Tonight, the city’s silhouette deviates slightly from its normal balance of shadow and glow. As usual, the hilly gray black skyline is speckled with pale lights: yellows, whites, and reds. From the distance, the city appears as some kind of dried-up, plugged in, collapsed Christmas tree that is far past its season of enchantment.
This Christmas tree has a shorting bulb. One of the city’s dots flares. On the horizon, the fire is as recognizable as a blemish on the back of a whale.
In a corner of the city, an ancient wooden five-Decker apartment building burns, transforming apathy into chaos for awhile. The surrounding streets roar with arriving fire trucks, crackle and cackle with the sound of burning, and echo with screams. Firefighters rush to extinguish the flames and save the people inside. The fire intensifies. Debris falls from the sky. Smoke sears eyes.
Under this towering torch, one weeping man is restrained as he pleads with firefighters to rescue his trapped family. He had been outside getting milk for the morning when the fire had started.
“Do something. Damn it. Do something! Find a way in.”
“Sir, we’re trying to contain the fire. We’re trying.” the firefighter says.
The man shakes his head. “Can’t you get someone up there? My wife Carol, the baby. Send someone in there.”
The firefighter reaches for his radio. “Hold on. I’m trying to contact the chief.”
The radio hisses. The firefighter moves away from the man and speaks quietly. The man paces. The firefighter returns. “Sir, I’m sorry . . . very sorry . . . can’t go in there now.”
Moments earlier, inside the building, the stairway had collapsed, sending three firefighters to the hospital and sealing off any internal way into the apartment. He knew: no chance on the ladder truck, it is too far away; the buildings are too close; and no one is at the windows.
Inside this blazing building, a wondering infant rolls in her light blue crib waiting for her parents to bestow some of their never ending affection. On the hallway floor, her mother gasps for one clean breath as she crawls towards the baby’s room. She coughs. “I’m coming Elena. I’m coming. Mommy’s coming.” The flames hear her. They silence her.
As the door to her room shatters, Elena screams and screams. No one comes.
Outside, the firefighters try comforting the husband. The chief heads over. Suddenly, the windows to the apartment explode with fire. All hope is extinguished.
“That’s my place. Do something. Carol, Elena. Do something, please do something,” the man says. The chief runs over and holds the shaking man. “I am so sorry, truly sorry.” The man collapses into the chief's arms. Two firefighters rush over to help. These fires never go out.
As one moves away from the blaze, the bedlam systematically disperses into the metropolis and becomes indistinguishable.