Since this is coming back now, might as well upload this thing I've been sitting on for a bit.
A Pagan in Chicago, Part 2
It had become quite clear, as he made a home for himself, that most people in Chicago did not care much about who or what you worshipped, which made sense. In the face of Victoria, which would have killed them all simply because they would rather not be ruled by that horrible tyranny, what you worshipped seemed to be of little import. It was very different from his younger days, before the collapse, when it seemed that no one could agree on who or what to unite against.
Not that he should be surprised. Victoria was, in a way, the perfect symbol of what to unite against. Something that would gather usually feuding groups together in the face of something that threatened them all. It was only a matter of time before Victoria pushed too much, but he had not expected to see the pushback in his lifetime. Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to visit his old home, make the journey all the way to the suburban outskirts of Detroit, see what remained of his old house. Not today, though, because he had found a reason to stay in Chicago, a reason beyond the food and shelter, of course. Because he had found friends, old friends.
It had been the second week of his stay in the city. He had found a shrine, not one to a Catholic saint or the Virgin Mary, but a pagan shrine, not aligned to any specific god, or faith, tucked out of the way so as to not disturb other people using the area. At that shrine had been two men, one about his age, and another just a few years younger. He had not recognized them, but that was not strange, because he had never seen them in person. It was only when they spoke that memories started to come back. Of course, his bad memory made it so he left the shrine with only a feeling of deja vu. It took three more visits before his dang memories organized themselves enough for him to remember the two men. They had been friends, ones from online, back when he had been on the internet, back before everything went crazy. He had thought they had died in the chaos of the collapse, or after. They had thought the same of him of course, but it was simpler to think that someone perished than hold out the hope of their survival. He himself had long given up hope that he would one day meet his brother again. But having two old friends made the stay in Chicago much easier, helped him be less bitter about the world and his situation.
It had been the second month of his stay in Chicago when he met another old friend, one that he had not seen since his time in high school. Her hair was grey now, like his, but her attitude was as jubilant as ever, unbroken by the collapse, by the years after. Even in her old age, she was open about her beliefs as ever. In a way, he envied her, how she was so courageous, so happy. But that was just the bitter old man in him talking, the one who thought he had it the worst, the part that he hated about himself. But he ignored his envy, something his happiness at seeing her made easy. She was the one, he discovered, who had made the shrine, back when she had first arrived in Chicago. She had been here since the collapse, surviving the chaos, the Nazis, making a life for herself, helping those she could. He thanked the gods for this gift, that they might see each other again. And the best thing about the fortunate meeting was that she had found other old friends of theirs, living in the city. Not pagan, of course, but old school friends, from his home region. It gave his bitter old heart some hope, that things might be actually getting better. It helped that the war was going better than he thought it would. Only the gods knew the future, so what was the point in trying, right? Either way, it was nice, after all this time, to have some hope.
