The third story in the collection Timekeeping on Mars. Twenty-four years after the events in The Bicycle Messenger, a small, middle-American town has devised a novel way of saving their city from the stagnation and decay that has engulfed the world. They are building a pyramid.
I am praying every goddamned day for the space aliens to come and save us from ourselves.
In the meantime, I drink in the various establishments and watering holes of Southeast Queensland and grow tomatoes --big fucking, slushy red ones that gush when you bite into them. On occasion, I write short stories.