Rehydrated
Aug 19, 2026 · 26 min · 9 segments
To read the text yourself, check out ezrinsky.com Get full access to E.Z. Rinsky at ezrinsky.substack.com/subscribe
- Show signals
- SuitabilitySafeBiasNot political
Aug 19, 2026 · 26 min · 9 segments
To read the text yourself, check out ezrinsky.com Get full access to E.Z. Rinsky at ezrinsky.substack.com/subscribe
You deserve to be a little spoiled, Lenka.
It's okay.
She steps out of the shower booth, wraps a spongy blue towel around her chest, and pulls on a lush terrycloth bathrobe that's far too large for her emaciated frame.
The reflection in the mirror is ghastly, and she's thankful it takes only a few seconds to blow-dry her thin, malnourished hair.
A blow-dryer! In a world beset by drought, this is perhaps the most absurd luxury of all.
She limps out of the bathroom and checks the clock mounted on the stone wall.
8.57. Nearly time for her appointment with Dr. Barth.
She sighs.
All of the facility residents she's met so far are friendly and welcoming.
Dr. Barth is the exception.
Lena selects a pair of loose brown shorts and a white linen shirt from the pine closet.
The clothes here look like they should be cozy, but they're coated in some sort of lacquer to prevent decay.
Today's outfit feels like she's wearing plastic trash bags.
Lena slides into a pair of scuff slippers and heads out of her apartment.
The tubes that illuminate the stone corridor glow an orange meant to simulate the morning sun.
Fist-sized squirrels whir along the floors, softly vacuuming and polishing.
Speakers embedded in the cement walls play a catchy pop song that came out about a year before the invasion.
The corridors all look the same and are impossible to navigate without consulting the maps mounted at each junction.
She passes wooden doors identical to hers.
Each has a Velcro label.
Louis Ayoso.
Stan Robinson.
Robert Arnold.
Sidney Hashim.
Raz Hashim.
You deserve to be a little spoiled, Lenka.
It's okay.
She steps out of the shower booth, wraps a spongy blue towel around her chest, and pulls on a lush terrycloth bathrobe that's far too large for her emaciated frame.
The reflection in the mirror is ghastly, and she's thankful it takes only a few seconds to blow-dry her thin, malnourished hair.
A blow-dryer! In a world beset by drought, this is perhaps the most absurd luxury of all.
She limps out of the bathroom and checks the clock mounted on the stone wall.
8.57. Nearly time for her appointment with Dr. Barth.
She sighs.
All of the facility residents she's met so far are friendly and welcoming.
Dr. Barth is the exception.
Lena selects a pair of loose brown shorts and a white linen shirt from the pine closet.
The clothes here look like they should be cozy, but they're coated in some sort of lacquer to prevent decay.
Today's outfit feels like she's wearing plastic trash bags.
Lena slides into a pair of scuff slippers and heads out of her apartment.
The tubes that illuminate the stone corridor glow an orange meant to simulate the morning sun.
Fist-sized squirrels whir along the floors, softly vacuuming and polishing.
Speakers embedded in the cement walls play a catchy pop song that came out about a year before the invasion.
The corridors all look the same and are impossible to navigate without consulting the maps mounted at each junction.
She passes wooden doors identical to hers.
Each has a Velcro label.
Louis Ayoso.
Stan Robinson.
Robert Arnold.
Sidney Hashim.
Raz Hashim.
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