In the summer of 2016, I wrote a book, Voronoi Horizons, a novelette about an imaginary tale of two friends who drive from the East Coast to the West. It focuses on two guys roaming through the USA, who are chased by a serial killer just to find themselves in a cult, where one of the friend's grandfather awaits to get cryogenically frozen.
I remember exactly the point where the idea was conceived: we were heading to a BBQ party with my friends, and we stopped at a shopping mall outside town. It was scorching hot, and even though the AC was on, we were soaking wet. As we arrived, my friends got out of the car and went inside the mall to buy some food for the BBQ. I was left in the car as I had an injury from Krav Maga - my ankle might have cracked a bit. They told me not to drink the beers in the car, the ones in the cooler box, which, of course, I took as a provocation, so as soon as they disappeared from the horizon, I got out of the car as well, and hobbled my way to the box. After getting back to my seat, I cracked the beer open and I immediately felt its effect on that hot and sunny summer day. There was a Ford van next to me, behind which the vast fields were stretching, and it felt like a dream - everything was suspiciously serene, yet, comforting. Then two friends appeared, got in the van, and left. There was one moment when I saw them as if I was watching a movie - so, I guess that is when I got kissed by my Muse opened up the Notes app on my phone, and started writing the following:
“When we agreed on this trip we were thinking how strange it would be to see how stories like Kerouac's On The Road or Coupland's Generation X happened or could happen, but now, as I am writing this story at the ocean side I am thinking I should stop as it feels that these 'on the road' stories have had their runs. Nevertheless, if I think back over the past few weeks the urge to share the story of how me and Jesus took thousands of miles just to have wound up in that cryonics laboratory while encountering a vampire, and that cult and how we were the kings of that weekend, well, I am thinking about giving it a try.
Voronoi Horizons is a novella that follows the wild car ride of two friends through the United States in 2016. Their journey goes through miles and times just to end up at a cryonics lab where a grandfather awaits to be frozen. During their ride, these two friends encounter a remote cult in the Nevada Desert while their story becomes a retrospect of childhood memories and the death of a loved one.”
And, oh boy, the words were just rushing in my head wanting to be put down on my digital notes, and, eventually I finished the story that summer, almost within two months. I was mourning heavily after two years of my Mother's passing - and I have to say, even though I tried to focus on pouring my pain into that story, and not to show it to anyone, I am grateful for my then-girlfriend eternally for making my life better. I was mourning, heavily, wanting to be there for my Dad as well, and intended to write everything down at the same time.
I never read the book, I truly think I was not strong enough, but I am glad I did write it in the manner I did: sort of a stream-of-consciousness writing with fake imprints of another childhood, mixed with my fascination of the 1980s/1990s US culture, all supporting the story of my Mom's passing.
The story is not an original one, however: two friends going on a cross-state trip? Come on, since Kerouac, even computer games have told similar stories, but mine was important in another aspect: it starts from the East Coast and ends on the West Coast, and I had not been to those places. Yet. The narrator's friend is Jesus, they are both university students, and I had no intention of sewing a religious subplot in the story, so the name of Jesus came by chance. Maybe, unconsciously the "Jesus, take the wheel" memes helped. There is Jesus, and there is Agent Orange as well, which marks a horrific story in the Vietnam War: Agent Orange is a herbicide that was used tactically during the war, affecting millions from both sides. According to Wikipedia, the effects of Agent Orange include:
chronic B-cell leukemia, Hodgkin's lymphoma, multiple myeloma, non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, prostate cancer, respiratory cancer, lung cancer, and soft tissue sarcomas.
My character is not a positive one either, but I used his name also as the color that you can associate California with. The story ends with the main character arriving at JFK smelling orange, so in a way, there is a loop that begins on another level... And this level seems to be a personal one, that foresaw the events yet to come. In 2018, I went to New York, and it was as perfect as I could imagine. Shall I say I started my journey from there, where my characters did two years before, and continued it six years later? This is what happened: in the book that I wrote the guys took a trip on the famous Route 66 and my last morning in Los Angeles, I was lying in bed both excited and worried about the almost 2000 miles - 3000 km - ahead of me. According to abc7.com, an excessive heatwave was forming in Southern California. surpassing 100 Fahrenheit, which was true, as I checked my phone and it showed me 112 Fahrenheit in Las Vegas, my next destination. I then took a look at Maps - today, I was going to drive at least 4 hours and 20 minutes until I reached the Flamingo Hotel in Las Vegas, but first I had to stop at Roy's Cafe in Barstow.
By then, I had certainly forgotten about my book, my characters, and everything about that story, so when I rented a car on an app and it notified me that my car was there, my phone informed me:
"JESUS HAS ARRIVED"
It hit me immediately, Jesus, my book, Voronoi Horizons, the their trip, which, in a way, was becoming my trip, as if, I had already written this journey back in 2016. Of course, this might not be the case entirely, but it had all come back to me. I stood up and went to meet Jesus, who, as it turned out, was Jesus from Mexico. I took the car and started driving while smiling at the whole Jesus incident. The Sun was up and it seemed to me as if it never went down while I was there. I had heard many stories of how dangerous driving in and out of Los Angeles, so I was not entirely calm, and on the shoulder of a freeway my car broke down: it was an electric car, which I had never driven, so I mixed up the clutch with the breaks and at that bustling point it just received too much surge and broke down. I was there, starting to almost hyperventilate, other drivers, honking, when suddenly an LAPD Sheriff's car appeared. I started panicking for a bit, then I told myself, "It is ok, everything is going to be okay, what is the worst that could happen?", as I kept asking myself this, the Sheriff's car passed me and I heard that sweet sound of my car revving up and I could leave that spot. My black car, which was going to be my companion for the upcoming two weeks shone on the sunshine freeway: I was on Arroyo Seco, and then I remembered I had this idea from years before: to drive in LA to the song of Bruce Springsteen's "Cover Me", which I did. Even though in my imagination I was driving a Cadillac, the Infinity Q50 did the trick as well. I felt invincible at that moment: passing Rancho Cucamonga, then Fontana, then Quartzite and Apple Valley, leading me to Barstow, California, the gateway to the Mojave Desert.