RITUALS OF THE ANTITHETICAL Reading: "Sibyl of Doom" from the novel Rituals of the Antithetical (A.Glass 2023)

 

Placing the phone back into her handbag, Zabel looks out at Orchard Street, noting the mid afternoon sunlight is reflecting off the street level window from the cafeteria across from the perfume store she works at. Staring blankly at the Nineteen Hundred’s era tenant building that sits atop of the cafe, she blinks, refocusing her attention on its dark gray facade.
“I wonder how many people have lived and died in that building. It’s probably full of trapped ghosts,” she says, reminding her of the apartment building she lives at on Lower East Side. Snapping herself out of her self induced enamour, she prepares to close up shop for the afternoon.
Turing left onto Grand Street, as the mid after noon sun begins to set West of the city, Zabel observing the mostly maskless pedestrians as the pandemic has seemingly abated, it was only this time last year when the viral pandemic ravaged the city, to which New York City for a good portion of the outbreak was the epicenter for America. Unperturbed, as she casually walks on, what might seem a return to a normality, the virus outbreak did indeed change the city and in doing, the broader society. Lifting up her phone, she checks for any missed calls and messages, contemplating whether to go out tonight. Passing by a small delicatessen on the way, smiling to herself as she walks onward.
“Love this time of the year, warm days and cool days,” She says to herself, walking pass a shut gray metal roller door with graffiti that reads “MY OLD NEW YORK!”
That’s right, Zabel recollects a thought of her late father, who she never knew. Dismissing it quickly without dwelling on any feelings of loss, she turns left at Mott Street, nearing her apartment block. Closing her eyes briefly, whilst opening the palms of her hands, Zabel detects in the air a scent of coffee and freshly baked bread. Walking on, she views the outside of her residence at One hundred and Eighty Three Mott street, exhaling in a contented manner, looking up at the early Nineteen Hundred’s four story apartment, with its iconic NYC fire staircases diagonal attached to the outside of the apartment block, to which she moved into Twelve months ago. Noting the shop beneath, that was once a small Asian delicatessen, has now closed up, the steel roller door pulled down. Zabel eyes the rubbish neatly piled up near the deserted shopfront, made up of a chair, broom and plastic storage containers. Looking around the street area, aware that crime has increased in New York since the end of the pandemic lock downs, she reaches into her tote bag and takes out her apartment building door keys. Opening the door with her right hand, placing the key back into her bag, before entering the building she scans the street around her again, seeing that there are no visible threats, Zabel walks into the small hallway, closing the security door behind her, ensuring that it’s locked. She makes her way up the stairwell, ascending the stairs to the third floor where she lives.
“The virus certainly makes you feel less fit.” Remarking to herself, noting that she feels slightly out of breath climbing the stairs to her level, aware of the long symptoms this virus has left behind. As a reminder of its virulence, despite her being cleared of infection. Walking down the narrow hallway to apartment Three C, reaching into her tote bag, once again she eyes the hallway, hearing only a baby crying and a television turned on, with her left hand she opens her apartment door. Entering her apartment, closing the door behind her, looking round her small one bedroom flat, she hangs her bag onto the back of the apartment door, whilst reaching in and taking out her phone, walking to her living room window, she looks out at the building next to hers.
“Should I go out tonight?”
Peering up at the descending twilight, she looks at her phone again for any messages, seeing that there are none. Bending down to where a small desk is with her computer laptop, she flips it open, sitting down Zabel loads the bookmarked news articles. Studying three specific topics. She brings up the first one, titled: “Poxviridae viral outbreak”
Eyeing the various sub-articles, seeing one article that catches her eye.
“Why is the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention downplaying the Pox Viral Outbreak?”
Zabel begins to read the article, in an objective manner she picks out the key points, “...If not contained early, infections could reach one million…The CDC and other government health departments may not want to create a panic and avoid lockdowns that occurred with when the SARS-CoV-2 pandemic hit in 2020…” Zabel looks at the article further checking another subheading, “I woke up with this rash and no one wanted to see me”, of a young woman reclining on outdoor lounge in her bikini, with a rash on her face and chest. Zabel begins to watch the clip.
“On Monday morning with this bad rash, I tried to get an appointment for my Doctor to see me, had to drive Two miles to another Doctor as the one that I see couldn’t book me in, the Doctor I did see said that it was a bacterial infection and prescribed me some antibiotics. Still concerned. I then called the CDC, who said that it was unlikely that I have the Pox Viral as it has, and this is what they said, only been reported in gay and bisexual men...Can you fucking believe it? So they dismissed my concern that I could have the Pox Viral infection. I then called around for a dermatologist, none wanted to see me and refereed me back to a Doctor. Anyways, I was able to get a clinic appointment in Jersey City, who saw me straight away, they also tested me. Yes, I have the Pox Viral, they then referred me to a specialist who me put me on a treatment plan. I gotta now quarantine for Fourteen days. The CDC doesn't know shit, like the start of the last pandemic, the called it too late and millions died. Fuck the economy! Health of the people is more important!”
Zabel closes the clip. “She was kinda cute.” Smiling to her self. Shutting the laptop, Zabel walks to where her cupboards are located, near the entrance of her apartment. She opens the cupboard doors, looking up at the shelf's that are packed with non perishable foods, mid size containers of grains and beans. Crouching down she lifts out a large black backpack, which is full of freeze dried food meal packets. Unzipping the front compartment, she detaches a medium size pack which is a first aid kit, checking over it.

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Reading:  "SIBYL OF DOOM" from RITUALS of the ANTITHETICAL (A.Glass 2023)