In the current work in progress, I get to write a character I haven't visited with for a while, a supporting character who I first started writing about when he was 26; he's 41 in Whose Hearts are Mountains.
This interview takes place during the time period of Whose Hearts are Mountains, which is set in 2035. I sit in the Great Hall of the collective Hard Promises, a large octagonal building, whitewashed inside and out, with quilts displayed on the walls. At the back is a kitchen with a pass-through window. I am reminded of the plainness of Quaker Meeting, where the meeting room could double as a dining room with no difficulty.
Allan Chang approaches me with a loose, unguarded stance. At forty-one, his long, deep-brown wavy hair has gone grey and a little bushy; he keeps it restrained with a leather thong. Of average height and a lean, almost fragile frame, he seems pretty ordinary, if a little unkempt, until he makes eye contact -- then his dark eyes compel me to search my soul. Allan Chang has one foot in the ancient Chinese practice of Wu and one foot in what could only be called urban shamanism.
Me: Hi, Allan. It's been ages since I've seen you last.
Allan: (hugs me): Yeah, it's been forever.
Me: What's with the hugging? You didn't used to be a huggy person.
Allan: My Lady Tina's been rubbing off on me. That girl hugs everyone. Besides, it's good for a shaman to do that. You get a feel for people. And the otter likes it.
Me: How's the otter doing?
(A chittering noise comes from the vicinity of Allan's back. He turns and pulls up the wifebeater he's wearing, and I examine a large blackwork tattoo of an otter across his back. It winks at me.)
Allan: Damn thing isn't even fading, which is more than I can say about myself.
Me: You look --
Allan: Like a crazy prophet. Which isn't so far from the truth. That's what I get for shooting smack for five years.
Me: What have you been doing with yourself lately?
Allan: Barn Swallows' Dance has been seeding other collectives. Valor started a neighborhood committee up in Altgeld Gardens, and they built a collective in Chicago on some park land. Call it Hard Promises. The Forest Preserve went bankrupt and sold them the parcel; Luke financed it with his arcane money tricks. Tina and I applied for membership and got it. It's a cool place; their customs are founded on African diaspora folk stuff, which is cool to work with. They don't mind having an Asian mongrel shaman.
Oh, yeah, and then the Oracle showed up in the Milwaukee Avenue subway station --
Me: An oracle?
Allan: Yeah. It speaks in your head. I have to go there with people to summon it, which is a weird thing altogether. If I ever train up a shaman to replace me, they're gonna have to do their vision quest in an abandoned subway station. Totally glam. Yeah.
Me: Do you have any prospects?
Allan: There's these two kids, a boy and a girl. They like to fight with each other, and they're regular comedians. I'm waiting for them to do crazy things, and then I'll know they're shamanic.
Me: Do shamans do crazy things?
Allan: Totally crazy. You have to be crazy to hear a sense in your head that something's wrong and travel halfway across the state to answer it, and then get involved in a war for humanity.
Me: That was the Apocalypse, wasn't it?
Allan: It's so weird that we can't talk to anyone else about it or else they'll freak out. 'Yeah, we saved your lives in 2020 and you didn't even notice.' But that's what being a shaman is -- you gotta be humble or else you're the demon you're trying to exorcise.
Me: Changing the subject -- How are you and Celestine doing?
Allan: Me and Tina -- still the best thing ever happened to me. When I get down, she picks me up -- or kicks my ass; either way works. She doesn't look a day older, and she competes in pretty down and dirty arena fighting. You know, the scary kind on a rooftop with lots of cornstalk hootch. I'd kinda hoped she'd stick with dance instead of street fighting, but I doubt the dance studios are open right now.
Me: Do you know my future?
Allan: I don't do futures without the Oracle. But I can tell you we have something in common -- we both live our lives with our skin off, you know. We keep it real. (Gives me another hug). I gotta go -- Celestine's expecting me to pick her up from a fight in the Gardens.
Me: Bye, Allan
Allan: See ya.
No comments:
Post a Comment
I believe that everyone here comes with good intent. If you come to spoil my assumptions by verbal abuse, excessive profanity, spam or other abuses I had not considered, I reserve the right to delete your notes or delete your participation. I am the arbiter of what violates good intent.