Closet Space

His house came into view - the tall spires of green and blue, the crimson-tinged window spirals haunted his vision. Uebler already felt haggard. The gate he opened was transparent with a strange violet fluid flowing within the bars. Tiny sponge-like life forms lined the inside of the clear surface. Those organisms had a lot in common with him - trapped in an invisible prison.

Having been away from home for so long, he didn’t know what to say to them. Could he still relate to them? Was it even possible to? Earth had a way of changing people, or so he had been told time and again. Here he was, back among the colonies again, out along the Rim - the wilds of the Terran frontier. Free to do as he pleased, yet confined at the same time.

Uebler passed the twin porcelain gargoyles by the crystal-grass lawn, and the lamps in the shape of nuclear missiles. All ghastly sights, which were a testament to his parents’ awkward personal tastes, phased him only a little. The chrome door opened.

He felt like an anomaly within his own home. The sensations that invaded him -the smell of incense mixed with potpourri, the sounds of chattering Juba birds - further alienated him from the place he once resided. Entering his parents’ abode felt like transcending several alien worlds at once. The miasma caused uneasiness within his stomach.

He stepped in.

His father sat in an egg-shaped easy chair, reading the late addition of the Chronos Herald. The older man looked like a sophisticated mime. His skin was unusually pale, contrasting the lip rouge he wore. Brunette locks ended in a strange topknot fashioned after a bonsai tree. His clothing matched that distinction - bright, colorful, and well-pressed.

His mother - seated on a nearby twentieth-century couch - was quite the opposite. She was a throwback to the Animal Fur Renaissance, wearing a blouse made from genuine terrier hide. Her long skirt flowed around the couch, and divided into feathery segments. Ostrich, Uebler thought. Very hard to come by.

His father looked up from his newspaper. “Ueby! Damn boy, you’re home early.”

“Honey!” His mother instantly jumped up, and rushed him into an embrace - one he paused at, but returned with equal tightness. “How are you? How was Earth?”

“We weren’t expecting you for another four hours,” his father cut in. “You should’ve told us you arrived at port, we would’ve had the car fetch ya.”

“I-I didn’t wanna bother you,” Uebler replied.

He waved a hand. “Nonsense, that’s what the car’s for. Got a brand new autodrive for it and everything. All suped up. So, now, tell us about your trip?”

“Yes, do tell!” His mother agreed, still clasping his shoulders.

“Um…well…it’s still blue.” Uebler started. “The oceans, I mean. They’re still blue.”

“We already know that,” his father said. “You know what we want to hear.”

Uebler’s mother nodded. “Yes, yes, tell us about . . . him.”

“Oh.” Uebler felt the beads of sweat roll down his temples, listened as his quickened heartbeat raced to his brain, gulped as the moisture retreated from his throat. “You mean Parousia.”

“Yeah, that bastard,” his father said through a sneer. “Mr. Messiah himself.”

“I never got to the sky cities,” Uebler said. “I didn’t really hear much about him.”

“How could you not?” asked his mother. “He’s been alive for a thousand years!”

Uebler shrugged. “You don’t hear much about him on the low planes. People just go about their regular business.”

“Even on the campus you were at? No word?” his father grilled. “Nothing about that Arma-whatever war that nearly destroyed Earth?”

“Yeah, there’s books and stuff.” Uebler scratched his head. “And there’s this really cool arcade called Megiddo Max’s, but nothing outta the ordinary. People just act like people. No cowering, no praying in the streets, nothing. I mean, it’s been a thousand years. They’ve had time to get over it.”

The older man put a hand to his chin. “Hmmm, odd. Those closest to him react less to his presence than those who fled his grasp. Interesting.” He paused a moment before speaking again. “Glad to hear it. I tell ya, your mother and I were worried that you’d fall into that crowd when we heard you’d been accepted for the Pilgrim Exchange.”

Uebler gave a slight chuckle. “Nah, you had nothing to worry about. There were no recruiters in the streets or brainwashing devices. All colonial media propaganda.”

“Good!” His father patted him on the back, a hard slap that sent him reeling. “Well, get unpacked. I’m sure the jump was a long one. You’re room’s exactly as you left it.”

Uebler smiled. “Okay.” He put his feet on the stairs, his luggage floated to him, and the stairs scrolled him up to the second story.

The steps lurched to a stop at the door to his room, which opened at his presence. His dad was right. The room was exactly as he had left it. Posters of his favorite Vendetta Ball team lined the ceiling, giving the play-by-plays of his favorite moments. His stuffed dog yelped at him in, jumping on his leg. Blankets retracted and polymer words appeared on his pillow.

WELCOME HOME, UEBLER SANZA

He smiled at that then turned to the closet and nodded. The mirror irised open as the suitcases made their way to the geode of neatly folded clothing. Before the mirror could close, he placed a palm in front of it. It whirred with a pause. He put a hand to his throat, caressed the jeweled chain around his neck, and pulled the source of the necklace to his face. A crucifix reflected back at him.

They couldn’t know, he thought. They weren’t ready to know. Colony-folk were like that, and his parents were no different.

Tossing the necklace into the closet, Uebler winced as the iris closed.

Tags: Armageddon, Christian, Parousia, Second Coming