Issue Four: Coming October 1
The Meek Inherit
On his way to work, Harvey remembered, children going to school were playing in the puddles left from last night's rain. They had their umbrellas. Of course, when Harvey left his apartment, the sun was just beginning to rise, no clouds in sight.
Now, on his way home with the windshield wipers on high, Harvey wished his mother insisted he take his umbrella. His mother wasn't there, though. She was in a home, a three-hour drive away. And since homes frightened Harvey, he rarely went to see her.
The thunderstorm made the night darker, even in the city. Working late, Harvey would have to park a few blocks from his small, overpriced apartment. If he had been able to leave work on time, he could have kindly asked one of the children — fresh out of classes, playing in new puddles until supper — for an umbrella. But now, night had swallowed the spaces between buildings and trees, trash cans and electric poles. Mothers called their children in hours ago. At this time soup was being digested while watching television or studying.
He pulled the car into a spot, turned off the lights and wipers, and before getting out, reflected. Mr. Stein had guilted him into working late. Harvey could easily see that now and could have told Mr. Stein that he had to go meet his mother or even tell Stein that this extra work was caused by him, Mr. Stein.
"Had you looked at my earlier figures," Harvey said right now, "you would have known this would happen, so, on principle, I feel I should go home and enjoy my evening, instead of doing your busy work. Good night."
After saying it, Harvey didn't know whether to giggle to himself or sigh. Furrowing his brow, a sigh seemed more appropriate.
"He would have turned it back on me somehow," Harvey said, "and probably gave me more work to do."
He always rationalized for the better, making him somehow feel as though he had won.
He grabbed his briefcase, turned up his collar — like Bogart — and stepped into the rain.
When he was younger, Harvey would try to will the rain away from his head, leading to a big headache. Now older, he didn't fight the drops falling from the sky. If he just let the drops fall, the rain felt relaxing. He could always dry off.
Walking easily, he began down the well-lit, tree-lined street. The sound and feel of the rain began to wipe away the extra hours of work. Mr. Stein was soon forgotten. His rhythmic steps became part of the percussion that was coming off roofs, trash cans, asphalt. Another sigh and Harvey was at ease, ready to read some Bradbury or maybe O'Connor.
His apartment was two blocks over, and the easiest way was through an ancient alley. The red pavement bricks were wet and shiny. Contrasting were the doorways, cracks, spaces, all dark, hiding.
The sky growled, more light. The dark spaces still did not give up their secrets.
Hesitantly, Harvey stepped into the alley, wishing now that he had spoke back to Mr. Stein, watching each brick that his shoe touched.
He rarely looked up anyway. Tonight was no exception. During his evaluation, Mr. Stein pointed that out.
"Look at me, Harv. Any time I talk to you, you watch your hands. Any time there is any conflict, you check out your shoes. I bet you didn't know that the secretaries notice that, did you? Miss Smith pointed it out to me. She asked me why you never looked up as you came in to work, said something about your blue eyes. I don't know. But anyway, you need to take more pride, keep your head up, don't be afraid. So I have to rate you just Satisfactory, but this is the only item keeping your grade down. Get it up, and you'll get that raise, Harv."
Harvey appreciated the pep talk and really tried making eye contact. It was tough, almost harder than talking back.
He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, reached for his keys with his right hand, looked up into the clouds, and stopped.
If he could have reflected on this moment, Harvey would not remember why he stopped.
Now, though, time slowed.
Harvey noticed he was now in the middle of the alley. What he was looking at was a ray of light growing out of a transformer on an electric pole. Bright, brilliant.
As the light reached for the sky, the streetlights began to go out. Just the white light continuing to the clouds. Every crevice that was dark before seemed darker now.
The transformer sparked. The ray grew taller, brighter. A noise — like a set of firecrackers going off in a barrel amplified times ten — exploded. Another beam of light began to arc toward the ground, toward Harvey.
His shoes and the bricks were one.
The noise grew even louder. The rays of light brighter. Harvey finally raised a hand to shield his eyes, which started to water and burn.
I swear I will never, ever look up again, he thought.
Light exploded all around him. The thunder reached a climax, deafening. His right hand would not release his keys. The other hand could not decide whether to continue covering his eyes or cover an ear.
The arcs were gone when his eyes somewhat adjusted.
Harvey couldn't see much through the tears and rain. He began to look to see what damage there was, but soon realized something, stopping him.
Power.
He felt it. His mind moved faster. His left hand tingled and sparked with static.
He built a computer, wrote a novel, and sixteen other, insignificant functions in his mind.
He reached out with his hand, blasted a trash bin with an arc of light, calculated pi, re-energized by pulling more electricity from some nearby wires.
He surged, recited The Holy Bible — King James Version — pulsed, relived every moment in his life, and saw Miss Smith's dark green eyes.
He pointed a finger, burned a sonnet into the cinder-block wall, remembered every word he said on May Eighth, 1973, held a ball of pure energy in his left hand, and collapsed.
The rain streamed off his body. An electric charge dissipated into the puddle he stood in, unnoticed.
Harvey reflected for a moment, wondered why he stopped in the middle of this dark, damp alley. He pulled the keys from his pocket and continued down the alley, trying to ignore the rain.
The clouds lit up the east. Thunder followed.
A few sparks fell from the transformer, and Harvey winced, picking up his pace, just wanting to be inside.