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The bearded man stood still, made no sound, refused to respond to clearly obscene gestures. The least impaired people tended to do this—stand back unless they were physically threatened and let those with less control scream and jump around. It was as though they felt it beneath them to be as touchy as the less comprehending. This was an attitude of superiority, and that was the way people like the bus driver perceived it. Such “superiority” was frequently punished by beatings, even by death. Rye had had close calls of her own.
These lines occur after Obsidian insists on helping the driver leave the bus, leading the driver to gesture and yell “in wordless anger.” The bus driver is, in the post-pandemic city, a man with some authority and power. He owns a rare bus and somehow manages to keep it fueled, and he is naturally defensive about his place in the social hierarchy. As Rye later points out, the driver’s reasoning is too impaired for him to understand that Obsidian has done him a favor in stopping the fight that might have destroyed his bus, but even if he did grasp this, the driver would likely still be furious with Obsidian, who remains calm and refuses to engage in an argument. Both men respond to threats to their place in the social hierarchy—Obsidian because senseless rage is “beneath” those with less intellectual impairment and the driver because he regards Obsidian’s aloofness as an insult to the more impaired. It is an intolerable insult, in fact, one that Rye knows may lead to more violence as people vie to maintain their fragile dominance to survive in the social hierarchy that the pandemic left behind.
If she had let herself think of the possible deadly consequences of getting into a stranger’s car, she would have changed her mind. Instead, she thought of the man who lived across the street from her. He rarely washed since his bout with the illness. And he had gotten into the habit of urinating wherever he happened to be. He had two women already—one tending each of his large gardens. They put up with him in exchange for his protection. He had made it clear that he wanted Rye to become his third woman.
These thoughts occur to Rye as she surprises herself by accepting Obsidian’s offer to leave with him. When readers look back at these lines and consider Rye’s actions in the context of the entire story, her choice is especially surprising. For three years, she has kept control of her home, found enough food to survive, learned to navigate the ruined city, and staved off the threat of the man who wants her as “his third woman,” the pronoun his clearly indicating possession. Rye understands who holds power in post-pandemic Los Angeles and how that power is maintained and expanded. She understands her vulnerability; at any time, she might be forced into someone else’s power. Here, she seems to make a calculation about whose power she is willing to test. Obsidian is clean and well-groomed, unlike Rye’s neighbor. He is confident enough to set his weapon aside, and he ignores the men’s nasty gestures about him and Rye. And importantly, he requests—he does not demand—Rye’s company. His actions allow Rye to hope that he has not seized the pandemic as an opportunity to grab power in ways that, before the pandemic, would have been socially unacceptable and perhaps even illegal.
