\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/860380-Franks-Diner
Item Icon
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Sci-fi · #860380
Short sci-fi story.

Damn…can’t sleep again.

I opened my eyes and thought, Why am I trying to kid myself? I get up and get dressed. There’s only one place I like to be when I can’t sleep, and that’s Frank’s Diner.

Ever since the interplanetary war between X-3456-that’s what we call it, anyway-and Earth, Earth has gone to shit. Clean water is really hard to come by, so a good cup of coffee is even harder to find. I walk into Frank’s Diner, and I can smell the grease from the burgers that were on special that day. A guy named Greasy Pete is behind the counter, with a smirk on his face. He says, “Hey, Jack…what’s a matter? You can’t sleep again?” Welcome to my world.

I sit down in a booth in the corner. I’ve been in this place enough times that the waitress knows to bring a pot of coffee and leave me alone. Everyone else in the diner is minding their own business. You get a lot of loners in a place like this at 3 am. Except for that couple over on the other side of the diner. They’re here a lot, making moon-eyes at each other. They both have their heads shaved, and the girl has the stubble on her head dyed bright pink. They must be part of that cult, the Stevenists. Yep, I can see him holding a copy of what they call the Book of Steve, it’s called Think Different. Now she’s opening a copy of The Second Coming of Steve Jobs. God damn weirdos…

Of course, everything’s been weird since the war. Thirty years ago, Hargonians- that’s what they call themselves-attacked Earth. We fought them off, but just barely. Lots of humans died, but we won in the end. Drove those stupid Hargonians right out of the galaxy. After the war, all the world leaders starting blaming each other for the attacks. Russians claimed that Americans knew about it and didn’t want to tell anyone else. We almost had a world war, but what happened instead was much worse. Every country cut itself off from all other countries. They said they wanted to be self-sufficient, said they didn’t need to depend on anyone else. So now we have the worst coffee known to man because we don’t get any imports anymore.

Suddenly I wake from my own thoughts to the sounds of the two Stevenists talking loudly. They’re in a heated debate with a big guy named Charlie. Apparently, Charlie doesn’t believe in the Word of Steve.

“Steve says the next technological revolution is right around the corner. You’ll see, the economy is going to pick up again. One day things will be back to how they were…Do you want pie, sweetie?” The last comment is directed toward the guy sitting next to her.

“That book was written before any of this shit ever happened. None of that is true now.” Charlie says.

The bald guy says, “You take that back! You don’t even know what you’re talking about…Okay, pie sounds good, honey.” I only know their names as “sweetie” and “honey.”

As I sit there sipping my bitter, awful coffee, I can’t help hoping that those freaks might be right. Maybe one day things will get better. I mean, they can’t get much worse…can they?

Since our country became cut off from the rest of the world, lots of things had changed. Suddenly, there were rations of everything, especially fuel. We used up all of the oil reserves in Alaska real quick, and now we’re back to coal mining. That’s what I do now, I work in the mines all day. Then at night I can’t sleep so I go to a shitty diner to drink disgusting coffee and listen to people arguing all night.

Since there isn’t enough fuel, people have flocked south to warmer climates. They can’t afford to live in the cold. Those greedy monsters in charge can, though. Somewhere along the road, someone decided it would be a good idea to have a group of eleven idiots in charge instead of just one. It seemed like a good idea at the time. And since the guys in charge of fuel and coal had all the power and money anyway, they just took over and called themselves the “National Committee.” Now we have eleven retards fighting over the fate of the nation. They can’t even decide on what to eat for lunch, it’s a fuckin’ mess. And I don’t even know what’s going on in other countries. I can’t imagine it being much better, but I don’t want to imagine it being any worse.

Then Pepper walks in. Pepper is a tall woman with blazing red hair. She always wears black, and she’s the coolest person I know. I’ve known her for two years, but I hardly know anything about her. She’s a professional smuggler. She deals mostly in drugs, but sometimes if you ask nicely she can get you some fruit from South America. It’s all done in secret, though. People have to sneak across the border with small trucks of stuff, which isn’t easy to do. Then they leave the stuff in a locked warehouse for someone else to pick up and transport it somewhere else. It’s a complicated process, and there are lots of opportunities to get ripped off or busted. Pepper takes her chances, though. She says she likes adventure.

Pepper sees me and walks over smiling. “Another sleepless night?”

I nod my head and sigh. “You too?”

She tilts her head slightly and says, “Sorta. I gotta meet a guy about something. Jesus, you see those two bald kids over there? Those freaks are everywhere now.”

“Tell me about it. Those two are alright though. They’re kinda funny if you watch them long enough.” They’re feeding each other pie.

By now, it’s just about 5 am. I have to leave for the mines at 6. I dig a couple of tokens out of my pocket and toss them on the table. “Well, it’s about time for me to try to get some sleep. Another long day ahead.. ”

“Good night,” Pepper says. She shoots me a sideways glance and lowers her voice, “If you need somethin’ to help you sleep..”

“That’s alright,” I reply. “I can’t take any of that stuff, you know that.” They do random tests at the mines, and I can’t afford to lose my job. “But let me know if you come across any good coffee.”

Pepper rolls her eyes and says, “Yeah, I’ll keep trying. But the good stuff is real hard to come by these days.”

I smile at her and make my way to the door. Maybe I’ll get some sleep tonight.
© Copyright 2004 poisonivy (poisonivy at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/860380-Franks-Diner