a cloak of dust bunnies within The Land of the Under-bed of a young girl named Nikki.
***
Story Notes: After I wrote this story, I swore off buffets for a long time. Still, I love the ideas of Dust Bunnies spreading chaos. Life is far too orderly and we are far too trusting. We need people such as this as a check against the balance. The ending was never planned to be the way it was. It just happened. The Dust Bunny took over the writing and she hit Tracy. It was the only way her husband could get arrested. Elsie saw it where I didn’t. This is one of the first stories I ever wrote when I wrote the ending and exclaimed, “Wow.” How things concluded, how they took shape, was entirely the creation of my creation. Now it happens more frequently and when it does, I know I have something special.
NOW SHOWING ON SCREEN 15
City of Joy
Starring a radioactive Mickey Mouse
and a mutated Goofy
“Kids say the darndest things”
– Art Linkletter
Presented in 3D
(please return glasses at the door)
No vids. No access to the learn-verse. No friends. No sim-time. No fun.
Sally Mae Coleridge ruminated in her own fifteen-year-old self-pity as the Glow Train took her to the City of Joy. Beside her, the vidscreen, which initially had shown the browns and blacks of scorched earth and the flattened desolation of Florida, now showed the way life used to be at that place they once called Disney World: thousands of children and adults dressed in non-uniform clothing running happily amok through the park, taking rides, eating food, and laughing with all the curious fidelities of happiness.
“First opened in October of 1971, Disney World and its four parks were once the world’s most-visited recreational resort,” the monotone voice of the vid’s narrator said. An old map showed the park, poised between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, in the center of Florida.
“I remember when my father took me to Epcot Center,” her father had said when they first boarded the train. “The Tomorrow Room showed us what the future would look like. I was so inspired by the possibilities. And although none of that really happened, I can still feel the hope I felt when I first saw what might be.”
“I never went, but my cousin did,” her mother had said. “She used to rave about Magic Mountain and the Magic Dragon rides. She always used to say that it was the only time in the world she was at once terrified and filled with joy at the same time.”
Sally heard it all but pretended not to listen. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to lose her hair like everyone did when they returned. She didn’t want people to know that she’d even gone. If she had the choice and opportunity, she’d hide until it was all over.
“Might as well get out of the funk, young lady,” her mother had said, poking her in the shoulder. “We’re doing this for you and you should appreciate it.”
“But I don’t want you to do this for me,” Sally said.
“You’re too young to know what you want. Your father and I want you to see what the learn-verse won’t teach you and what the sims won’t show.”
“I’ve accessed all the information, mom. What good will it do me to go there?”
“There’s something to be said for actually going someplace and experiencing it.”
“But do I have to lose my hair in the process?”
“Some would wish that was the only thing they’d lose.”
“And why do they call it The City of Joy? Why not the old name?’
“The new name reflects what it has become. In truth, it really doesn’t have a name anymore. People just call it that. Besides, Disney Corp no longer owns it.”
That conversation had been an hour ago. Sally didn’t buy it, but she was unable to do anything about it. She stewed in her fugue until another girl slid next to her and introduced herself.
“My name’s Amy Judd. I’m from Arkansas Agro. Who are you?”
Sally tried to act sullen, but one look at the dark circles under the new girl’s eyes, the sallow complexion, and the already bald head told her much about who Amy Judd from Arkansas Agro might be.
“Sally Coleridge from Denver Metro,” she said with as much verve as she could muster.
“You don’t want to be here, do you?”
“Whatever gave that away?”
“It’s all over your face. You look eternally sad.”