Rain! Genuine rain!
The last storm must have been half a year ago. How mad this used to be a regular occurrence. Mum shakes her head whenever I bring this up, but this feature of the past is still incomprehensible to me. That you used rain to get your plants watered. Imagine all the foliage across my city depending on changes in the weather. No wonder we lived in grey cubes.
Raindrops this fat had the ability to fry electronics, and turn paper to pulp. Link ran from stall to stall, gathering leaflets and computers to log onto. The guests at the Stitch ran for cover. Twenty minutes ago they had pottered about in shorts and t-shirts. A few tried to grab me, and discuss refunds or coupons, but they did not debate long with the thunder rumbling overhead.
Our procedure for dealing with an unexpected downpour lies in the back of the storage cupboard. It is pretty cool. A huge sea snake was in tank 497 a few years ago, and shed a heap of skin every week. The previous volunteers spent a whole summer curing them, and created dozens of tarpaulins. These grey rolls sat near the peach juice cans, and we have never even gone near them. Until today.
Nate gathered bundles under each arm, and told us to get covering.
Deni needed protection too. I knew they had something in place, but I did not realise it had been on them all along. A grey foam substance swelled from underneath their clothing like dough in an oven. This layer formed a hood over their head, and pushed against threadbare clothes groaning under the extra stress. They waddled towards Nate, limb bending close to impossible.
‘Can you give them a hand Venus?’ Nate said.
‘If only…the park…could…swell,’ Deni said.
Our pace lagged behind the summer temps. But Deni and I worked together, lying skin over monitors and sheets with jellyfish facts. The Butter Mouse swam to the top of 1619, her yellow back breaching the water, then zoomed all the way down to the bottom again. I grinned in the rain, and thought Deni was laughing. It was the sound of the rain off her insulation.
Link told us to check the top floors. If the desalination taps had already kicked in, any flowerbeds might be miniature swimming pool. I got the sense he might review the emergency plan after today.
The bamboo ladders were slippy, and Deni went up in jerky, straight steps. But at the top was everything.
Clouds hid the solar panels. Rain poured on the city, turning the traffic gold and amber. The canals flickered with circles and splashes. Any drops that hit the diamonds vanished to another world. And rather than floating in a soup of mud, the flowers drank in every sip, and opened up petals of purple, yellow and green.
We sat next to each other on the ledge of the Stitch. Deni’s legs stretched straight out, and my jeans touched against her mucky tracksuit bottoms.
‘I am glad...to be here...with you…in the rain,’ They said. ‘Even if…I cannot feel…any…of the weather.’
‘It's nice to be here with you too Deni.’ I said.
I do not know if what happened next was an accident. I put my head to the right and I think it was to see a lightning bolt hit the conductors on an uptown mall. But I did so just as Deni moved their face to the left.
Theirs was so cold. And tasted of menthol.
Home now. The rain carries on outside as I write this. Deni has not messaged me. I do not think that means anything. They might have forgotten.
Time to sleep.
A few hours later. I am still awake. The world is foggy through the window panes. I hope one Butter Mouse dances, and the other is getting soaked.
Clip: Maybe my favourite clip so far. This creature is almost as beautiful as the Butter Mouse. Imagine living in this dimension.