Annihilating the Past Read online

unlikely that she would’ve been able to get pregnant again so it was up to me.

  Candice

  We wanted the baby to be Tesla and Shara’s biological sibling.

  Tiny

  We weren’t going with a donor, and we weren’t doing the turkey baster, that’s for sure. So all three of us started sleeping together and it was the most natural thing in the world.

  Candice

  Well not at first!

  Tiny

  I’m a lesbian okay? I’m not interested in men sexually but I wanted a kid, and it wound up bringing all three of us much closer together. At first Trevor and I were both focusing our attention on Candice, but things loosened up pretty quickly, and it was a lot of fun. Even after I got pregnant we all kept sleeping in the same bed.

  Me

  So you two are married and you both consider yourselves also married to Trevor?

  Candice

  We are married. We had a ceremony…

  Tiny

  We never sought legal recognition. It was more a declaration that we were a family.

  Candice

  It’s a spiritual union.

  Me

  Well it seems to work, you all have a beautiful home. How many people live here at the ranch?

  Candice

  Let’s see, it’s ten when Pia and Shara are here, plus Rosella’s kids and her husband, so that makes us 16 with room to spare.

  Me

  (inaudible) … great timing. I heard you have pigs?

  Candice

  Oh yeah, pigs and horses and some goats and chickens.

  Tiny

  No cows.

  Me

  Tiny I wanted to ask you how you got started making sorties.

  Tiny

  That’s well-covered territory. Did you read my book, Mind Control for Beginners?

  Me

  Yes I did, I thought it was…

  Tiny

  It covers most all of the early years.

  Me (cont.)

  … all soulful myths and dreams and powerful poetic impressions. Your book is a work of art…

  Tiny

  Life is a work of art.

  Me (cont.)

  … Yes but it’s short on the sort of prosaic facts that journalists like. People want to know specifics on the subject of annihilation sorties and how the whole scene got started.

  Tiny (cont.)

  (inaudible) … covered already in my book. What you want me to do is to name and categorize everything as if life could be expressed by a list of dates and events…

  Me (overlapping)

  No I…

  Tiny (cont.)

  … uncatagorizable, which is the point of my book, I’m surprised a sharp guy like you didn’t understand that. I could express the events of the past in words and what would I be doing? Killing everything in the timeframe I was describing except what was in the description. I won’t do it. I’m a poet see? So I know the power of words. When I described the past in my book, each line of it was very carefully considered. A certain path of words illuminates everything around it, everything that isn’t on the page. There’s a precise recipe for giving life to the past through words, but if I go traipsing willy-nilly around the past, I’m sowing a path of destruction…

  Candice (overlapping)

  Really? Thank you Rosella, we’ll be right down.

  Tiny (cont.)

  … and anything you need to know is hidden in the corners of my book. All you have to do is read it in the right spirit and you’ll find the answers you’re looking for.

  Me

  I’m sorry if I offended you.

  Tiny.

  You didn’t -you couldn’t! It’s okay. Just promise me that you’ll beware of nostalgia. I think it’s one of the most destructive and false emotions. It’s almost always a lie. Are you hungry?

  Me

  Famished.

  Candice

  Let’s eat, I’ll introduce you to everybody.

  -END AUDIO TRANSCRIPT-

  Dinner that first night was beautiful. All I can say is that the Brushton-Perra-Tresaro family was completely warm and welcoming, although three of it’s members were absent. Pia in a Swedish boarding school, Shara at the hospital (code for rehab?) and of course Trevor, who had dinner in his studio before I got there and was presumed to be asleep while we ate.

  Tiny told Carlos to take me into town so I could get my stuff and check out of the hotel, and when they were talking about which car to take I said I wouldn’t mind going by myself. They gave me Carlos’s small-screen to drive the truck, as it was immune to the jammers and would open the gate. Those were the kind of people they were, the kind that would lend you a vehicle an hour and a half after they met you.

  I packed my small bag and checked out of the hotel, and decided to stop by the bar for a drink. It had been a productive day and I figured I’d earned a reward. I found a spot near the corner and ordered a cheeba-vodka. I was doing a little snooping on Carlos’ small-screen when Lillian walked up to my table. She smiled at me. “How’d the family reunion go?”

  “It was great.” I said. “He already wrote me into the will. He told me to call him papa.”

  “No shit? You mind if I sit here?” I nodded and she sat down. “I was shocked when you got into that truck. I figured you were just fucking around out there.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “I know, I knew it as soon as Tiny Tresaro let you into her truck.” My drink came and I took a big sip. “You think you could get me in there?” She asked.

  “How would I do that?”

  “Just say I’m an old friend you met in town.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Come on Efrain,” she really was beautiful. “I want to spend some more time with you. You’re going back there aren’t you?”

  “Maybe.” I said.

  “You have your bag with you, so I know you checked out. You must be staying out there. What’s really going on? How do you know them?”

  “It’s not really your business is it Lillian? You want me to bring you out there so you can meet some famous celebrities? That’s dumb.”

  “No, it’s not that.” She said. “I don’t care about famous people. I just thought you and I hit it off and maybe we could get to know each other better.”

  “Oh? How much better?”

  “A lot,” she said, grinning at me.

  I took another hit off my cheeba-vodka and laughed. “I’m a guest at the ranch,” I said, “I can’t be bringing other guests back with me. It’s rude. If you want to get to know me, you’ll have to do it now.”

  “We are in a hotel,” she said, “and I have a suite.”

  I drank down the rest of the cannabinoid infused alcohol in a gulp. “Sure, what the hell?” I said.

  The suite was nice and the encounter was about what you’d expect from two high, drunk, near-strangers. It was two parts awkward, one part hot. I took a shower after, and when I came out of the bathroom she was sitting on the bed, typing into Carlos’s small-screen. “What are you doing?”

  She looked up quick and smiled. “Oh, I was putting my pick address in your small-screen.” She said. “I was trying to be slick about it.”

  I got my small-screen from my bag and tossed it next to her on the bed. “Put it in that one.” I said.

  I got dressed and got out of there, promising to call her before I left Cabo. When I got in the truck and put Carlos’ small-screen into the driver dock the truck didn’t move. I hit a couple of buttons and a notice came up about a data transfer in progress, but before I could do anything the transfer was complete and the truck started moving.

  Of course she was a scam artist, I’m not the kind of guy women throw themselves at. She thought she was downloading my personal information, but had gotten Carlos’s instead. I checked my small-screen to see if there had been a recent data transfer on it, but there hadn’t. I wondered what the right thing to do was, should I tell him? I’d be long gone by the tim
e he realized anything was amiss. I took the coward’s path, and said nothing.

  They set me up in a beautiful bungalow, and I slept on a soft, king sized bed with the sound of the ocean in my ears.

  Tesla’s wife Becca was assigned to stay with me the next day and we drove around the ranch in a jeep with her two charming daughters. It was very peaceful and interesting and utterly useless from my point of view. If I were writing a piece about all the interesting features of Rattler Ranch I would’ve been very happy.

  I didn’t get my interview that day, but I got my first glimpse of Trevor Brushton. When Becca and the girls and I came into the big house, using the side door, the kitchen reeked of strong cannabis smoke. He was sitting on a high stool, talking to an old man, who I took to be Rosella’s husband. They were laughing and sharing a pipe while Rosella bustled around the kitchen, preparing dinner with a little smile on her lips.

  Trevor was shockingly alive-looking, thin and wiry, his mop of white hair curling around his head like the rising smoke. He was wearing work-boots and beat up pants with a wrinkled, old fashioned, button-up shirt. He looked at me with mild curiosity. “Want some?” He asked, holding out the pipe.

  Becca groaned and and hustled the little girls out of the kitchen while I took the pipe. “I’m Efrain,” I said, “I’m here to interview you.”

  “Oh right. Can we do it tomorrow? I don’t feel like getting into a whole thing right now.”

  “That’s fine.” I said. I took a deep hit and almost embarrassed myself by choking, but managed to hold onto the smoke.

  “I’m a better talker in the morning.” He said.

  I released the smoke in my lungs. “It’s fine, really, we’ll do it whenever you want.”

  “You like that herb?” He asked