EPISODE 8

“The Bones of Suburbia”

[THEME MUSIC PLAYING]

DOV:

Welcome back to Kandel Against the Dark.

Now, when we left Jack, he was back in the relative safety of his automo, he had acquired the recorder, um, upon which he recorded all of these, uh...everything we've been listening to, and he has the box set of Æ.S.C’s music, um...and the briefcase in which all of these things came to us. Orson?

ORSON:

Correct. Uh, speaking of the recorder, uh, that's probably the most important aspect of the moment, because we've reached a point in Jack's telling where, uh, at least from his point of view, everything is in the present. Uh, there's an immediacy now, which we will begin to feel. So...well, let's see what he has to say.

DOV:

Okay.

[TAPE CLICK]

JACK:

Alright well, it's been a long road getting here, but we’ve finally arrived. I've told you everything now -- everything I know, everything that's happened. And now that I have, I'm honestly not really sure what to do with myself. I feel like I'm in a holding pattern, just waiting. Ya know, waiting for some indication of what's supposed to happen next, what they have planned for me. Just sitting here in the cold and the dark, awaiting instructions like a dutiful little drone, talking into this recorder -- the one that they saw fit to equip me with. But you know, that's fine. I'll happily sit here and wait. I'll do their bidding. I'll follow their cues, because every moment I'm allowed to remain alive is a moment closer to the answer I want. The longer I'm here, the more data I can collect.

I have no idea where I am. There was no sign welcoming me into whatever town I finally drifted into, but at least the fog has lifted. Instead, there's a completely overcast sky looming over everything now. There's no stars, no moon, just this bizarrely illuminated ceiling of clouds. It wasn't long after my encounter at Awlmart that the fog just kind of abruptly dissipated around me. Or at least it didn't feel very long, not like the eternity it was before. I think I was so caught up in trying to make sense out of what had just happened -- you know, the puzzle of what exactly this recorder and box set meant -- that at least for a little while, my emotional bleeding was staunched. I was thinking a little more clearly. And that's when I finally started to wrap my head around this whole notion of there being some kind of plan for me.

And again, not that I had at the time -- or even now -- any earthly idea what that plan was or is, but there's still something weirdly hopeful about realizing that one must exist. That there is, in fact, a reason I can now chase that will explain the need for my pain -- for ‘Scilla’s. And even if the reason I discover is wholly unfair and unjust -- which given everything, I think is more than safe to assume -- I still find that somehow more preferable than the alternative. Because the only other explanation is sheer emptiness. Complete meaninglessness and chaos. And as I weighed everything on that drive, I felt like I'd ruled that out, at least.

And that realization, that pathetic little hope, lightened me a little as I drove. You know, it's strange how willing we are to move the goalpost in the face of overwhelming suffering -- how we’ll grasp at anything that gives us even a modicum of purpose or meaning. And it doesn't even matter how artificial it is. I mean, rationally, I know there being some specific reason for all of this doesn't make it any less horrific. But that doesn't seem to matter to me at all on the more visceral, experiential level. I guess I'm just like everyone else now: at the mercy of what I feel. You know, programed to feel and driven by the desires those feelings create. I mean, I think we've always been a species that felt more comfortable, more accepting of our fates, when everything has a sense of organization behind it. And seeking any evidence of that order has always been a profound, if not the most central, desire for humankind. I mean, it's clearly the driving force behind every religion we've ever had. In fact, I think all of them -- every religion -- can fundamentally be summed up rather neatly with one tired little platitude: “Everything happens for a reason.”

And as much as that has never appealed to me before, as hollow as that has always seemed to me, somehow it's enough to keep me going now. Because now I've decided I need to know “why”. Because that feels like my inherent right. I mean, it's become the only thing lighting the path ahead of me. And you know what? I'll take it. But not because I think that it'll make any of this any less horrific in the end. I know no reason will ever suffice, but I see my surrender to the search for one as a sort of hack. You know, I'll use the programing I've been saddled with to keep me moving. I'll let the seductive power of my self-righteous need propel me forward until I find those responsible. Because after everything, I need -- I demand -- the opportunity to come face to face with whatever is behind all of this. And I know that any sense of justice I'll get from that confrontation is really just an illusion. You know, that it won't really matter once I'm gone because I'll be gone and it won't have changed reality one iota. But I don't give a shit. Because I'm angry, and I refuse to die without saying my fucking piece. I will not just go gentle into this goodnight they have created for us. Rebellion, no matter how futile, is all I have left -- which is funny, because I also know that a true act of rebellion, the only one with any chance of actually being effective, would be to remove any possibility of me carrying out whatever they have in store for me. You know, killing myself would definitely put a wrench in their works. But for all I know, they’d just adapt to that circumstance, and my death would be reduced to nothing but an unfortunate -- and ultimately irrelevant -- “kink” in their timeline. And that just isn't good enough for me. And I think they probably already know that -- that I'm just a prisoner of survival instinct and the very human desire for justice.

So here I sit. Where “here” is exactly is kind of anybody's guess, but I suppose it doesn't really matter in the end. Judging by the desert terrain around me, I know that I am very, very far from where my journey began. But as far as I have obviously traveled, it all still feels strangely the same. You know, subdivisions and cul de sacs surrounded by strip malls and chain restaurants. And just as I'm sure as true of my former home, everything here is dead -- withered and desiccated, a shell of the lives it once housed. And all that's left is the slowly crumbling infrastructure, a carcass of scattered bones.

The bones of suburbia.

I've taken up residence in a stylish little craftsman. It's really quite nice. And it even came complete with two dried up corpses. The former owners, I'm assuming. And aside from those bodies and the shards of the dead Nodes littering the family room floor, I'd actually call it an inviting home.

That said, I have decided to stick largely to the garage. I mean, I know it doesn't make any sense and that they aren't really here to care anymore, but I just don't feel right about living in their space. I mean, I know what it feels like to have your life invaded by those who don't belong, and I just can't bring myself to do that to them. Judging by the photos lovingly placed around the house, they were a nice, happy couple, so I'll let them rest in peace.

I do need to venture out. You know, what little food I was able to find in their cupboards didn't last long. But it's a big neighborhood, so I'm sure I'll find plenty more rations. But first, I need to try to get some sleep. I don't even know when I actually slept last. It was before all of this, so...a long time. And even now that I'm somewhere relatively safe, I'm still struggling. I seem to always get just up to that edge of legitimate, deep sleep, and then I'm jolted awake again -- smacked in the face with the flashes of the horror of ‘Scilla’s final moments...or at least those moments I was actually there to witness. You know, before I ran like a coward and left her there to die alone.

And with that thought, I think I've probably just guaranteed another failed attempt at sleep. The phrase “I'll sleep when I'm dead” has a whole new meaning to me these days. Anyway, I'm signing off. More later.

[TAPE CLICK]

ORSON:

Okay. Uh, well, I think we can, uh, safely say that we are, uh, “over the rainbow” at this point, so to speak. Uh, for Jack, the fog has, uh, well, it's...it's literally lifted here.

DOV:

Um hmm.

ORSON:

The clouds are overhead now, uh, blocking out the sky, and they appear to have taken on some sort of a...glow.

DOV:

Right.

ORSON:

Uh, it's a strange sight, but Jack is clearly focused on other things at this point.

DOV:

I...I would say so. Um, it...one thing he does seem to be carrying with him...and...and...it's really sad, uh, to me that he...he considers himself a coward, uh, because he left his wife behind. And...and it just really feels like an unfair accusation, uh, against himself that he's...that he's carrying...clinging to this notion that if he had been brave, somehow things would have ended differently, and I just don't think that's the case. It's like...it's like his mind is, is desperately trying to spin this narrative, uh, in which he had, uh, more agency than, than he actually did -- or does now, for that matter.

ORSON:

Yes, it's a...it's a...it's a, uh, retrofitted hope --

DOV:

Right.

ORSON:

...onto the situation. Uh...uh...but, you know, these are the kind of things that you...uh, most people never come to terms with. Un, I doubt it's the kind of thing that he's gonna...gonna, uh, you know, exactly work out on a nice, leisurely drive through a fog bank.

DOV:

Indeed. I think we do have to recognize that, uh, in spite of the distractions that he's surrounded by, it's an admirable amount of self-reflection that he's doing.

ORSON:

Indeed. Well, um, speaking of that intro...introspection, let's see, uh...let's see where he...a bit of, uh, hopefully some sleep and, um, you know, a fresh perspective, uh, may bring.

DOV:

What does tomorrow bring?

ORSON:

Well...heh...or whatever “tomorrow” means now --

DOV:

Right.

ORSON:

...I suppose. Okay.

[TAPE CLICK]

[PLASTIC CRINKLING]

JACK:

Oh...aughhh...

[PLASTIC CRINKLE AS SOMETHING IS DROPPED]

[SPEECH IMPAIRED BY FULL MOUTH]

JACK:

All of that for this...

Well, I didn't sleep. No surprises there. And things did not go well in my search for food. All I managed was this single box of Hostee’s Twinkle Cakes. And I'm sorry to say, but even when you're starving, these things are still completely and edible. Aughh.

I mean, I'm sure there was probably more I could have found eventually, but I was interrupted. It would appear my assumption of everything being dead wasn't altogether accurate. I wasn't out long. I had only made it as far as the house down the block, and I probably should have been a little more suspicious of the condition of the front door. You know, something had clearly chewed away at the edge, leaving a decent sized hole. And truth be told, that's the whole reason I chose it. It seemed like it would be easier to get in. And I was right. But it definitely turned out that that wasn't exactly the smartest choice.

Things weren't nearly as tidy inside that house as they are here. There was another body and another shattered Node, just like you'd expect. But this poor corpse had undergone some additional trauma, because by the time I got to it, it was in multiple, heavily gnawed pieces that had been scattered around the family room. It was pretty obvious that something had tried to make a meal of it after the Node had had its share. And I figured whatever had made that hole in the door had either chewed its way in to get to it or chewed its way out after. And either way, I assumed whatever it was, it had long since gone.

But I was wrong.

I had just started exploring the pantry, and I had gotten as far as this single, sad little box of snack cakes before I heard something moving around upstairs. And it didn't take me long to figure out that what I was hearing was a dog's nails clicking on a wooden floor. And as it turns out, it wasn't only a rather large dog, it was an unfriendly one -- or at least a really hungry one. And it barreled down the stairs once it realized I was there. And it probably would have gotten the better of me if it wouldn't have been for a nearby stool. I smacked it pretty hard with that, and luckily that stunned it long enough for me to escape back into the family room and close the kitchen door behind me.

And that was the end of my time there. I slipped back through the hole in the front door with my disgusting snack cakes and I moved on. But I think that dog’s barking had woken the neighborhood, because as soon as I was out in the street, I saw a pack of his buddies -- about six of them -- emerge from behind a parked car. And I can't be sure, but I'd almost swear their eyes were...not right. You know, they looked like they were...glowing. But not like a dog's eyes usually do, not like they were reflecting light. It was like they were emitting it. I guess I should be used to this kind of thing by now, but I'm not. And I don't know if I ever will be.

Anyway, I barely made it back here in one piece. They were closing fast, and I'm pretty sure they're still out there, just waiting for me to be stupid enough to go back out. And I don't know what I'm going to do about that. I mean, I clearly need something more than Twinkle Cakes, but I can't let my search for food end up with me being eaten instead. Yeah, I'm going to have to look for something around here to protect myself with before I go back out. I'm going to go do that now.

[TAPE CLICK]

ORSON:

Okay.

DOV:

Hmmm. Well, it appears that, uh, the effect, uh, extends beyond just humans.

ORSON:

Indeed, indeed. But I had found it interesting upon hearing this that this is the first mention of any other kind of life. He mentions life in this area being, umm, different than his assumption with the appearance of this dog, and then, of course, the uh --

DOV:

The pack...

ORSON:

...pack of dogs.

DOV:

Right, right.

ORSON:

Um, but if you recall, when he had left Gar’s, the car ran out of gas, he's walking two hours home...uh, he mentions the clear absence of...of any sign of life anywhere.

DOV:

Right, right.

ORSON:

But here we have something...now, clearly, there is the definite sense with the shattered Nodes that, uh, whatever's going on with the Mater Node has been happening here as well.

DOV:

Right.

ORSON:

Now, we have to wonder, uh, just as we assume that...that he and these...these tapes were from another universe that came in...into --

DOV:

Came into ours.

ORSON:

...ours --

DOV:

Right.

ORSON:

That's what the evidence is pointing to -- we have to wonder if when he went through the fog he did indeed cross through a threshold and went into this new universe -- one very close to...to his -- and...and to ours --but...but not quite the same --

DOV:

But not either. Right.

ORSON:

And yet, there are shattered Nodes here. So, uh, we are left to, um, assume that whatever brought about the apocalypse in his...in his, uh, universe, in his world, uh, if the thing behind that hasn’t also done a number on...on this new world --

DOV:

This...this other “end” --

ORSON:

...in which he finds himself -- not exactly in the same way, maybe, uh, we don't know. We don't know.

DOV:

How widepread...uh, and also, of course, how many universes did he pass through? There's no way to know, I don't think.

ORSON:

Exactly. Uh, and...and, you know, we have these questions about this, uh...about this mystery and its implications and its...its potential horror --

DOV:

Ummhum.

ORSON:

…whether or not something followed him through.

DOV:

Right.

ORSON:

But Jack is...not currently in danger, but he's on the edge of it. And I think we should jump back in and see, uh, just how he addresses this new concern.

DOV:

Umhmm.

ORSON:

Okay.

[TAPE CLICK]

JACK:

I think I might be in real trouble here. My dog problem is much worse than I thought. After I made that last recording, I did like I said, I started looking for weapons I could use in my search for food. But I wasn't really having much luck, because I couldn't quite work out what one actually uses to fend off a pack of wild dogs. But I was determined to find something. And then I looked out the window. And that's when I realized that it was a fool's errand, anyway. Because the number of dogs salivating outside had easily doubled in a matter of minutes -- and more came soon after that. Now there are what I could conservatively call dozens, and they have completely surrounded the house. And any hope I had initially of waiting them out is entirely dead at this point. it's been at least two days, maybe longer, and they still haven't given up. I don't even have to look outside anymore to know that they're still there. It's like I can feel their glowing eyes scanning the grounds, just looking for me.

I also had to abandon my hovel in the garage, because any hint of noise I made was instantly answered with claws and teeth thrashing against that roll-up door. So I had to move back into the main part of the house. I wanted to put a little more wall between me and them.

But they know I'm still here. I'm under siege. And I need food and drinkable water soon; otherwise, I'm not going to make it much longer.

And you know, as pathetic as it sounds, I can't seem to help but feel a distinct sense of rejection and all of this -- like I've been forsaken and just left to perish, after all of this, by those I was completely convinced had some kind of grand plan for me. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there never was any plan, and this was all just some kind of twisted version of wishful thinking. Because if there is a plan, I don't see how any of this could possibly be in service to it. I don't know, maybe there was a plan before, but they've since given up on me. Maybe I've already dismally failed at it, and in response, they've just quietly moved on. But even if that is the case, even if I have ceased to matter to them, my goal hasn't ceased to matter to me. I still want my answer. My confrontation with my assailants.

Anyway, I've now realized that there is no way around the fact that I'm going to have to do something desperate if I'm going to get out of this, and I'm not entirely confident that it's going to work. So if this is the last time you hear from me, you'll know how I met my end. I've done everything I can to leave a record behind. I don't know how much value that has in a world devoid of people, but it's all I could do. So I guess this may be goodbye. Thanks for listening.

[TAPE CLICK]

DOV:

Hmmm...Jack seems to be frustrated by the notion that whatever it is out there, whatever it is that seems to have this plan, has given up on it. Um, but ...given the glowing eyes of these dogs...

ORSON:

Yes.

DOV:

You know, I'm thinking those aren't really dogs -- or are not only dogs anyway.

ORSON:

Yes.

DOV:

Uh, so...okay, so if that's the case, if...if my theory is correct, I think...I think Jack may be wrong here. Um, I don't think he's been abandoned at all.

ORSON:

Right, uh, with the glowing eyes, we certainly get the sense that these dogs have been transformed, uh, much in the same way that both Gar and Priscilla had been.

DOV:

Umhum, exactly.

ORSON:

And if you remember, Gar and Priscilla were each transformed, uh, in their own ways. So --

DOV:

Mmm. Uhhumm, right.

ORSON:

...we didn't really know for sure. But those of us on the team, uh, when we heard this description of the eyes, uh...uh, we were -- just like you -- thinking that these dogs were, uh...uh, changed by the Nodes for some greater reason -- or maybe even, uh, that that they weren't changed at all, but were actually, uh, some other kind of creature. Uh, something akin to the spider-things masquerading as dogs.

DOV:

Umhmm, umhmm.

ORSON:

But, we...we just didn't know.

DOV:

Hmm. And I suppose the answer to that question will potentially lie in, you know, whatever Jack has to say next -- uh, If, that is, Jack does in fact say something next. I mean, as he said, this may be his end.

ORSON:

Right.

DOV:

And I am, as I'm sure my listeners are as well, keenly interested to know if -- and how -- Jack might find way out of this situation. Uh...oh, but we are...we're...well, we're just going to have to let that question hang in the air for a moment, because I'm getting the blue light again from Maggie, which means we need to take another quick break. Um, we will pick this up again when we come back.

ORSON:

Great.

DOV:

So, uh, stay tuned, folks. We will be right back with more Kandel Against the Dark.

[THEME MUSIC PLAYING]

END OF EPISODE 8