Veronica,

I'm sorry for emailing you so late. Actually, is it tomorrow there yet? I just landed in Hawaii yesterday. And I'm sorry for digging up your work email---I know you have me blocked on the other one, but I just had the craziest day and I really need to tell someone about it. And yes, I know you don't want to hear anything else about the Dekagore Program, but like I said last time, we can agree to disagree, right? We're both adults now, right?

Anyway I was thinking about you a lot today and I miss you and I love you and if you don't count the program, which---well, I'll get to that---you're all I've got. Or had. Please don't delete this one. I'd love to hear for you. You can't ignore your little brother forever.

I don't feel 100% right now, so I'm sorry if any of this is fuzzy...

The air throbbed with heat. Above me, the bright dot of the sun cast down fire and pain. The black volcanic rock underneath me reflected the sun's power back up into the soles of my shoes. With each step, the melting rubber squelched as my sneakers slowly came undone. Everything was so bright. It hurt to look up. It hurt to look down. I squinted, concentrating on the ground just a few feet ahead of me, trying to plan my next steps before another acrid gust of wind blew down the mountain and forced my eyes closed.

That was this morning. God, I can't believe it was just this morning. I guess you were still asleep or maybe still awake in Yesterday? Time zones are impossible...

And yes, as you probably guessed, I was on my way to the initiation ceremony. There was an easier way up on the other side of the volcano, but they told me that it was important to go up the hard way. I know you have your reservations about the whole thing, but I thought you would be able to get behind that part. You never take shortcuts. And the hard way really did feel important. I had a lot of time to think about things. But it really was so hot. You wouldn't believe it.

I had left my sunglasses in the car. I had left several important things in the car. Remember, V, in elementary school when you had lunch after me and you would always find my lunchbox sitting on the table where I had left it? The more things change...

The gusty wind brought no relief from the heat. It smelled of poison and death and eggs, eggs just like the way Mother, may she rest in peace, used to make them---burnt. My respirator mask was in the car too. So were my fire-proof boots, water bottle, granola bar, sunscreen, hat, and raincoat, though I probably didn't need that, did I?. We had discussed my forgetfulness during the intake interview. They had asked me for an example of something for which I had once received critical feedback and was taking concrete steps to resolve or otherwise improve upon. I told them about my varied and complex strategies to reduce the incidence or impact of my lapses of memory: the Post-It notes, checklists, mnemonics, ditties, physical signifiers, automated notifications and all the rest. They were impressed, they said, with my honesty, self-knowledge and clear dedication to personal improvement. I would be a great fit for the program, they said. How about that Veronica? Someone thought I would be a great fit. Say what you will about DP, but they accepted me with all my flaws.

Obviously, I wish I didn't have all these flaws in the first place and they put me in a real tight spot on the side of this volcano while my sneakers melted and squelched, melted and squelched as I climbed higher and higher.

I had another hour to go by the looks of it. I could now see the rocky outcropping behind which would be the entrance to the cave. At this altitude, the colorful lizards that sunbathed on the hot rocks like so many sprinkles on a chocolate cake were few and far between. At this height, it seemed like a wholly inadequate amount of sprinkles. Any baker would be ashamed. I thought again of Mother. The thick-leafed shrubs were sparser here too. The whole thing spoke of death.

I'm afraid of death, in general, but on the mountainside, I did not fear. I suffered, yes, but the thought of death was a comfort. Look at this brown and withered bush: it was not afraid to die. Look at this flattened and desiccated corpse of a lizard: it was not afraid to die. And look at Mother, who did not cook with salt: she was afraid to live.

Have you ever not been afraid to die, not in a depressed kind of way, but a focused and zen-like kind of way?

I wondered if this is what the recruitment pamphlet had meant by rebirth.

Closer now, the air thinned but the wind grew thicker. The ash and soot stung my face. Coughing, I fell to my knees. The sun-baked rock seared my palms. I jumped back up. I really wished I had brought my mask. I tugged at the corner of my robe, seeing if I could get it to cover my nose and mouth, but this made it too tight around my neck. It was choking me. Thinking quickly---you know, I told them that, the interviewers, that I was a quick thinker. Oh, how Mother would have laughed at that!---I twisted my arms out of the sleeves and spun the robe around until I had it on backwards. Now I pulled the hood up over my mouth and nose and I tied the loose folds behind my neck. I took a deep breath. Perfect.

Well, almost perfect. The train of the robe, which had before trailed behind me, was now snarling my feet. I fell face first into a boulder. I think I chipped a tooth.

Nevertheless, I pushed onward. A glorious new dawn awaited me. So what if the initiation ceremony was difficult. "Nothing worth having is taken easily", Sam, my recruiter had said. Do you like that, Veronica? "Nothing worth having is taken easily." If you look past the Dekagore stuff (agree to disagree, right?), the Dekagore Program has some really solid ideas.

Trembling all over from heat exhaustion, dried blood above my cracked lips, sunburnt skin beginning to blister, eyes red, pink robe streaked red from sweat, sneakers dissolving beneath me, I arrived at the mouth of the cave. I was ready for rebirth.

Before venturing into the inner chamber, I took a minute to catch my breath in the shade. I needed to remember my lines. "Who dares enter the sanctum?" the chairman would say. And I would say... I would say... I hummed the tune to jog my memory. Right! "No one. I am no one, nothing, less than nothing. I come from nothing, am nothing, and will become nothing once again."

Or something like that. Sam had said that the exact words weren't as important as the tone and the gracelessness with which I should fall to the floor as I said them.

I took one more deep breath and then walked deeper into the cave.

No one was there. I walked slowly forward as the cave narrowed and then widened again. I was expecting to see the glow of candles, but there was only darkness. I worried that I had gone to the wrong cave or the wrong volcano, but in the light of my phone's flashlight, I could see scattered recruitment pamphlets and ritual markings on the floor. It was 1:55pm. I was a little bit early (Imagine that, V! I was early.), but the rest of the organization was supposed to be meeting long before I arrived. I knew I had to call Sam, but I had no service this high up.

As I turned to leave, a metallic glint caught my eye. There was something in the corner. I shined the light directly at it, revealing an elaborate chalice. I shuffled over to examine it, bending down for a closer look, but my trembling thighs gave out. With a groan, I settled into a cross-legged pose.

It was full! It was full! I was saved. I wouldn't die of thirst on this horrid volcano!

To make sure it was safe to drink, I stuck one finger in. It was cool---that was a good sign, I thought. The deep, dark cave had acted like a refrigerator. I withdrew my finger. The liquid was thick and syrupy, like over-sweetened Kool-Aid, like the kind Mother used to make. But---Oh! How we loved it like that! I closed my eyes. I could almost smell the sidewalk chalk and the asphalt and the gathering summer storm. And she would yell "Snack time!" and we would race in, not for the calcifying buffalo dip with celery, but the Kool-Aid! Mother made it so well. The viscosity of it! The love with which it was poured! She loved us.

The liquid in the chalice looked red, too, but I wasn't sure if that was a trick of the light or my sunburnt eyes. Remember that time mother made us the blue Kool-Aid? We really hated that.

I slipped my finger into my mouth and sucked the cool liquid off.

It was...definitely not Kool-Aid. There was something bitter about it, like well-water. But, thirsty as I was, it wasn't too bad. They had obviously meant to use it for the last ritual, but had forgotten it or brought an extra cup. It was cold enough, so there was no risk of bacterial infection or anything. All told, it was better than nothing. I downed the whole thing.

"Bleh!" I gasped. It really didn't taste good. I wished I had brought some mints, but those were back in the car, too. I wiped my lips and licked my fingers. I was still thirsty, but for the first time, I was hopeful that I could make it back to the car.

Using the cave wall and the chalice for support, I lumbered to my feet. I checked the other nooks and crannies of the cave for additional leftovers, but, alas, there was nothing else besides some tattered rag dolls.

I re-assured myself.

I shrugged my shoulders back, adjusted my robe and set off out of the cave to the boiling slope.

I got service again when I was about halfway down. I was going to call Sam immediately, but I thought I should double-check the calendar invite first and I'm so glad I did. It's tomorrow! I knew it was the 16th, but I could have sworn the 16th was a Friday. I suppose it makes sense to have it on the weekend, but they already know I'm unemployed, of course.

Anyway, I made it to the hotel okay. I'm covered head-to-toe in aloe. My stomach is quite upset, but I've managed to keep water and crackers down. I have an alarm set to drive back to the volcano tomorrow, but I'm not sure if I'll make it. I'm not even sure if I really want to any more. I would lose the deposit, but I'm sure I could make friends some other way. I've done it before...

Okay, once more to the toilet and then off to bed.

Hope to hear from you soon, V. Please don't be a stranger.

Love,

Mike

Do NOT go back up that mountain!! Mike!! Are you stupid? You idiot!!

At least you were also stupid enough to get the date wrong.

You better not be going back up there! They'll kill you, just like I told you all along!

If you didn't die already from the FUCKING LEFTOVER SACRIFICIAL BLOOD!!, call me! Right now. (I deleted your number a while ago. Sorry, but not sorry!)

CALL ME!!

Adjunct Professor of Contemporary Comparative Anthropology

Argh!!! I hope you didn't die! I would have to write the stupidest obituary.

Also, for the record, mom wasn't

bad a cook. Her pancakes were pretty good.

Hurry up and call me!!

Adjunct Professor of Contemporary Comparative Anthropology