Things We Didn’t See Coming

The narrator is trying to repair a roof, but his 14-year-old companion Jeph won’t help him, preferring instead to joke that “given the shape” of his body, the narrator needs exercise. Jeph’s rudeness drives the narrator crazy, but he also understands that as the only surviving child in a community with 27 adults, Jeph always gets away with it; even the elders don’t seem to object. The narrator studies Jeph’s face, with his dyed jet-black hair and his cool, cruel blue eyes.

The narrator hears a sound in the woods and tenses. Jeph mocks him for his worry, saying that the narrator will develop ulcers. The narrator thinks worry is “in the job description,” and he wonders if Jeph’s bad manners come from his strange life or from watching movies on his handheld device. Jeph is in the middle of a puberty-related growth spurt, and though he is sexually hungry all the time, he boasts that he is able to masturbate to “the bliss of the night sky” instead of pornography. 

Jeph wonders if the narrator has ever slept with a man, taunting him with homophobic slurs. Despite his snark, though, the narrator has to admit that Jeph is a good worker—in just a short time, he has gathered all the wood the community needs. On the way back, Jeph argues that the narrator should carry the wood because he needs to strengthen his bones and muscles. The two do not talk on the way back, and the narrator muses that Jeph is probably thinking about how to get more food at mealtimes: “he is, after all, a growing boy.”

Now, Jeph and the narrator are on dinner prep together. The narrator was technically hired by this community to do security, but Jeph’s care somehow became his responsibility, too. Jeph never takes an interest in any of the work the narrator gives him, and he doesn’t want to talk about his parents’ deaths, just 18 months ago. Unlike the narrator, Jeph hates the community’s commitment to “plain living” (without high-tech drugs). As Jeph points out, that commitment is why only half of the community has survived.

Jeph, noticing a freckle on the narrator’s face, suggests that he should get it looked at. For his part, Jeph feels very healthy, though he knows he might get some arthritis when he’s older, like his father had. In passing, Jeph mentions that the narrator has a “body full of problems”—and when the narrator presses on this phrase, Jeph looks away.

Jeph is polite at dinner, but as soon as the others leave, he is back to his lewd self. To get some peace, the narrator sends Jeph on a walk around the edge of the camp. Now, the narrator can start digging through Jeph’s stuff. This is risky, as it’s a violation of the group’s rules, which could subject the narrator to a spiritual investigation. But in a secret compartment of Jeph’s desk, the narrator finds what he suspected: an assay Jeph has run on him, without his knowledge or permission.

The assay shows a variety of diseases: a melanoma (probably benign), degeneration in the narrator’s bones, and ulcers soon to express themselves. Worst of all, it shows a number of post-viral systems: sterility, impending erectile dysfunction, and vision loss. The assay also details the narrator’s past sexual experiments with men. In its final sentence, the assay show that everything, besides the sterility, is treatable. 

Gripping the assay as if it is his “new bible,” the narrator returns to his bedroom, near Jeph’s in the central sanctuary. The narrator, who thought he had escaped the virus, wonders when he was infected—was it that day in the desert? He worries that his fear will alert animals to his presence, and he wonders if he should consult the elders.

At the same time, the narrator knows that the elders might not allow him to get treatment; after all, they have forbidden assays for a reason. Given that he gave all his money over to the community, he could almost certainly not pay for his own treatments. The state will only jump in for emergency care, not for preventive help. That means he has only one option—relying on Jeph’s savings to get him to a clinic.

The next day, as Jeph works with the narrator to build a clay door, the narrator circles back to his medical troubles. Jeph expresses that everyone in this community is here by choice, but that isn’t true for the narrator: having signed the community’s covenant, he has put them in charge of healing him however they see fit, forfeiting many of his assets in the process.

Jeph wonders if the narrator is not “man” enough to stay, wondering why everyone in the community (including the narrator) seems to lie each other; “you’re supposed to be somebody I look up to,” Jeph complains. They work on the door together, and the narrator wonders if Jeph’s help is in part a way of humiliating him. Finally, with disgust, Jeph asks the narrator what he's going to do about the assay. 

Originally, the narrator hadn’t wanted to bring Jeph along, but Jeph—who has all his dead parents’ money—has another plan. Jeph wants to see the city, and he promises to frame this whole thing to the elders as teenage disobedience, the narrator merely Jeph’s chaperone on his journey to see another way of life. They’ll return with food and meds, and though the elders will complain, they will love the new supplies.

As they drive away, Jeph takes in the farms, guarded by sentries holding guns. The narrator asks why Jeph got his assay done, and though Jeph claims it was an act of concern, the narrator knows that Jeph did it for control. Jeph presses the narrator to let him drive, and remembering that his life is in Jeph’s hands, the narrator relents. They speed closer to the city; Jeph is driving like he’s in a video game. The narrator considers bringing Jeph to a flesh club or the markets, but he decides to steer them straight to the clinic.

The short-skirted woman at the clinic is skeptical that Jeph and the narrator, both unwashed, can afford treatment. But Jeph’s money is clearly real, and in an instant, the narrator is snapped up by a series of specialists. They “twist” his bones, “zap” his insides, and give a variety of “transdermal” medicines. When the narrator leaves, he sees a man with a damaged hand arguing with the staff—he cannot afford treatment. Jeph could pay for it, but he refuses.

After Jeph crudely flirts with the receptionist, who has given him “a little fix for his puberty,” the two head back on the road. In the car, Jeph boasts that his money will allow the narrator to outlive all the other elders, even to take over the community one day. Jeph wants to pick up a mother and daughter pair of hitchhikers (“one for you, one for me”), but the narrator refuses, prompting Jeph to call him a “virgin.”

As they get closer to the buildings, the narrator starts to feel claustrophobic, despite the mass of air-filtration plants on either side of the road. Jeph wants to stay longer, but the narrator forbids it—until Jeph threatens to tell the elders that the narrator “forced” him to come to the clinic and stole his parents’ money. In fact, Jeph threatens, if he wants to stay in the city indefinitely, there is nothing the narrator can do to stop him.

Quickly, the narrator pockets some of Jeph’s money, without the teenager noticing. The narrator feigns itchiness, blaming the medication, and he convinces Jeph to take over driving. Then the narrator jumps out of the car into a ditch, leaving Jeph to figure the car’s machinery out for himself. For a few minutes, Jeph pleads with the narrator to return. But then Jeph turns the car back into drive and heads deeper into the city, and the narrator is alone again.