抖阴社区

Chapter 1

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抖阴社区 Authors note:

This is part one of an omnibus released on Amazon. If you would like to support me, then please consider buying the full book.

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The Eternal
Quintus Rivers
Copyright © 2024 Quintus Rivers
All rights reserved.

Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Disclosures:

This is the censored version of the story.
The most explicit sexual scenes have been censored, but the book is still meant for mature audiences only.
Scenes contained in this book may not be suitable for a younger audience.
As of right now, there are no plans to release a spicy version with smut, but that may change in the future.
Additionally - in this book, there are complex situations being handled, such as racism, sexuality, and ethics. As such, there are numerous trigger warnings around race and sexual assault and real life politics.


Chapter 1

I walk through the tree lined streets of Midwood. You never realize how nice trees are, until you've been to a neighborhood without them.
Brooklyn is a diverse place. So much so that one neighborhood can look very different from another. Midwood is just one of many neighborhoods here.
But, I think it's unique. It isn't far enough from the city to feel suburban, but it isn't close enough to feel like the city either.
There's character here.
There are homes in this neighborhood that would rival suburban McMansions in size - but they have style and history. Sometimes I'll look them up online - on realty websites. Mostly to fantasize about a different life I wish I had. But, also, I suppose, simply out of curiosity. How does the other half live, you know? I'm surprised at how well they make use of the space they have. I guess, in the city, even with such a large home, you feel the need to maximize the use of your space. No inch goes to waste.
On the other hand, there's also apartments like mine. Small and dingy.
Don't get me wrong - the rent is good - the heat, water, everything, generally works well enough. But, it's hard not to wish for more. Maybe that's why I enjoy walking past all of these beautiful homes.
But this isn't a story about Midwood. Or nice homes. Not exactly. Midwood is just where I grew up, and where I lived a good portion of my life, but this is a story about something else entirely.
My name is Dante. I enjoy going for long walks, and I dislike crowds.
Unfortunately for me, Brooklyn can be very crowded. So I generally wait for late nights before leaving my apartment.
These late night walks are good for me. I often spend my time thinking about philosophy and how to save the world. A bit weird, I know. You're going to find that I really am quite weird. But bear with me. It's just, ever since I can remember, I've always wanted to make the world a better place.
So, tonight, just like many other nights, I make my ritualistic walk to a 7-Eleven, and grab a can of beer, 8% abv - strong but not too strong. And I grab a coffee cup to pour it in, to avoid any unwanted attention. Not that people in the city really care. I like to think that they just appreciate the effort. And, you'll eventually walk by someone who's going to feel like they have to say something. Or, call the cops. Yes, really. The cops. But most of that headache is alleviated if you simply give them plausible deniability. There's just something psychological there.
It's early - early for me anyway. It's about 11pm on a weeknight. There isn't much to do here, at least not in this neighborhood, at night. Even on weekends, it's essentially dead. You're never too far from a store, but at the same time, honestly, there aren't that many great options for stores or restaurants to choose from. Or they're closed.
I consider just getting some food from the 7-Eleven too - but I prefer drinking on an empty stomach. Don't get me wrong - I'm not an alcoholic - but my tolerance is still legendary.
Okay - maybe I was a bit of an alcoholic when I was younger. I mean, who isn't? But my days of multiple Four Lokos and Monsters in the same night are long gone.
I prefer drinking alone nowadays. And why overdo it alone? Get a nice buzz. Have one energy drink to keep me awake. So that when I go back to my apartment - I'm still awake enough to work on my app.
I put my drink and cup on the counter. There's a new guy working there. He thinks about whether or not to ID me. I look relatively young - so ID'ing me is totally normal. The issue is - I look a bit ambiguous ethnically, and am often mistaken for hispanic.
There's a stereotype that hispanic people often don't have ID - resulting from the stereotype that hispanic people are often undocumented. The cashier is a minority - surprise: minorities hold stereotypical views of each other as well.
Maybe you already know this.
Regardless, the cashier is weighing the decision in his head.
Of course, I'm not undocumented. So, for me this is a little bit fun, watching the calculation going on in his head.
I've been told that it's weird to pay attention to things like this, but, don't judge me - a man gets bored when he's essentially unemployed.
And you know - yea I could be overthinking it. But, he did ID the young white guy before me. Why spend so much time looking me up and down?
I never get ID'ed at the Mexican grocery store either. The cashiers there try to speak Spanish with me, and it's interesting watching them get offended when I can't reply.
It's hard explaining that I'm not hispanic - I think they think I'm trying to tell them I'm only American or something.
English was my first language - sue me.
Back to the 7-Eleven - it seems like the cashier is done calculating whether or not to ID me. I feel like I've been standing here too long, letting him sweat it out. I'm weird like that, I know. I hope I wasn't smirking or something. I'm sure that wouldn't be helpful.
I can't help it. People can be so interesting. Even the mundane is really amusing somehow, when you don't get out much.
Fuck, I'm a loser.
Anyway - during the cashier's calculation - or rather upon completing his calculation - the man curses in Urdu, or Hindi. (At the risk of angry people yelling at me - It's honestly the same thing really. Mutually intelligible. But he was likely from Pakistan. Most of the brown folk in this 7-Eleven were. The fact that I know that, means that I probably come here too often.)
And, what he said - more or less - was "Well fuck - anything goes [in this country] I guess." As he's scanning my beer, I finally ask, "Do you need ID?" The words come out in Punjabi. A language which I have inherited - or at least a broken version of it.
He seems taken aback. Punjabi isn't the same as Urdu/Hindi. But enough of it is intelligible to speakers of either - especially if you only speak at an elementary school level. "You drink?" He asks me. He makes a bunch of assumptions there. He assumes I'm from Pakistan. And he assumes that I'm Muslim. I say Pakistan, because if you assume someone is Muslim, you're probably not assuming they're from India. Even if India has around as many Muslims as Pakistan has people.
Either way, I suppose Hindu's and Sikh's can't really drink either. So I guess he just assumes I'm religious. Perhaps some of my own biases are showing there.
I shrug. "Yea, Alcohol and Punjabi [the people] go together," I say. Hey my grammar isn't great. But he understands. Punjabi's are one of the few ethnicities from the Indian subcontinent that do drink. At least as far as I know. I'm just a poser of course. I was born and raised here. But people assume a lot from how you look - so I let them.
And, music is universal. I challenge anyone that tells me that Punjabis do not drink, to listen to the music.
Punjabi farmers specifically.
It's probably for the same reasons that hillbillies here in the US do. There's a huge drug problem in both cultures. And a weird obsession with huge cars.
I mean, maybe there really just isn't much to do on a farm. And big cars are useful. I guess that makes sense.
Country music is also oddly reminiscent of Punjabi music. And vice versa. Both include drinking and acting really prideful for no real reason whatsoever. And, weird family/relationship dynamics. I won't bother you with more - but, someone could probably write a whole thesis paper on that.
Either way - my personal love for alcohol probably isn't all that deep.
"Where in Punjab?" The man asks me, still in Urdu/Hindi. I start wondering if he's Punjabi too - but he just doesn't speak the language. There are a lot of people like that. Or maybe he just enjoys geography. I shrug - "Punjab. Punjab. The center." I say. Punjab exists in both India and Pakistan because, well see: The British.
He doesn't seem satisfied. But at this point I just hand him my ID to speed things along. I'm 27 years old. He reads my full name, "Dante? Black?" He seems really confused now. "Dante Black. When did your family get here?" he asks in Urdu/Hindi.
I accept my ID back. I shrug again, "A long time ago," I answer in English this time.
He shakes his head. "Everything fucking goes here," he repeats again.
I don't think he's figured out how he feels. Whether or not he should look down on me. If you pay attention, you'll see that a lot of human interactions work that way - especially during first impressions. People size each other up for a reason. Either they're an equal, or lesser, or greater than you.
A lot goes into that split second decision. We very quickly decide whether a person is "good" or not. Or if you can "respect" them or not.
Sometimes, we just make the decision too quickly, because we have conflicting information in our heads, and judge negatively because it's easy, and so that we don't have to think too hard.
I think that probably has something to do with cognitive dissonance. I don't know. I just know that I had a friend, who has a masters in psychology, that enjoys talking about cognitive dissonance.
I wonder if I should blame him for encouraging me to overthink.
As for the cashier, the man doesn't charge me for the cup. So I guess he's alright.


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