By Ernest Hogan
Yet
another anthology is out, with another story by me in it. It's called
Five to the Future,
and also features works by the fabulous Emily Devenport (my wife),
Arthur Byron Cover, Cynthia Ward, and M. Christian. Buy it! Read it!
Live it! Now!
Mine
has been called “a
Chicano fiesta of multicultural caliente salsa” by the publisher.
It was inspired by recent political events. Rather than try to
describe it, I'm going to tease you with the beginning of UNO! . .
. DOS! ONE-TWO! TRES! CUATRO!
. . .
“Testing,
testing. . . Is this thing on? UNO! . . . DOS! ONE-TWO! TRES!
CUATRO!”
#
Low-flying F-16s rattled
windows and loosened fillings as they rumbled their way to and from
Luke Air Force Base, as they did every day since the new president
stepped up the war.
#
A camera
perched on the security fence near Central Avenue in Phoenix,
undergoing repair after a hole was blown in it, partially destroying
the face of the new president that was painted there as part of the
ongoing mural project. It swiveled, looking for action and finding
it on the street below. A flash of light disturbed a chain gang of
young brown and black women wearing striped jumpsuits.
A hologram
appeared: a figure in a spacesuit tricked out in intricate, colorful
decorations like Mayan embroidery or a charro's best suit. The helmet
had day glow hot rod flames and an engine’s air intake sticking out
of the top. The face was not human, but a papier-mâché skeleton
painted for Día de los Muertos.
It screamed like a rooster
from Hell.
“UNO!
. . . DOS! ONE-TWO! TRES! CUATRO!”
The chain gang panicked and
tried to run, tripping on their shackles. An officer fired her gun,
triggering a hail of gunfire from passersby and vehicles trapped in
the perpetual traffic clog near the fence. People screamed. More
shots were fired. Sirens wailed. Drones large enough to be armed
buzzed in.
The hologram admired the
mayhem. Its mask stretched and cracked into a grin.
Something flew over the fence,
landing near the hologram. The object exploded into a cloud of red
smoke. When the smoke cleared there was a flash-painted portrait of
the skull-faced hologram on the fence next to the hole.
The hologram laughed like an
over-amplified mariachi and disappeared.
Two F-16s thundered low
overhead, heading for Luke Air Force Base.
. . .
. . .
Ernest Hogan finds inspiration in political turmoil. Another story by him
can be found in the anthology Latin@ Rising.
His “Chicanonautica Manifesto” appeared in Aztlan.
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