I’m having that weird feeling you get when you’ve just had a really good conversation with someone you rarely ever even have pleasant conversations with. The person in question being my little brother, a kid of 19 whose primary interest in life tends to change with the seasons and who’s currently most interested in survivalist and prepper culture and has somehow convinced our parents to stock up on canned food and other necessary supplies should the world ever succumb to cataclysmic apocalyptic events.
I didn’t really have any interest in it, not because the books on the results of nuclear war and how to fix a broken leg with household items were inherently boring, but because he was interested in it, and it’s my duty as an older brother to sneer at anything he considers cool.
That is, until he suggested to me that I should write a post-apocalyptic story, which I told him I already was doing. I told him the premise of Ark 14, a long-form comics project devised by myself and a close friend that has been gestating for the best part of three years due to the misalignment of the stars and our shared inability to a) draw competently and b) find a magnificently talented artist willing to work for free. I’ll probably write about it sometime in the future, probably in September when I plan to begin writing it in earnest.
He quickly became fascinated with the subject, and as my head inflated to zeppelin-like proportions I realised that he had a ton of useful knowledge to impress upon me: my little brother, I realised, is a research goldmine.
Not only that, but I actually enjoyed our conversation. Normally I feign disinterest in anything he says (seriously, it’s a genetic thing, I don’t even know why I do it), but I was genuinely having such a good time learning things about the use-by date of petrol and appropriate tools to use for guerrilla gardening that I had to throw the facade of dickheadedness by the wayside.
Don’t worry, though, I’ll get back to being a prick tomorrow.