To Break the World

A couple of my friends and I are enjoying ourselves this evening. We already did our rounds for the day, and with the money from that, we decided to go out. The restaurant was, while classier than our usual fare, just okay. Now, heading three blocks over, we’re heading for the bar. Mike shakes his head. “Gotta admit, I was expecting more.”

“If you gotta think that, keep it to yourself,” Ben shoots quickly at him. “The owner there’s an old friend of the family. Some of us might not appreciate that kind of talk.”

“What about you, Ben?” I ask, mostly to stir the pot.

Ben pauses, smiles, then says, “I think I ought to keep my opinion to myself.”

Mike and I chuckle. A guy who’d been chilling by the corner walks over to us. Lou from the Apartment. What he’s doing this far out, I’m not sure. After dapping up Mike and I, he brings Ben in to whisper something. I can’t make out what he’s saying, but it isn’t a short statement. Something must be going down. See, while Mike and I aren’t important, just a pair of street hustlers, Ben’s actually party to the organization’s sort of big picture shit. If it’s actually important, he’ll tell us. Otherwise, best let the important people discuss the important things and stay out of it. Number four rule of survival: knowledge is power, but also paints a target on you back, so sometimes it’s safer not to know.

After Lou breaks it off from Ben, he smiles, nods, and heads away into the alley. Ben gestures for us to keep walking. “Let’s hurry it up, I want to get to drinking.”

I look at his face for a moment. He ain’t lying, not fully, but he’s definitely hiding something. I get my butt moving either way. If he wants to be in the bar as quick as possible, then either he’s grumpy and will only get grumpier from lazing about, or something’s going down. Either way, being out here ain’t gonna be safe. Not for long. “Sounds like a plan,” I add as I move.

Mike starts moving as well, following after me and Ben. “What’s the rush?” he asks, obviously the wrong question. If Ben wanted us to know what the rush is, he’d’ve said something.

“I’m thirsty, that’s the rush,” Ben says.

I nod along. “You saying you ain’t thirsty? ‘Cause you didn’t even have a beer with dinner, man.”

Mike, forgetting about his question, begins his rant. “Bruh, they was marking up that shit so bad. I wasn’t ‘bout to spend three times the amount I’d pay at the bar to drink something with my meal. Some of us know better than to waste money when we got it.”

Ben’s concerned look doesn’t go away, so I counter, “Right. And when anyone talk to us, they always be telling me that you’re the one that knows shit.”

“They should be. Ben’s always too busy to be smart, and it ain’t like you’re the brains of the crew, Shawn.”

Finally, that breaks Ben’s demeanor and he lets out a chuckle. “Aight, let’s not be tossing stones. I’d hate to see all your glass houses get broke.”

“Too late, I already plan on getting broke sooner than later,” I joke.

Mike shakes his head. “Course you do. Because you ain’t the smart one.”

“Nah, I just figure, if you got something and you don’t use it, that’s basically the same as not having it in the first place, no?”

I can see Mike’s brain turning, trying to figure out a response more clever than a simple no. There are plenty, after all my logic ain’t infallible, but it takes a moment for Mike to decide what to go with. “Money different than other things, though,” Mike counters, “See, having money you don’t use is critical for getting more money. It’d be like if having a flatscreen chilling in the closet for a couple month got you an even better flat screen, too.”

His logic is sound, I guess. I still disagree, though, “Still mean that, for a couple months, you out here living the exact same as before you had a flatscreen. You might be alright with that, but I ain’t game for living that flatscreenless life again, now that I got one.”

Ben stopped a moment, looking at us kinda confused and amused at the same time. “What?” he blurted out, bemused.

Mike shakes his head as he catches up. “Shawn’s being dumb. Thinking short term.”

I shrug. “The world’s ending. People die all the time. Life’s too short not to think short term.”

“Fine, you both got points, let’s go,” Ben says.

We all continue our walk. “You’re the one who stopped,” I say to him.

“Shut up,” he eloquently counters. I gotta admit, my boy’s got a way with words.

We reach the main avenue in the area. Cars whip by. Pressing the button, we wait for the light to change so we can cross. Number two rule of survival: the cops and other gangs are just waiting for a reason to pop your ass, so don’t give anyone a reason if you can avoid it.

We’re in the middle of the crosswalk when a car, driving along the road towards us, slows up. The windows roll down. “Burn, motherf-” the man in the driver’s seat begins. His people open up before the guy’s finished talking.

I flinch, instinctively raising my hands in front of my head and neck. I don’t just think I’ll die. I know it. That’s how things have always worked ‘round here. Something happens at the top, some people below might get some warning, then the people at the bottom end up dying for it. Time seems to slow down. People say your life flashes before your eyes, and I’m sure that’s true for some. Not me, though. Maybe I just didn’t get far enough, but I was sure I was about to die, and all I felt was irritation at the world. A desire to break it.

I fall over with the impact. Except, as I look at myself, there aren’t any impact wounds. No bullet holes, no heavy bruising, no blood. Maybe they were firing blanks. Maybe I just fell over out of shock. Pushing off the ground, I look over at my friends. Ben was already beyond saving. Clearly, he’d been the target. Mike had a few in him. He was bleeding out and drowning. Not pleasant, I don’t think. “Come on, Mike,” I said, “Let’s get you to a doc.”

Mike strains to shake his head. “Already. Dead,” he forces out, “Get. Safe.”

I try to pull him to his feet. My hand begins to get a good grip. Mike screams and I let go. It’s only then that I notice something strange. His wrist, where I’d grabbed, has a handprint in it. Like it melted as I touched him. I look behind me, and the same is true on the street, where I’d pressed off to get up, but even deeper. Like potholes a solid inch or two down, in the exact shape of my hands. I realize something. What if I was hit, and the bullets melted when they touched my hands. Like the road and Mike’s skin. A kind of uncomfortable thought.

I get moving. There are two dead friends here and the gunshots would’ve already been called in. I don’t want to be here when the cops come. I’ve got somewhere else I need to be. I want to know who took the shots at Ben. Lou knows, he’s the one who warned Ben after all. I head towards the Apartment.

Entering Lou’s office, I don’t give him or his guys a chance to react before I say, “Who did it?”

“What?” Lou says as his boys start to move to draw.

I cock my head. “Draw and I’ll have to react. You said something to Ben all private like, then not five minutes later we get shot in the middle of the street. Who did it?”

“You know I can’t tell you. It’s above your paygrade,” Lou replies.

One of Lou’s guys thinks I’m not paying attention and draws. I use this as an opportunity. Glaring at Lou, I whip my hand out, grabbing the barrel of the guy’s gun. “Let me make this clear,” I say as the gun begins to dissolve. The guy pulls the trigger. The pistol backfires, burning the guy’s face and causing him to drop what remains of the gun and scream. “I will find them and avenge Ben. The question is whether you outlast this conversation.” I approach his desk and firmly place both hands on it. “So, who did it?” I say. My hands start to dissolve their way in. I can feel the whole of the desk though. I’m getting more used to whatever’s happening to me.

“You don’t scare me, kid. You ain’t shit.”

I test myself out. I can feel the whole of the desk, so I try breaking it down in its entirety. Still glaring at Lou I pull at the edges of the desk. It falls to dust. The whole of the desk ceases to be a desk. The papers and computer on and in it fall to the ground. The monitor shatters. “I should scare you,” I insist with a glare, then once again ask, “Who did it?”

I can see it worked. Not my insistence, but rather the fact that I somehow destroyed his desk. He’s scared now. He’ll tell me what I want to know. “I just,” he begins, “Don’t tell no one I said nothing, alright?”

I cock my head and step towards him, standing on the dust that used to be his desk. “Talk,” I command. At least, I hope it sounds commanding. I’m still getting used to being the scary one, much less being in charge of this sort of conversation.

He looks around, as though to make sure no one but his guys were listening in. Then he says quietly back, “It was Diego. He’s making a play for the Ave, so I warned Ben to stay off the streets these next couple nights.”

I nod and turn to leave. Pausing at the door before exiting, I add over my shoulder, “Oh, and if you’re lying, I’ll be back. And you’ll get to see me upset at you, rather than at someone else.” I leave him to stew in that.

Walking through the night, I think about it. About what to do after I finish this. I’ll tear down Diego for what he did, then what? I can’t go back to being a street hustler. If I touch anything, or anyone, I’ll start to melt them like acid. Carrying things, touching the goods, and handling the money are kinda important parts of hustling. But I also can’t think of any jobs that don’t need to touch shit. So, I need control. That’ll take time, but if I can reach out and break apart the whole of something, I should be able to do the opposite as well.

As I make my way across town to Diego’s block, I can’t help but find it intriguing. When I thought I was dead, I wanted to be able to break the world. Now that I’m not, I may actually be able to. I wonder if there’s a deeper connection between my new ability and my old desire, or if it’s just some pleasant coincidence. But, I don’t wonder about that for too long. My questions of our ability to influence our reality can wait, because, taking a step around the corner, I see it. The car that had slowed up is there, sitting in the alley beside Diego’s place. Lou’d told the truth, I suppose. Breaking the world can wait. For now, I’ve got something a little more targeted to break down. And, while I figure the world probably has it coming, I know Diego deserves all I’m about to give him and more. Approaching the front door, I lay my left hand in the center of it. I can feel the door’s entirety, just like the desk earlier. That means it’s showtime.