The Glow of an Extinct Race – Nicolas Kouzouyan

April 1, 2026

“That woman was crazy!” Noah said, his mouth full.
        “Ridiculous!” Olaf added.
        “Don’t be like that!” Ellie shot back from across the table. “Ever since you’ve been hanging out with Erik, you’re just like him.” She started counting on her fingers: “You criticize, you mock, nothing’s ever good enough, and somehow you two are always the best.”
        Her cheeks puffed out like a child’s, though she was past forty.
        “That’s true!” Olaf said. “And you’re the only one who doesn’t see it, Noah. Why do you think they don’t have any friends?”
        “It’s not like that,” Noah said, shoving another slice of pizza, folded over, into his mouth.
        “Noah’s right!” Olaf said.
        “They don’t have friends because they’re shit,” Ellie said, crushing her cigarette into the greasy scraps of her plate. “Because nobody’s ever good enough for them.”
        Noah shrugged and reached for another slice. He hadn’t finished chewing the last one, but he pushed it aside and shoved the new one in. His eyes watered, and he opened his mouth to show the mush. Olaf and Ellie leaned forward.
        “Not bad,” said Olaf. “Like a lunar landscape.”
        “More like vomit,” Ellie said, and the three of them laughed.
        They looked at Harald, sitting on the couch next to Noah. He shook his head, stared at them.
        “What the hell’s wrong with all of you?”
        “Watch out for Erik,” Olaf warned him. “He’s all smiles at the beginning, but the moment you turn around he’ll stick a knife in your back.”
        Noah hurried to swallow, his voice muffled by pizza.
        “What the hell are you talking about, Olaf?!”
        He then grabbed a fistful of fries and shoved them in his mouth. Grease dripped from the corners of his lips as he chewed.
        “He’s right!” Olaf said. “We’re not being fair to Erik.”
        “You’re just as fake as he is, Noah,” Ellie pointed at him.
        “That’s true!” Olaf agreed. “Fake!” and he pointed too.
        Noah spat a mouthful of half-chewed fries into the pizza box and glared at Ellie with his face red.
        “Funny how you’re all smiles when you see them!”
        “Yeah, I saw you too!” Olaf said.
        Ellie frowned and looked at Olaf.
        “I laugh at what they say, that’s all. I’m not their friend, and I sure as hell don’t run to please them the way he does.” She pointed at Noah.
        “You suck up to them every time they come over,” Olaf said.
        “Bullshit! I treat them the same as I treat you or Harald.”
        “I don’t remember you going to the bus station to pick me up, like you did for Erik,” Ellie said, sitting down on the floor between Noah’s legs.
        “You’re so dramatic,” Noah said, locking eyes with her. He then traced her lips with his finger.
        “Leave it to me,” Ellie said, lowering his zipper.
        Harald turned his face away. Noah tangled his fingers in her hair and let his head fall back. Olaf’s eyes widened; he made a hole in a slice of pizza and began to spin it on his finger, staring.
        Harald felt Ellie’s hand on his knee. It crawled like a spider up his leg, found the zipper, and opened it.

***

The catfight woke him in the middle of the night. It took him a moment to know where he was. He lifted his head and saw three shapes sleeping in the other bunks. Something felt off—something had happened while he slept. A freezing gust tore through him and exploded in his face. He sat up in a rush, groping in the dark: he couldn’t breathe. The room sank and he felt the damp crawling on his skin.
        Not here, not here.
        His own voice sounded different in his head. How could that be? He needed to stretch, to get out, but he was afraid of waking them. He hugged his knees, straightened again, pressed his fists to his face. They smelled of soot, of the hallway drain. His skin burned where his beard scraped against them. He kicked, curled up like a fetus on the cot.
        God!
        The ceiling closed in until he felt his own breath. Then opened his eyes and saw the wall right in his face. His heart pounded so loud he was sure they could hear it.
        I’m choking!
        He heard Olaf get up from his cot. He felt his eyes watching him all the time. He knew what he was about to do but couldn’t move to stop him. His jaw clenched, his face trembled. Olaf took two steps and turned on the light.
        “I knew it!” he cried. “I heard it yesterday too!”
        Ellie’s and Noah’s faces loomed over him. He whimpered when Ellie pressed a hand against his chest.
        “His heart’s racing.”
        “What’s wrong with him?” Noah asked.
        “I always knew he was a weirdo,” Ellie said. “He never made a move on me.”
        “Chst! That’s not it,” Noah said. “I know him. He’s not like that.”
        “He looks like he’s trying to say something,” Ellie said. “Look at his mouth.”
        “Shhh,” said Noah. “Let me listen.” He leaned his ear closer.
        Their faces blocked the light, their breath dampening his skin. He started counting heartbeats: one, two, three… don’t count them! Everything was so dark around him, the air trapped in that room. He heard muffled laughter and knew they’d been awake the whole time. Soon the ceiling light would blaze and there’d be no way to hide. He had to hold it in, swallow it all, so that when they saw him they wouldn’t notice anything different.
        He turned toward the wall, and the movement ripped another burst of pain across his skin. He heard Olaf shuffle toward the switch, stifling laughter with a hand over his mouth. Click! The ceiling light flared, and Noah and Ellie jumped from the bed. Several hands grabbed him, rolled him over. He couldn’t scream.
        “What’s wrong with him?” Ellie said, bringing her face close until it blocked the light.
        Harald pressed his body against the wall. Someone tiptoed behind him—he would never let them see him like this. He heard whispers. He knew Olaf’s finger was already on the switch.

***

On his first morning in the country, he met the boss’ father. The man was visiting and tagged along with his son at the construction site. He had a puzzled air as he looked at everything, his hands clasped behind his back. For every little thing he saw, he said they had a better one in Argentina.
        “And why are you here?” Harald asked.
        “These Yankees are crazy. My son wants me to stay, but I prefer Argentina. Life’s better there. The people—you know? They’re more human.”
        “Once they tried to lynch me because I said I didn’t watch soccer.”
        The man looked at him over his glasses.
        “You came here to stay, didn’t you? I can see it in your face.”
        Harald’s eyes trembled. He looked past the old man, toward the far end of the street. The wind was sweeping up dry leaves and shaping a tunnel of dust. The sun kept slipping in and out of the clouds, setting off sudden flashes in the wind. He wrapped his arms around himself. Shivered. The treetops groaned with every gust.
        A truck loaded with rubble pulled out of the building site. A tarp covered the bed, its wheels were enormous. It left a trail of dust behind.
        “If I were you, I wouldn’t stay,” the man said once the truck had gone by.
        “I’m not you.”
        The man looked at him cautiously, then turned his face away.
        “Of course,” he said.
        A pickup truck pulled up in front of them.
        “See you.”
        The man joined the workers climbing aboard. The doors slammed shut and the truck roared off. Harald waited until they were gone, then went to the site to ask for work.

***

He was drenched. He had never woken up in the midst of a panic attack before. He rolled off the bunk and sat up. God, what was happening to him now? The room was empty; the other three had gone into the bathroom. He heard Olaf’s groans, Ellie’s giggles. He covered his face and sobbed. He beat his chest, his head, shouted that life had never been fair to him, that he was afraid because he couldn’t find a reason to live.
        The man sitting beside him watched in silence. Harald pressed against him like a child and cried for a long time. The man set a hand on his back, told him everything would be fine. The voice sounded familiar, and Harald lifted his head. The man wore tails. He took off his top hat and set it on the bed. His face was made of galaxies.
        “Good to see you again,” the man said with Harald’s voice.
        The galaxies spun across his face. The man buried his hand into Harald’s chest, gripped his heart, and pulled out. Harald screamed.
        “Don’t give up on life,” the man said in his voice.
        The shimmer intensified and dragged him into the face. Harald could hear himself screaming far away, and how the scream kept receding. Then everything went silent, a different kind of void inside. He saw his feet, floating in the immensity. He saw suns in the distance, the universe stretching in all directions, and a profound fear of infinity made him curl up like a fetus and bury his head in his arms.
        “Life was born in the darkest night,” his voice said.
        It had come from behind him, and he turned, startled, on the bunk: the room was empty.
        He sat on the edge of the bed. His head ached from crying. He guessed it must be early, from the dull light seeping through the window. He rubbed his face and rested it in his palms. He didn’t feel like moving, much less getting up. He wasn’t hungry or thirsty. He felt no fear, neither rage, nor frustration.
        The fire had gone out.
        He felt nothing.

***

“Who do you think you are?” Ellie said, wiping off what Olaf had left on her hand. “You criticize Erik, but in the end you’re just like him.”
        “Yes, we are!” Olaf agreed.
        “Not at all, Ellie,” Noah said from his mattress.
        “You are,” Ellie said. “Why don’t you take a good look in the mirror, huh?”
        The two of them went to the mirror and posed naked.
        “Uhhhh,” they said in unison.
        “Go fool around somewhere else, I want to sleep,” Ellie said.
        “Want to come, Harald?” Noah asked.
        “I’m tired.”
        “That’s true, you can tell,” Olaf chimed in.
        “Just get out already! And turn off the light.”
        The two of them went out, waving their hands above their heads, and shut the door. Ellie’s cot creaked as she got up. She slid in beside Harald and under the sheets. A hot smell rose from between her legs. She brought her mouth closer. Her breathing grew heavy, slower. The distant sound of traffic seeped through the window.
        “Can’t you sleep?” she whispered in his ear.
        “I’m having a little trouble.”
        “Let me help you.”

***

The house was empty. He went to the bathroom mirror and shaved his head. From the crying that ripped through his chest, he sank into absolute numbness, and started banging his forehead against the wall, tired of cutting himself, convinced that there were animals living inside the wall.
        It had been several days since the last time he’d gone out. Harald didn’t know how many; whenever he looked out the window it was always night. The cold—of a kind that was unknown to him—pierced to the bone and gnawed at life with an indifferent calm.
        Minutes earlier, while wiping himself in the bathroom, he had felt his tailbone jutting out like the tip of a spear. Now he was making two new holes in his belt.

***

Noah and Olaf went down the hallway, and Harald followed. There was a white door, and next to it an open window with the curtain drawn. The TV was on. Noah pushed the door and they went in.
        The house was part of a larger one. The landlord lived upstairs. On the way from the airport, Noah had said his wife was a model, but a botched lipo had ruined her face. Now she asked him to sodomize her while they blasted experimental jazz at full volume. Their room was right above the living room.
        Harald felt the stale air as soon as he walked in, though nothing looked dirty at first sight. It smelled of cigarettes, damp socks, and fried food. The old man was sitting on a stool across from Ellie. It was Noah’s father. He smoked with his elbows on the table, shoulders hunched up to his ears. His empty gaze passed over Harald and went back to the movie. He was shirtless, in blue shorts. Ellie was watching the screen too. Nobody said anything. Harald stepped closer.
        “How are you?”
        The old man didn’t look at him. Gunshots and explosions blared behind. The stench of rotten feet hit Harald and he held his breath.
        “All good,” the old man said. “And you?”
        “Getting by.”
        Noah came up from behind and grabbed the cigarette pack from the table. The old man’s beady eyes hardened.
        “What are you doing?” he said, and before Noah could take one, he snatched the pack back and stuffed it in his shorts.
        “Come on, Dad, give me one!”
        “Go buy your own.” He tilted his head to find the screen. “Move, you’re in the way!”
        “Don’t be a pain,” Ellie scolded. “We were fine before you came.”
        “She’s right!” Olaf added from behind.
        “You brought this puppet too?” the old man said, glancing at Olaf.
        Ellie stood up and greeted Harald.
        “Want a beer, handsome?”
        “Sure. Where can I unload?”
        “In my mouth.”
        “Where can I drop this?” he asked, showing his backpack.
        “In the bedroom. That door over there.”
        “Pour me one too,” Noah said.
        “Pour it yourself. And don’t bother me, I’m watching the movie.”
        The stench from the bathroom nearly knocked him out as he went into the room. He changed clothes and came back to the table.
        “Here you go, handsome,” Ellie said.
        Later they ordered pizza. Dusk was settling in. The heat was relentless. Harald collapsed on the cot, exhausted from the trip. He heard the old man leaving—he worked as a waiter at a strip club. Ellie said she had to get up early and went to bed. Noah and Olaf left with the old man.
        “You awake?” Ellie asked.
        “Still here.”
        “Want to hear something crazy?”
        “What is it?”
        “Come on, let’s go to the living room.”
        She took him by the hand to the couch.
        “It’s about to start,” she said. She kissed him softly on the lips. They were full and hot.
        “You ever done it like this?”
        “Like what?”
        Harald heard hurried steps upstairs and a door slam shut. Saxophones and trumpets blasted all at once, and a woman’s voice began to scream insults. Then a scuffle, and a body hitting the floor. Ellie pressed herself against him, slid her hand under his shirt, stroked his chest while looking up. She bit her lip.
        The music sped up. Harald heard the bed creaking above, the woman urging her husband. Ellie pulled off her shirt and kissed him. Her skin was as hot as her mouth. Upstairs, the headboard thudded against the wall. Ellie caressed his face as if he were a child, and began undressing him.

***

There was no way of stopping that cold. He curled up against the wall and listened to his own sobbing. It seemed to come from the hallway. Then the sobbing swelled in the dark, and he felt it like a wave about to crash down on him. Before the blow he covered himself with his arms and woke up startled. Someone had scared off the cats, and they went fighting down the hallway.
        Then a white light filled the room. Harald saw a man crawling toward the bed. His sobbing echoed like someone coughing in a cave. He dragged himself forward with his head hanging, greasy tufts falling from a skull marked by old wounds and scabs. His skin was grimy, sunk in between the ribs.
        At the foot of the bed, he lifted his face. Muddy furrows cut across his cheeks. His toothless mouth opened. Harald’s face clenched as if he’d been punched in the stomach, and he heard himself scream. The man stretched out a hand and begged for help in Harald’s voice. He clutched the bedframe and started climbing. His filthy, bony hands searched for Harald’s feet until they found them. The screams filled the room.

***

They’d had a fight, she and the old man, a few days after Harald arrived. The old man was fed up with Noah and Olaf. Now with Harald’s arrival he imagined the worst. The fact that Ellie sometimes bathed with him hadn’t changed his view: he had lost all respect for them.
        “He does it on purpose,” Ellie said. “And it’s your fault, Noah! You and Olaf drive him crazy, coming in and out all night! You slam the door like animals!”
        “Don’t exaggerate! That’s not it.”
        “Yeah, that’s right!” Olaf chimed in.
        “Yes it is, I’m telling you! And my knees and jaw ache from trying to calm him down all the time!”
        “She’s right, it’s because of that!”
        “And I’m the one paying for it, Noah! My neck is all stiff!”

***

It was early. The day was cold, but Harald didn’t feel it—he sensed it in the glow the sun had on everything. Then he looked down: he was floating in a corner of his parents’ kitchen.
        A shadow stretched out from the dining room and turned into an old man as it entered the kitchen. He shuffled his feet. The gaunt neck stuck out above the scarf and the gray overcoat. He struck a match and lit the burner for the coffee. He set the water on and waited.
        That was when Harald saw the boy. He must have been about six, standing beneath him, his back to the wall. Then he ran to the man and hugged him. When he touched him, Harald slipped into the child’s body and knew it was himself.
        The boy started to cry, he was afraid. The image drifted away and Harald was back in the corner. He could feel the crying in his body, but it didn’t affect him. He then analyzed and classified the pain with a clarity of mind he had never known. It shocked him to see a current of black water in someone so young. He crossed through it, and appeared in a desert. A familiar tingling rose through his chest and gripped his throat. The sense of abandonment suffocated him. He fled, and opened his eyes in a dark, calm place. Then, an onslaught came from all sides, crushing him like an insect, until the voice in his head had no space left to scream. When he felt he was about to die, something pulled him back and returned to the corner of the kitchen. Then he heard his own voice in the man’s mouth:
        “You’re fine now,” he told the boy, and the crying eased.
        Harald felt weak, and the image began to blur. Then came a precise movement from the boy, and the image jolted into focus: the boy had turned and was looking at him. Harald felt a blow in the chest, felt he had been discovered. The boy’s face was soaked, his eyes fixed on Harald’s, without fear or shame. There was something more in them—in those eyes that shone with a love for life Harald had never seen before. A melody born at the dawn of the universe. Listen, said the boy, in Harald’s own voice. The melody radiated from his eyes. Harald began to weep. Everything in him gave way, collapsed, and he was drawn into the melody of the planets. Then he saw himself, floating in the midst of infinite music. There was an ancient pride in his eyes. Something forgotten. Like the glow of the old human race.
        And while he wept on the floor, clinging to the life that still resisted leaving his body, he felt a presence close by. He lifted his head and recognized himself. He looked just as he remembered. And after he gave him the child he was holding, when he looked into his eyes, he understood who that newborn was, and how fortunate he was to have found it.