And by streak, I mean the pitiful early-morning flailing that was keeping my word-count afloat.
Sooner or later, my body had to rebel and say “that’s it. No more getting up at 3am for you. We want to sleep until 6:30”.
Which leaves me very little time to write before work after I include important essentials like showering and other personal hygiene matters – which I think my coworkers would probably appreciate.
But, as my early morning posts tend to be samples, here’s a bit from the crack-piece:
I took a seat. Gena sat next to me and I put my arm loosely around my shoulder. I fished in my pocket and pulled out my cigarettes. Another bad habit, but this one did benefit from being legal. Gena didn’t mind that much – he bummed a couple from me a day, and refused to ever buy or carry his own – and Vasily would have had very little luck stopping me from smoking daily. “I thought you said that this had fuck-all to do with what you wanted to do? It sounds like you just don’t want to have a harder job down the line.” I smiled as I lit up and took a deep drag. I closed my eyes for a second; there was nothing like a smoke after coming down.
“Let’s start with this happy little arrangement, then,” said Vasily, the disdain dripping from every syllable. “He would cheerfully prosecute both of you as sodomites and throw you in prison for five years apiece. Possibly more.”
“So would you, if you didn’t like us and you could pin something else on one of us,” I said. As almost-head of the secret police, there was very little Vasily couldn’t do to someone he didn’t like; it was a power he occasionally abused, though usually in my favor. I was well aware, though, that if I ever went too far wrong of him, that I might end up in Siberia somewhere. Not that I couldn’t escape from such a place, but it would be a major inconvenience to me and a serious strain on our relationship. “Next?”
“Gena, you’ve never served in the army, and you’re young enough. Nicolaas, although your military records are painfully difficult to prove, they do still exist. How would both of you like to be drafted for three or four years?”
I could feel Gena tense up beside me. “First, I would be astonishingly surprised if anyone could both get my records and prove that they’re mine, and get enough of them unsealed to actually see that I did anything more than push paper.” I did considerably more than that – considerably – but most of them were so highly classified that god himself would have difficulty getting access without very good cause. “And I’d just take Gena away as soon as he got his notice. He’d never have to spend a day in uniform. We’d join the flood of deserters.”
“You’re just making excuses now. Have you ever read any of his position papers?”
I had glanced at a couple of them, as I tended to do each time an election neared. I couldn’t vote, and Gena never had, but I wouldn’t have in this country even if I’d been eligible to. As Vasily had said, it didn’t really matter who the populace voted for. “A couple,” I said. “I don’t find them very interesting.”
“You’re not that stupid…”
“I never said I was, just that politics is neither my forte, nor my interest. They’re yours. I imagine that you’ve read every position paper for every candidate.”
“I have. There were a couple of good candidates that I was forced to arrest.” He winced; it was one of the less pleasant parts of his job and I knew how hard it was for him to send men like himself to prison. “What I’m saying, is that if you knew what he planned to do to the country in the next five, ten years, you’d be jumping for joy that I was giving you license to kill him.”
“You may not have noticed this about me, but I rarely jump for joy.” But he was winning me over – he usually did, and it was getting harder to find excuses.