The Stairs, Chapter 30

THE STAIRS

© Tom Scocca, 2025

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, and events is entirely coincidental, with the exception of the events in Chapters One and Two, which happened more or less as written, on the line between Cambridge and Somerville, Massachusetts, on Memorial Day weekend in 1999

30. 

We weren't the only ones heading for the Electro-Parade. As we walked, the sidewalk around filled with more and more people. Cloth coats pressed in around us, in black and tan and plaid. Pythia ducked back out of view, but nobody was looking at us. 

We crossed Dogfish Avenue, then Eagle Avenue. By now we had to slow down because there were so many people in the way. They were spilling off the sidewalk to walk in the street. I glanced at my watch: 2:38. "It gets more like the stockyards every year," someone said to a companion as we squeezed by them. 

People were jostling us and stepping on our toes. "Careful with the backpack, Theo," I said. 

"I am careful," he said. 

"Don't start bickering now," Maxine said. "Hold hands and keep going." 

We held hands in a chain and struggled forward. I heard a clattering rumble growing louder. In the gaps between the brims of adults' hats, I saw the gleam of the Fishhawk Avenue elevated train crossing over 71st Street. "Almost there," I said. 

Gusts of cold wind alternated with the stuffy air of the crowd. An elbow in hot tweed bumped my ear. Somehow, we kept moving. Then, suddenly, we were up against a row of sawhorses, at the edge of Fishhawk Avenue, with the crowd behind us. Overhead were the elevated tracks. A brawny police officer in a silver-buttoned coat stood in the avenue behind the sawhorses, arms folded. "Keep it back, boyos," he said. He squinted at Maxine. "And girlo. Don't want to get squashed by the parade, now. Not till at least the lights come on." 

"Now what?" Maxine said as the officer turned away to admonish someone else. "How do we get to the resonator, wherever it is, in the middle of all this?"

I looked left and right as best I could. The sawhorses stretched in a solid line both ways, with the crowd pressed up against them. On the far side of Fishhawk Avenue were more sawhorses, with more crowd packed in behind. "We're not even up to the Yuletide Garden, and we're stuck," I said. 

My watch said 2:45. It was an hour and 10 minutes since we'd walked out onto the stairs. Mom would be waking up in less than three hours. 

I turned around to see if there was any other way through the crowd. My back was leaning against the sawhorse barrier, and without warning, I felt it start to slide away. I stumbled and a big hand poked me in the back, keeping me upright. I looked and saw the cop there. His other hand was pulling back the sawhorse. "You," he said, beckoning me and Maxine and Theo. "You kids. Come through." 

"Not the rest of you," he said, glowering at everyone else the crowd, as he shoved the barricade back in place. 

"Sir?" I said.  

"Why'ncha say you were working?" the cop said. "The lady's in a big hurry." He pointed a thick thumb over his shoulder. There, in the dimness under the Fishhawk Avenue Elevated, stood a familiar figure. The white edge of a lab coat hung below her gray-blue winter jacket. 

"Dr. Argemend!" Maxine said. 

Dr. Argemend smiled, briefly and tensely. "My volunteers," she said to the cop. "The final inspection on the Yuletide Garden plantings always needs all the hands it can get." 

"Sure, there you go," he said. "Start by helping the lady with her box, kid," he said to me. He turned back to the crowd. Behind Dr. Argemend was a huge thing like a suitcase or trunk, on a four-wheeled dolly. It was covered in canvas, with the cover held together with big snaps. 

"How did you find us?" I asked. 

"How did you know to find us?" Maxine asked. 

"Smelled you two blocks away," said a voice from up in the shadows of the elevated-train girders. "To your second question." 

"Marta!" Theo said.

"First question: I sent word ahead," Pythia said, from inside my coat. 

"Yes, and shh," Dr. Argemend said. "Let's go. Do help steady the cargo, if you would." She got behind the dolly. Maxine and I put our hands on the canvas from the sides. Underneath the fabric was something hard and bumpy, like stiff wire. Dr. Argemend gave a shove, and the dolly started rolling. The big box swayed and I held it in place. It felt lightweight for its size. 

It was a whole new kind of strange to be marching up the empty Fishhawk Avenue, with the crowd on either side, like we were a parade float ourselves. Their faces were gazing at us, more from boredom than in curiosity. Dr. Argemend just kept walking without looking around. 

We passed 72nd Street, then 73rd. I could barely tell where the streets themselves were, the crowd was so thick. Another train clattered overhead, going the opposite way from the first, the noise bouncing off the bare pavement. "Ow," said Theo, covering his ears as it passed. 

It was even colder under the tracks than it had been on the streets, and the shadows were deeper than before. "We've got half an hour till sundown," Dr. Argamend said. "Half an hour after that till twilight is thick enough for the electrical show." I checked my watch. 3:01.

"Is Hartstock going to wait till then to power up the resonator?" Maxine asked.

"Assuming he's got it ready, yes," Marta said. "The Electro-Power Company won't want to feed Shinter's the extra juice too early." 

"How much electricity does this whole show take?" I asked.

Maxine tilted her head to the right. "How much does it look like it takes?"

I looked over the big box. We'd reached the corner of 74th Street. There was the looming butter-colored bulk of Shinters. Beside it, sprawling off to the east, filling the street behind a candy-cane striped triple archway, was the Electrified Yuletide Garden. 

Find previous chapters of The Stairs here.

WEATHER REVIEWS

New York City, June 2, 2026

★★★★★ Blue jays preempted the alarm by screaming through the interval of daylight before it. The morning chill burned off fast wherever the unfiltered sun could reach. Fruit flies swarmed the mushy mediocre peaches left from breakfast. The 15 minutes before a meeting were enough time to get out for a takeout cup of masala tea and to get it into a mug out on the balcony table. Away from the computer screen and high up egrets were passing, wings pure white on the deep blue. The sun was nearing its longest and the day was still mellow and inviting. A preview production of Shakespeare was getting underway on the lawn above the Pool; a Caesar in a purple cloak and golden breastplate and bracers introduced himself to the audience. Up at the top of the Great Hill an egret flapped by, this one quite low and now tinged more ivory-white by the lowering sun. 

New York City, June 3, 2026

★★★★★ Reflected and diffused bits of sun worked their way down into the shaded avenue to bring out the luster and saturation of the paint jobs on the parked cars. A black Mercedes glided by with an extra gleam flaring along its chrome. A tawny glow floated in the bedroom where the light had found a tan jacket dangling off the chair to meet the crumpled almond-and-russet rug at the chair's feet. The cat, yearning to get out on the balcony where the human was, thwacked the window screen and launched a hideously luminous cloud of dust motes. Now the day was warmer but still just warm, the air light and dry and breezy. Children prowled the hilltop with water guns; people nuzzled on blankets. A dried or drying puddle with a red plastic straw in it lay on the bottom step by the Strangers' Gate, with raccoon handprints all around it on the stone. The crosstown sun from the west overwhelmed a hand thrown up for shade, so there was nothing to do but trust and walk on into it. 

New York City, June 4, 2026

★★★★ It was no use trying the sunny part of the balcony even briefly, with the temperature already rising and a hazy glare giving the sun new harshness. But the shade still served, and back indoors the open windows were still preferable to air conditioning. There was no burden of humidity in the air yet, only the press of hot sun against a moving body. After two evening drinks in a dark basement bar, the steps led up into enduring daylight and a street filled with western sun. People stopped out in the roadway on 72nd Street to take pictures, the gold washing over them where they stood.

FOOD FRIDAY DEP'T.

Doritos Protein Nacho Cheese Flavored Tortilla Styled Chips: Tasting and Judgement

THE DORITO IS one of nature's most perfect foods. Everybody has their favorite, such as Cool Ranch, and Flamin' Hot, but it seems like the Nacho Cheese variant is the most popular, so playing into their strength, Frito-Lay has jumped on the protein bandwagon and introduced a variant with a 10 grams of protein per one ounce serving of one of America's favorite Eat Your Feelings/Stoner munches.

The largely unscientific Indignity test sample snack triangles that I bought at the price club came out of the bag looking kinda busted, and smelling strongly of Doritos nacho-funk, which is not necessarily a bad thing.

Their appearance reminded me of one of my favorite fast-food items, the deep-fried, oil-saturated tacos at Jack in the Box (and for a brief, shining-with-grease moment, Burger King). Ohh, man, I could eat a whole thing of 'em right now.

The Ugly Truth About the Burger King Taco Is That It Is the Jack In The Box Taco

A Bonus Sample Item From the Hmm Weekly Archive, Previously Only Available to Supporters

INDIGNITYHMM DAILY

I dove in on the above-pictured bowlful and as far as flavor is concerned, these distressed triangles really deliver on the evil that is Doritos, the flavor-force that compels you to kill a whole bag, no matter the size—however!

Yeah, however! I couldn't even get through that bowlful, which was maybe 20 percent of the 12 3/4 oz. bag. So that's around three ounces of Dorito, which would have been worth 30 grams of protein if I'd eaten it. I kinda don't trust the Government any more in terms of their motivation to guide the diets of Americans in this economy, so I checked out some info from the Cleveland Clinic, but it seems like everyone agrees that 10 grams of protein is about 20 percent of your daily requirement, but you need to adjust for weight and muscle mass, and you are encouraged to do your own math.

How Much Protein You Need

There are standard guidelines for protein intake, but lots of people fall outside of that typical recommendation. See what can influence your protein needs.

Cleveland ClinicCleveland Clinic

Back to that "however," though. The chips hit hard on the cheese-salt-garlic-tomato-pepper satisfaction, but as you finish each chip, or to be fair, as tested, as you finish each greedy faceful of chips, they dissolve into what I can only describe as fine sand, and so the epilogue to each mouthful is that you're on cleanup patrol, trying to get all this grit out of your Doritos-hole. Not pleasant! Weird!

It's possible this is a good thing in terms of satiety, like, since I maybe choked down two ounces of chips, I got 20 grams of protein, but I got less carbs because I stopped inhaling? I dunno. If they'd been regular Doritos, with 2 grams of protein per ounce, I might have eaten the whole bag and come away with 25 or 26 grams of protein.

Anyway, Doritos Protein Nacho Cheese Flavored Tortilla Styled Chips: Would not eat again, but they might work for you! Do your own research!

SANDWICH RECIPES DEP'T.

WE PRESENT INSTRUCTIONS for the assembly of a sandwich selected from Consolidated Library of Modern Cooking and Household Recipes, Vol. IV, by Christine Terhune Herrick, Editor-In-Chief, author of The Little Dinner, The Chafing-Dish Supper, etc., and associate author with Marion Harland of the National Cook Book, and a list of contributors which includes many of the famous chefs and cooking experts of the United States, published in 1905 and available at archive.org for the delectation of all.

Fish Sandwiches

Pound the coral of a lobster. Mash the hardboiled yolks of 3 or 4 eggs. Skin and bone 2 salted anchovies, mash these, and mix all together. Season with a spoonful of lemon juice, one half teaspoonful of Worcestershire sauce, salt, and pepper. Mix thoroughly. Cut thin slices of Boston brown bread; spread with the fish mixture; cover with a crisp leaf of lettuce, then with another slice of bread. Cut in halves or quarters.

Any cold fish may be substituted for the lobster.

Another Fish Sandwich

Use any cold boiled fish — cod, bluefish, haddock, or white fish. Flake quite fine, or pound; mix with each cupful of flaked fish 1 hard-boiled egg , chopped, and sufficient white sauce or sweet cream to moisten. Add a little Worcestershire sauce, and a half teaspoonful of very finely minced parsley. Spread between slices of bread.

If you are inspired to prepare a sandwich inspired by our continued offerings, be sure to send along a description of your experience and a photo or three to us here: indignity@indignity.net. 

EASY LISTENING DEP'T.

Here is the Indignity Morning Podcast archive!

INDIGNITY MORNING PODCAST

Tom Scocca reads you the newspaper.

INDIGNITY MORNING PODCASTTOM SCOCCA

SELF-SERVING SELF-PROMOTION DEP'T.

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