Søren AasSaint Step Mother
False detectives
Corrosion hasn't moved in ten minutes. Just watching the waterline.
"You know what's actually happening out there? We took the most generative force in the known universe and we turned it into a user experience."
Twoshoes: "My daughter's on Hinge."
"That's what I mean."
Twoshoes: "She's met some nice guys."
"I'm sure she has." Corrosion flicks ash into the water. "Captive animals occasionally reproduce too. That's not the same thing as fertility. Fertility is sacred. It has altars. It has names. You don't swipe on something you'd build a temple to."
Twoshoes: "People built temples to a lot of things."
"Yeah. And you can tell a civilization's health by what it considers worth worshipping."
Long silence.
"There's a moment — you've seen it in buildings now, all glass, everyone visible, everyone performing visibility — where shamelessness stops being rebellion and becomes just the default state. They're not transgressing anymore. They've forgotten there was anything to transgress against."
Twoshoes: "I kind of like the transparency. Keeps people honest."
Corrosion looks at him.
"Does it."
Twoshoes shifts.
"The thing that's actually dying — and this is what nobody wants to say out loud — is longing. Real longing. The kind that has somewhere to go. We've optimized the distance between wanting and getting down to nothing and we act surprised when nobody wants anything deeply anymore."
Twoshoes: "My ex-wife said I never wanted anything deeply."
"She might have been onto something."
Twoshoes: "Thanks Rust."
"Corrosion."
"Whatever."
More silence. A bird moves low across the water.
Twoshoes: "You think it's fixable?"
"I think some people still feel the crack. Feel the exact moment where horizontal becomes vertical and the ground isn't there. And instead of grabbing for something to hold, they just — look at it. Write it down. That takes a particular kind of courage or a particular kind of damage, I've never decided which."
Twoshoes: "Maybe both."
Corrosion is quiet for a long moment.
"Yeah." He takes a drag. "Maybe both."
Twoshoes: "So what do we do."
"We remember what we used to pray to. Before we got too sophisticated to pray."
Twoshoes: "Like Mary."
Corrosion doesn't answer. But he doesn't dismiss it either.
"Like Mary."