“Nancy! Nance! Can you come here?” Dick was shouting, he realized, and he tried to relax. His vocal cords were hoarse. He grabbed a cup, his hand shaking, and filled it with tap water. He gulped it down, fast and hard. Nancy finally entered the room. Her hair found itself somewhere between the slick back style she was trying for and a wet mop. He knew he wasn’t much better-his beard was half-shaved, and his hair had been licked into Lady Liberty’s right hand in the middle of the night with how poignantly it stuck out. Nancy’s eyes widened, preempting the obvious question. “What? What is it?” she asked. Her voice was stained with annoyance.
“Read this,” he said, pointing to an article on his phone. The headline read: Local Author Publishes Debut Novel, Credits ‘Her parents, Ayn Rand and God.’ Neither of them bothered to scroll further. “Do you think it’s true?” Dick asked. “Do you think they’re the Second Coming?”
“Slow your roll here, Dick,” Nancy pleaded. Her hands were clammy, he noticed, but her eyes darted back and forth in excited thought. “Let’s turn on the news,” she answered at last. “The TV will have it right.” So they marched into the living room, disheveled appearances and all, where their friends Vivian and Taylor were parked firmly on the couch, waiting for them to finish getting ready. “The hell have you two been doing?” Taylor demanded. “We’ve been sitting here for an hour!”
“Hush, Taylor,” Vivian sighed. “They look like they’ve been having a lot of fun, right?”
“Shh, shh.” Nancy shooed them to silence. Taylor was beside himself; Vivian was trying to remain calm for both of them. Dick flicked on the TV, changing it to the nearest news station-he didn’t care which one. “There!” he shouted. Everyone turned.
“...received reports of a purported daughter of legendary author Ayn Rand and God. Which God, under which denomination, has yet to be determined. Those close to the author have reported her as always having a ‘divine’ presence, and for being a ‘great thinker, and listener.’ More on that story in the coming hour. In Axford County, the dog population….”
A stunned silence overcame the room. They all, slowly, turned to each other. Their eyes flashed with bewilderment. Eventually, Dick had to ask: “Who’s Ayn Rand?” No one knew the answer. Nor did they have time to look it up. The sky extinguished in a moment. Light didn’t just disappear; they felt a sudden wave pulling, collapsing. Then there was nothing. Then something.