A/N: Hey kids. I just wanna get my notes out of the way first. This is the last "regular" chapter of Grande Dame. There will be a final epilogue in a few days, probably early to mid next week, since my kids birthday is this weekend, and I'll get my final thoughts and thank yous out then. But for artistic reasons, I really wanted this piece to have a chance to stand on its own for a few days. I did my best to really proofread it this time, but this drained me even more than the last chapter did, so I wasn't up for reading through it more than a couple times. Hope you all enjoy it.
March 2085
Chloe dutifully attended to the various plants and flowers blossoming in the greenhouse, as she'd done for...oh...as long as she could remember.
It was a tribute, a labor of love. An act of devotion to her soulmate, the woman she once called 'wife'. So many of the green things growing under the glass, in the warm and sultry air, were touched by Max's hands, cared for by her, nurtured and attended to. In following along that same path, Chloe couldn't help but feel that much closer to her. As if they were together once more; in spirit, if not physically.
It was all she had left of her, really, past the simple material possessions left in the wake of Max's passing. These moments in time that connected them both.
I wish...we'd spent more time doing this together. This was always Max's thing. But damnit, it should have been our thing. Never appreciate someone until they're gone. Always think you have all the time in the world...until you don't.
"Time is the fire in which we all burn." a familiar voice called out, churring with playfulness as the woman calling out affected a gravelly, dramatic tone, . An old joke, something the two of them shared, something that only they alone would truly understand the meaning of.
Dropping the hand clippers onto the ground, Chloe froze, disbelieving. Chills warred up and down her spine with warm flushes, a torrent of emotion welling up inside her, threatening to burst.
Chloe whispered to herself, "Oh..oh God. Oh God, oh God! Shit, I've finally snapped. Startedhearing voices..."
"...or it's actually me, Che." Max said, pushing aside a few fronds as she emerged, as if from nowhere. She was wearing a pair of loose, blue drawstring Japanese rice-farmers pants, a white button down shirt, and a big floppy sunhat. She wasn't young, but there was definitely a youthful, supernatural aura about her, like someone who was in the world, but no longer a part of it.
Chloe swallowed, feeling terribly short of breath, as she turned to fully face the other woman; all the while, her mind screamed that what she was seeing was impossible. She drifted closer, as if in a daze, when Max held out beckoning arms.
"There's my partner in time..." she said, as Chloe enfolded her tightly against her chest.
Choking back a few sobs, clinging desperately to her, afraid that the slightest word or motion might dispel the moment, Chloe whimpered. "M-Max? How...how? I saw you! You died. I was there when...and then the funeral. And..."
Max shushed her, stroking her hair, the back of her neck, kissing at her ear. "Che, please. Did you really think I was going to stay dead? After what happened, all those years ago? You honestly thought I didn't have one last trick up my sleeve? I mean, life owed me, don't you think? Owed us. It was all a matter of waiting until just the right moment, to play my hand ."
"Oh God, it's you. It's really you!" Chloe breathed in her scent, nuzzling at her neck as she ran her hands over her back. She knew it! She just knew it! One last bit of that old magic. That brush with the impossible that left them forever changed. Whatever higher power touched her, touched them both...it never forgot. It waited until now to show her the full measure of its benevolence and love. Its mercy and compassion.
It brought her wife back to her!
She laughed in delight. If only she were a few years - alright, decades - younger, she'd lift Max up and spin her around. She called out to the heavens. "Thank you! Thank you!"
Bringing a hand up to her face, Max gazed at her with adoring affection, and whispered. "We'll never be apart again, Chloe. I promise you. Just you and me forever. The way it was always meant to be."
Chloe laid a hand over her wife's. Took a breath, drinking in this miracle as deeply as was humanly possible. For lack of anything else to say, she leaned in, to press her lips together, eagerly kiss the woman in her arms...
...then woke up in her bed.
Alone.
Just as she had every day, for the past five months.
It wasn't even their old bedroom. That room was closed off to her now; too much pain lingered inside, too many memories. Like Rachel's old bedroom, it was a sealed-away vault of memory, a piece of the past preserved in amber. Ever since the passing, Chloe confined herself to the largest of the guest rooms. She found it calming, psychically sterile. It was all she could stand, while still barely being able to live in the house itself.
She choked back a piteous sob, rolling over to her side as her hand came up to cover her face. She wept, in the first golden rays of the rising sun, as she willed her aching heart to break on the spot so that she might not have to face yet another day alone.
It was going to be a bad day. Possibly the worst since the funeral.
Chloe went numbly through the motions of existence; bathing, dressing, shoving mouthful after agonizing mouthful of some flavorless oatmeal to keep her going.
For an hour she stood, staring out at the greenhouse through the large picture window in the living room, a burning anger roiling inside; an anger her aged frame could barely stand to contain. Oh, how she hated that place! How she longed to have it torn down to the ground, the glass panes smashed to fragments, the fragments ground to dust, the dust burned into nothingness. To rend the leaves of each and every plant into mulch, to throw the ceramic planters to the ground.
In her mind's eye, for one furious, terrible moment, she saw herself as the great tornado from nearly a century ago, the one that spared Chloe her life, taking instead the old Arcadia Bay and a chunk of its populace as compensation. Oh, how she'd teach that traitorous edifice! She'd lay the full bore of her anger upon it...
She turned away, gasping sharply. Trembling as she collapsed on the couch.
Max...Max loved that place! And she loved you.
Chloe dismayed at how close she'd come to letting her hurt and rage taint all of that. But she didn't know what else to do; how to cope, how to move forward.
And so she sat there, on the couch. A prisoner of a life she no longer particularly cared for. It wasn't in her to end it; if nothing else, she imagined that it would break Max's heart if she committed suicide.
Still, it tormented her, as she wondered what possible reason life had to continue prolonging her existence, while snuffing out so bright a flame as that of Max Caulfield's. She imagined that if their positions were reversed, Max would somehow find the strength to move past the grief, to accept the precious fragility of life, and make the most of whatever remaining years were gifted her. With grace and dignity.
But Chloe couldn't. Half a year on, and she felt as much trapped in an unending gray maze of futility as she did after that first week alone. Spent from the maelstrom of raw emotion, Chloe leaned back against the couch, and closed her eyes, letting sleep draw her down.
She wondered if she'd be lucky this time...enough that she would dream and never wake again.
A deep, dreamless sleep was shattered by an rapping on the front door.
It was rare for her to get unexpected visitors these days, a change from the first two or three months after Max's passing, when local well-wishers came to pay their personal respects and sympathies for her loss. Truth to be told, Chloe was touched, even taken aback. In a happier frame of mind, she might confess to being pleasantly surprised that she was still held in such high regard in the city, or remembered with such affection, let alone at all. She was the mayor literally a lifetime ago, and even her congressional service ended decades back. She assumed she was old enough now that people simply forgot.
And for the moment, being forgotten was what she wanted most.
The knocking became insistent, but Chloe was feeling stubborn.
They'll give up in a moment.
A minute passed, then another, before silence fell. Assuming she won this small battle, she rose up from the couch, and drifted aimlessly through the living room. That was when she heard a voice.
"Chloe! Are you in there? Damnit, you better not be ignoring me. Not unless you finally kicked the bucket yourself."
It was Victoria Chase.
Chloe sighed heavily. Though she came and went, in and out of their lives over the years, Victoria remained a constant friend to Max and herself; after the funeral, she did her best to try and offer comfort and support: two things Chloe was certain she had no desire for at the moment.
Damnit, Tori. If it were anyone else, I'd tell you to just go the fuck away...
"I swear!" the other woman continued. "I'm pretty sure I have a granddaughter in the ABPD. She can hack through your security system and override the door control in a minute, and if I tell her why, she'll do it for me. So...you know, open up!"
Chloe decided to embrace the inevitable; it might present a few minutes of distraction. She couldn't figure out what else to do with herself. Opening the door, she shielded her eyes against the surprisingly bright early springtime sun. After a few seconds adjustment, she beheld Victoria, looking amazing as ever. Pushing ninety herself now, and not a silver hair out of place, not a wrinkle that didn't look like it hadn't asked first for permission before creasing her face. She held herself with a strong, straight bearing, putting most women twenty years her junior to shame.
Damn you, Vicky. Perfect, even now.
"Wow, you look like shit, Chlolo." Victoria declared matter-of-factly, gently pushing her way inside the house. Chloe didn't try to stop her, but neither did she give much reaction when the other woman kissed her affectionately on the temple. "Did you not get my message yesterday? Said I was coming over to check on you...talk about a few things. And Jesus, not a moment too soon." She glanced around the house, as it stood silent, drab and dark. Almost all of the curtains were pulled closed, throwing into sharp relief the few beams of light that managed to slice through the greyness.
Chloe ran her hands briefly through her hair, somewhat dismayed at the greasy feel. It'd been three, maybe four days since she last washed.
Frowning slightly, she looked away, and in a peevish tone of voice said, "Sorry. Haven't...haven't had the time to check any of my Web devices."
Victoria snorted, and with a wry, playfully smile chided, "I think it's sweet, how you act like a ninety year old woman...from the year nineteen-ninety-seven. Je-sus, who checks their external mobiles anymore?" She tapped herself between her eyes. "Get with the times, babe. I had a neural weblink installed last year. Now I just read my mail like it's a heads up display in my vision, thanks to the bionic lens implants. I literally surf the Web by blinking."
"'Surf the Web?' Yeah, now who sounds old? Spoiler alert: it's you." Chloe grumbled. In years past, she and Victoria absolutely loved to verbally spar, playing at being frenemies though the two came to deeply respect and care for each other long ago. But now? She just wasn't in the mood, and cut straight to the chase. "So why are the hell are you here?"
"You mean other than the fact it's been months and you're more cooped up and isolated than ever? And I've come by to check on you?" She stood there as Victoria's expression softened considerably, reaching out a lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. Chloe bowed her head, clenched her jaw. She knew Victoria meant well, but the presence of her wife's long time friend and business partner - the two co-owned Victoria's gallery, at least until Max's will granted her share back - stirred up too many painful emotions and aching memories. She wasn't usually such an introvert, but up to this point, shutting out the world was the only way she felt able to deal with it all.
"Im...fine. Don't need you to come around and check on me like I'm an invalid!" Chloe huffed out.
"Liar." Victoria poked. "You're..." she walked around the house, drifting from window to window and opening up the curtains. Sunlight flooded in, dispelling the surreal twilight ambiance of the living room. "...you're in pain. Agony. I understand, Chloe. I mean, maybe not in exactly the same way, but..." She stopped short and steepled her fingers together. A thoughtful look crossed her features as she blew out a breath.
"Alright. Guess I might as well cut right to the..." she smirked. "...Chase?" Quickly continuing before Chloe could complain about the old pun, she said, "Your wife. She and I were working together on one last show, you know? Her first in ten years. It was going to be all sorts of different plants from her greenhouse, presented in different mediums. Holograms, 3D replicator statues, old-school giclee prints...even a few ultraviolet and infrared..." She suddenly switched tracks, brightening up considerably as she said, "Oh my God, Chloe. Those pieces, those are the really inspired bits. Like everyone else in the world forgets that these blossoms are doing their best to attract animals that don't see the world the same way we do. There's all these fantastic metalayers to your run-of-the-mill flower..."
"Tori...that...that's nice, alright." Chloe interjected. Sighed hard as she hugged herself. "I know Max was really focused on her art, in the greenhouse. Didn't know that it was turning into a show...she didn't tell me."
"Oh. I mean, it was a surprise, I think. Even for you. One last, great huzzah. One final moment to bloom. The heart failure took her too soon, before she had a chance to complete it. But look, you - Chloe, I want you to help me curate the show. A grand tribute to a wonderful artistic talent. I want you to put your spin on it. Show us the woman you loved, through your eyes. What her work meant, how it touched and inspired you."
Chloe backed away, her eyes widening in horror. She turned and leaned against the kitchen island for support, panic welling up inside her chest. One shaky breath turned into two, as she struggled to regain her composure. Shaking her head as quickly as she dare, Chloe replied, "N-no. You do it, Victoria. You...you're the artist. You knew that side of her, better than I ever did. Can't - I - I can't. Too many memories. Too many..."
She stopped, gazing at her reflection in the chrome of a nearby appliance. Struck silent, as she recalled a time, back in her past.
Just like David. Oh God...I'm just...I guess I really am my step-father's daughter, after all.
Part of her wanted that to be enough. To shake her out of the doldrums, just as she'd managed to get through to him in his time of despair, all those years ago. But it wasn't. Another voice, far louder, insisted...
It's not the same. It's not the same...Max and I! That was far more, far deeper. How do I ever move on?"
Victoria strode over, crossed her arms, leaned against the side of the fridge, and glared furiously. "God. Damnit. Chloe? You know what? I wish I was in your pain right now. Do you know that?"
This immediately got Chloe's attention, as if stung by the surreality of her statement.
"Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?!"
"It means...You and Max." Victoria pushed herself off, and began to pace. "You and she had this rare and beautiful love. I mean people stay married, and people kinda-sorta stay in love. But the two of you? Soulmates. A lot of people get married to people they love, but almost no one really gets to marry their true soulmate. I know I sure didn't. I mean fuck, I never got married. Period." She paused, and gesticulated with her hands for emphasis. "Oh sure, I had my fair share of lovers, people who came in and out of my life, and changed it in ways - some bad, but mostly for the better. And I had a gorgeous daughter, and she has three wonderful kids of her own, but I never experienced that love for the ages, the kind the two of you shared. And it's pretty obvious, in this late hour, none of that is in the cards for Victoria Chase." She walked over, towards one of the shelves, running fingertips over the faded wedding portrait of the four of them: Max, Chloe, Victoria and Kate. They were smiling and waving for the camera.
"I know it's easy for me to say this, not truly understanding it from your perspective, but if I were you, Chloe Price-Caulfield? I wouldn't be running away from everything that reminded me of that love. God, I'd be...terrible. I'd wrap myself up in it. Everything. Everything that reminded me of him, or her, whoever it was that I was blessed to share that connection with. I'd do anything and everything to remind myself of what it was like. Keep their memory burning bright and fresh in my mind."
Walking back towards her, Victoria concluded, "Probably a shitty thing to say to you, in this moment of pain. But you know me, I'm good at being shitty sometimes. Especially if I think it's for the right reasons."
Chloe felt the knot of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. Rising up like a lump in her throat, as she bowed her head. The sobs burst insistently out, quietly at first, like an ancient engine futilely trying to turn over. But in short order, she began to weep. Her voice was rough and vulnerable, as she groaned out her grief. Arms encircled her, kept her from collapsing into a heap on the floor.
"Oh God. Oh God! Tori...I don't know how! I don't know how to make it stop hurting! I don't want to forget her! I never want that but...I don't know how to make the pain go away. There is this part of me, that is absolutely desperate to run away from here; this house, this city, anything and everything that reminds me of her!" She rubbing at her wet face, choking on her sobs.
"Max. Sorry...so sorry...!"
Victoria leaned in, and whispered. "Come with me. Right now. I mean, get yourself together, maybe clean up first, but then walk right out the door with me, okay? We'll go straight to the gallery, and get to work. You and I, we're going to bring her back, one last time. A tribute to her life. Your life with her. Together. I mean shit, if I have to do it all myself, I will, but you and I both know damn well that if you don't take this opportunity, you're going to regret it. You, turning away from the vital spark, the essence that made her her?" She shook her head. "No. I don't think you're in that much pain. Don't focus on how much you think your life is empty without her now; only on how much she filled it with joy. For sixty-plus-whatever-fucking years."
Chloe struggled to compose herself. She grabbed a fistful of tissues from the dispenser on the counter, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose. Then glanced warily at the door, feeling the weight of the moment press down upon her shoulders. She could let Victoria walk out and, by herself, tell the world the last story of an amazing, remarkable woman, in a fashion that was lacking in critical depth. She'd do her best, but there would always be something missing.
Or Chloe could turn and face the pain. Dive towards everything she'd been running away from, and pray that somewhere, in the maelstrom, she found at least some small measure of salvation.
This action will have consequences.
She must have lost track of how long she'd been staring, because Victoria started waving a hand in front of her face.
"Alzheimer's starting to kick in, babe? You know, they have a cure for that now. Tastes like chocolate mint."
"Shut up." Chloe said, with a clipped laugh. "I'm going to go upstairs. Take a quick shower. Maybe get dressed. I don't promise to enjoy any of what we're about to do."
Victoria smirked. "Making art is a plum pudding of suffering with little raisiny bits of exquisite joy. I think you've got the suffering part down. So yeah, you go and get clean. I'll still be down here waiting for you. Riffling through your silverware, and stealing your best medical marijuana from the medicine cabinet."
Chloe extended a single, bony middle finger into the air as she make her way up the stairs.
We'll always be together, Max. I just have to learn what that means without your physical presence.
January 2086
"Naana? There's someone here who'd like to meet you."
Chloe leaned casually on her beloved cane, fingers drumming against the crystal skull capping the black lacquered length of ironwood. Admiring her reflection in the mirror, dressed in a slate gray suit, her short hair dyed a rich, vibrant blue, she thought she cut a rather imposing figure. A mighty matriarch, tested by life's slings and arrows, and while initially bloodied, coming away from the experience unbowed.
Victoria turned out to be infuriatingly correct, per the norm. Pouring through the vast volume of material Max left behind in her final years turned out to be exactly the sort of therapy Chloe needed. Being able to share all of those moments in time with Victoria, and in her own way, re-live them, helped her work through her grief. Gave her the strength to turn all of that pain and anger into a quiet, sublime joy. She was able to bring her own unique perspective to Max's work, and above all else, found it was rather fun, as Victoria recorded a whole slew of segments, turning her into a 'virtual curator': holographic explanations presenting each piece in the gallery as the audience passed through. The show was great success, and for one shining night at the opening, it was as if she and Max were rejoined in spirit, through the nexus of Victoria's gallery.
And now, saved from her grief as she once saved her step-father from his, she was now being introduced to her great-grandson. Her eldest grandchild Kamala was the - well - Chloe wasn't quite sure how to describe it. Apparently the young woman was in a polyamorous lesbian triad; the sort of thing that was unusual and challenging to the social norm back at the start of the century, but now the sort of arrangement people were less likely to react negatively to. There was some sort of technique involved that combined all three of their DNA into one zygote, and though Kamala contributed her genes, she didn't carry the child to term, that much Chloe was certain.
She just couldn't remember which of her grandaughter's wives had.
But Svetlana and Kimber were both absolutely wonderful women and while Chloe didn't pretend to understand how their relationship managed to work, she was always pleased to see how happy they made each other.
Hah! If nothing else, I love that you take after me in your preferences, kiddo. I guess it must have skipped a generation.
Chloe gratefully exchanged her cane for the newborn infant, smiling brightly to herself as she cradled him in the crook of her arm. It never failed to amaze her how much her parenting instincts came back to her, after all these years. A warm rush of memories flooded her mind, as she recalled those wonderful, terrifying first months after Rachel was born, and what seemed like a never-ending struggle to adapt to the new reality of parenthood.
She looked up and over, appraising Kamala; a young woman of twenty five, she was possessed of striking good-looks, having received the best attributes of both her father and mother. Her caramel colored skin stood out in contrast to the stark near-white platinum blonde of her hair, cut into a soft mohawk, which she parted to one side. Glowing, animated tattoos of various Hindu gods and goddesses crawled their way up and down her arms, befitting her image and status as an up-and-coming world music artist.
Cooing at and cradling the infant in her arms, Chloe murmured, "Seems like only yesterday your mother was putting you in my arms, Kammy. Just like this." She laughed lightly, bouncing the baby around, as the child did his best to ignore what was happening and instead continue napping. "I only wish Max was still with us. She would have loved to meet this little man. Hmm. So what's his name, then?"
Kamala reached over, grinning to herself as she tickled her son underneath his chin. She then looked up and said, "William. I know it's wick old and toto-no fashion, but it was 'lana's papa's name. And I seem to remember, Naana, that it was your father's as well."
Memories of William Price popped into Chloe's mind, bright as they were out-of-focus. Such a vital, important character in the narrative that was her life, and yet, after so long, he was almost a mythic figure to her. Someone she remembered more through the repetition of telling his life's story, less about the actual experiences she shared with him. She took a deep breath, letting wave after wave of nostalgia wash through her, before softly declaring. "It's a good name. Hell, an excellent name. Oh God, he would have - just - absolutely loved this baby. And you."
"He would have loved me too, I hope!" another voice called out. Rachel's, as she and her husband walked in through the front door. They quickly crossed the distance into the living room, and Chloe gave each of them a close albeit one-armed hug.
"Hey Daddy." Rachel said
"Hey kitten." Chloe murmured in return, and then smirked towards her son-in-law. "Mr. Senator. Still can't get you back onto the West Coast, it seems." she teased. Like her, Sandeep had taken a break from politics, only to be pulled back in after a decade. Last year, he won his election to become the first Indian-American US Senator in Massachusetts history.
He laughed low in return, pausing to kiss his daughter on the forehead in greeting, before answering, "Everyone knows it belongs to you. If I start running in Oregon, or even Washington, everyone will accuse me of being part of a political dynasty."
"Ugh. That was a long time ago, Sandi. I'm sure more people have heard of and remember you than they'll ever recall me."
He pushed his glasses - still an unneeded affectation - further up the bridge of his nose and clicked his tongue. "You might be surprised, Dad. You might be hella surprised."
Chloe laughed. "What? Hella? You're not allowed to say that. Especially not at your age."
He grinned toothily. "Sure, why not? It's gotten toto popular again, y'know?"
"Dada, don't say toto either. It's embarrassing." Kamala teased.
Chloe laughed brightly, and then turned to the gathered members of her family. "Well, let me just say how happy I am to be here today, because I've gotten to say hello to my favorite granddaughter's precious boy. Max would've...ah." She shook her head lightly. "If you think she doted on you Kammy, that's nothing compared to what she would've done to little William here." Pausing, she pivoted her head towards Rachel and added, "That's your special prerogative, by the way. Best part of being a grandparent, you can spoil the absolute hell out of the kid, and then dump them back off on the parents before you have to deal with the consequences."
"Naana!" Kamala lovingly chided. "That's terrible."
"Ohhhhh...it's true." Rachel responded. She then walked over, wrapped an arm around her daughter's shoulders and trilled, "And you're about to find out that shit does indeed run downhill, lalaa."
Before anyone else could speak, William woke with a fuss.
"Oh, I know that cry." Rachel said.
"Yup. Hungry baby time. You never, ever forget what it sounds like." Chloe added. "Hey, I'm curious, who nurses him?"
Kamala smiled. "We all do, all three of us. We take turns."
"Huh. I'd love to find out how that works sometime, since only one of you carried him."
"It works well! And it's not a difficult thing to pull off, not these days. I think it's my turn actually, that'll make Kimber happy." With that, she gently took her child back, returning the cane to Chloe in the process. Rachel gave her husband a meaningful look, and said, "Sweetie? Why don't you and Daddy go and have a talk...about that thing?"
Chloe quirked a single brow upward.
Hmmmm...now what's that supposed to mean?
"Oh? Sure. Do you mind, Dad? Got someplace quiet we can talk?"
"Study works. This...sounds like it might be a 'study' kind of issue."
The two of them made their way up to Chloe's private office. She'd recently gone through the monumental effort of dusting decades worth of material off, throwing away what was no longer needed while prettying up and displaying some of the favorite pieces she'd collected over the years. The various plaques, achievements and honors, diplomatic gifts, and favored pictures, a small tribute to a decades long career. The room itself held a large desk, along with a comfy chair that looked suspiciously like one that belonged to a certain Blackwell principal from seventy years ago. There were very few bookshelves; with home replicators able to print anything and everything on demand and just as easily recycle the material back, there was little need to devote the space to holding physical books, except for pure sentimental value.
"Get you anything, Sandi? I've got juice, booze. Wine, which is just boozy juice. The drink replicator makes an okay coffee, but not as good as it used to. Know why? I swear, it's because the kitchen and the office mesh networks are angry at each other for some reason. Problem with living in the future, damn house and appliances are getting too smart for their own good."
Sandi grinned, "Thanks, but I'm good. I know you hate to beat around the bush, so I suppose I should jump into it then, yeah?"
"It'd be nice. At my age, I could drop dead at any moment." she joked. Mostly.
He took a deep breath, clasped his hands together, and then asked, "Right. So how much have you been keeping up with the new efforts to push through the Thirtieth Amendment to the Constitution?"
Chloe pulled out a blue bottle from the mini-fridge, a Japanese soda she was fond of. She pushed down the marble that acted like a cap, and then took a swig. After swallowing, she answered, "Not much. I knew it was languishing for years, but..." she waved the bottle around dismissively. "I just don't keep up with the news like I used to anymore, kiddo. Although..." she took another pull, and then continued. "...feel sort of embarrassed. That kind of thing used to be near and dear to my heart."
Near the end of her Congressional career, Chloe was one of the more prominent leaders of a push to publicly fund all elections, completely pushing private money out of the process in an effort to aggressively curtail the remnants of institutional corruption in the political system. That sort of thing required a Constitutional amendment, never an easy feat. The vote was close, a hard fought battle, and there were days during that time she feared for her own safety and that of her family, given how high emotions were running. In the end, she, and so many of the others who worked alongside her, managed to achieve what was for her a lifetime dream.
"Yes, well...as you know, the Democrats got a slammed for a bit, not long after you resigned. Big part of the reason why they lost your seat. There was something of a conservative backlash, and the Federalist-Eagle party made some significant gains for a while. Held on to the Senate for almost a decade. But we've managed to tough it out, and now the party leaders are convinced the wind is gathering quickly at our backs again. We're pretty sure building up the numbers we need in the House will be relatively easy, but the Senate is going to be much harder. So we're pulling out all the stops, trying to recruit as many ideal candidates as we can, to take as many seats as possible. It just so happens that James Detweiller isn't going to seek re-election. He won't be officially announcing that until tomorrow, though."
"Really? Huh. Oh well. Didn't vote for the guy, but he seemed okay. Met him a couple of times at some things. We didn't agree on everything, but for a Freegle, he wasn't much of an asshole. I guess he did okay by Oregon. Of course, even the rural areas aren't as crazy-go-nuts as they used to be. So who the hell are you trying to convince to run for his seat?"
Sandeep blinked. "Well...you. I should think that would be obvious."
Chloe made a show of leaning hard against her cane as she continued to drink her soda. She narrowed her eyes and murmured, "Gotta be fucking kidding. Me? When I meet most kids in this community these days, they say, 'Wow! I think I read about you in history class...but I thought you were dead.' Pretty sure the world moved on and forgot about little me a long while back."
Sandeep steepled his fingers together for a moment, "Ohhhh...well. You probably wouldn't get far running for President, but Senator of Oregon? In this state, your name is gold! Chloe, people remember you. Fondly, not to point too fine a point on it. We need as many seats as we can get, and after all the quants in the party ran their billions of computer simulations, they're told us that you're far and away the most likely person to win that Senate seat. Furthermore, they're convinced that if we get you in there, the entire effort to push through the amendment goes from a forty-nine percent chance of success to sixty-five.
"Whaaat?" Chloe said in disbelief. "Those guys! They aren't oracles. They don't know everything...still..." she mused. "They are pretty good. But...but why? I don't get that part. The whole my adding to the success bit."
"Really? I mean, can't you see? It's not just about getting people in there who can vote in one particular way, at one particular time, and be done with it. Party discipline isn't a huge problem right now. But people still remember your role in getting the previous amendment passed..."
"That was a group effort," Chloe interrupted. "I know people like to lionize, but don't act like I was the lynchpin. Sally Rippington, and uh, Liz Warren's grandkid, whatsisface. They did a lot more of the heavy lifting than me..."
"Maybe, but they're not around anymore. And you remind people of the last time amending the Constitution actually happened. How that felt, what it was like. Of going out there and getting the rest of the politicians together to doing something major. You're - ah - an icon, I suppose. Someone the party can rally around on this issue."
Chloe sighed heavily. At first blush, she was pretty sure the answer should be no; she wasn't certain she had the energy to go through with this, and God knows she paid her dues a long time ago. She was more than content to fade off into the distance, go peaceably into that good night.
And then something occurred to her.
She turned and looked up at the oversized giclee print hanging on the wall; a family portrait that Max took of the three of them, right after Rachel was born. She was smiling radiantly, and from this angle, it almost looked like she was staring down at her, knowingly.
"Is this the reason then, babe?" Chloe whispered to herself. "Why I'm still here, why you haven't called me back to be with you? Am I supposed to stick around for one last act?"
"Sorry, didn't catch that?" Sandeep asked.
Shaking her head, Chloe answered, "Nothing. Nothing at all." She cracked a roguish grin and smirked up at the portrait, shaking her head. "This - ah - the amendment. Still the same as the last draft, the one from ten years ago? Doing away with the Electoral College?"
"For starters, yes."
"Shit, I can just imagine all the conservative legal scholars freaking out over that one. Even I'm not totally on board with the notion anymore. And standardizing electronic vote-by-mail at the Federal level? None-of-the-above with instant runoff for elections, and nationwide ballot initiatives?"
"Good memory." Sandeep laughed.
"Yeah...well. Pretty comprehensive basket of goodies there. Good luck trying to get all that shit passed." she grumbled.
"We figure if we shoot high, then we have things to give away during the bargaining process."
Chloe nodded sagely, "Yeah. Yeah, makes sense. That old game. Huh." She closed her eyes in consideration. Then opened them...
"Fuck it. Fine. Yes. The answer is yes. But understand, Sandeep. I am an old woman. Hella old." She smirked at this. "I'll give you and the party a single term. And I certainly can't promise you I won't up and die on you in the middle of it."
"Oh Dad, you're not ol-" he paused. "Okay. A single term."
"Right. Wow. Shit, I can't believe I'm seriously letting you talk me into running for office one last time. Jesus, call me Henry the Fifth." As she said this, she began to twirl her cane around like a sword.
"Great! Great. Wow, I'm really excited by this! With you on board, I feel like we've actually got a chance!"
Chloe held out her arm, happy that her son-in-law caught the notion, and threaded his own through it. "Sandi...with you on the East Coast, and me on the West, we'll smash those bastards in the middle between us. Or something. Gonna be fun to try, at any rate. Now, let's get back downstairs and figure out what we're gonna do for lunch."
November 2092
"And now, I'd like to give the podium over to the woman so graciously passing the torch...Oregon's proud junior Senator these past few years. Ladies and gentleman...Chloe Price-Caulfield!"
Chloe took a deep, cleansing breath. Here she was, at the end of the crazy scheme her son-in-law put her up to, more than six and a half years earlier. Part of her was disappointed; she'd forgotten how much she missed the old job, and how damn good at it she was. Plus, the was the fact that she was now old enough to get away with behaving in an occasionally eccentric fashion. She had to admit, she always got a thrill when she could shoot down the occasional 'whippersnapper' with a glare, or by brandishing her cane in a vaguely menacing fashion.
But there was a much larger part of her that was relieved beyond measure to see everything done, at long last. The energy and the demands, the late nights and stress took their toll, and as increasingly active as senior citizens were becoming thanks to modern medicine, there was no way she could go on with politics any longer, even if she wanted to; she'd already developed health issues, and had a few scares lately. The softly insistent pain in her chest was reminder enough of that.
Damn heartburn. God, too many bad meals the past few days.
But it was Election Night now, and after she gave the thousands of people assembled out there one last speech, there'd be little else she'd have to do during the lame duck portion of the session, except enjoy this final capstone to her life. To her career and her achievements. In many ways, she imagined her life would be far less eventful from this point on.
You know what? That suits me damn fine. I've had plenty of 'eventful' to last me three lifetimes. Boring would be okay.
She took another deep breath, attributing the growing difficulty to calm her nerves to the electricity of the moment, the excitement in the air. And why not? The one thing she set out to do for this entire term, and she managed to pull it off.
Had help, of course. A lot of help, but damn. It's nice to come away with a win.
Walking out onto the stage, she smiled brightly, waving towards the crowd, letting the roar of adulation wash over her. Certainly, she'd seen crowds as large as this before. Spoken before them, or close enough. But there was something about it now that seemed terribly overwhelming, almost crushingly so. It wasn't a sensation she found altogether pleasant, but was still awed by. Almost like watching a giant tidal wave about to smash into the shore; it would consume her, but damn if it wasn't a hell of a sight to behold in those last few seconds.
She stuck out a hand to the man making her introduction, the one who ran for, and won, the seat she would be vacating: Arthur Prescott-Chisholm. A somewhat distant relation of a particular family who once held sway in her beloved city of Arcadia Bay.
He was - what was it now? Kristen's great-grandson? Yes, that was it. Young, full of life. Oozing with charisma, but a kind he came honestly by. Her reminded her a bit of Gary Trudeau, not that many were left alive who remembered that name. When Arthur came to her several months ago, seeking her blessing before announcing his intention to run, she was initially suspicious..
Embarrassing, how rude I was, kinda, to the boy during our first meeting.
She was set in her ways though; for much of her life, Prescott, in her mind, meant hypocrisy. Exploitation. Even death. Once upon a time, Arthur's great-granduncle nearly killed her, and did kill someone who meant the world to her. Part of her was still bitter, clinging to the hurt caused by those wrongs of the past. But Chloe soon came to learn how unfair it was to tar him for the sins of his fathers. She spent time reading over his achievements, his philanthropic work. Cut off from most of the Prescott fortune, he came from a strictly middle class vocational background, and worked his way up. Never forgetting his roots, nor where he came from. He was a People's Champion, and proudly wore the mantel.
When Chloe realized how much he reminded her of herself at that age, she immediately called him back and told him that she'd be more than happy to give him a full-throated public endorsement of his campaign.
And now, here she was, passing on the torch.
Couldn't have written a better ending to all of this myself.
She held out a hand to him. He eschew it, choosing to warmly embrace her instead.
"The floor is yours, Senator." he murmured.
"Thank you kindly, Senator-Elect." she replied. They both shared a knowing smile, as she made her way to the podium. She leaned on her cane for support as she walked, much more needful of it than in years past.
Ignoring the nagging, burning ache in her sternum, she turned and faced the masses...
Oh God. So many of them out there tonight. Why did I never notice that sort of thing before?
"Well. Let me start by saying I'm happy you like my replacement. We had quite the vote turnout tonight, didn't we? But I'm proud to be leaving you in such accomplished hands. So before I begin, let me offer my own congratulations to you tonight, Senator Prescott-Chisholm."
Man. That sounds weird. But you know what, weird is good. How many more chances for weird am I gonna get in this life?
Leaning against the podium, she continued, "I'm not one for long speeches. Never was before, especially not at my age. You...you all know the joke by now." After pausing the let the audience have a laugh, she went on. "I'm happy to see the future is in good hands. Your future. Our future. In the hands of someone who will protect the very real gains that we've just, as of last week, finally made. Someone who will build upon and protect them!"
Another loud, raucous cheer burst out. It was a good thirty seconds before she could continue.
"As you all know, my son-in-law...oh...hey...there is hey. Hi Sandi." Another laugh, as she waved towards Sandeep, waiting in the sidelines backstage with his family. "That boy, he comes to me with this harebrained scheme he and the rest of the party cooked up. Sure you know it by now, a little thing called the Thirtieth Amendment. But you all know me, I love hairbrained,so..."
She paused for a moment, shook her head, and then started again, her voice far less light and airy.
"No. I'm sorry. Can't make light of this. Forgive me. This is a true sea change for our great country. More than three hundred years since our nation was founded, we have made gains and improvements that have been a long time coming. They should have been in place decades earlier, but are definitely better late than never. We've taken the faith in the system that was painfully rebuilt over the years, and done right by it. I'm happy to say that America will now have a world class system that ensures that each and every citizen over the age of eighteen will be able to submit their vote by mail or e-mail. And that Americans will have a stronger voice in exactly who it is they want to elect, as opposed to merely picking the lesser of two evils. And finally, that the people of our nation will have the power to bring up ballot petitions at the federal level, granting them a powerful check against the potential for abuse and corruption in our political class. Something that we need to remain forever vigilant of."
They didn't get everything they wanted; some of the measures were watered down. The Electoral College would still remain, for all its strengths and weaknesses. But they got enough to call it a win. That was good enough for her.
"And we...we..."
It was getting harder to breath. Like a vice gripping her midsection.
"Oh...p-pardon me." she gasped. "All the excitement..."
Murmurs began to ripple back and forth across the audience.
Chloe tried to find more words, but they wouldn't come. The talent she'd spent the majority of her life cultivating suddenly failed her. Trembling, her hands clammy, her heartbeat unsteady, she gazed out with increasingly blurry vision, until she caught sight of someone familiar in the audience. She was right up at the front: a young teenage girl, with short auburn hair. Dressed in a grey hoodie and pink t-shirt that were almost eighty years out of fashion.
"M-max?" she whispered.
The girl gave a loving smile, just for her.
Chloe thought to walk over to the front of the stage for a better look, but her body failed her after the first few steps away from the podium.
The floor rushed up to meet her. Everything began to slow down.
The darkness claimed her, quicker than she thought possible.
Hearing was the first sense to return to her. There was a high pitched whine, almost like the sound of a choir singing, off in the distance. Chloe was possessed of the definite sense that she was flying somehow, or floating, at any rate. She opened her eyes, and all she could see was white.
Someone was calling out to her.
"...d?"
She narrowed her eyes, squinting. She could start picking out details. There was someone, dressed in a white suit.
The choir began to sound less ethereal, more mechanical.
"..ad?"
"M-max?" she called out. "Is...that you?"
It was easier to breathe now. She could feel something, stretched across her face, part of which was inserted into her nose.
"Dad? Daddy?"
Suddenly, the world resolved itself in short order. She was lying on her back, looking up at the curved ceiling of a flying ambulance. Not the first time she'd been in one of these things, and she laughed at the realization.
Angels...ducted thrust fans. Not much difference, huh? Some heavenly choir that turned out to be.
Rachel was by her side, her face a mess from crying. A fresh wave of tears flooded from her eyes, as she reached down to tightly grip her hand.
"Oh...oh thank God. I was...we...so worried."
Chloe glanced around, and then spoke, her voice tight and raspy.
"Ambulance?"
Rachel nodded.
"Where?"
She paused, then answered, "Seattle. They're flying you to the big hospital there. But...but you're gonna be alright. I promise. Everything's gonna be fine. Ohm-Gee, I was so fucking worried. I think I almost passed out myself when you went down!"
Chloe took a deep breath, lungs greedily gulping down the extra oxygen the tube around her face was providing. "Heart attack?" she asked.
Rachel nodded again. "Yeah. It...it was pretty bad. But there were already medic teams on site, and they jumped all over it. Still...Doctor says that if it weren't for the synthcardium strands they implanted in your heart last year, you'd have probably died on the spot."
"Oh."
Chloe tried to push away the immediate feeling of disappointment that the news elicited. Not that she had a death wish, but at the same time, she half-cursed the double-edged sword of modern technology.
She then chuckled. "Damn shame..."
Rachel looked horrified. "Daddy. How can you say that?" she demanded.
"Oh...oh baby-child. No...I was just thinking, mostly..." she reached over, patting her daughters face. "Woulda been hella cool. You know? Up and dying in front of millions of people via live webcast. At a moment like that?" She started to laugh louder, despite how much it hurt. "Yeah. Awesome. Like a boss."
Rachel shook her head, trying her best to keep from smiling, despite herself. She choked back a sob. "Please don't...you really almost died, you know?"
"Princess, let me tell you something: when you get to be my age...laughing about your brushes with death is one of the few true pleasures you have left in life."
She took another breath and smiled, before passing out again. But only into sleep.
This time.
April 2094
Chloe decided that she was going to make today a good one.
Not that her life was particularly unpleasant in the here and now, but she'd felt a curious sense of let-down since last month, after her one-hundredth birthday. The celebration itself was a marvelous thing, of course; all of her family came out visit. She initially intended to make it a small, private affair, but a few over-enthusiastic and well-intentioned individuals in town practically begged her to let them hold some sort of public celebration for one of the city's most illustrious citizens.
So she compromised: a private party for her and her loved ones the day before, a public one on the actual day of. As personally grumpy as the notion initially made her, by the end of it, she was moved to tears. They gave her the key to the city, and the Blackwell valedictorian for this school year made a lovely speech. Chloe quickly realized that as embarrassing as she might have found the fuss they made over her, this was as much about the city taking time to celebrate its history and come together as a community as it was about her, personally.
And then it was over, and everyone went back to their normal lives.
Chloe wasn't sure what to do with herself afterwards; weeks went by and her life felt like someone staying overlong at the party, well after the host politely made it clear that maybe it was time for everyone to leave.
Eventually, she came to the conclusion that it was best to simply take everything day by day; treat each morning as if it were her last. And so, with that notion in mind, she was going to make today a good one.
Slowly working her way out of bed, it struck her that she was already ahead of the curve; her usual assortment of aches and pains were diminished from their usual levels.
Huh. Guess that damn doctor was right. It was time to get a new mattress!
She decided to forgo her daily shower, instead opting for a long and rather luxurious bath. And why not? Where was she going? What was the rush? People were so desperate to wring as much utility from every second of the day. She wondered that it took her until she hit triple-digits to realize that she had all the time in the world, to waste as she saw fit. What was the point of trying to hang onto quantity, when that could dry up at a moment's notice? Best to focus on the quality.
It was subtly and profoundly liberating.
She continued to embrace that mindset as she walked into her kitchen. Now was about the time that she usually had a long and heated debate with her food replicator about what she was and wasn't supposed to eat these days, especially at breakfast. No matter how much she pleaded, cajoled or threatened, the smarmy thing always insisted on serving her something that was almost but not quite like oatmeal. Bland and unsatisfying.
Well, fuck that noise.
As she passed through the kitchen, the machine called out to her, in a terrible approximation of a British cut-glass accent. "Good morning, Madam! I trust you've slept well? Shall we have at it, per our usual routine, or will you simply accept the well-balanced and highly nutritious offering that I've slaved over? Or perhaps you'd like to hear the latest news and weather updates first, before our morning duel, hmm? Skies looks sunny today, but there's apparently a large front coming in for the eveni-"
"Oh...God. Fuck you! Seriously, just fuck you. I know my daughter meant well when she got you for me, but...ugh. Anyhow, I've realized that as long as I never eat any of my meals in this house ever again, you can't slowly kill me with whatever-the-hell shit you call food.
"Madam!" it cried out indignantly. "If you'd kindly allow me to remind you about the many, many benefits the Soylent Eight line of nutritional products has to offer..."
"No!" she softly roared, grabbing her cane and closing the door indignantly behind her, as she fled out into the bright sunshine.
Oh. Wow. Well this is an awesome day.
The constant rains of the past two weeks recently gave way to clearer skies, and the budding branches from the start of the month were now bursting forth with color. The strand of weeping cherries that Max and she planted eighteen years ago were vibrantly pink and she slowly made her way over, taking the time to examine their petals and enjoy the scent.
Huh. Maybe I ought to think about opening the greenhouse back up. Start growing a few things in there again.
The loud, insistent growling of her stomach reminded her that despite a moral victory against the tyranny of a balanced breakfast, she still needed something to eat.
She smiled impishly to herself, making her way over to the aircar.
"I know just the place..."
"Wow. Hey, Senator! Can't remember the last time I saw you in here. Must be almost a year now, right?"
Janine was a sweet girl - girl, by Chloe's definition, being thirty-two, in this case - who reminded her of a bubblier version of her mother, Joyce. More and more food service establishments these days were switching to automated waiters, but as a historically protected landmark, the Two Whales Diner was committed to preserving the authentic dining experience of the late-Twentieth and early-Twenty-First century. It was an easy enough thing for the management to do, given that the diner now operated as a non-profit funded not only through food sales, but also several generous grants, and more than a few donations from Chloe herself.
Which is, of course, why they insisted on never letting her pay for her food.
"Hmmm. First off, I'm not a Senator anymore..." she smirked sweetly. "And second...God. A year. Really? Too long. Too damn long. Alright, well I don't need to see a menu Jan. You know what I want. Just like Mom used to make."
"Okay! Coming right up. Glad to see you coming 'round again!"
Two waffles, two eggs sunny side up, two strips of bacon. Coffee, black with sugar. Plenty of butter. She insisted on at least paying for a tiny container of actual maple syrup, the kind made from real trees. Most of it was lab replicated now, but it just wasn't as good as the stuff the few struggling artisanal sugar shacks still managed to put out, despite the collapse of the traditional industry.
Chloe gazed down on her sumptuous feast, and breathed out, "Man, I am hungry like the wolf." She suddenly glanced up, realizing that this was the exact same booth, and she was sitting in precisely the same spot when she said those words over eighty years ago. The day Max blew her mind with an incredible demonstration of her power.
She shook her head and smiled to herself, as she proceeded to scarf her food down, eating with gusto. By the end of it, her belly protested, no longer used to such rich food, but Chloe sighed contently all the same as she pat her stomach.
Gonna pay for that later. But damn, it was good. Hella worth it.
She lingered casually for the next three hours, chatting first with Janine, and then a few of the random diners passing in and out: townsfolk, who greeted her warmly, peppering her with questions about 'the old days' of the small fishing town; tourists, a few of whom asked for her autograph; students from Blackwell, who enjoyed the diner because it was 'tique', which Chloe guessed was the new word for 'retro'.
She had a marvelous time, playing the role of a piece of living history, and she was smiling wide when she finally excused herself so she could move on with the rest of her day.
Chloe mused to herself, reflecting on the morning.
I could do this. This could be my thing. Just go and eat at the Two Whales every day, and talk to the people as they come in and out...hmm. Maybe not everyday. Need to make it a little special. Once a week? Oh! I could shake it up, make the day random, keep people guessing. On the other hand...folks like consistency. Hmmmm.
She wandered through town, wending her way in and out of the various shops, browsing mostly, but occasionally picking up a few small purchases. She talked the ear off of one patient salesman at the cannabis boutique, with her various complaints about the quality and consistency of the products these days, before picking up a few of the new dermal patches that were apparently all the rage.
Frank's pet shop was still there, though Frank himself was long gone. She could not say the same about Victoria's gallery. The Venerable Lady Chase - as Chloe often teasingly referred to her - died three years ago; the rumor was that it was from a heart attack while bedding one or possibly two paramours at once.
Ha ha! That was style, Victoria. That was a hell of a way to bite it.
Neither Miranda nor her children shared their mother's passion for art, and sold the gallery. The good news was that it was purchased by Blackwell as a space to showcase aspiring young talent, and to give the students a chance to learn more about the business aspects of the field, as well.
I should have done this a long time ago. Man, what a nice city this is! What a great place. Why did it take me so long to slow down and take another long look?
There was a mental 'ringing' inside her head; Chloe finally took the plunge and got her own neural interface to the Web not long after she became a Senator, though she mostly kept it disabled except for phone calls. Blinking three times, she accepted the call coming through from her daughter.
"Dad!"
"Hey kitten. How are you? Having a good day, today?"
"What? Oh, I'm fine but...your kitchen called me up this morning and told me you were really rude to it. Wattyeff?"
"That's true. I was. But in my defense, Rachel, my kitchen is an asshole! It could really learn a lot from the bedroom. 'Cause the bedroom is cool, you know? The TV always knows exactly what I'm in the mood to watch, and now that I have the new metamaterial mattress, it can figure out exactly what I need, hard or soft, cold or hot. Man, I had an awesome night's sleep last night."
"That's not the point. You know Doctor Kurtz gave you a toto strict diet to follow. That replicator only has one job to do and...honestly? I think you hurt it's feelings." Rachel chided.
"What? Oh Jesus fuck, sweetie. These 'virtual intelligences' are a clever trick, but it's not like they're real people." She snorted, and then continued, " But yeah, fine, if the replicator wants to be my bestie, it can start making waffles like the kind I can get at the Two Whales. You know, I'd program that in myself, but some child of mine locked me out from those settings."
"Daddy...I'm just trying to keep you healthy. You had a bad scare a couple years ago, but you could have a lot of good years ahead of you. But you have to take better..."
Chloe peevishly interrupted, but still maintained a gentleness in her tone of voice, "I've already had a lot of good years, Rache. More than my fair share...more than I deserve."
"...what's that supposed to mean?"
Chloe stopped short. She turned around in a slow circle, gazing at the houses, and the shops. The streets, the traffic lights. The schools and the sidewalks. Everything still looked so new to her, even now.
Everything was new. Because of her.
Because of Max. Because of them. And her powers.
And the cost that Time Itself demanded, in order to prolong her life.
They'd never told the story to anyone else. Not even Rachel. It didn't even occur to them in all those years to say anything. It was their impossible secret, something that was meant just for the two of them.
"...Dad?"
Maybe it was time. She didn't have much of that left, and when she was gone, no one would remember. Rachel would call her crazy, but so what? Her daughter didn't have to believe, but it would be nice if it became a mad little tale, passed down from generation to generation.
"N-nothing. Nothing, honey. But look, can you just take me at my word when I tell you that I'm happy? Right this minute...I'm pretty happy. I ate an awesome breakfast, I'm having a pleasant walk. For this moment right here? I'm damn good. I know it might be hard to hear this, but I'm not going to be around forever. Someday...someday I'll just be gone. I have no idea how many days I have left, but I want to make them all as nice as the one I'm having right now."
Rachel paused, a good few seconds, before she said in a soft voice, "I...sorry. It's just...I love you, Daddy. I want to have you around, for as long as I can."
"I know, sweetie. I know. I said the same thing once, to your Grandma. But...well look. Let's get together for dinner tomorrow, okay? Think you can plan it quick enough to jump on the hyperloop and come over for the weekend?"
"...sure. Yes. I'd really like that."
"Great. And I'll tell you a story."
"Oh? What kind?"
"One about your mother and I. When we were very young." Chloe said.
"I'll see you tomorrow then. I love you."
"Love you too, kiddo. My best to your family."
Twitching her lips in thought, Chloe thought about how she might round out the rest of the day, before she went home. It seemed there were now preparations to make.
And maybe when I get home, I'll apologize to the kitchen.
Chloe turned around, and headed back to her car.
"Naahhh..."
Later on that day, Chloe decided to pay a visit to an old haunt.
She sat on the bench, in the shadow of the great lighthouse that stood silent vigil over the whole of the bay. The sun was already past its zenith, bathing the water in shimmering liquid gold. The city of Arcadia Bay spread out before her in one wide, encompassing sweep. Compared to its sleepy days of her youth, it was far larger, and much grander in scope. Were it not for the Two Whales, tucked away by the shore, her nineteen-year old self would never recognize it now.
The sparkling gleam of a solar panels on almost each and every rooftop. The autonomous aircraft darting to and fro like dragonflies, in the air above. The hustle and bustle of thousands of busy people, going about their lives. The great and the small, the important and the trivial...
...above all else, Arcadia Bay was alive, in ways that none would have dared dream a century ago. Alive and looking optimistically towards a brighter future. For despite its very best efforts, Humanity was moving ahead, the worst of the existential threats it previously faced eliminated, or at least mitigated to a more manageable level. The world was far from a perfect utopia, to be certain; there were probably more people who were homeless and hungry than a moral people would consider acceptable. Conflict and war still raged, in seemingly distant parts of the world. People continued struggled with the timeless questions that had no perfect answer: how best to govern, where does the line get drawn between individual freedom and communal responsibility, what is the meaning of it all? There were still swaths of the planet, places in Japan, and the American Deep South, Africa and even Europe, where environmental devastation made human habitation all but impossible. But spirits were high that humankind would adapt. New technologies were being invented every day, which would help reclaim the places lost to the folly of Mankind's greed.
Then there was the permanent lunar settlement, celebrating it's tenth anniversary, and the colony on Mars was close to coming on line, any day now. The promise of fusion power was realized at last, providing clean, nearly limitless power, while also providing a method for effectively disposing of toxic waste once and for all.
Chloe looked over the land she once hated with a passion. The town upon which she laid the blame for all of her life's problems. In her mind's eye, she still saw the Arcadia Bay of her early youth as the mean and rotting husk of a once vital and industrious fishing village, lorded over by the rich and powerful, reveling in sickness and corruption. Chloe would go to her grave, fervent in the belief that the scourging of the old Bay was absolutely the best thing that could have happened to it. Of course, she'd always mourn for those who lost their lives, especially given the guilt she bore in their deaths.
But look at it now. Arcadia Bay. My Arcadia Bay. Someone had to do right by you...I'm glad it got to be me. Thank you...
For the first time in a long while, Chloe felt some measure of disappointment that she wouldn't be around to what lay in store. Like Moses at the edge of the Promised Land, her fate was to look upon, but never enter into. Despite that, she could go in peace when her time came, secure in the knowledge that her child, and her children, and their children would live in a world that was just a little bit kinder than the one she knew.
With a content sigh, she closed her eyes, bathing in the warm sunlight.
When she slowly opened them again, she realized she must have dozed off. The sun was low, and majestic looking thunderheads, softly crackling with their tines of lightning, bore down on the city.
Huh. Those came in quick. Looks like...like a hell of a storm blowing in.
She wasn't worried though. It wasn't anything worse than the city faced in the past. Still, it wouldn't do to be caught out in it. Especially at her age.
She meant to stand, tried to rise up from the bench, when she realized...she couldn't.
Chloe wasn't paralyzed per se, but a great lethargy seized her. She felt spent; completely bereft of all energy. Almost as if she were trapped in her own body. She could breathe, maybe move her head around, but that was all.
There was a tickling on the top of her right hand, which lay limply at her side; a blue morpho butterfly sat upon it, slowly flapping its wings in time with her heartbeat.
There was no fear, in either of them.
"Oh. It's you." she husked "Always figured...you'd come back. For me."
It was getting harder to breathe now.
"Appreciate it...that you took your time..."
The cane slipped from her grip, as her eyes closed. Forever.
The butterfly soared into the air, triumphantly flying towards the clouds.