Archive of Unknown Universes

A NATION IS A FICTION, AND LIKE ANY NARRATIVE, IT MUST HAVE A BEGINNING AND AN END. ITS SEAMS ARE IMAGINARY, INVISIBLE LINES OF STITCHES THAT HOLD IT TOGETHER, US VERSUS THEM, A COUNTRY AGAINST ITS ENEMIES. A BROTHER PICKS UP A GUN AGAINST HIS BROTHER, AND THE SEAM SPLITS. THE FICTION ENDS. A COUNTRY IS A FICTION THAT ENDS IN BLOODSHED, RUBBLE, A MOUND OF DIRT MARKED ONLY WITH FLOWERS. OTHER MEN WANT TO WRITE A DIFFERENT STORY, BUILD ANOTHER LIE. A KINDER ONE, LESS BLOODY BUT STILL STURDY AROUND THE EDGES. A COUNTRY NEEDS A BORDER TO PROVE IT IS REAL. NETO PRESSES ITS EDGES BETWEEN HIS FINGERS, SEEING WHAT WILL GIVE. WILL HE SEE HOW FLIMSY IT IS, HOW CONVENIENT A STORY HE’S COME TO BELIEVE? HERE IS WHAT HIS NATION SOUNDS LIKE: A GIRL IS TERRIFIED, BUT SHE KEEPS LIVING. HER STORY DOES NOT END AT THE BARREL OF A GUN, AND THOUGH HER COUNTRY IS A LIE, SHE BELIEVES IT BECAUSE IT ALLOWED HER TO BREATHE LONG ENOUGH FOR HER MOTHER TO STORM IN. TO HOLD HER, TO ASSURE HER THAT NOTHING IS TORN, THAT LIFE WILL CONTINUE IF WE CLOSE OUR EYES AND PRETEND WE DO NOT SEE THE GASH DOWN ITS CENTER.

You’re my first love, they admitted to each other, and reaffirmed their growing belief that existence was a task best done in a pair.

Every day that I’m home, I sit close enough to the door to hear the shuffle of footsteps just outside it. I sit there, reading or layering ink on a form, and wait. Most times, it’s just the sound of a vendor or a neighbor walking down the street. But sometimes, it’s what I was hoping for. A letter from you.

The problem with death, Ana mulled over, is that one must continue with their day when it comes knocking.

THERE IS WAR AND THERE IS REVOLUTION. WAR IS CADAVERS, AMERICAN DOLLARS, RONALD REAGAN, HELICOPTERS, CRATER-SIZE FISSIONS, DEAD PEOPLE, DEAD PEOPLE, DEAD PEOPLE. REVOLUTION IS MAKESHIFT UNIFORMS, BOMBED BRIDGES, INFIGHTING, MURDERED POETS, SCAPEGOATS, HUNGER, TRIUMPH, POLITICAL SPACE, DEAD BODIES, DEAD BODIES, DEAD BODIES. THE FUTURE SPLITS INTO POSTWAR OR POST-REVOLUTION, DIFFERENT DEAD IN EACH HALF BUT LOST LIVES LINING EACH EDGE ANYWAY.