Reading: "Dead Cities of the Stars" from the novel Rituals of the Antithetical (A.Glass 2023). *I will be doing a reading every 3 weeks from my current book 'Rituals of the Antithetical'. I have a new book due at some point in the future.*

“A fresh wind from the South,” Dalens says to himself, as he walks up Chrystie Street, lower Manhattan. Closing his eyes briefly, enjoying the moment, as dawn is about to break. The city is quiet, except for its early morning stir. Dalens preferred time to leave his apartment, as is dusk, the Two pivotal points of a day is when he usually ventures out. Nearing Celui la Patisserie on Delancey Street, he sees the empty table and chairs out front of the Patisserie, Dalens enters the cafe.
“Morning Eugene…” Looking over the piles of Croissants which sit within a hanging basket behind the middle aged man at the counter. “...Your best coffee and croissant.”
“Morning Arvie, of course...” The man replies smiling, as he picks a single croissant from the pile, placing it on a dish. “...I’ll bring the coffee out.
“Thank you. All is well?”
“All is well my friend.” The man in a reciprocal manner nods, as Dalens pays and walks back out to where the table and chair is, pulling up his collar of his dark blue trench coat, he sits down. As the man from the cafe brings out the coffee and croissant, placing it down in front of Dalens.
“Looks like it is going to be a nice day,” Dalens says, as the man looks around the street, tilting his head up at the looming skyline.
“Strange weather though, very cold yesterday, today it’s a like warm Spring. Can’t complain.”
Dalens looks down at the buttery croissant and its delicate pastry. He lifts up the latte, having a sip.
“Parfait”
“Apprécier,” the man replies, walking back into the cafe.
“This coffee is so fucking good…” Lifting up the croissant with his left hand, he takes bite. “...And on par...” Placing the croissant back into the small plate, he lifts the napkin, padding down his lips. “...Let’s see what we’ve got?...”
He takes out his phone, opening a web portal, entering in his username and password. He checks for any messages that have been received. “...Nothing...” he says to himself chuckling, noting there are no new jobs which have been assigned, having another bite of his croissant, he looks up at the blue sky. Sipping from the latte. “...To live is enough.” Dalens briefly thinks back to Two Thousand and Eighteen, a memory of a Friday evening, on his own, witnessing the sun setting West of the city. A day knowing how invaluable awareness is for endurance, both physically and mentally. To survive.
Placing the phone down onto the table, he sits back into the chair as the amount of pedestrians passing increases as early morning rush hour begins, as does the car traffic on Delancey Street.
“They can’t slow down. A pandemic later and its hard lesson, had seemingly been forgotten. We didn’t learn…” He sips from the latte. “...Until the next calamity.” Looking down at his phone, Dalens studies the news headlines.
“New AI Chatbot corrupted by Russian hackers. With ‘Kill the U.S. President’ malware inserted into its in-memory database.”
Smiling to himself, Dalens looks at other news items which catch his attention.
“Major Crimes increased over Thirty Percent in New York City.”
“China, where COVID-19 started, after three years have reopened their economy in a rushed manner. Waning immunization has lead to over 600,000 deaths.”
Dalens sips his coffee, staring ahead, whilst lifting up the last piece of croissant. Trying to avoid any wandering thoughts as he has an appointment later in the evening, with a former acquaintance that he hasn’t seen in over Six months. Dalens looks down at his phone again.
“James Webb telescope is about to image the TRAPPIST-One system, Thirty Nine Light years from Earth. Will it find a planet with an atmosphere and alien life?”
“Time to head back to the apartment,” he says to himself,

___

Reading:  "DEAD CITIES OF THE STARS" from RITUALS of the ANTITHETICAL (A.Glass 2023)