Thank Your Lucky Stars

I’m not his first tonight. Maybe not even the second, and the only reason I’m still sitting in this bar is because he hasn't asked me for my Placements- that and it's been a while.

“I used to go to an acting class just round here- my mom forced me. Yep- I think maybe ‘92 to 95’.” He swirled the wine around the glass and glanced towards me and then over my shoulder again where another couple sat. I could see his eyes flicker like tadpoles in a stream, and beneath them a purple hue.

“Acting? I mean, there’s worse your parents could have forced you into. At least with acting it can be kinda fun.” He shrugged while taking a deep breath, hoping maybe it would go unnoticed, but I could see the sweat as his watch flayed around his thin wrist.

It’s been about a year since I last did this. I’m 33 now. Surely even then a Faulter is the same as anyone else?

“Look, I’m just gonna open my big mouth and ask ‘cos I gotta know. I’m sitting here sweating, I’ve not slept in days- it’s pretty fuckin’ bad.” Gustav placed both his hands flat on the table and gave me that sort of, ‘please care about what I say just because I am affording you absolute honesty’ take.

“Ask me what?” Here it was. A year later and the first man I agreed to see still believes a Faulter will save him.

“I’m not telling you my coordinates or when I was born. But to be honest, I’m surprised you didn't ask sooner.” Gustav was clearly a seeker.

“So you are a Faulter?” Gustav sat up in his seat and bit his lip. I could see the hair of his moustache fall into his mouth as he grew tumescent, awaiting some revelation.

“I didn't say that. For all I know you’re one too, that’s if you still believe in all of that Tectonic bullshit.”

“It’s not fuckin’ bullshit, Annie. I know people that found a Faulter. They’re real.”

Behind Gustav I could see the pianist up on the raised stage, meandering through jazz standard after another. He was better looking than Gustav, and he did play piano. Gustav caught me looking over.

“So you like piano men, huh?” He asked.

“I glanced away for a second. But please- go on about your unwavering belief in Tectonic Placements. Maybe people just didn't want to be happy anymore.”

“Annie, we are screwed. The numbers- they still get worse, you know. No one stays married and those that do don’t have kids and die fucking miserable or kill themselves. Before the Wave, it wasn't that bad, but Sephariah showed-” I cut him off as he slumped back into his chair and fumbled for a cigarette.

“High priest-Sephariah? From the south?” Gustav lit the cigarette at the wrong end and then rushed to correct himself.

Sephariah was the absolute, the high and the low, the virtuous and the everlasting beacon for those left who had drifted since the Wave. A man shrouded in enigma who people turned to as their truth, in a time where just about nothing meant much anymore. He painted himself as a self help figure who had come to show people how to find happiness again. But when the disappearances began to happen, we started to wonder.

Gustav furrowed his brow, lit the cigarette and then threw the lighter back on the table, hitting his glass.

“He spread the truth about Faulters because he wanted to repopulate this hell hole, he wanted us, you, me, to be happy.” Anxiety turned to intrepidness as Gustav waxed lyrical of Sephariah and Faulters. They were a cult hiding in plain sight, finding ways to instill trust across towns, while they weeded out anyone that was a Faulter. But what happened to every Faulter that might have gone missing no one knew.

Faulters are believed to be those born during the fifth quake of the Wave- earthquakes that scattered across the earth and nearly destroyed everything. We didn't know why or how it happened. These were not the same tectonic plates taught in school. The earth itself shook, as though it had been cradled in a child’s hand and then shaken until they grew bored. Afterwards, the damage seemed to reach beyond the physical, permeating through every instance of life. People seemed to perpetually mourn, and soon culture realigned itself within the sole belief that we were on the way out. We became worse off as we tried to piece back our lives, wondering who or what had turned everything upside down. They slunk back into their own shells and they stopped having children, or even falling in love- that was the big one.

But in the wake of tragedy, people did as they have always done- they turned to stories. Word spread about fault lines, similar to tectonic ones where the most activity was recorded, but these areas were somehow unscathed. These are what are known as Displacement Lines, and to be born within a certain distance to these, is what makes someone a Faulter.

“Let’s say then, Gustav, that you did come across a supposed Faulter- then what? What happens next? It's a cult. People go missing.” Gustav ashed the cigarette and then placed both his arms on the table and leaned towards me.

“Well, first I gotta know if it’s true.”

“And how does one do that exactly?” I tried to quell my nerves and folded my legs over each other and fixed my dress.

“Well..first you ask them their Placements. Where were they born in relation to a Displacement Line.”

“And you think people just cough that up? Those people are almost hunted like prizes, as though they’re the answer to whatever bullshit anyone is dealing with. You think because someone was born near where a fucking earthquake happened that they’re special and can make some loser happy?” It was raining now, and I could see the neon glare of a liquor store through the window of the bar.

“They fall in love, Annie. Wouldn't you want a Faulter?”

“Everyone falls in love, they just do it less now.”

“Faulters love once, and once only. Sephariah showed us this. Books and stories told by people who said that these people were like anyone who wasnt scarred before the Wave. They were not hollow like you and me. Anyone born within ten miles of a Displacement Line- they're different.” I clenched my face, half embarrassed but also amazed how people had clung to these ideas.

“I was meaning to ask, but I guess I kinda forgot. The necklace around your neck- what, what is that?” Gustav pointed at my neck and then took a sip from his glass. Around my neck was a locket made of Improper Gold in the shape of a heart. I held it between my fingers and sat up in my chair slowly.

“My mother..she gave it to me. I’ve always had it and she wore it before me.” I replied. Gustav nodded his head and then smirked to himself and took out a couple of dollar bills and placed them on the table.

“You know, Improper Gold stopped being mined quite a while ago. The last place they used to dig it up was near Monroeville.”

“You sure know your precious metals then.” I placed the locket back behind my shirt quickly.

“Monroeville is where one of the last Displacement Lines was picked up..Sephariah said a trader knew a few Faulters from around there.” Gustav looked at me. His face was blank and his voice had become more quiet. He didn't seem as agitated or pent up, but rather focused.

“Really? Don’t think I knew that..Monroeville was famous for whiskey if anything when I was a kid growing up there."

The bar was still brimming with people. Most sat alone, smoking and drinking, others engaged in conversation and some were even leaning into each other, just a kiss away. They didn't seem that hollow, but they didn't seem too happy either. Perhaps aimless or at least misguided.

My sweat ran cold as I took a deep breath. Gustav fixed his eyes on me and seemed to weigh up something in his head then stepped up from his seat.

“Rain’s pretty heavy now, Annie. We should probably head out.”