Eternal Heat

Chapter 1-3

Jillian leaps right in without preparing her friend in any way, saying, “At eleven o’clock today the earth stopped turning.”

A critical moment passes wherein Emma was waiting for the punch line, then spits a somewhat muffled laugh with one hand over her lips. Then, “Did you stay up until dawn watching the SciFi channel again?”

“No!” Jillian iterates, a little irritated, and pushes the control panel button to open the skylight above, the glass window is still closed. “Do you see the sun somewhere above us?”

Emma tilts her head up and backwards to see, then answers, “Yeah, I see it. So what?”

“So, what?!?” Jillian challenges, “It’s two thirty in the afternoon. The sun should be half way down the horizon and to the west but it’s off to the east a bit. Eleven o’clock.”

Taking her eyes off of the road for an instant, she discerns Emma without any expression. Emma says, “This is a nice car. When did you trade?”

“Thanks. Six months ago,” Jillian replies, not really wanting to talk about cars, then interjects, “I thought you wanted to talk about what’s happening.”

“I do,” she fidgets in her seat. “I just don’t know what it means. Like, wasn’t everything on Earth supposed to end up in this massive train wreck if the planet stopped?”

“I can’t explain it, Emma. Maybe the scientists who dreamed that scenario up were wrong. I am just afraid that everyone will panic when reality settles in, you know, the veritable s**t hitting the fan. I’ve always been spiritually close to nature and I think that’s why I feel like getting out of the city for a while. And I wanted you with me. You can meet my dad.”

Jillian pats Emma’s hand then hooks up her smart phone to the dashboard.

“How long is a while?” Emma voices her concern, not wanting to live in the country longterm. “I have house plants and all my stuff is here.”

“I’m not k********g you, girl. I’ll bring you back anytime you want.”

“I know this,” Emma voices, calm but still uneasy about the way the day is unfolding. “I’d just like to know what the hell happened to cause all this.”

“I need some answers myself, girlfriend. It’s time to call an expert. Call Kaitlin!”

She had elevated her voice at the end. Faint beeps could be heard as the car system auto-dials.

“Kaitlin is a friend from college and a doctor in some earth science job in Washington, D.C. I know she’s bound to know something about all this,” Jillian explains to Emma while the ringer still sounds.

“Hello. This is Dr. Kaitlin Alabaster.”

“It’s Jillian here, doc. My friend, Emma, is with me. What the hell’s going on?”

A long silence without explanation, then, “This isn’t a real good time, girlfriend. But I can give you a few minutes. How did you find out about this phenomena so fast?”

Jillian attempts to give a brief on her morning, saying, “I slept in this morning. When I got up, the sun was in the wrong place. It was at eleven o’clock, the same place it always is when I get up on time. But my clocks read quarter of one.”

More silence, then, “We’re not on the same page here, Jillian. What do you mean that the sun was in the wrong place? Isn’t it always exactly where it should be?”

“No, it’s not, Kait! It is two forty in the afternoon out here in California, but the sun remains at eleven. It’s like the earth has stopped spinning. What are you talking about?”

“Damn. Girl. Let me check on something with my computer while I tell you something that I probably shouldn’t,” the doctor says and audible computer keystrokes can be heard. “Odd that you should be talking about eleven o’clock because that’s when our big event happened that has everyone in Washington freaking out. You see, at two o’clock this afternoon, that’s eleven your time, some very bright scientists’ prediction that the poles would flip actually came to pass. Well, in addition to that happening all seismic activity around the world stopped. All of our instruments around the globe are either dead still or giving a ‘no signal’ alert to the system."

Emma and Jillian exchange glances as Kaitlyn continues, “Now, you’re telling me that on top of this the earth has stopped rotation on its axis?” More keyboard sounds, “And…just like you said, Jillian, my local solar time is two p.m. but clocks read five forty-three. s**t!”

Kaitlin continues before either of the other two could speak, “s**t, s**t and s**t!!!”

“What’s wrong?” Jillian says as she passes a slower vehicle on the right.

“It’s me. It’s all on me. We’ve all been freaking out here, I’m in charge, and I neglect to take a look outside my office until some civilian, that’s you Jill baby, points it out to me. Just s**t! But it does explain all the sensor failures. There’s no satellites in place. That’s what wrong with the sensors.”

“Don’t do this to yourself, Kaitlyn. Just like in college, you’ve always needed my grounded point-of-view, huh? We get it all together then you go on and outshine the rest of us.”

“Of course, you’re so right, girlfriend. I can fix all of this, on the scientific end.”

“But what does all this mean, doctor?” Emma braves to ask.

“I don’t know, Emma, and I really hate not knowing.”

“Kaitlyn,” Jillian spoke loudly to get her attention, “I’m going live on the air remotely from my dad’s farm in a couple of hours. What do I say to people?”

Kaitlyn chuckles audibly, “I thought you did a lonely-hearts thing on the air.”

“It’s going to be pre-emptive tonight,” Emma muses.

“Give me something I can use, please.”

“I’ll email you a list. But right now I have a hundred people to call. Luckily for you and your show I can multitask,” Kaitlin gives out her feelings of urgency to her callers. “I just hope people will take my recommendations to heart and not panic, especially not panic.”

“You’ve been great, hun. Stay in touch.”

“Definitely.”

Jillian swipes the phone off and they sit in silence while going eighty miles an hour along the same enumerated interstate highway, eighty on eighty. Their minds buzz with all the additional facts laid out by Kaitlin. Each of them begins to realize how greatly the world is about to change, and how theirs is an important role in it going down.

“I’ve gotta eat,” Jillian says and begins lane changing to the far right, in preparation to take the next food exit.

“Yeah, yeah. Take Bryant Street exit. There’s a place called Alfredo’s that has pastrami to die for. Eh, sorry for the pun.”

“Let me guess. You went there once on a date?”

“Well, yes. But it’s still great pastrami!”

“Okay,” she says, glad to hear Emma is responsive in light of all that’s going on. “I’m always game for great meat sandwich.”

“Don’t go too fast. It’s just there on the right.”

Jillian slows the vehicle, intent on the parking signs and noticing in relief, “Good. There’s ten minute parking out front.”

Emma slips off her seat belt and says, “A day like today and you’re worried about a parking ticket?”

“I’m concerned about anything,” she replies while losing her seat belt and turning the engine off, “that will necessitate me returning to the city before I’m good and ready.”

“But I thought we were coming back this weekend,” Emma interjects as Jillian is making her way around the Escalade and onto the sidewalk.

“If you still feel this way Saturday,” she holds the front door for her friend, “then I’ll bring you home. I’ve got a bad feeling you will not.”

Jillian opens the door for Emma to enter first, adding, “But let’s lighten up the mood a bit. I’ll buy you lunch, hmm?”

Although the plan is in agreement, the first sound they hear inside is the horrid sound of the Emergency Alert System going off. The deli chef, probably thinking it’s a test, inaudibly swears and turns his kitchen’s radio way down.

“What’ll it be, ladies?”

“Two pastrami lunch deals? And cut mine into quarters.” She wanted to tell him to turn the radio up. Maybe after he made their late lunch.

“Two delectable pastramis on fresh Kaiser buns with kettle cooked potato chips made in-house and a bottled soda for twelve ninety-nine each. Sorry, but that’s full price. Lunch is over.”

As the young man busied himself once Jillian had nodded, she looked around the place; bistro tables and chairs on a black and white checkered floor. A flat screen touted the sports channel with a bright red banner with bold white letters running across the bottom. The channel had not yet broke programming but guessing from the kind of information scrolling across the feed it would be any minute now.

Emma looked nervously back at her friend, for she had taken the same ideas of the impending news break.

Too low for their cook to hear, Emma almost whispers to Jillian, “I hope there aren’t any riots. These things always set off riots, you know.”

“How many end-of-the-world scenarios have you been through, sweetie,” Jillian queries, working hard to not sound condescending.

“You know what I mean.” She says and pokes Jillian in the side.

“Yeah,” Jillian emphasizes, “Sorry. I’m hoping people will be sensible, real fast, and understand that we can get through this together.”

“You’re afraid of riots, too. Aren’t you?”

She gazes directly into Emma’s eyes, disclosing to her, “I’m afraid of what people are capable of.”

“I know you said we should lighten up,” Emma says while stepping away, “but I’ve got to see this.”

She paces halfway across the dining area floor and transfixes upon the flatscreen so much so that her friend’s arrival by her side is scarcely noticed. She is aware, though, that the EAS signal came from the radio as the television is muted. Jillian wonders why the programming still has not been interrupted as she and Emma gaze at the alerts posted on the running scroll.

EAS FAILURE BLAMED ON SATELLITES…

DO NOT STARE DIRECTLY AT THE SUN…

PRESIDENT URGES ALL STATE’S GOVERNORS TO ENACT CURFEWS…

IN CA THOSE OUT AFTER DARK WILL BE DETAINED…

STAY TUNED AS INFORMATION DEVELOPS…

“Two Pastramis!”

Emma touches Jillian’s arm, saying, “Did you catch that last one? Those out after dark?”

“Yeah, who writes this crap, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Emma answers, “but I’ll bet they make more than you and I put together.”

Jillian approaches the counter, reaching into her rear pocket for her wallet, home of her credit cards, notices without comment the two to-go-boxes inside a plastic bag, two bottles of Diet Pepsi on the counter, saying, “I’ll be pleasantly surprised if this goes through.”

“C’mon, kiddo,” Emma comments as she nudges in beside her. “The news isn’t even out yet. Panic comes later.”

“I know, I know. Good,” she says about the card scanner, then exclaims. “Twenty-seven bucks for two sandwiches?”

“You haven’t tasted yours, babe. Hey, I know you from the radio. You’re Girl Jill.” He speaks excitedly though basically smooth.

“Thanks for listening, James,” she smiles up at him after checking his name tag and working out the payment and tip.

“And thank you, Jill,” he says in response to the twenty dollar tip. “Yours is on the top, cut into quarters like you wanted and I marked the box with a Sharpie.”

“Like I said,” she glances at his name tag again while holding up her Diet Pepsi in appreciation, “Thanks for listening, James.”

She heads to the front door with their two drinks and car keys jingling, leaving the bag of two boxes for Emma to carry. She does so without complaint but is wide eyed about the tip.

“You tipped twenty dollars on a ticket that was twenty-seven!” she voices as they make their way to the door, as to keep their words private.

“He listens,” Jillian began as she chirps the security off and opens the passenger door for Emma, adding, “A man who really listens. He even wrote ‘quartered’ on my box top and recalls from my show that I drink Diet Pepsi. And he didn’t hit on us. So, yeah, he earned a great tip.”

Closing Emma’s door, she scurries around to the driver’s side with bottles tucked under one arm, slipping them into drink holders as she slides into her seat. Adding as she buckles up, “Besides, he’s about to have a really long day.”

She starts the engine and makes her way quickly, but safely, back to the interstate, saying, “Hold on to mine for a minute and then we’ll eat.”

“What? Are you going to steer with one knee?”

“Wait and see.”

In moments they realize highway speed. Jillian presses a button on the driving column, lets go of the wheel and releases her foot from the accelerator. Eerily to Emma the vehicle continues its path untethered, the steering wheel dancing a slight bit as though hands were still on it. The driver, now an alert passenger, finds a scrunchy from a dashboard cubby to put back her hair, cracks the twist top of her drink and enjoys some. She takes her box from Emma’s lap, opens it and cradles a section of her sandwich with her free hand.

“Who’s driving?” Emma’s voice is stressed.

“It is,” Jillian begins, pauses to take a bite of the luscious pastrami and moans. “God, I cannot believe how good this is! So worth the forty-seven bucks.”

“Hey! There’s a note in here,” Emma exclaims, upon opening her styrofoam takeout box.

“What’s it say?”

“’I take advance culinary at the U., molecular gastronomy. Always looking to better my food. Let me know what you think.’ And there’s a number.”

Jillian mumbles amid her boy-like chomping on her sandwich, “Somebody wants a date.”

“But why is it in my box? He talked with you, Girl Jill.”

She shakes her head, “No idea. Don’t even get me started on figuring out guys.”

“Can you at least keep one hand on the wheel?” Emma half begs but is also curious of the technology.

“Nope,” says her friend who takes another, larger bite out of her lunch.

“How’s it work?” She ventures to open her box and takes her own eyes off the road for only an instant.

“Sensors, cameras and stuff. It’s the cat’s pajamas!”

“It’s going to be a long ride,” Emma concedes and joins the lunch party.