ref: ab0d37120321cc50a82ae3a3467904c55eadaaaa
dir: /troff/0101.ms/
.LP .ce .ps 16 .CW BASEMENT LIFE .R .ps 10 .br .ce .ps 10 .B 1 .P .PP .ps 10 .DC 3 1 Jan 1942 .PP .ps 10 Into the apartment. .PP .ps 10 Lots of space. Two rooms and a closet. .PP .ps 10 Incredibly, the closet is larger than the other two rooms combined. .PP .ps 10 Ask about the carpet. .PP .ps 10 "Don't worry about it," says the realtor. .PP .ps 10 Closet would be ideal for school work. Possibilities. .PP .ps 10 Kitchen sink, but no stove. One living room wall is mirrored, encouraging the illusion that the room is more than six feet wide. .PP .ps 10 Flip on the closet light. Wood paneling. Little door, all the way in the back. Walk over to it and tap it with my boot. .PP .ps 10 Door doesn't budge but the carpet on the floor begins to pull away from the wall. Hand emerges from the folds, groping at my shoe. Hand brushes my ankle and then abruptly disappears beneath the carpet. .PP .ps 10 Noted. .PP .ps 10 Pull back the rug and there is no floor underneath. Someone or something scurries away, just beyond my visor's visual range. Almost certainly the owner of the hand that tried to grab my foot. .PP .ps 10 For obvious reasons, find this unacceptable. .PP .ps 10 Slip off my backpack. Follow hand into crawlspace. .ce .ps 10 .B 2 .P .PP .ps 10 Air wet with men's cologne. Basement humidity laps at my neck. Dab forehead with handkerchief and then return it to back pocket. Adjust visor. .PP .ps 10 Heat signatures. .PP .ps 10 Crawl after what could only have been a small child. .PP .ps 10 At one point get stuck between the floor supports and whatever it is they're supporting. Piece of insulation jams in my ear, very nearly break my arm trying to disengage the jacket. Have to get the insulation out of my ear. .PP .ps 10 Finally, catch a glimpse of the boy. He flashes a small light in my eyes, then giggles as he rounds a corner, once again beyond my sight. Can't move, so, simply grunt and try to relax my shoulders. Stuck in place. Failed to egress the jacket. .PP .ps 10 Realize now that my shoes have gone missing. .ce .ps 10 .B 3 .P .PP .ps 10 Moment to collect myself. Just what is going on, down here? .PP .ps 10 Weapons erect. Visor normal. Still, can't connect to anything beyond a few feet in any direction. Logical lighting unresponsive. .PP .ps 10 Manage to wiggle out of my trousers and advance several more feet into the darkness. Unlogged. .PP .ps 10 Now, the passage begins to widen, eventually terminating at the end of whatever this is I'm crawling through. .PP .ps 10 Another small door. .PP .ps 10 Perhaps fortuitously, jacket still attached. Log in. Door opens into full Basement. .PP .ps 10 Hm. .PP .ps 10 No furnishings, but no overt signs of flooding, either. Convert it to a sublet? Might nudge the property several positions higher on my list. .PP .ps 10 Group of children, singing. Arguing? In any case they are making a lot of noise. .PP .ps 10 Hadn't counted on neighbors. .PP .ps 10 Climb down from the ceiling. .ce .ps 10 .B 4 .P .PP .ps 10 Elderly couple. Well dressed. Tied to a pair of kitchen chairs. Both blindfolded. The children (the ones who were singing?) are laughing, striking them repeatedly with rattan sticks. .PP .ps 10 "Being sexy changed my life," says the old woman. .PP .ps 10 Old man smiles conspiratorially, seeming to relish the repeated blows to his stomach. "We're old, not dead!" he suddenly shouts. .PP .ps 10 "He's hard of hearing," explains the old woman. .PP .ps 10 "What?" .PP .ps 10 "I SAID, YOU'RE HARD OF HEARING." .PP .ps 10 One of the children sits on a cardboard box, framing the scene with his hands. Apparently, editing. .PP .ps 10 Realize now that my pants have gone missing. Nude, from the waist down. .ce .ps 10 .B 5 .P .PP .ps 10 Old woman rises from her chair, approaches. Grasping my scrotum with her weathered hand, she whispers into my ear that she wants me to remove her blindfold. .PP .ps 10 "I'm blind," she says. .PP .ps 10 "Hey lady, aren't we all?" .PP .ps 10 She pulls hard on my penis. It hurts. .PP .ps 10 There follows an uncomfortable silence. .PP .ps 10 Weapons finally charged, I proceed to shoot some of the children and then the old man. .PP .ps 10 Kick over his chair. .PP .ps 10 Reload, then finish the job. Log events and clone memory to my jacket. .PP .ps 10 Finally alone. .PP .ps 10 Well, almost. .PP .ps 10 Old woman slips out of her shoes. Slowly rolling down her beige pantyhose, she asks me to unzip her blouse from behind, and then to help her with the clasp of her necklace. .PP .ps 10 Gives me a little head. We begin to make love. .PP .ps 10 After a while something seems to change. No longer seems right. Say as much, out loud. .PP .ps 10 Silence. .PP .ps 10 Back away and wipe my hands on my legs. .PP .ps 10 Of course she says nothing. Old woman is reading, obviously not paying attention now that she's had what she wants. .PP .ps 10 Speak louder. Finally, she answers. Without altering her apparent focus. .PP .ps 10 "Time for bed." .PP .ps 10 Nod and head for the bathroom. Time to brush my teeth. .ce .ps 10 .B 6 .P .PP .ps 10 This is Basement life. .PP .ps 10 Just sixteen. More than ready. And how. .PP .ps 10 From here on in, 1942 looks like diminishing returns.