The Wasteland (Part 7)

	I didn't sleep long. I never really do.
	One of my legs was sticking out of the hole in the blanket and my jacket-pillow was now covering my face. I probably looked like a pile of old laundry.
	Eight hours a day people lay their heads down and commit to the premature death of sleep. On average, people spend a third of their lives in this voluntary coma, hoping for their rapidly twitching eyes to take them far off to fantasy and riches if only for a short while. I didn't typically dream, but lately it's been every time I went to sleep. Could it have something to do with her?
	Turning my head to give her a glance, I saw the little white rabbit's head poking out of the blankets. The early morning sun crept in from the window, half-obscured by the machine grafted into the windowsill, and lit her blindingly bright hair. In the darkness of this quiet room, she was like a living nightlight.
	Bundled up in my bed, there, she had the worst case of bed hair I'd ever laid eyes upon. It surrounded and ensconced her head in a ball of frizz, like a lion's mane. I sat up to get a better look and it only then occured to me just how long her hair was. There were some white, silky strands covering her mouth and nose, and with each breath she unwittingly attempted to suck them into her nostrils, resulting in an amusing whistle.
	I reached over and brushed them away so she would stop trying to suffocate on her own hair, but as I did so, she, still in a deep sleep, rubbed her cheek against my hand and attempted to use it as her pillow. She looked so peaceful and content, and I felt my cheeks burn at the innocence of it.
	I slowly withdrew, picking my sweatshirt from the floor and sliding into it. I brushed myself off and arranged my hair with my hands-- good enough-- and took the three steps from my bed to the door. I placed my hand on the knob, turning it a quarter when I heard Lumi sharply inhale, giving me pause - would it be alright to leave her here? I wouldn't be gone very long, I told myself, but that wasn't enough to give me the conviction to open the door the rest of the way.
	Hanging on a nail in the wall near the doorway was a keychain with two keys: the mail key, which I never needed, and the room key, which I never used. But today...
	I opened the door as quietly as I could, crossed the threshold into the early morning drizzle, and closed it behind me, turning the key in the lock. I won't be gone very long, I repeated to myself.

	If you looked to the horizon, you'd see a golden orb rising from beneath the mountains like some kind of lying deity rising from its tomb. The skies were swirling grey overhead, dowsing me with light rain that would function as my daily shower. As the sun sleepily skirted the dark canvas above, however, the clouds gave way and the earth dried up.
	At this time of the morning you wouldn't expect anyone to be lurking the plot of steel corporate servitude, least of all a vagabond like myself who paid in nickels and dimes, but after last night I needed a pick me up in the form of canned sugary caffiene 'and bull piss,' as my mother used to put it.
	I also needed to think about the girl who was likely still fast asleep under my sheets. Even if I was content to subsist off of ramen noodles and coffee I couldn't assume that she would be. Or, rather... I didn't want her to live the way I did.
	Empty, save for the unliving excuses for human beings that stood vigil at their checkout stations. Just the way I preferred it.
	I picked up a can of coffee, same as always, and trekked to the produce section, making sure to avert my eyes from the hypnotic rays coming from the snack aisle and bakery. Unholy temptations filled with the mouthwatering sin of hedonism-- and I lacked the avarice to afford it anyhow.
	I didn't want to just buy her carrots again, might give her the idea that I thought of her as my pet rabbit or something. No - what else might she have liked? My eyes scanned over the rows of lettuce, carrots, cabbage, cauliflower, leeks, brussel sprouts; the tables of bananas and apples and oranges and mangos; the buckets full of caramel apple dip and banana bread mix-- until I found some fuzzy pink peaches. I don't know why, but I had a sudden conviction that she was bound to like these and I basketed a few, along with a safety bag of lettuce that was marked down but still green.
	I turned around to abscond from the place before I succumbed to the mind-altering substances present in invisible particles in the air conditioning, and collided with the solid round stomach of someone familiar.
	"Lord be praised, the Second Son of Man shows his face to the light once more." A deep voice that boomed in my eardrums and rattled my sense. It belonged to a man an inch or two taller than I, with a sunburnt layer of skin covering his face and arms and dirty blonde hair matting his head. He was dressed rather plainly, jeans and a white t-shirt, with a miniature bible stuffed into his shirt pocket in front of his heart.
	"Oh, it's you," I droned my expected but unenthusiastic greeting. Yeah, I knew this guy. Boy did I ever.
	"You're looking pretty good, it's nice to see ya!" He smiled a wide, practiced smile. "And here I thought night owls like you slept during the daytime."
	"Well, here I am." I didn't feel much need or desire to explain myself to him.
	"Hey-- are you coming to church tomorrow?" He pressed a paper into my hand, what appeared to be a mass-copied version of someone's handwritten invitation to sunday gospel. Not at any official church, of course-- he'd been kicked out of all the churches in town years prior. It would instead be in someone's apartment or possibly their basement or garage. I suppose worship didn't require a fancy building, but it's not as though this town had any shortage of designated holy indoctrination centers-- he just wasn't welcome in a single one anymore.
	You are invited to celebrate your rebirth as a citizen in the kingdom of God. Walk with the lord this sabbath, let him live and breathe through you-- I skimmed, listening to him prattle on.
	"I see you walking around in the daytime like a living cadaver," he said in such a bright, flighty way that it didn't sound like an insult but it sure was worded like one. "You are cursed! The shadow of your upbringing looms over you! I know, I was the same way-- held down by vice and the devil's thoughts. And you know the only way to break the curse?" This man was James, or Jim as he preferred, and before he became a Christoholic he was a heroin addict. As I understand it, he had gone two starving days tripping out of his mind and lying in an alley, twitching and sputtering, when Jesus, dressed in a gold tapestry and shining with holy brilliance, came to him and saved him from Satan's drug abusive influence. The thought of it forced some introspection and I wondered again if I was just really high on skoab right now and there was no rabbit girl or moon society.
	"What's that, Jim?" There was an impatience in my voice, but he either didn't notice or didn't care.
	"Jesus! Jesus is your only way out! Like it says in Romans 6:8; 'If we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him. The death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God.'" He portrayed a certain exuberance while he recited scripture, as if he believed himself truly possessed by the holy spirit or somesuch otherworldly being.
	"The bible is full of pretty poetry." I responded, unimpressed.
	"But don't you see? You were born again to serve God, you live for God. If you don't have God in your life, you're a zombie, and until you find Jesus, you will not truly live." His eyebrows furled slightly and I could see in his eyes an honest flash of concern for me, but it was nothing I needed. I handed him back his paper.
	"I will probably not be coming to church tomorrow. Sorry Jim." I didn't sound very apologetic about it.
	"Well, listen, Jesus is always looking out for you. You just have to make the choice to let him in." His words were sullen but unsurprised. He began to grope the tomatoes looking for a particularly ripe one and forgot I was present. I took the opportunity to slink away.

	I passed the snack aisle again on the way out, this time giving some thought as to something cheap I could get Lumi. I don't know what kind of candy they had where she came from, but I spotted a row of small packages labelled 'Moon Rocks.' It was a tiny cardboard box, small enough to fit in the palm my hand, and moving it around caused the many small pieces inside to sound off, bumping into one another and rattling the box. Written on the back of the box was a little tagline, 'It's like a lunar landing in your mouth!'
	I paid the decaying checker girl in coins and pocket lint, and made my way out. I didn't see Jim again in the store or in the parking lot; it was as though he had just disappeared after we separated, which came as a relief. He only ever spoke to me in attempt to goad me into religion. I remember being quite younger, going along with his bible studies after being seduced with ice cream. Bribing children is sound in the eyes of the lord, or so he would tell me.
	I was used to him putting on airs and giving me an enhanced version of the truth, but today something seemed a little off beat about him. I couldn't put my finger on what, and chalked it up to paranoia. I can't well be surprised when people speak sideways to me anymore, much less him.

	The door creaked open and I slithered in. I cast my gaze around the room looking for a rabbit-- the empty stool next to the machine in the window, the coffee table covered in empty cans and old magazines, the pile of old sheets I'd slept in on the floor-- all as I'd left them. A rustling came from my bed, the blanket shuffling and stirring. Her long, thin ears poked out like little white reeds in a thicket. I quietly mused to myself what the sleeping cycles of moon rabbits must be like in a place with no day or night. I suppose she wouldn't be used to getting up 'in the morning.'
	Though it were still quite early, I felt a desire to wake her that I held at bay. There was an irrational fear in me like if I did, some primitive instinct would flare up in her and she'd cower and hide., making flight back to her rabbit hole.
	I popped open the coffee can and gave her a searching look while I took a lengthy swig. Her body rose and fell under the blankets, her breaths long and peaceful. Her ears would occasionally twitch when I made a noise, like some kind of sonar system in place to keep predators from sneaking up on her. I made an effort to stay quiet and slunk into my chair, resting my feet on the coffee table while I downed the rest of the can.
	Caffiene did not always pep me up. I drank it so often, it sometimes felt as though it were regulating my system and caused me to relax. Call it a depedency if you want. As I finished the can, waiting for her to wake up, I felt myself nodding off. I busied my mind to fight it and found my thoughts trailing back to the creature on my bed.
	I realized I knew very little about her. I knew she wasn't from around here-- the moon, supposedly?-- I knew she liked vegetables, I knew she thinks shoes are superfluous. I knew that she was a rabbit. Is it right to call her a rabbit? The ears on her head are thin enough to be folded under a hat or hood, though I can't imagine that's very comfortable for her. But once you've done that, she's easily taken for a normal girl and nobody is the wiser. And... is that all? Or is there something more to being a 'rabbit?'
	She snored. I looked over and she'd somehow sucked her hair back into her nose. I thought I'd surely wake her up if I fixed it again so I let it be.
	She's not unique. There are plenty of others like her that just hide their ears in public. Framing it that way, it didn't seem so odd to have a rabbit lying there in my bed.
	I didn't know what she thought of me, but I couldn't see her as anything other than a regular girl, strange ears and all.

	The room was suddenly quite dark, the only light coming in from the window. It was much duller, then, than before - the sun must have been covered by clouds.
	I try to stand up and make some sense of the situation, but my whole body is numb. My arms would only just comply with my commands, lazily picking themselves up and then dropping again, heavy as lead.
	I turn my head to glance at the girl, who seemed to still be asleep. Her ears were suddenly much smaller, though I wasn't sure if it was just the low light obscuring my sense. I leaned over as best I could to get a better look. She had the body of a rabbit again, her fur covered head poking out of the blanket, her small rodent body only making a barely visible lump in my blankets.
	The light from the window suddenly grew more intense, the sun peeking out from its hiding place and illuminating the room once more.
	Her fur wasn't white, anymore. In its place was red, damp fur. The blankets were soaking up a deep red liquid, and I could hear it dripping from the sheets onto the floor. I felt my blood freeze. Her wound - had it opened again?
	I couldn't move, my body wouldn't comply. My eyelids were incredibly heavy. They fell closed, and only with a great deal of effort was I able to force them open and look at her again.

	My eyes were crusted over with late morning laziness. I'd managed to doze off again.
	Directly across from me was Lumi, sitting daintily at the stool pulled up to her otherworldly machine. I couldn't make sense of what she was doing on it, no matter how long I stared. It was an endless stream of incomprehensible symbols and flooding lights pouring across the machine and into her hands. I leaned forward in my chair, the old wooden legs creaking beneath me. Her ears twitched reflexively and she turned her head to glance at me. She smiled, and spun around in the stool to face me. Her hands were placed in her lap politely, her legs crossed. Her ears drooped and then raised, as if they were greeting me. Did she end up waiting for me like I'd been waiting for her?
	I looked her over with one eye, the other too lazy to fully open. She was dressed in the same blouse and skirt she came here in, the crescent moon still pinned prominently to her chest. She'd styled her hair to look the way she'd looked in cyberspace, twin tails tied at the ends. They extended down to her lower back and moved about when she did.
	She opened her mouth, but a series of emotions played out on her face revealing she did not know how to greet someone in english.
	"Ah - p.. pleasant morning..?" Well, close enough. A little formal, but the shy smile she was wearing overpowered me and prevented me from correcting her.
	"Morning," I mumbled, still only half awake. I stretched in my chair and felt blood rise to my face. "What are you up to over there?"
	"Ah, well-- well!" She let out a high pitched squeak as she gathered the words. "A-as the royal emisarry of the.. the lunar family, I need to report my progress with the.. ne-ne-negotiations!" She really struggled with the last word. She took a breath and beamed, proud of herself.
	"Not a lot to report then, huh?" I gave her a half-smile. Her ears drooped and I felt a little guilty.
	Sitting on the coffee table, surrounded by empty cans, was a plastic bag with the food I'd bought earlier. I had managed to avoid kicking it onto the floor during my late morning unconsciousness. I leaned forward, taking it in hand.
	"Hey, I bought you something to eat." I produced one of the peaches, thrusting it toward her. Her eyes lit up-- she recognized it right away.
	"That!" She began, taking it from me and looking it over. "That - this - it's a...!" She squeaked something in the rabbit language. Their name for peaches, I guess?
	"It's a peach." I said, and she shot me a quizzical look as if she didn't understand why I made the distinction, but it clicked in her mind a second later.
	"Oh. Yes." She sat back down and was about to sink her teeth into it, but stopped and looked to me again. I nodded to her-- but why did she act like she needed my permission? It was actually starting to grate on my nerves.
	She took a small bite and chewed at a savoring slow speed.  She rolled the piece over in her mouth, testing the taste. Even though she seemed to recognize the fruit, she was eating it like it was something new and foreign.
	"It's.. not alike." She said finally, before taking another bite to test it further.
	"I have had a... peach...? Before coming to earth," she recanted, patting her mouth with her sleeve in the absence of napkins. "We grow them in the Lunar Capital. They're very... very sweet."
	"But this., this earth peach tastes di.. different." She held the peach in her lap while she spoke to me. "It's not un.. pleasant. But not as.. as sweet. It's more of a-- a earthy taste. A, er, sharp! Sharp taste."Had she never tasted something tart before?
	"How do you grow food on the moon?" I puzzled at the thought of trying to grow crops among moon rocks.
	"Huh?" Well, she made a sound not dissimilar to 'huh,' but it was closer to the sound a confused synthesizer might make. "In.. In the ground. Is that not how food is g-grown on earth?"
	There was a disconnect here, but I wasn't sure I'd be able to find it with Lumi's limited english. I tried approaching with a point of reference I understood and hoped she'd follow.
	"In the 60s," I began, watching her take another bite of the peach, "two humans landed on the moon. They gathered some rocks and soil from there and they planted a flag." She nodded like she understood what I was talking about, chewing away.
	"They had to wear space suits-- these big clunky outfits that protected them from the vacuum of space." I made a motion with my hands as if to say this should be the key that something was missing from her explanation.
	"Yes! I know." She said brightly, taking another small bite and chewing in her reserved and polite manner. I took a patient breath and went on.
	"There was no way that place could support life. Nothing could grow there."
	"Yes..? This is true." She said, smiling, but cocking her head to the side, unclear of what I was getting at.
	"If you can't grow there, then...?" I looked at the peach to direct my question, and her ears stood straight up.
	"Oh!" Her voice reached a high, autotuned ocative I'd not yet heard as she came to a revelation.  She giggled at me in the annoying way women do when they know something you don't.
	"That was the..." She put a finger to her lips as she searched for the words. "The waste.. land." She rested her hands in her lap and looked at me like that alone had sorted things out. I just shot her a blank look.
	"On earth, there is a place that c.. cannot support living things... right? I think that-- that's what you call a 'wasteland.'"
	"Where the.. where the 'flag' is, in the s-sea of tran.. quil-li-ty..." That was a new word for her. I began to think I didn't appreciate how hard it was for her to speak to me.
	"That's a part of the wasteland. We live in the.. lunar capital. Things can grow there." Her words were slow and deliberate, both to make sure I understood what she was saying and to prevent stuttering, I gathered.
	"What is it like there?" Of course, I'd never heard of the 'lunar capital' before. She spoke about it like we can only see the 'antarctic' part of the moon and there's some livable area humans don't know about. How could that be possible?
	"More like earth than.. than I had thought, before I came." She held the peach in the palms of her hands. "We can see the sun l-like humans can, and there is n-night too. We can see the earth very.. very clearly, at night."
	"Plants... grass, t-trees.. Many peach trees grow there." She looked at the peach in her hands and smiled nostalgically. "We eat them.. a lot."
	"How is it that humans have never found the lunar capital? There's been many landings..." I began, but she giggled again.
	"Humans could never-- never find the lunar capital. The Lunarians have made s-sure of that."
	"There are j-jamming systems in place," she went on, presenting her hand to me to offer a more satisfying explanation, "that confuse human tech.. technology. It just looks d.. dark there, to sat.. satellites and ah.. rovers."
	"It's a very.. beautiful place," she said reminiscingly. "Lunarian d-dwellings are not much like human ones."
	"M-maybe if.. if we get the chance, I could show you." There that was again. I didn't understand why she thought there was some kind of hope of following her to the moon. The lunarians weren't even ready to accept her back because she'd been on earth too long. How exactly would they treat someone who had lived here all his life?
	"Oh, hey. Check this out. I got you something else." I produced the little box of 'Moon Rocks' candy, handing it to her. She took it from me and her ears fluttered back and forth as the pieces inside rattles around in the box.
	"What's..? Oh!" She realized the rattling grew louder if she shook the box, holding it up to one of her ears. She peeled back the opening and took a look inside, her long fingers grasping a single piece of the white, hard, tiny candy, shaped like little pieces of rocky lunar material.
	"It's candy, " I explained, though I wasn't sure she knew what the word quite meant. Still, she placed the piece on her tongue and closed her mouth. I could see little sparks go off in her eyes as the flavor exploded-- literally-- onto her tongue. They were little pop rocks, as I had suspected.
	"It.. it blew up! In my mouth!" She exclaimed, looking a little worried, but I just laughed at her and tried one myself. Had a kind of light lemony flavor.
	She wasn't quite ready to try another one, returning to her peach. The peach really seemed to comfort her, like she had a piece of home there in her hands.