Snippet #2643006

May 1, Change Year 5
Ketchikan, West Coast of North America


She hated going to Creek Street.

In true Ketchikan fashion, Ketchikan didn't change. People thought it had, but, really, it had only been a handful of years since the tiny little town had even obtained adequate wireless technology (what a trip that had been), much less fast food. Those oddly-placed things were brought in with a lot of fanfare, but people hadn't really had the time to allow those things to change their lives on more than some superficial level, in the grand scheme of things.

Nope. Ketchikan didn't like to advance. But it sure loved regressing... and as much as Creek Street purported to be controlled by other women in its claims to its supposed rightful place as a central trading hub for the area, she knew that there was more to the story. If Ketchikan was so intent on prolonging old history and repeating it, then certainly the profession of a sense of altruism or any interest in looking out for women in the area was a false profession, indeed.

Dolly's. Yet again. Aves sighed as she pushed her way through the throng of fishermen standing idly by the wooden front facade of the establishment. One in a corner was reposed almost too comfortably in a patched-up rocking chair, staring wondrously up at an exceptionally still ceiling. Someone's been eating dreamfish again, she observed silently. The story behind that... the version she'd heard was that some nearby university's stunning research into plant, algae, and hallucinogens was scooped up by what had to by now have been a very successful (or a very dead) post-World entrepreneur. Turned out that it wasn't hard to grow more algae and raise more fish, upping detected levels of DMT into levels that were too monstrous for most to stomach. While it wasn't know to kill anyone, the impact of effects were uncertain; some emerged from the experience far more balanced and less anxious, as though a load were lifted from their shaky shoulders, but most people did not have such luck. As for Aves, she didn't touch the stuff. She understood that some people simply couldn't take the world after everything had just... stopped. It had been a confusing time... and many had not been as lucky as her when everything had ended and begun. But the world wasn't a place where she would have felt okay shifting her sanity out of her control before then, and she certainly didn't feel as though she was in a state now where that could work. A young woman traveling by herself couldn't be too careful.

Either way, the damn fish was a stupid idea.

The spruce door, evidently patched up exasperatedly many times thanks to many an angry fisherman's fist or some other bodily impact, swung open. The scene wasn't unexpected; tables were strewn across the rotting wooden flooring, loud half-conversations all running into each other as vats of highly-concentrated homebrew and moonshine were exchanged over a counter. The windows were shuttered up and lamps were placed up along the rafters and stairs and other strategic spots to try to give some light. Aves wrinkled her nose. She wasn't a fan of brothels. It wasn't that she felt they didn't have a place; she could even grudgingly admit that, even though she would have much rather spent a life blissfully ignorant of all the things that people do when they think no one else is watching them. She just didn't like them. But that was another thing that had never changed about the world...

"That'll be- Oh!" a scratchy voice sputtered from behind an ornate cherrywood desk propped by the door. Must have been a remnant from the old Federal Building, across the little strip of water where the tiny Thomas Basin met Ketchikan Creek. The Stedman Street bridge was declared a bust only a few weeks prior when a dog team and a truck of cargo helplessly tumbled underwater when a decayed section broke off during winter breakup. There was a reason why infrastructure was a never-ending endeavor in the far north. The leathery-skinned proprietor of Dolly's had a unique way of being recognized, with that emphysematic voice. "Mrs. Anderssen!"

"Hello, Blue," Aves emitted at the bare minimum of politeness. Blue knew better. But it was obvious that she wasn't going to actually do better. She held up a couple of old car air fresheners after scooping them from the bag slung around her shoulders and slid them across the desk to the old woman. "Any idea where I can find Barry?"

The woman's eyes gleamed giddily. Aves thought the things smelled like chemicals that had long exhausted any kind of shelf life, but Blue loved them. And having Blue to help her out was, well... helpful. Her bony fingers splayed over the desktop to grasp the noisy plastic of one little green tree and she ripped it open, pressing the foamy green tree against her nose and sighing in its aroma dreamily. Never mind the fact that what looked to be a hell of a brawl was beginning to materialize on the stairs--Aves gave a surprised shout as she suddenly felt the need to duck out of the way. Barely six inches from where she'd stood, a burly fellow careened through a wooden rail with the sound of protesting splinters raining down onto the floor. It didn't faze Blue one single bit, who happily enjoyed her new aromatic treasure as though nothing had happened. Aves stood back, muscles tense and defensive as she tried to read what would happen next. But within seconds, the man's head spun itself in wide circles as he came to, then dazedly pushed himself up and weakly clambered right back to the bar. There was no way he was going to remember why he would be in such pain the following morning...

Blue finally took her attention off of the little cutout, and shrugged at the dark-haired woman in the Xtra-Tufs. "Barry's not here."

What.

"What?"

"He'll come back tomorrow. Had to go to Gravina."

"But he told me to meet me here, at this time."

"Well, I guess you better talk to him about that, then. But he wants to talk about all those canning supplies you found. Especially all that pectin. You going to be around?"

Aves paused before she twisted her head in a half-nod, half-shake. "I'd been planning on seeing Drew's léelk'w in Ward Cove, but I'll come back tomorrow. All right."

Blue shrugged and tilted her head at the bar. "Well. You're not married anymore!" she cackled as she gestured a spotted arm toward the mess all around them.

The younger woman belted out a genuinely amused laugh. "That's too bad," she clipped out after taking a breath.

"Well, thought it was worth a shot," Blue admitted, shrugging her shoulders. Blue would never know better. "You're really going to keep sailing around with nowhere to go? You could be successful here."

Aves wrinkled her nose yet again, a facial tic that she'd worked for years to control if someone said something to her that didn't settle quite right. "I have plenty of success on my own," she shot back defensively.

Blue raised her mottled hands steadily. "Now, now, I don't mean this," she reassured roughly. "I meant it, though. You could be just fine in a place like this. Ketchikan, I mean, with your own thing. Nothing like this. You can't go out there alone anymore." Aves nodded vacantly. She didn't want to listen, but the door was now being blocked by a small group of shabbily-dressed, alert-eyed men who stuck a heavy bag on the desk before shoving past. Blue let them pass through undisturbed. "Look. I get it. No one's safe anymore. I don't even like sitting here. But, girl... You've only got one life and you've almost lost it more times than you'd like to admit."

"Blue, I don't think we should be talking about this."

"Nonsense," Blue responded without skipping a beat. "I know that what happened was awful. Drew..." she trailed off as she looked up toward the ceiling, up at the empty gap just ripped through the railing. "... Drew was a good man." Aves pulled a sigh into her lungs as she continued to listen with glassy eyes. She knew that. "There will never, ever be another Drew. Or another Iver." Aves' heart stung, but her face was stoic. The following month, Iver would have turned four. She could go without seeing Drew for days if he was out on the water. But Iver? She'd never known a moment when Iver wasn't at her side when he was awake. "But there is still you."

Aves shook her head. The failure of Pacific Junction was still something she hadn't fully forgiven herself for. People like Blue had told her that it was a silly dream doomed to fail--and they were right. "Maybe someday, Blue." She strained to smile despite the churn in her stomach.

Blue sighed. "I was Drew's first grade teacher. Like I said, he was a good man. I can't imagine how you must be feeling. I'm sorry."

Aves briefly marveled at such a stretch of a career change. Some things just begged to be laughed at, no matter how inappropriate. "I'm sorry, too, Blue."

Blue stood from her spot and offered her arms in a hug. Aves quickly gave the woman quick clasp of her arms politely. "Tomorrow."

"Okay." A pause. "Thank you."

Maybe Blue did actually know better, Aves reflected, as she ducked around a new set of partygoers to dart out the door and back out onto the boardwalk to head toward the harbor.