It’s another morning at the Peach Towers branch of the Atlanta Cares Bank. Another morning where Mr. Larkins is ranting about something or another in front of all the employees, in front of all the customers.
“It’s rigged, I tell you! The draft is rigged for the Fowlers!”
I never knew Mr. Larkins was a basketball fan until today, and now I’m never gonna forget it. Our very own Atlantic Steamers have gotten all of the worst picks on the planet, it turns out, and now the Forsyth Fowlers will win their third straight championship because they paid the basketball people the most. That’s what I am gathering, at least.
It’s not a sad sigh, or even an exasperated sigh. Just a sigh sigh. If you had to call it something, I might even suggest it’s happy.
Normalcy. I really think normalcy is something we don’t promote quite enough these days. Or maybe ever. When things get back to normal, that’s when the story ends. When things are normal, the news ignores it. The lack of drama bores people.
And I think that’s the point.
After the first six months of this year being the craziest thing this side of the Civil War, I think normalcy is all I ever needed. I’ve been getting sleep. I caught up on some books I’d been putting off. And I’m actually going to work every day.
Crazy, isn’t it?
I wouldn’t trade this for the world.
No, that’s not true.
For every awful thing that’s happened this year, from the horrific Columbus trip disaster to everything with the Ascendants, there’s been just as many good things.
I mean, think of it. A corrupt, failing mayor got removed from office, and the mayoral election cycle started all over again. An evil Cybermancer was shown the error of his ways, and his son got away from a life of crime. My best friend from my childhood showed up with a technological curse, but he’s already rejoining the world the best he can. A cute artist robot got to explore its neighborhood and paint some pictures. The secrets of Magitek Soda were exposed, and a depressed teenage girl learned to start forgiving herself. A homeless transgender teenager made some friends and learned the power of optimism. Okay, I’ll admit that last one was a stretch.
But it doesn’t matter what problems I’ve faced, we’ve faced, up to now. What matters is what we’ve accomplished. And I’m pretty proud of that.
THAT’S what I wouldn’t trade for the world.
So as I continue to listen to Mr. Larkins rant and lose us a few customers who didn’t expect to be hearing vulgarities be spewn when they just wanted to set up a savings account, I decide that I’m going to be happy. Because I deserve it.
For now, at least.
4 thoughts on “Into the Retrofuture – Epilogue: Atlanta Cares”
First end, we made it, Morgan.
We made it.
Too bad there’s a whole half of a shift left… The working life never ends