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586 pages, Kindle Edition
First published August 24, 2021
“Why do you hate diversity?”
Era wriggled in his window seat, waking from his second midday nap. Though he had yet to open his eyes, he was sure of three things:
1. There was another passenger on the train—white, early 20s, long pink hair…no, side swoop cut, maybe? I'll bet she has a sides woop cut—asking him, for whatever reason, why he hated diversity.
2. The aforementioned second party was angry about something, or at least agitated. Maybe she's asking someone else? Nah, that was in my direction for sure.
3. There had to be a clever way to ignore this woman until she went off to mind her own business. Pretend I'm deaf? Nah, I flinched. Still sleeping? Nah, she'll try to startle me. Sick? That might work better, but I'll have to wake up first.
Era opened his eyes and winced from the glare of the afternoon sunlight, flashing in and out from the redwood trees of the Ramblind Forest. Take it slow, Era. Step by step. Breathe.
There was the hum of the tracks outside. The gray wall-carpeting below the window to his right, the blue patterned seats, the half-empty bag of chips between his knees, the rigid black duffle bag he used as a pillow, his dark green sweater, the specks of balled-up wool that stuck to its surface, the comforting feeling of his long, black hair brushing the back of his neck…and Era was back to reality.
Even if reality sucked, there was always some joy that Era took in coming back, knowing that he was still part of the world, still alive, and could still have a good day if he tried.
“I asked you a question.”
Ha, never mind. Screw reality.
Era turned to see the questioner: a female, white, early 20s, overweight and in a tight blue T-shirt and cargo shorts…She does have a pink side swoop! Score!…holding a clipboard to her chest. Chick looks ready to kick me out of a nightclub.
“Hi,” said Era.
“Why do you hate diversity?” asked the woman, louder than before.
“I...don't?” said Era.
“That's not what I asked.”
Era drew a long sigh through his nose. “All right, what's your deal? We've only known each other a few seconds, and you have a problem with me already.”
“Are you going to answer my question or not?”
“First, how about you tell me who you are, and why I have to answer your question.”
Era glanced at a patch on the woman’s chest—a woven badge with a blue wolf. “3rd Legion Warrior Karen Naismith” was in heavy white letters.
“Very well, I'll explain,” said Karen. “I'm conducting a survey of the political opinions of modern-day traingoers. As for who I am: a woman's name is her own property, which you are not entitled to know. It must be earned.”
“Okay, Karen Naismith.”
Karen's boots hit the carpeting with a thud, and in less than a second, she stood over Era. Her nostrils flared. Her lips were sealed shut.
“Chill,” said Era, sinking further into his seat. “It's on your badge. Look, I'm not interested in doing this survey, so do me a solid and move along.”
“Why not?”
“Because I'm tired. I had a rough time last night.” That, and this is clearly about my skin color.
“So, what you're saying is that you have something to hide, or worse, that you want to stand between me and my right to important information, potentially about my own safety, and—”