5307

by nick nelson

it was the night before the big day - one of them. harry and jerry and me decided to take the bus to town. . the driver was a little fat native woman who made a big deal out of giving us exact change for our tickets. the bus was crowded. we were a little surprised that the natives did not get up and give us their seats but we did not really care. we broke up when we got to town. suddenly we were the only ones left on the bus, when it was just getting back. harry had a tan like he had been out in the sun for three days, but it faded before we got to the camp. the streets of the camp were deserted. the young guys, the proles, were all locked up and under guard. half of them would be dead at the same time tomorrow night. the admirals and generals were having one their admiral and general night before parties. me and harry and jerry walked in, there were still some seats in the back. the women had not noticed jerry yet, but they would. jerry was one of those guys who just had it - like everything else in the world you either had it or you did not, and they flocked around jerry like moths around whatever. i sat down and admiral x’s secretary came over and asked me about my sore foot, but then jerry came over she forgot about me. some more women came over and surrounded jerry. you always were a backward swaying bimbo, jerry told the admiral’s secretary, and the women all pretended to be shocked, but laughed. up front the admirals and generals were laughing too, harder than ever. the torch lights flickered. what did we care? we were the children of the dawn, the clouds would always part for us and the birds would always fly out of them. we would get old and gray and our maids and grandchildren would bring us cool drinks on silver trays. we would write our memoirs. i am already writing mine.