Destinations 7.

September through December, 2191 – syndicated news on sahara.cron – excerpts.

***

“‘Looking for the next exoplanet? Stare down at your feet! Because you’re standing on it.’ This a saying from the Second Renaissance. Smart dudes were walking the Earth back then.”

“Ya’ callin’ dose dudes smart? Mann! The occluded occupation used to fuck ’em systematically, for decades, mann!”

“They knew they were lied to, dude.”

“Many of them never cared, mann.”

“Those living in fear were unknowingly feeding the occupation.”

“Yeah, those reptiles relish in drinking our blood, even our spiritual blood. Fuckin’ vampires draining our souls out of our bodies.”

“Good that Astarte, with her arrival, has changed everything.”

“A blessing she has been. Now a landscape is left of her. Too bad.”

***

“Haya, muchacho, heard you’re planning to move up North, to live in the Katholikos, eh?”

“Ya, bro. Cool stuff goin’ on up there. My fifth came up with the idea, her sister has already moved, together with her girlfriend, easier for two, to find a spot, than for twenty, ya know.”

“What yo’ missus sayin’ -bro?”

“Ah, forget my missus, she jealous on the younger ladies. What she sayin’? What she sayin’? Same old, same old. Like all the time she naggin’ me. Man, who knew.”

“One is more than enough, dude.”

“You tell me this now?”

“Told you all the time. You never listen.”

“Man! Listen to me! They say it’s Jesus Christ speaking up in the Katholikos.”

“And you believe what they say? How many daemons have come to claim this name?, did you believe th-- oh, oh, yes, you did. I--”

“Forget about that. This is for real. Bro, I’m gonna move. Missus or no missus. I don’t care what she saying.”

“There is only one Jesus, dude. Please understand that.”

“The one who’s talking about a new winter coming. Up North. That one, bro.”

“So it’s a weatherman now, your new Jesus.”

“Look, bro. With Astarte dead, who’s gonna whirl that carousel up, eh? It is that thing, that colossal cap of steel atop the Arctic Ocean, that was keeping us warm. Now that’s slowing down. Only a matter of time before it’s gonna stop. Forever, bro! Winter is coming. Listen to me!”

“You’re freakin’ out. Again. Remember José?”

“José? José? Ah, José – the healer from Arizona. Oh yeah, I remember. He fixed two of my wives. Oh, and the missus, guess that she was visiting him too. What an awesome guy, making our wives look younger, be younger. What a blessing. Too bad that he couldn’t mute missus, or maybe just make her a little deaf, just a bit.”

“Can you spell his entire name?”

“C’mon, man. Who writes anymore? Who reads? Who spells? What’s that? No voodoo thing, I guess.”

“His entire name is José de Jesús Jiménez Fernández del Paso.”

“A mouthful. Can he remember all that?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, he can.”

“He won’t move up North. He says that he’d rather freeze to death in Arizona, like his father, than listen to the accuser in the Katholikos.”

“But it’s Jesus, bro! Jesus has returned. He’s waiting for us, calling for us, to join him. Can’t you understand?”

“Jesus who? José de Jesús Jiménez Fernández del Paso, that’s a Jesus too. That Jesus?”

“Hey man! Don’t make a mock of me. And why do you ridicule the name of Jesus? Our saviour!”

“José de Jesús is our healer, think we both agree on that. Yet no saviour, right? He must have told you this, because he’s telling it to everyone. Why on earth then, your weatherman Jesus should be the real saviour? How comes? What if he’s yet another Jesus?”

“You Mexicans, you’ve always been good Catholics. Why not move to the Katholikos then?”

“Because there’s a too-good-to-be-true-catholic up there.”

“So you won’t come?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, talk to you from my new apartment. Told them I’m looking for a penthouse but there’s a shortage of these. By the way, will you take my missus to live with your family? She won’t move with us. Too bad.”

“No problem. Let me talk to her. Take care.”

***

“Ciao, Ramón. How are you doing. Jennifer? The kids?”

“Hoarding supplies. They’re a bit concerned about this new winter coming.”

“They should be. This is worse than winter coming. It’s the end. But-- any end brings a new beginning. Ramón, I wish to move in together with your family. Will you have me?”

“Mi casa es tu casa. Shall I send a kid to help you with packing?”

“No, no. Thank you. I’ve already packed. It’s not much. Can I bring Brando with me?”

“He’s a very cute pup. Yes. There’s plenty of room at our ranch.”

“How’s the weather going in Sierra Madre?”

“Mild. We’ve got the rain for the crops to grow and then the sunshine for the crops to ripe, then the cool dry weather for us to harvest. We’re grateful to the Lord for this climate, to the True Jesus, the One from Nazareth.”

“You’ve gotta mention all the names nowadays.”

“Like we always did in Mexico! Hey, Gina!”

“Yes.”

“I am terribly sorry that your man won’t trust you, or me, or that gringo of yours.”

“Yeah, too bad, as he would say. What gringo of ours?”

“TRUMP, Barron, Junior the Third. What was his slogan?”

“Ah, the funny guy from Manhattan. One of the smartest minds on this planet. His slogan is simple: Live in your TRUMP Tower, travel through my TRUMP Tunnels, eat your turnips and trust no one.”

“The gringo is smart, but you won’t live in his towers, nor travel through his tunnels.”

“They are safer than the Katholikos. I can tell you that. But I love nature. I wish to live at your ranch. I wish to die under the sky.”

“Come die with us, dear. Ciao!”

***