From across the Atlantic and cold North Sea you cheer them on, their fiery tricks are the vanguard of revolution, the world is about to shake itself down like a tick-infested hound and these are the first true signs, and you’re a natural part of the rest.
Ragnarok is coming.
You hear it on its way, heard it trying to break through into the world a month ago, and the month before, and the month before that, you weren’t ready then but now you are, you’ve remembered everything, now it’s almost the second Thursday of the month again and it all depends on you.
*
So enlivened are you by this final countdown that you decide not to go home, in polls you’ve read wherein people share what they’d do if they knew they had but another day to live, and nobody ever says they would sleep more.
You’re minding your own business when she comes up to you, the way it happens to anyone. You’ve taken a break from your spree of tricks, both feet are aching in their boots. The blistered soles of your feet throb while you sit on the bench at the bus stop, your blisters have popped and feel raw inside sticky socks.
“You look kind of stressed,” she tells you. “Suck you off to relieve some of that tension? Twenty bucks.”
Vitality. She’ll want your life’s vitality, it’s as good as predestined. She can’t be more than fourteen and possibly younger, her body still has that slim, straight look of a boy’s, no curves anywhere, or perhaps it’s poor nutrition.
“Come on, you got a car nearby? I’ll do you there, do you so good your grandpa’ll come. No, wait, if you had a car, like, what would you be doing waiting for the bus?”
“You’re new at this, aren’t you?” you ask.
“Yeah, I’ve got these virginal lips, they’ve never known a man’s thing. Is that what you want?” She’s pouting like a magazine cover, hard little urchin’s face softening beneath a floppy hat, hair snaking from beneath in tangled dark strands and both knees of her jeans are dirty. “Okay, fifteen and we’ll go find somebody else’s car. There’s gotta be one unlocked around somewhere.”
“Do your parents know you do this?”
“Oh yeah, sure, I’m like sending them a postcard every week, ‘Hope you’re fine, I still don’t swallow.’ So what planet are you from, anyway, do they even have blowjobs there?” She rolls her eyes. “Ten, okay? It’s as low as I go.”
“You know what you need?” you tell her, because now you know that you can make a difference in her life, grant it some grace here at the end. “You need a dog.”
“Whoa, no, I’m all, okay, like I’ve done some weird things to get by, but I’m not into animal scenes, you really are a freak—”
You stop her before she can go any further, perpetuate this sick misunderstanding, the idea of treating a fine dog in such a way fills you with nausea, and never mind what the males will do sometimes to an unwary leg, they don’t know any better and you do.
“A pet, that’s all I mean, a protector, and to always love you,” you explain. “They’re a lot more reliable than people.”
“I had a dog once,” she says quietly. “His name was Sailor, and we … we never could hardly go anywhere without him following, he was so good at slipping the gate.”
She’s thoughtful now, you see the distant past overtake her, remake her, she’s no longer the pubescent whore. If a remembered mutt can do this much for her, imagine what Fenris can do to the rest of the world when he gets it in his jaws.
“I’ll buy you another dog tomorrow, all you have to do is meet me at the pet store on Lancaster Avenue. You know the one?”
“A dog.” She can’t believe what she’s hearing. “You wanna buy me a dog.”
“But it’ll have to be first thing in the morning. Later on I’m going to be extremely busy.”
“You. Wanna buy me. A dog.”
“They all know me there. If you want, we could walk over now and look in the window, you could pick one out tonight.”
The girl contemplates this, her mouth hangs open and her eyes roll up, she doesn’t know what to do with her hands. “You are like
The two of you walk along the street together, you’re much taller than she is, if anybody cares to look she could be your kid sister but of course nobody cares. The members of a wolfpack watch out for one another, but the tendency has been bred out of humans, another reason to give the world back.
“So is this your mission in life, or what?” she asks.
You wonder how to explain it all so she’ll understand, these are not simple principles, you may have to be patient.
“Everything we do makes ripples,” you say. “Like in a pond? You throw in one pebble and it makes ripples, you throw in two or three, then the ripples get complicated, they intersect. So what I do is, I go around throwing pebbles.”
“Right,” she says. “Why?”
“As long as I’m in the middle of the ripple patterns, that should keep me safe.”
“Oh, sure, the ripple patterns, why didn’t you just say so?” You’re really communicating now. “Look, I know that nice leather jacket you’re wearing must not’ve come cheap, but are you sure you can afford this dog?”
You assure her you can, after Ragnarok what use will anyone have for money anyway, filthy lucre will be utterly without value. Flesh and blood will be the currency of the future, and tomorrow’s princes those who have shown an aptitude for dealing in them.
