10.19.2026 - Beluga Belt

This is the engine belt. The engine belt connects the engine parts and makes them run. In this way the engine belt purveys illusions. We are to believe the engine and the machine and those of us inside are one. When the engine belt is damaged the engine no longer works. We are now aware that the machine is a composite of machines and we ourselves composites of systems comprised of smaller machines. When the engine belt stops working the sprinter van she rented for the two of you to go out to the desert and look at stars becomes a tin can of death. You think of astronauts plummeting through the atmosphere in thimbles scorched by unimaginable heat. You think of the trailer you lived in that never went anywhere but shook with alarming ferocity with the vibrations of the air conditioner installed in the roof. The engine belt is also called a serpentine belt. Serpents are important in human culture. Humans are a bipedal species of Sol III, a primitive civilization on the Kardashev scale still running sprinter vans on diesel fuel. Their planet is shared with trillions of other animals. Their biosphere is in its Anthropocene, which means most of the life on their planet is distressed or squeezed or otherwise facing difficulty or elimination as a result of copious consumption of resources by the humans. Some humans rent vans from flaky dudes in Oakland and drive out to the desert without realizing that the compressor is fried and that the air conditioner will not work well enough to keep them alive in such an environment. Their goal is to learn more about themselves by looking up at the sky, take in some Draconids, maybe get a lesson from professional stellar observers who are out there already on purpose. The desert is a patchwork of curious and improbable biomes. The sliding door on the van requires a special touch that involves slamming your shoulder into it like you’re hitting a tackling dummy. When you go down for breakfast in the abandoned lobby at the Days Inn in Ridgetown or Ridgerton or Ridgefist where you stay to to avoid heat death you choose a miniature muffin over warped bagels and watery eggs and learn from the tv that Mike Ditka has died. Chicago is the drunkest place in America, you say as you climb back into the van. Tonight it will be even worse. You are glad to be out here on what looks like the plains of Venus with sulfur raining down and dog poo bags full of ice on your heads and in your crotches and armpits and arranged like puppies around the dog’s belly to keep him alive. Now what, she asks. The plan was to sleep in this thing. If we stay in here we will die. The decision is whether to die now or some other time. You text the goofy bastard who owns the mobile death incubator. Oh sorry lol he says the AC might not work very well and now the signal’s gone again. We opt for the coast in order to extend our lives. Back through the windy mountain pass, pulling off at every turnout, hazards on even though the button comes off in her hand. It’s pretty here. What a nice little stream to fish in. Too bad if we stop, well, you know. Have to keep moving or else. We play word games to avoid our feelings and forget the panic. The owner's name for the van is Beluga. This seems stupid to you now. The Beluga has to keep moving like a shark. We play beluga versus shark. Is it versus or verse. It’s versus but now we say verse. Denny's verse Waffle House. Cindy Lauper verse Queen. Us verse the van. Us verse the desert. Us verse each other and ourselves. A few miles out from the closest town we smell smoke and the instrument panel lights up. Outside is dangerously hot. Still no signal. Drivers lined up behind, irate and honking as they pass so they can stop at the construction zone ahead. On the 101 a Central American style plaza with auto shops. These are some competent guys, easy replacement. Please give us online stars. Only ones we'll see this trip. We survive to Pismo Bay. Freshest air in days and a group of specialists in vests with cameras gather around a dead dolphin in the surf. Gulls perish in front of us. Surfing competition tomorrow. No choice but to keep on.