solistice, maybe (a World-of-Darkness rpg vignette)

she whispers into the microphone end of a small hand-held cassette recorder: "Beaver Island, Michigan. December of whatever fucking year this is."

there's not that much usable paper around camp anymore. maybe in the spring they can make some, Andi thinks to herself. she's huddled up in her makeshift sleeping bag, holding her body as motionless as she can in hopes of getting something approximating clean-ish audio for the tape recorder. instead of taking up space in what's left of the two old notebooks she's kept, she has her fingers around the buttons of a an old handheld cassette player system they'd scavenged from the Hotel California weeks and weeks ago. she justifies keeping the batteries for it with pretty flimsy excuses-- they're too small and kinda old for anything else more important. that the recorder works at all in this decade feels like a sign.

six months' worth of survival seem to mark this snowy evening as a fitting moment for just a few minutes of reflection and recordkeeping. if she can keep the tape deck dry and the batteries safe, she'll revisit and add to it at summer solstice or something. she shuts her eyes tight as she thinks this thought, giving it the shape of a fiery, diffuse sort of prayer to the universe. send more batteries. send more tape. keep the zombies and the despair far away.  
 
Andi shivers, inhales, and tentatively tests the bit she'd just recorded. the rewind seems functional. she tucks the device between her pillow and her ear to listen, not wanting to disturb or distract any of the other survivors. it does play back, scratchy and more muffled than she'd hoped-- but at least it works.

"my name is Miranda Garcia-- VR tech coordinator for North of Eden... a media spectacle that you may or may not know anything about. I'm in a camp on Beaver Island, Michigan, surviving. we're surviving. 42 of us. I'm-- this is my story of... the incident. outbreak? I refuse to call it an apocalypse.

"about six months ago... two seasons at least-- it was summer. now it's winter. but it all really started happening before then. why are we all even here? whatshisface Hightower. The North of Eden reality tv pipedream.

"I was home in Chicago one minute. relative normality. and then came thirty different shocks to my entire life. whisked away to Los Angeles, media tours all over the country, back and forth to the set in Michigan and barely any time to think. exciting. frazzling. good though. good busy.

"met Conor Convic on the PR tours-- he's different enough in real life from all the vaguely hunky dudes he always played on tv. and Lollie-- or Lorrie Anne I guess? but nah, fuck her real name-- meeting her and then immediately fighting off a gang of rival roller-derby chicks in the middle of the night makes her Lollie to me, forever. they're both surviving too. the camp here, most of us work for the show. worked.

"April, May, into June, Tim and I worked like the dickens coordinating the actual tech, VR uplinks, secure audience access frameworks, all the different payment tiers, and all of it had to mesh just right with cinematography and whatever editing whims came down from the VP. [muffled gulp] we were building the next generation of entertainment. and it worked! it worked for like... a month? two months of live action, amazing! they hounded us every day-- every hour-- for more, more, more.

"I believed in it though. as corporate and fake as it all was. oh and all the preshow parties and stunts-- all of that just got in the way of real work. and god, how they spun every little thing for all the publicity it was worth-- from hashtag VR slut," Andi grimaced to herself but tried not to betray all her bitterness on tape. "and the restraining orders--" she continues, "Holly versus Lolly. the huge panic after that drug deal gone wrong or whatever it was. and Holly's suicide attempt."

she trails into a pause before realizing it just amounts to a waste of resources. gaps in the tape won't serve anyone.

"I guess they drew the line at filming zombie attacks though. [laughter] honestly it could've almost fit the concept if only it weren't so horrifying. the concept, honestly-- I'm still not sure Hightower even knew what he was on to outside the drive to churn profit out of any new thing he could. but it was groundbreaking. the whole concept-- and that we built up the system to make it real! ground. break. ing." Andi's voice speeds up, tense with passion and regret. "...and it might still change the world too, because there's no reason we can't save the data, the infrastructure. or just the documentation! enough for some future engineer...

"but. okay. [her breathing calms a bit] it all lasted what, til June? July? still have no clue how or why or where the outbreak came from. and what the fuck, zombie is the best word for it. that's what they are. zombie people. the bites, the shambling. I saw it happen. guy on my team, from Cincinnati, honestly cannot remember his name. he lunged. he bit Rachel's leg. hours later in the company evac helicopter she-- she woke up and bit the copilot! and they-- it kept happening. bites. rabid attacks. more bites.  

"thanks to Max and Conor I made it out of that crash. just a broken thumb. the show was canceled. evacuation never worked out-- corporate couldn't manage it. government should have-- but nope. we're still cut off. stranded here. right after, we holed up with the festival hippies for a while. had to regroup eventually. now Ansel's in charge for whatever that's worth. seniority, I guess. or rank. he was head production assistant. and he mostly does a good job. he cares. we're all in this together.

"I'm staying busy. now that winter's settling in. making hunting traps, holding up morale best we can. the others? thinner. more scars. all of us hungry. Conor's beard! maybe we all should grow our hair out, for warmth.
"we need food. and defenses. the Fisher psychos keep their distance if we do, for now. the zombies... you never really know. it's only been so long and we haven't had time to like study them. fingers crossed they all freeze to death and we can quarantine long enough, weed out the infection til it's all over, done. and civilization will bounce back. sooner or later. we'll be ready to help."
 
she toggles the recording button and then, without getting out of her cocoon, she squirms to carefully take out the batteries and wrap the device as tightly as she can in a scrap of plastic sheeting tied with rubber bands.
before closing her eyes to summon sleep, Andi watches her next long, shaky exhale condense into a misty, freezing fog.