Being senselessly competitive with my brother since the beginning of time, I acted as if I did. But all I knew was what Garrett told me. When Paul said Mickey was planning to reboot America, I didn't understand what it meant. Shut it down and start over? Isn't it too late for that?

Paul said, It's been too late for a long time, but that's no reason not to do it. I asked Mickey about this reboot business, and he just smiled, so I asked Perry, and he said, it means exactly what it says. Which was pretty annoying, considering I was sleeping with the guy. I found out that Paul would take long walks alone on the beach in the early morning. I told Terence and we filed that away. Since Paul was the main reason people were showing.

This new guy, Bruce Melvin, early twenties, was one of the mystery hangers on. There was something about the guy I didn't like. Maybe that nandito was super friendly to him. She asked if I was jealous, and I said no. But I'm pretty sure I was lying. Terence said, Dad, if you had to pick one person who's up to no good, who would you pick? I studied the folks hanging out after dinner and said

Bruce Melvin. I don't know why. The first morning tailing Paul on his early morning beach walk, I'm hiding in the bushes when a branch catches me in the eye and I say, Fuck! Paul wheels around and sees me and asks why I'm following him. I tell him I wasn't, but we both know I was, so I apologize. He says he'd ask me to walk with him, but this is the time when he prepares to be awesome.

Back at the U, we had taken our lives for granted, as entitled people tend to do. It broke Paul's heart when they didn't give him tenure, and he never found his footing after that. Once he started doing podcasts, people treated him like the brilliant professor he used to be. He got his mojo back, and it was a wonder to see. I didn't tell my dad that Uncle Paul busted me on the beach. I didn't want to see that look on his face.

So I just kept a bigger distance from Paul when I tailed him. Nandita told me Bruce's story. Disowned by parents, no cash, trouble finding his place in the world. Welcome to the club. But she was so sympathetic and so not interested in him romantically, I eased up on the paranoia. I told my dad Bruce was okay, and his response was silence. Which, in the fun house world of my dad, means he doesn't agree.

There was always something going on at the barn, music or dances, or lectures, and people from town would show up. The big fear of the parents was that their teenagers would run off and join our commune. But as it turned out, it was the parents who moved in with us. The cottages were full, so we started building these small energy efficient units all over the field.

One night we were walking to the barn, which was already half full for a performance by local bagpipers, which nearly kept Paul in his room. And I asked if we'd decided to stay here. He said, Absolutely not. But I sure can't see leaving. Nandita would tease me about tailing Paul. She said I did it because the early morning was my favorite time of day and I loved being alone. She was right, like usual.

I got pretty casual about what I was actually supposed to be doing to protect Paul. When my parents emptied the house at one seventeen Poplar, I was sure I didn't want anything, but I was glad they'd saved some stuff. Like the football Terrence gave me after my miracle cat. Thanksgiving Day. Louise and I were in the kitchen making pies and listening to Paul's holiday podcast.

Good and decent people used to think the great leader would step aside when he lost an election. But dictators never leave of their own accord. His hand-picked Supreme Court gift-wrapped the 2024 election. The great leader used to joke about making himself president for life, and now he'd done it. Change the rules so he'd never have to When humorless people make a joke,

to listen. And he continues to work his diabolical magic. Life expectancy is dropping year by year because we have declared war on ourselves and we are winning. Our weapons are suicide, homicide. Deaths by despair and ungodly stress, which builds and builds until our heart goes boom and we're flat on our back in the driveway, staring up at the clouds where we see faces of everyone we ever loved, wondering in our final moments. never found the colour.

To the great leader? Was it the free floating smog? Hanging over the remnants of our civilization that we breathed into our lungs from the moment we opened our eyes on another unwelcome day. My friends, like opioids, Finge drinking and erotic asphyxiation, the great leader is one more manifestation of by despair. will keep murdering us one by one. As long as we accept him as our leader. We will never find Or someone to love or a community where we choose. Happy Thanksgiving!

When Paul finished his heartwarming holiday podcast, Louise looked outside where they were choosing up teams for football and said, We have all that. Family and purpose and community. We're going to live forever. Then she went running outside to play. I knew the general wouldn't want to miss the game, so I wheeled him onto the porch where we could watch together. Like old times. Late in the afternoon, there were snow flurries, but nobody wanted to stop playing.

I was glad Mickey was on my team. He made some unbelievable catches, and they had to be because my passes were all over the field like drone strikes launched by a drunk. The best part of my game was trash talking. I ragged on Terrence's team. Dirty, demeaning stuff that caught them off guard. Me being a sensitive, caring doctor. My feeling was. Fuck em, I want to win. We'd been out there for hours when the general started bellowing, next touchdown.

Which made everyone mad because both teams knew for a fact they were way ahead. In the huddle, Mickey started taking charge and I said, I got this. We lined up with Ella as quarterback. She took the snap, I dropped back and she lateraled to me. I made a Hall of Fame fake to Mickey on the left, and then I turned and Louise was all alone in the end zone. I couldn't lob it because Terrence was racing over for the interception, so I

fired the ball hard and it slammed into her gut and knocked her down. But she held on to the ball. I figured, hey, if she's hurt, she'll get excellent medical care. Louise came up on the porch holding onto the ball, which David gave her after the touchdown, and described exactly what happened in fantastical detail, even though we'd all just seen it.

Paul had joined us for the end of the game. It was getting cold, and everyone trooped inside to get ready for Thanksgiving dinner. Mickey, Kate, and David were the last ones on the field. There were our children, laughing about something, and Kate stuck out her tongue to catch the snowflakes. I turned to Paul and he answered the question I didn't ask. Yeah, Ruth, we did okay.

I feel like I stopped being a little kid at that football game. I'd heard about all the games from years ago at the general's house and I was finally a part of it. Maybe it was a football game. But also you stopped being a little kid when all the family started showing up.

You were the big kid, and you started making money babysitting. Kate said I was a capitalist, like everyone else in the family, especially the ones who called themselves socialists. It's true. You were the only one who spent money on a Christmas present. We each picked a name from Secret Santa and improvised. Kate wrote a song for Terence. I knitted one sleeve of a sweater for Neil, Uncle Paul's Gift to My Dad was a podcast that didn't mention the great leader. Remember?

With the holidays approaching and the end of a long year in exile, it should be clear that we are on our Don't look to God or the government or Powerball or the hazy comfort of the afterlife for salvation. All we have is what's around us. This life, this day, this day. In all There's nothing waiting for us.

No participation trophy for soldiering through, no final rebate from the Home Office for how unfair it all was, no apology from the bullies who ruled first the playground and then the White House. We were sure their cruelty would catch up to them, but of course it never did. No passing of the baton to the next one who will run our race, no. There's just the yawning abyss waiting to swallow us up in one final cosmic bite for all eternity. And then Nothing.

Nothing and more nothing until even the endless nothingness. nothing, which means if nothingness is nothing, then there has to be something. And there he is. But let's not bet on it or pull our punches or back off from the big risk. There's no reason to play it safe when we already know the end of the story. Turn the page. Whisper. Last sentence. The final chapter is done. Close the book. Turn out the light. Say good night forever. But don't forget to hang a stocking for Santa.

Because you just never know. My present from my mom and dad was my old Yamaha guitar, which Terrence had brought up from Pam Rayner's house. After all these years, it was like reconnecting with a dear old friend who'd stayed exactly the same. I started practicing and found an ancient notebook my parents had saved from 117 Poplar, which had a bunch of song fragments from when Isaac and I were writing together. There was one called When the World Was New that we had worked on for years.

Always. Without drugs and back in the place I loved most, the world was talking to me again. I went back and forth on whether to ask Dr. Morales the big question. Finally, I just blurted it out: Do you want to play chess? I'd been putting it off because I hadn't played for years, and I really wanted to win. To get ready, I started paying Louise a dollar per game to play with me. She barely understood the rules, but I knew she'd pick it up fast. She even beat me a few times.

Because it's impossible to predict what a beginner will do, and some of her insanely bold attacks actually work. I gradually got my head back into it, so when Dr. Morales agreed to play, I was ready. There we were, locked in another epic battle. He wasn't as sharp as he used to be, and I almost took pity on him, but then I remembered how he never once let me win as a child, and I went in for the kill. I was too moved.

From checkmate, and my heart was pounding. It was shameful that beating this poor refugee who'd spent much of his adult life incarcerated was so important to me. Just when I could smell victory. I glimpsed that tiny smug smile I hadn't seen since I was a kid. The smile that said he was going to win.

I'd gotten so used to following Paul on his quiet morning stroll, it made no sense when Bruce Melvin slipped out of the bushes. I rushed him from behind when I saw the pistol. I dived and knocked him down. But he got his shot off. That's what I woke up to. A gunshot. And somehow I knew. Terence and I were outside the clinic, waiting to see if Paul was going to pull through, when Terence said, Dad, I blew it. Just like the bombing. I was too late. My dad just looked at me and then looked away.

Would have been nice to talk about what happened. Even a few words. Paul had been shot in the back. He survived, but when he returned to our room after five days, he looked old and weak. All of a sudden he'd stumbled into old age, and I felt like I wasn't far behind. Nandita blamed herself for convincing me Bruce wasn't a threat. And I blamed myself for not sticking closer to Paul.

Everyone felt bad, and we didn't know what to do with Bruce. We found out later that the great leader had called doctor Paul Weeks an enemy of the state. That's all it took.

I had a huge argument with my mom about what we should do about Bruce Melvin. It got so heated she told me to go to my room. Thirty-eight years old and mommy hits me with a timeout. She later said she was kidding, but she wasn't. Ask anyone. We had a meeting in the barn to decide Bruce's fate, and we were all over the map. Turn him into the cops, send him back to the USA. He'd have gotten the Medal of Freedom from the great leader.

Mickey said we should handle it ourselves, but how? Build a jail? Execute him? Everyone loved Paul, and there were some pretty brutal suggestions from a bunch of peace now. It was Garrett who said we should put Bruce on the work chart. The best thing Mickey and Daniel did was their chart. Everyone had a job, and everyone else was depending on it getting done.

There'd be the usual complaints and poor me bullshit, but having the rest of the tribe count on you for survival gives you a purpose every single day. That's what I miss about the military. My dad drives me nuts 98% of the time. But it's worth it for the two percent when he makes me proud. Like when he spoke up in that meeting.

Garrett got us to see Bruce as a lost kid who'd bought the free-range hate the great leader was peddling and thought it was his patriotic duty to get a gun and come after Paul. I think what Garrett went through with Isaac enabled him to have compassion for Bruce Melville. In Garrett's mind, Isaac got led astray by radicals, just like Bruce Melvin got led astray by the great leader. Garrett and I were never close, but I felt like after all these years we started to understand each other.

We had been through so much. One afternoon he asked if I'd take a walk with him. I thought he had something he wanted to discuss, but he hardly said a word. He loved walking in the woods and wanted to share that with me. We were wary of Bruce. He kept to himself. The one who reached out to him was Terence's daughter. Jarvis, who had the gift of making everyone better.

Since Bruce wanted to be with Jarvis, it meant spending time with Terrance, so the two dudes became friends in spite of everything. The three of them would go on walks and you could see the change. Day by day Bruce depended on us and we depended on him because that's how the work chart was set up. One morning I looked out at the beach and saw Terrence pushing the general in his wheelchair, and Jarvis and Bruce leading.

Terence stopped, and the general stood up from his wheelchair and started walking briskly. They kept going like that until I couldn't see them anymore. I asked Terence about it later and he said, Oh, he does that sometimes. Our lives were getting slower and deeper, and things like the general walking the way he did twenty years ago would happen with no explanation. It felt like some kind of great mystery was unfolding all around us.

Word had spread to the outside world that Dr. Paul Weeks had been shot by a red hat, and there was huge anticipation of what he would do in response. Paul spent lots of time on the porch reading and staring into space. For PT, he'd walk into the kitchen for another drink. I was shocked that he wanted to do more podcasts.

I thought it was a mistake. My dad seemed softer and more sensitive than he'd ever been, which was the opposite of his rants. We had no idea what his followers would think of the kinder and gentler whiskey hour. We were all victims of the great leader, but we still felt bad for his wife. As a younger woman, she had endured the escort's nightmare, hooking up with a John who never left. which resulted in her becoming first lady.

She often had to excuse herself from state functions because the mere sight of her bovine life partner with his creepy cold eyes cannibalizing her made her throw up in her mouth. She'd known for years He was a closet necrophiliac who could only love a woman who was as No. is chained for eternity to a terminal narcissist. So black.

swallowed everything in its path and was too dense to allow any light to One day, she wandered away from the White House and wasn't seen for months until BuzzFeed reported a sighting at the Iowa State Fair, where she was observed eating deep-fried cheese. The QAnon crowd went whose marital vows as he understood them allowed for the occasional nine-second romp with a fading porn star. While in another zip code, but certainly didn't permit his wife to consort with him. That was his department.

When it became clear that she had come to her senses and would never return, the great leader turned. the surgically triumphant princess. A baby was needed, so the torch would not be passed to his dim, vacant sons, who learned their ignorance and cruelty at the feet of their daddy.

The princess rose to the occasion and became First Lady Daughter, so committed to her new role that When the subject of paternity The great leader leered like an acne ravaged freshman who'd gotten lucky Friday night with a circle. Pained grisly laughter, and she stared at the fake news reporters with the same wolf eyes as her father husband co-parent, a regenerating laughter.

The happy couple displayed baby Fred in public, pay per view seven hundred and fifty dollars. The heir apparent, hairless except for a little. was wearing a tiny military uniform. The vice president who adored Fetus's button. smiled obsequiously at the great leader, and croaked, It has your eye When the princess looked down into the singly roomy eye staring up at the end.

pure hate from the jiggly scoop of malignant inbred flesh she'd birthed, she too threw up in her mouth, which was one of the many demands on the First Lady. Clearly. As it turned out, we needn't have worried about my dad's level of bile. That's when the whiskey hour really took off. The combination of getting shot and coming out swinging fired up his followers. Holly, the tech wizard, told him he was a thing, and he said it beat the hell out of being a person.

Getting shot made me homesick for the USA. As wonderful as Canada was, it lacked the beloved traditions of my country, like Fourth of July fireworks and the World Series. Random gunfire in public places.

We decided the great national reboot would take place on May Day, when the Great Leader was going to announce that Lincoln's face on Mount Rushbourne would be rechiseled into the Great Leader's turgid snout. It had to be done because the great leader was the best loved person who ever lived and no one talked about Lincoln anymore.

Since I couldn't convince my followers to get offline, I tried to get them to take action. Go to Washington on May Day for the great national reboot. Join the sad losers. My understanding was that this reboot thing would be a symbolic event, like levitating the Pentagon, Ella finally said, Uncle Paul, what you need to know is the reboot is real.

Everyone was talking about the great national reboot, but nobody seemed to know exactly what it was. If they did, they weren't telling me, which kind of pisses me off. David, did you know about the Great National Reboot? Not really. It seemed like it was gonna be a big demonstration of some kind. Mickey and his people were the only ones who actually knew for sure what it was, and they weren't telling.

April 30th, the eve of the great national reboot, the partying in the field went on most of the night. I stayed in the clinic just in case, but there weren't any injuries other than a guy and his parrot falling out of a tree onto a large bald woman's. Typical party stuff. We hadn't had a lazy day in a year. Ella and I went skinny dipping, then we made blueberry pancakes and sat out in the sunshine with our books. It was that kind of day. Delicious.

That night after dinner, we all gathered around a bonfire on the beach. I saw Kate coming down the path with that old Yamaha that used to be attached to her. She didn't make a big thing of it, just started strumming, and the buzz of conversation around the bonfire faded away. She sang. Her voice was thin and frayed, and it took me a while to get that this was the song she used to play every night after dinner, the one that had only the beginning, which she'd play over.

Over. It used to drive us star craving mad. The song was so familiar. I could see Paul tensing up. I could see the recognition from my mom and dad. Here it is, the song that never got finished. We are up. I thought, just wait, I'm gonna blow your fucking minds. But somehow I couldn't get past the beginning of the song. How could I have stage fright in front of my own family? It was like PTSD. The beginning of that song flashed me back to a time in my life I wanted to forget.

I was watching Kate and she had this look, kind of panicked, like she couldn't stop and she couldn't go forward. My drink was empty. I thought I can't take one more second of this without a drink. I went inside and managed to knock my glass off the counter. I had to clean up the broken glass, so I was inside longer than I intended. What freed me up was my dad going inside. I guess getting a drink was more important than hearing the song I'd been working on for 20 years.

As soon as he was gone I heard another voice saying. Everyone was knocked out by kids. But I felt blessed. Yeah. Couldn't stop smiling when I heard him harmonizing with Katie. Those two voices singing together had been stuck in my brain all these years since Garrett's birthday party. Now I was hearing them again. And it was a moment I will never forget. By the time I'd cleaned up the glass on the kitchen floor and refilled my drink and come back to the group, Kate had finished the song.

Everyone was totally silent. Applause would have cheapened the holiness of the moment. Finally Kate said, What, you didn't like it? And we all started laughing and cheering. I felt like in that moment Paul and I got our daughter back. The only possible encore was some oars for the kids, so I went back up the little path to the house.

That's when I saw him in the shadows. He had that mystical smile from childhood, like he knew things he couldn't tell you. By the time I came back from the house, he was gone. I told Louise and she asked if I was afraid. I said, why would I be afraid of Isaac? For years, I dreamed about finishing that song and singing it for dad. And when I finally had the chance, he decided not to be there.

I knew I'd hurt him in all kinds of ways, and I wanted to tell him the best thing in my life was having another chance with him. And that I loved him. After all the hell I put us through, I'd finally reached a point where I could say those words which do not come easily to me. But the moment was gone.

Everything was happening at once. Kate was headed my way, and I was about to hug her and tell her how much that song meant, but David was suddenly in my face, showing me on his phone what was happening in DC. people were joining the sad losers. Not a lot, but more were showing up every minute. The movement had been so tiny for so long, This meant something was happening. David said, This is you, Dad. You did it.

Then Mickey grabbed me and said it was time for the great national reboot. The folks up in the field who'd come all this way deserved to be a part of it, and I should be the one to tell them. I said Mickey, I don't know what the hell this reboot thing is. He explained. Make no sense, but I figured I was as ready as I'd ever be, which wasn't ready at all. Then I looked for

She was gone. I had to get out of there before I started crying. We went up to the field and I climbed on the back of Mickey's truck so they could see me. I didn't realize how many people were there until they gathered around. Huge crowd for the great leader's first inauguration in 2016. Except mine was bigger. Check the photos. I said, Brothers and sisters, the new day is here. He was up there riffing, so I called to him, Dad, ten seconds.

He got everyone to count down with him. Five, four, three. One. And silence. Nobody knew what was supposed to happen. I got up there on my truck next to my dad and said, Listen, people, unfucking America will take everything we've got and it's starting right now. People are marching in the streets of Washington and we've hacked into the power grid and seized all the data so their fascist empire is shut down and The city is dark. We're rebooting America.

Mickey called the computer hackers up on the back of the truck to take a bow after all those endless days hacking. By then, folks were on their screens yelling that it was happening. DC had gone dark. And more and more of the sad losers were surging through the city, thousands and thousands of them. There was already talk of the ransom the ruling party would pay to get their data back. Not bad for a college dropout, huh?

I came back to cheer for Neil when he got up on the truck. It was tough feeling so alone in the midst of all that joy, so I went to my room. I didn't want to bring anyone down. People would always remember they were a part of this, whatever it turned out to be. It felt like we'd been thrashing around in deep water for so long. And now we could touch bottom and maybe make it back to shore. Maybe.

For hours I couldn't sleep. The wind was battering the cottage, and the rain came sideways in wild sheets that shook the windows. It was the end of everything. The storm finally ended the jubilation. And we all went off to bed. Daniel and I fell asleep happy. I think we all did. A gunshot woke me up. I looked outside. The big maple had been snapped by the wind, or hit by lightning. Whatever was out there was coming closer and would get us in the end.

Neil slept through it, which made me happy for him and sorry for myself. How did he get healthy enough to sleep through the night while the most I ever got was a couple hours of restless churn? I slipped on a robe and went down to the kitchen, and the cottage was creaking and moaning in the wind. Ever since we'd moved to the Howell House, I'd been checking everyone's drugs to know what to watch out for so I could steer clear. That night I found the truth. They were for me. All of them.

From the beginning of time, I've had this monster living inside me. My parents thought I was spirited or anxious or hyperactive or chemically imbalanced or whatever label would make my condition knowable. But I was so smart and pretty and popular there couldn't be anything wrong with me, so they never saw the monster. Nobody except in crack houses or back alley dope deals, or turning tricks in the back seat of a regional sales manager's Grand Cherokee during my great decline.

With music and rehab and Neil, I got the monster to calm down. He trudged off the field and let me play my game. But he was always on the sidelines, watching every move I made with his shiny yellow eyes. Lately, he'd started pacing, clenching his fist. He wanted me to get back in the game and he was there with his offering. My dad's pills for post surgery pain, my mom's pills for sciatica, Ella's pills for her migraines.

Terence's antidepressants plus a cornucopy of narcotics to treat the increasingly untenable condition of being human. We were Americans. We lived from one blessed pharmaceutical fix to the next. Except for me. I'd been a good girl for so long, and now in the wee hours my skin was slowly sliding off my body, and there was the monster scaly and smiling. One yellow eye winked. The weekend's here, baby, since when did fun become a crime?

I grabbed my dad's pint of Heaven Hill and slugged it down. Then I took the pills. One from this bottle, one from that. A family that gets high together stays together. The storm was over, but It was dark and silent, and God was in hiding. I headed up to the field, still wet with rain, barefoot, and wandered through the world we'd built, tentfuls of pilgrims sleeping and snoring and

A couple was outside their tent smoking a joint. One of them I'd known when I was someone else, it was the bald headed cellist from Dean's apartment. She winked and offered me a hit, and it would have been rude to say no. The world turned and came back around, and what I felt was warmth. The tender warmth that fills you up when nothing else will.

I walked through the field and into the woods and washed down more pills with the labats I'd thoughtfully jammed in the pocket of my robe. What a good camper I was, always prepared. And how foolish to think I was past this. That I could rehab this darkness away. The monster had always been waiting. This was his moment. He had won.

I had done everything I was put on this good earth to do. I had loved and been loved. I had caused such pain and felt such pain. I had said yes to everything and missed nothing. I had never spent time on the sidelines, I'd always been in the game. The dope was new and exciting, and the pills were an old friend I'd loved too much, and the beer was a sweet kiss from Adelaide.

I could see a clearing off the path, a mysterious break in the trees. A massive oak tree was watching me, a forgiving haunt where a tired girl could lay her head. I emptied the pill bottle straight into my mouth and took a delirious slug of beer that zapped me straight into the college parties I went to with Glenn when I was still in high school. At one party an annoyingly woke girl in earth friendly clothes asked how old I was.

When I said 16, she said I shouldn't be with this sick, exploitive college man who had one thing in mind. I was still a child and should be with people my own age. I listened patiently as she squinted at me through granny glasses, clutching her organic wine, and then I suggested she go fuck herself since no one else ever would, which speed bumped the party, but nothing could stop me on nights like that. Everybody wanted me.

I dressed for sex and talked about Nietzsche and drank like a frat boy and who doesn't want that? I'd get hit on by girls and guys, wonky freshmen and mordant PhDs and shy, hopeful TAs with pale lipstick, and Glenn would watch with the kind of amusement that's only possible if you know you're going home with the girl. sixteen and I knew everything. Somehow as the years passed, I knew less and less, and then nothing at all, except how to score smack when everyone else had given up the chase.

Now I was alone in this divine particle of time, blessed with the perfect knowledge I used to have. My heart swelled. I whipped off my robe and stood gloriously nude in the middle of the woods, saluting myself with Labats for fulfilling my final mission. I had found the perfect place to die. I was dimly aware of Paul getting up in the night. He'd always been held hostage by his mind. If he hit on something, he'd have to write it down.

With the whiskey hour and his near death by shooting, and his slowly fading memory, it was happening more and more. I was half asleep and thought nothing of it when he wandered from our bedroom. As my eyes drifted shut, I had a simple thought. This is the last time I will ever close my eyes, my head resting on the trunk of the wise old oak. I would forever be a part of this magical world, and even though rain had fallen most of the night and I was lying naked under a tree, I was warm.

After a long life of needing something, money or a job or a lover or a car or lyrics or respect or acceptance or dope or hope or rent. It was exhilarating to need nothing. I was free. Before I shut my eyes forever, I saw a ghost moving toward me. His face so vacant he couldn't be alive. He was the one who would spirit my head. He leaned over and shook me. And then I saw who it was. My father had sleepwalked from his bed to the middle of the woods to save me.

He didn't wake up until I burst out of my stupor. We both screamed.

I was alone in the clinic that night when I saw my dad half dragging Kate out of the woods. I thought she was dead. I rushed out to help. Given the population on the beach, we were well prepared for ODs. After David worked his doctor magic, he and my dad and I sat in the clinic looking out at the water. Hours later there was a hint of a reddish glow and we watched the sun slowly rising on another day. The greatest show on earth, backed by popular demand.

Like all the important moments in my life, there was no explanation. How did my dad know I had left the house? How did he know I was dying? How did he find me when he was asleep? Logic is overrated. I choose to embrace the mystery. I'd love to take credit for saving Kate, but it wasn't me. It was a greater force in the universe, the one people worship in all kinds of ways, and I never have. But I know it's there.

We sat together in the clinic until morning and never said a word. It was the kind of silence that words would only diminish. Still it was pretty hard for us to be quiet. It's not our thing. When Paul asked what I wanted for my birthday, I told him another year with you. He said just one? I told him if he acted right it might go longer, but I wasn't promising anything. I wanted to have dinner with just my family. Partners would have to fend for themselves.

It was warm enough, so we set the table on the porch of Howell House, and Paul and I were enjoying a blissfully quiet evening, except for the shriek of the smoke alarm and the arguing, bickering, and laughing from the kitchen as our three children cooked dinner. They were far too proud of their creation, which frankly wasn't that special. We were just about to eat when I said, What are we grateful for?

Naturally, they started making fun of me for suggesting our pre dinner ritual from a previous lifetime, but Kate said, hey, it's mom's birthday. She took Paul's hand and Mickey's hand, and we all held hands as if we were back at 117 Poplar 15 years ago. And Kate started to say something but couldn't finish. None of us had seen her cry since she was a baby. She wasn't about to start now. When she finally spoke, she sounded like she was five years old. I'm glad my daddy found me.

She was squeezing so hard, Mickey said, Kate, that's really starting to fucking hurt. She let go of his hand but kept holding her father's hand. It was the best birthday of my life. Easy.

There was a lot I didn't tell my dad. I never talked about the other guys who bombed the Psych Center with me and how it all went down. Daniel's the only one who ever got the full story. But I made sure my dad had his moment of glory after the big power shut down. I didn't tell him we weren't the only ones responsible for the march of the sad losers and the great national reboot.

We were working with other resistant cells around the world to attack the power grid in Washington and seize the data. We were one of many. I didn't want him to know that. It mattered to Mickey that he be the mastermind behind the country starting to come to its collective senses, The more time I spent with him, the more I realized he had dedicated his life to atoning for Cal's death. But honestly, I'm not sure how important we actually were. I think the movement was starting to happen anyway.

Of course, I didn't tell Mickey that. We got pummeled by one storm after another, and the water kept rising right up to the porch of Howell House. My dad had my old rowboat from childhood tied to the railing. Mickey had finally fixed the leak. Kind of. Survival is what turned the tide. When it became clear that the only hope was working together. The ruling party had no cards to play. Dividing us was all they had.

Mickey and Paul have such grand notions about all we accomplished. But even if we do take back the country, and I have serious doubts, there are wounds that will never heal. There is no normal to go back to. I try not to talk this way around the rest of the family. Behind the bluster, they're a delicate bunch. Late one afternoon, I couldn't find Louise or Uncle Paul. I was almost worried enough to get help when I happened to look out at the water, and there they were in David's little rowboat.

The sun was setting, and Uncle Paul was rowing, at least he was supposed to be, but the oars were still, and the boat wasn't moving, and he was talking and talking. And Louise was listening so intently, and that's how I'll always think of them. I'd always planned to give my great Uncle Paul the last word. That afternoon, the whole time he was talking, I noticed the rowboat was slowly leaking, but I didn't want to interrupt him because he was so fascinated by what he was saying.

I figured, one way or the other, we'd probably make it back to shore.

Uncle Paul, you're kind of the reason I did this project. And I think I've covered everything that happened right up until yesterday. So is there anything else you want to say? Was everyone else in the family as honest as I've been, Louise? I bet they were, or at least tried to be. You bring that out in people. I remember your dad as a kid, younger than you, after his father rode off on his motorcycle. Hadley took Bobby into our family, and he and Terrence were like brothers.

There was one summer back when we all used to be up here together. He came with Terence's family, He'd look at me with those big brown eyes just like yours and ask me questions, and no matter how busy I was, I'd find myself telling him whatever he wanted to know. One afternoon he asked me what caused the Civil War, and I said, Ugh, Bobby, there's no short answer. He said, So tell me the long answer. Sounds like you, doesn't it?

Ever since you were little, you've always listened louder than other people talk. Most of us don't feel heard, don't feel understood, so when someone comes along like you or your dad, who actually listens, we finally get to tell our side of the story. Remember when you told me the idea for this project? I asked you why you wanted to do it and you said, I want them to know what we did when we were here.

I asked who you meant, and you said, the ones who will come after we're gone. I want them to know that we did our best. I just don't think it's all going to end with us. Do you? Back then I dodged your question, which means now I have to tell you the truth. For the last 15 years, it's felt like the end. Greedy, mean, deceitful, bottom feeding slugs who don't believe in science or truth or democracy took over the country at the exact moment the earth reached the point of no return.

We made it through the winter, but the water is rising, and where will we go? There's no escape from the future, kid. So, yes... It's where we've been headed for decades since we denied the hard truth of what was happening all around us. Back then, what we did would have made a difference. But now we're living in a global hospice, subsisting on kale and whiskey and nostalgia, as we await the end. You've lived your entire life in the afterglow of a great civilization.

We'll totter through the last lonely sapien years, outrunning floods and fires, until the last of us finally seizes up and collapses to the ground. spirit broken and succumbs to the blight we birthed and fed and nurtured until it was strong enough to kill us. Whoever comes after us will be from another planet or another species. or created by us in Silicon Valley with our astonishing brilliance, which wasn't quite brilliant enough to save us. That's what I thought. But lately with Bud's boom.

and birds chirping and bears and alcoholics emerging from hibernation and blinking in the sunshine and you working so hard, trying to make sense of it all? I'm not so sure. You wanted to know if I was happy? I stopped worrying about happiness a long time ago. But now, I wake up every morning next to the woman I love. Surrounded by my children and my extended family, who perplex me and enrage me and make me laugh and shed a tear every single day of my life.

And I'm glad we're all still here, or most of us. Even the ones who aren't here really are. I don't know. But telling my story has made me fear I'm afflicted with a terminal case of hope for which there is no cure. Then it's all your fault, Louise. You listened to me, staring with those big brown eyes that won't accept the end. How can I not believe we'll find the strength to keep crawling forward and mutate into some kind of creature that can survive the storm?

But enough about me which is a sentence I'm saying for the very first time. Did you get everything you need to tell our story? Because there's work to be done. We need to cultivate our garden. Maybe someday, if we just keep doing what we do day after day, we'll be able to go back home. It's what I dream about every night.

That's it. I did it. I wanted to start with Paul and end with Paul because he was kind of my inspiration. After he got the last word, he hugged me and got all choked up, and that was about the best way my project could have ended. Except After that, someone cornered me.

Someone who insisted that he had to have the last, last word. Sorry, Louise. I I know you're all done. Nice going. But there's something I need to tell you so you understand what happened between Paul and me. Do you have time for this? Anything for you, Grandpa Garrett? All right. Back when me and Paul were kids, our mother would go off the rails sometimes. The general couldn't handle it. He'd just go into his office and close the door. So it would be just me and Paul and our mother.

Times like that she scared the hell out of us because we didn't know what she'd do from one minute to the next. She'd be screaming about how we wrecked her life, and then she'd be baking a birthday cake, even though it was nobody's birthday. Hold on, that's not accurate. She never said we wrecked a life. I wrecked a life. She always favored Paul. There's one day in the summer she flipped out bed. She was screaming at the general. He got this tight look on his face and went off to his club.

She was crying about how her life had turned out. We were little. I I was maybe five, which means Paul was three. Well what the hell do you do when you're that age and your mother is crying? She suddenly asks Paul if he wants to go to Pinecroft Dairy and get ice cream. That was the big treat for us.

Paul was this open hearted little kid, bad eyesight, goofy. Trusted everyone, loved his mommy. Of course she'd ask him to go. I asked if I could go too, and she said, no, Garrett. This trip is just for me and Paul. If I had been the kind of kid who cried, that's what I would have done. But I never gave it up for her or anyone else. It was sort of a family joke how I never cried.

Some joke, huh? Off they go, and I'm all alone. I made myself a big bowl of cereal to make up for the ice cream Paul was getting. And then I don't know how. I knew. I just knew. I went out to the garage and they hadn't left. The car was running and the garage door was closed. I went over to Paul's side of the car and opened the door, and he wasn't moving. I pulled him out and opened the garage door and dragged him outside. Then I got our mother out, which was a big job.

I called the general at his club and then I called nine hundred one one. The ambulance came. Our mother had had enough of this life. She was going to leave and take her favorite son with her. She never had much use for me, but I guess I wasn't cuddly like Paul. I wasn't the kind of kid you wanted to pick up. I was always more like my father. Nobody ever talked about it. ever. Except that day after our mother was in the hospital, my father said, Good job, Garrett. You knew just what to do.

Like rescuing a suicidal parent and saving your little brother's life is something every five year old should know. Paul doesn't even remember. My job was protecting him. His job was getting protected. That's the way it's always been with us. Seems like me and Paul never got past what happened to us when we were little kids. Truth is, everybody always loved Paul. He was the life of the party. I was the one outside. Standing guard, trying to keep everyone safe.

And let's face it, nobody gives a damn about that guy. Until the bad thing. I never had what Paula. This was the best I could do.

It's 2055 and I'm feeling like I should tell you what happened to my family. A series of health problems made it seem like Paul's last days would be at Howell House. Besides his gunshot wound, he suffered from diabetes, a lower respiratory infection, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, lung cancer. cirrhosis, a major stroke, a heart attack, and the other thing. And a paper cut that became infected.

Paul's health challenges exceeded even the hypochondriacal complaints of the general, who, at a sprightly 106 years old, bemoans the fact that he doesn't have the energy he had at 103. What kept Paul alive was a primal need to outlive the great leader. Who finally took decisive action to make America great and died quietly at home with a sex worker and a cheeseburger by his side. Our entire family gathered to watch his funeral.

Which was a tribute to all he stood for, with random violence, mass arrests, gunfire, and a ten thousand dollar admission fee, ensuring that the common folks he exploited for so long would be turned away. But the funeral cortege was for everyone. The streets of Washington were lined with wary citizens confirming that the psychopathic strong man who ended democracy in America. They had to see him in the flesh to make sure that this wasn't his ten millionth lie.

They watched the presidential float roll by, festooned with the early. Flags and guns and golf clubs and porn stars, and the great leader himself propped up on his gold toilet in all his sad glory, wearing only an adult diaper and a lurid grin. His tiny hands ridden. Fixed in the thumbs up pose he favoured for all folks. Whether election victories. National tragedies or Tuesdays.

Everything was a win for the great leader of the Even his long awaited passion was That night, Paul and Ruth announced that with the great leader safely dead, they would return to the United States. We had a going-away party featuring what the family did so well. Cocktails and music and sentimental toasts and stories we'd heard hundreds of times that had to be told again.

Back in town they discovered that 117 Poplar had been broken up into apartments for student housing. Ruth enrolled in classes so she and Paul could move into their old house as students. They've tried to get the rest of the family to come back, but after all those years it doesn't seem like home to most of us. It's been a slow, painful transition from the harsh years of the Great League. As much as Mickey tried to reboot the country, we're still stuck in the tragic mess he left behind.

And, of course, the Red Hats never went away. I asked Paul how they can cling to their hateful ideology when it's been so discredited. Paul said, they don't care how history judges them because they think it all ends with them. And if there is history, no one will read it. They never did. When the time came for me to go to college, I upheld family tradition and went to the U, and my mom wasn't far behind. Ever since I can remember, she's talked about how much she regretted missing college.

I finally told her nice. To shut up and go. I even arranged my schedule so we'd have a class together. I was assigned the dorm where Kate once lived, and my mom thought it would be fun to be roommates. I didn't Mickey is a fugitive and can't return. He and Daniel are married and proudly leading the community that prides itself on having no leaders. They're so happy it gets annoying sometimes. Kate Anneil broke the law by leaving their government mandated rehab.

And don't trust what would happen to them if they went back to the body. Kate recorded songs for Isaac, which got her airplay and a tour. But she battled stage fright and knows where the stress could take her, so she's strictly a songwriter who can occasionally be persuaded to play for the family.

Nandita still isn't able to legally return, and Terrence isn't about to go anywhere without her. They started a catering company, tapping into a circle of high-end folks in town with an extreme party life. Garrett and Pam Raynor eventually married. For all the difficulties they've had, Garrett wouldn't consider leaving Terence and even started working for him. He has a bit of an edge as a bartender, making you feel special, because he sure as hell isn't making drinks for just anyone.

David and Sophie have spent years talking about relocating, but they are indispensable to the community. And they're living their dream. It just doesn't happen to be in New York City, since it doesn't quite After years of separation caused by the draconian immigration policies of the United States, Dr. Morales and Angelica have no intention of going back. David. Finally beat Dr. Morales in chess after 932 consecutive losses over 14 years.

Then he couldn't stop winning. They claim to be playing just for fun, but they both keep secret records of total wins and losses, going back to their earliest games at 117 Poplar. At age 30, the hardest part of my life, other than the ongoing struggle to repurpose the country for the people. Is that the family is a part. It blew up along with the country in 2024, but we found each other in Ontario. Split up again. I love being in a university town near my mom.

But the beach community is where I came of age and where we worked so hard to keep hope alive. Our political efforts have become family lore, more dramatic and historically significant with each passing year. They tell each other. I don't buy it. Paul and Mickey and all of us may have had an influence on the

But I think what started to change was the dawning realization that the only way to heal ourselves and our country is to take care of each other. The family thought we were living at the edge of history, when human life itself was in the balance. And they weren't wrong. But from where I'm sitting, in my room at 117 Poplar, on a clammy winter afternoon, Looking out through the small window. Grey empty streets. Theirs was an innocent time.

They could still go outside whenever they wanted, and breathe the air, and drink the water, and live in the real world instead of the virtual world. Back then they could still deny that the worst would come to pass. Wherever you're going to be. Maybe you can change where things are happening. Maybe what happened to us doesn't have to happen to you. I sure hope so. What you've got is worth fighting for. And once it's gone, you won't get it back. Trust me. It happened here twenty twenty.

Richard Dresser and the U.S. Joe Kakan. The cast includes Molly Babos, Molly Cardin, and Malco, Santino Fontana, Luke Kirby, Tom Pacinka, Marianne Rendone, Tony Shaloub, and John Torturo. Our senior producer is Jess Hackle. Our composer, Jared Paul. Original songs by Willie and Rob Rialli. Guitar and vocals by Marion Rendone and Peter Langtoe. Engineering and mixing by Justin Kaup and Digital Strategy by Michael Zhao.

Casting by Jack Doolin. Show art by Eleni Tsenaros. Our script supervisor is Graham Ferguson. The executive producers Joe Kakacci, Richard Dresser, Jack Doolin, Elliot Forrest, Evangeline Morphos, and John Whaland. It happened here, 2024. Received financial support.

Gail Shields Miller, Lynn Schlesinger, Frank Heron and Sandy Ure, Karen Kelly, Vicky Bonington and David Schecker, Rachel and Jay Tarsus, Richard Dresser, Emily Rechnitz and Neil Prince, Jay Lewis, Janet Rich L. Bill Sussman, Leslie Dennis. Schuller, John Whelan, and Thomas Shay.