Tom had spent so many hot days walking around they all blended into one endless walk; under street lights, the moon, through mask days and clear and sunlight hard enough to bleach his cool wear.

When the weather permitted he took the skyway through the city, a wandering path of covered bridges between corporate buildings that had been opened to the public. It was decked out with potted plants and benches. Small vendors worked from carts when the people were about.

He often stopped at one place that served espressos with a small glass of mineral water. Tom folded the crema into the shot and sipped, tasting notes of green leaves, chocolate and white pepper while listening in to the people nearby.

An ibis with a bleeding beak and a swollen eye stood on a rubbish bin, dunking it’s head in and out.

The woman next to him answered a phone call. ‘Yep, okay, I’m just around the corner having coffee with a friend. Yep. I’ll be right back.’

She disconnected and said to the man with her, ‘I have to go. There is a siege or something and they need me for a roll call.’

‘Oh, really? I was going to Hunter Street. Will I still be able to get through?’

‘We can go the long way around.’

Tom hurried home, into a sweet and potent smoke that washed up over the air bridge. He had to push through rioters with black Xs painted over their faces to anonymise them; as if crossing out their identities. They threw Molotov’s off the air walk, targeting the Mammoth Enterprises building.

He pulled the neck of his shirt over his mouth to block the smoke and began rushing towards home.

The tunnel under Central station was bisected by a wall of gates. Heavy plasticised teeth that opened and closed for people to pass through. Those allowed through, those who had the proper inoculations, received a green light and open gates. Those who didn’t, invalids, were blocked and shown the red. If they didn’t turn away, guards would move in.

‘You got credit? Give me credit,’ cried out an unregistered homeless man.

Tom hurried past, the barriers opened for Tom automatically. Ten steps inside, he looked back to see the beggar blocked on the other side. The blocks had come down and guards with stun sticks were hurrying to shoo the man away.

No immunity, no entry!

No matter what he did in life, no matter where he went, every day started with going to the bathroom. His progression through life could be remembered by the bathroom he had to use.

His parents had two bathrooms. One for mum and dad, and one for him and his brother. His parents had an ensuite behind a sliding door in the wardrobe. The bathroom for the boys—and every guest who passed through the house—was at the end of the corridor. It had a separate toilet in a very small room and a plastic seat.

Then there was the perpetually broken ones at junior school. A cold seat with a busted hinge and a door that didn’t want to lock. He always sat leaning forward, one hand out ready to push it closed if intruders tried to enter.

The camp toilets were plastic sheets atop a deep tub of shit and piss that baked in the sun everyday. It stank and everyone was having trouble with their bowels. Shitting was more like turning on a fire hose and holding yourself down to keep your bum aimed at the hole.

Jack’s bathroom had a water heater that made alarming pops, as if it had just punctured and boiling water was about to spray out. It never happened but once every few days he would freeze at the sound of that metal pop.

Jack’s towels were still on the rack, fraying and stringy on the sides. They were thinned and scratchy and looked permanently stained.

I’d like new towels. I’ve never had new towels.

A message popped out from the side of his screen, from his brother, Patrick.

Are you awake?

Tom hesitated. He didn’t normally answer when in the bathroom. 

I’m here. 

In the bathroom?

Yep. 

On the toilet?

It’s the most comfortable seat. What’s happening?

Nothing much. Just mega storms in Greece and Turkey.

Big?

Spectacular.

Refresh and you’ll get my links.

Patrick sent him a bunch of click-tos. One by one, each chiming pim pim pim.  

Windows opened on videos showing different views of three massive cyclones smashing up the Aegean coastline and tearing across farmland. 

As yet none of the cyclones had reached a town or city so there had only been a few casualties. But they were immense. They darkened all that was beneath them and carved up the land as if a churlish god was dragging its invisible fingers through the earth.

I’ve never seen anything like it.

Not near you?

Miles away. Other end of the continent.

I was just checking, you might have been on holiday or something.

When the storms stretch from Greece to Belgium, I’ll head underground.

Tom didn’t have more to say. He didn’t feel like live communications right now.

I should go.

Okay.

You should come here when you can.

I’m thinking about it. It would be nice to see you. And finally meet Zizi.

Then come. Never a better time than now. While it’s safe.

I should go. The gigs will ramp up soon. I need to catch a few to save up for that transfer.

I can pay for you.

It’s okay. Talk soon.

Tom flicked back to the browser window and clicked through more of the storm pictures. The live feed said the intensity was abating but there had already been billions of euros in damage. Power grids were out and roads and train lines were cut in many places.

No longer feeling like reading he washed his hands and dressed. Tom stood on the little balcony and looked out at the stars – the few he could see through the glow. The outside air was cool and thick, a dead acacia rattled in the breeze. He was so tired. His eyes could barely recognise the difference between ground and sky, and even that distinction faded as quick clouds pushed over and it began to rain. Thick heavy drops slapped his cheek, rung off the metal railing and patterned the concrete two storeys below.

Rachel appeared on screen, curly hair and face overjoyed.

‘Are you watching?’

‘Watching what?’ he asked.

‘The war. It’s over!’

‘Over? How can it be over?’

‘I don’t care, it just is.’ She sent him a link.

‘I can’t believe you’re not here. Look at everyone.’

She panned the camera around to show the camp, blazing with lights and blaring with music, soldiers and cybers dancing and toasting, drinking and singing.

‘Me either. I miss you!’

‘I miss you too, Tommy. As soon as they let me out, I’ll be down to see you.’

She kissed the camera and clicked off. He stared at a dull screen.