He returned to the brick building with the air fryer he had snagged from work and stashed in his apartment. Having the thing sit on the counter of his kitchenette made him realize how little space he had. He was glad to get rid of it and pass it on to people who would use it. It was an appropriate thank you for the reformatting his phone.
The elevator door opened and he was whipped up to the top level. He stepped out and made his way up the maintenance staircase to the roof top.
The man from before, Will if he recalled correctly, met him with a smile and a “welcome back”
“Thank you… Oh I…” he stammered glancing down at the air fryer then back at Will.
“Come on in. Please Come in!” he opened the glass door to the greenhouse and waved him in. “set the fryer on that table. Join us for lunch.”
The short man with the shaved head who had reprogramed he phone yesterday walked up and handed him a plate with a rather large taco on top. Some chopped seasoned meat with rice. The man turned around and snipped some cilantro from a plant and dropped it on the taco. He then plucked a tomato from a vine and chipped it on a cutting board placing a few slices on top of the taco. “We have a hot sauce we made if you appreciate spice.”
“Yes, please. I never caught you name last time I was here.”
The man smiled, a staring coy sort of smile as if he was tickled anyone would ask. “Erik, like the viking.”
“The viking?”
“Erik the Red, he was a 10th century viking explorer. I am not quite so bold or exciting but I like to think if I were born 1000 years earlier, I might have had an adventure or two worth writing an epic about.”
Erik grabbed a bowl and spooned some sauce on to the taco. It looked very good. He stood around a table where a few of the roof top inhabitants had gathered some were in the process of eating, one was reading a book, another just standing chatting to a friend I the middle of eating a taco.
He picked up the taco and took a bite. It was delicious. It was so flavorful it seemed unreal.
“This is amazing,” he stammered through his full mouth.
“Cilantro is best when fresh” said Will reappearing by his side. “That air fryer look new you sure you want to give it up?”
“I stole if from work and I have no room for it in my apartment. Think of it as a thank you for reformatting my phone.”
“Stole it from work?” Will chuckled out loud “That’s the way to do it! Take their money and their shit before the they can toss you on the chopping block.”
“We mainly take care of ourselves and each other. We offer support to like-minded people in our broader circle and in some other communes scattered around the area.” Will said with a smile. “On the side we run a small operation to leak corporate secrets and foil ad campaigns and undermine government and corporate propaganda.”
“How do you do that?”
Will leaned on the table. “Insider information from dissidents who want to settle scores, running bot farms to ratio misinformation and crash out ad campaigns, looping AI agents in logic traps, things like that.”
“The internet was perfect when it was a getaway from the real world. It was ruined the moment it became the whole world,” Interjected Will.
They were definitely not luddites with hobbies like that.
“Funny you say that I work for a marketing firm and we generally see poor returns on most of out campaigns… but that never seems to stop the corpos from dumping money into more far-fetched schemes.”
They all laughed. “I never would have guessed.” Said Will, “you don’t seem the type.”
“I am not the type, I just got the job since I was a decent writer. While we are delving into back stories what exactly are you guys?”
They all looked at him. There was an uncomfortable silence but no one looked mad or even offended. It was more like they were surprised he asked, or didn’t even understand the question.
He stuffed the remaining taco into his mouth as he scanned the small group of people before him. “Sorry I asked.” He said raising a hand to cover his full mouth.
“Don’t apologize” interjected Erik. There is no need for that, we are just a…”
“Well you see, it’s not an easy question to answer.” Said Will, not cutting Erik off but more filling in his silence. “We live here and we do what we see fit. We are a commune by definition but we are so much more.”
“A commune, Like the Soviets back in the old days?”
“No not like communists.” Will said firmly. “We are more like the Hippy movement of the 1960’s. A counterculture you might call us. We dictate the rules of our society instead of society dictating rules to us.”
Everyone was silent but some were shaking their heads along with Will’s answer.
“Yes, I think that describes us very accurately.” Said a young woman with short dark hair. The others all agreed shaking their heads, the heard the words “hippies,” “Commune” and “counterculture” repeated a few times. Just like that they all returned to their previous activities as if nothing had happened.
He didn’t really know what to say now, but he got a feeling this bunch was not the type to engage in small talk. He still felt out of place and somewhat suspicious of their intention for him. “well if you ever want to crash a Pryamsn energy drink campaign let me know I’d love to give you an hand in that endeavor.” Only Erik and the girl with short hair were within earshot, both smiled. “We are planning something with them,” said the girl.
He laughed no sure how to respond. He had not expected a serious response more of a chuckle or ‘stay away from them, they give you kidney stones’ kind remark.
Paul spent the day with the group they showed him some videos they had shot and edited and distributed through social media channels. The took him through the greenhouse and told him about every plant they had growing. Some of the members of the group compiled a wish list of more items for Paul to pick up on his daily strolls. Lamps, old computers, shirts, flip-flops and several other items, most of which could be snagged from any dumpster if one was keen-eyed. Afterwords they had a discussion on classic literature and debated why literary standards seem to have declined over the decades. They shared a cobb salad and watched the sun set from the roof top.
Once again Paul excused himself shortly after sunset to catch the last bus. He was sad to leave. He did take solace when all 8 members of the roof top commune gathered around and bid him fair well and said they would await his return. Again, he dashed off down the dark street. This time it didn’t feel like he was going home, but more like he was going off on a journey. A journey that would be long and dark and lonely. A journey that would in time lead him back home.
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