DEATH IS ETERNAL #413

3,350 words

This DEATH IS ETERNAL will be as—or even more—different than the last one. Funnily enough, though, the reason behind the lack of normality is the same for both. How is that possible, you may wonder. Well, become a paying subscriber to uncover this mystery. And speaking about paying subscribers, I decided to end the once-a-month free-for-all newsletter. At this point, there are a lot of examples of what you’ll read if you choose to upgrade your subscription, so it no longer makes sense for me to try to entice you. You know what to expect. With that bit of news out of the way, let’s see how different this DEATH IS ETERNAL will be.

Contents

1. BENEATH THE SURFACE

2. Bye!

3. Life (from July 29 to August 11, 2024)

4. Reviews #303, #304, #305, and #306: THE PROGRAMME VOL. 1 by Peter Milligan, C. P. Smith, Jonny Renck, and Pat Brosseau, FLOWERS FOR ALGERNON by Daniel Keyes, SELENA +, and FURIOSA: A MAD MAX SAGA

1. BENEATH THE SURFACE

The rain in Vancouver never seemed to stop. It drizzled, poured, and, at times, merely lingered in the air like a wet blanket. For those walking the streets of the DownTown EastSide, it was more than a nuisance; it was a backdrop to the relentless hardships they faced. Yet, amidst this, there was a resilience that inspired awe.

Amid the crowded streets and crumbling buildings, Daniel Thompson had become a familiar face. His worn-out jeans and scuffed boots had long given up any claim to fashion, but his eyes—his deep-set, empathetic eyes—were what people remembered. They spoke of years spent in the trenches of social work, of lives seen and lives lost, of victories small and large.

Daniel had been a community social services worker for nearly fifteen years. He’d chosen this path, though some might argue the path had chosen him. The DTES was where he felt needed, where he could make a difference, and where the thin line between hope and despair was drawn on every corner. It was a place that urgently needed compassion and support, not judgment and politicization.

His day started like any other, with the hum of the early morning rain tapping against his small office window. The office, tucked away in an aging brick building, was cluttered with paperwork, old coffee mugs, and a handful of posters that promoted hope, recovery, and the promise of a better tomorrow. Yet, Daniel knew all too well that those promises were often broken.

He grabbed his coat and stepped out into the damp air, the smell of wet concrete and stale cigarettes instantly hitting him. The DTES was waking up, its residents slowly emerging from their makeshift shelters, squinting against the dim morning light.

Daniel’s first stop was the Safe Injection Site on East Hastings, a place where judgment was checked at the door, and harm reduction was the name of the game. The staff here knew him well, nodding as he entered, offering a small smile in the midst of the chaos.

“Morning, Dan,” called out Lydia, one of the site’s nurses. She was busy prepping clean needles and checking in with people. Her voice was steady, though her eyes carried the weight of countless nights spent watching over those on the brink.

“Morning,” Daniel replied, his voice warm but tinged with exhaustion. He scanned the room, his eyes landing on a young woman huddled in the corner. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen, her eyes hollow, skin pale, and track marks tracing up her arms like a map of her pain.

He approached her slowly, crouching down to meet her gaze. “Hey, I’m Daniel. How are you holding up?”

She looked at him, her eyes flickering with recognition, but she didn’t speak. Daniel had seen this before—the battle within, the part of her that wanted help, and the part that was too lost in the fog to ask for it.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he pressed gently, knowing that even the slightest connection could be a lifeline.

The woman shook her head, her lips trembling as tears began to well up. Daniel reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small card. “This is my number. If you ever need anything, call me, okay? Day or night.”

She took the card, her fingers brushing against his, and for a moment, something passed between them—a spark of recognition, of shared humanity. But then she looked away, clutching the card as if it were the only thing tethering her to this world.

Daniel stood up and continued his rounds, checking in with familiar faces, offering words of encouragement, and sometimes just being there—a steady presence in a world that often felt anything but.

His next stop was the women’s shelter on Cordova Street. The shelter was a haven for those who had nowhere else to turn, a place where women could find refuge from the dangers of the streets. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of laundry detergent and the low murmur of voices.

Sarah, the shelter’s coordinator, greeted Daniel with a tight smile. “We had a rough night,” she said quietly, leading him to a back room where a young girl was curled up on a cot, her hands wrapped around a stuffed bear.

“She just turned sixteen,” Sarah whispered, “Came in last night, beaten up pretty bad. She’s too scared to talk.”

Daniel nodded, his heart heavy. He’d seen so many like her—young, vulnerable, preyed upon by the darkest parts of the city. He knelt beside the girl, his voice soft and reassuring. “Hi, I’m Daniel. I work here in the community. I want you to know that you’re safe now. No one’s going to hurt you here.”

The girl’s eyes darted at him, full of fear and mistrust. She clutched the bear tighter, her knuckles white. Daniel didn’t push her. He knew that trust was something earned over time, and sometimes, all he could do was plant the seed.

“I’ll be around if you need anything,” he said, rising slowly. “You’re not alone.”

As he left the shelter, Daniel couldn’t shake the image of the girl from his mind. She was just a child, yet she’d seen more darkness than most adults ever would. The weight of it all bore down on him, the knowledge that for every person he helped, there were so many more he couldn’t reach. The emotional toll of his work was a heavy burden, one that he carried with him every day.

By midday, the rain had let up, leaving the streets slick and gleaming under the weak sunlight. Daniel made his way to Oppenheimer Park, a gathering place for many of the area’s homeless. Here, he met with a group of men and women huddled under a large tree, sharing stories, laughter, and the occasional tear.

One of the men, Tony, was a regular at the park. He was in his late forties but looked older, the years of addiction and homelessness etched into his weathered face. Despite everything, Tony always had a joke ready, his laughter a brief reprieve from the grim reality of his situation.

“Hey, Dan! Got any good news today?” Tony called out, a grin spreading across his face.

Daniel chuckled, shaking his head. “Depends on what you consider good news, Tony.”

Tony’s grin faded, replaced by a more serious expression. “I’ve been thinking, Dan. Maybe it’s time I try to get clean. For real this time.”

Daniel’s heart lifted slightly. He’d heard this before, but something in Tony’s voice told him this time was different. “I think that’s a great idea, Tony. We can start by getting you into a detox program. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Tony nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I don’t want to die out here, Dan. Not like this.”

“You won’t,” Daniel said firmly. “We’ll get you the help you need. But you have to be ready, really ready.”

Tony took a deep breath, his resolve clear. “I’m ready.”

As the day wore on, Daniel continued his work, moving from one place to the next, offering help, support, and a glimmer of hope to those who had long since lost it. The DTES was a place of contradictions—where despair and resilience coexisted, where people fought against the tide of their circumstances every single day.

By the time Daniel returned to his office, the sky had darkened, and the rain had started again, pattering softly against the window. He sat down at his desk, the weight of the day settling over him like a heavy blanket.

But despite the exhaustion, Daniel knew he’d be back tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. Because in this small corner of the world, where so many were lost, he was determined to be the one who wouldn’t give up.

And as he closed his eyes, listening to the rain, he allowed himself to remember Tony and believe that maybe, just maybe, there was hope after all.

The end

2. Bye!

Here’s where we say our farewell to the free subscribers. If you want to read the rest of DEATH IS ETERNAL, consider becoming a paying subscriber. If you already are a paying subscriber, first of all, thank you very, very much! And second, I’ll see you on the other side of the paywall.