The Wall: Part Five

It was getting dark in the bunker--the artificial lights had become dimmer, Peter noted, raising his head.  He looked around.  Rajesh was fast asleep; Winston and Quentin were snoring.  They sound like lawnmowers, Peter thought, chuckling to himself.  He fancied a walk; he got up, quietly, so he wouldn't disturb the others.

He walked without any sense of purpose or direction, and soon he found himself facing the door to Rose's room.  He looked around, startled.  The bunker was completely dark now, save the small, twinkling lights in the floor.  One light flickered, and then glowed brightly again.  He turned around, and listened carefully--he heard footsteps.

Another light flickered.

"Hello?" he ventured tentatively towards the flickering lights.

"Who's there?" A girl's voice.

"Rose?"

"Peter?  What are you doing here...right now?"

"I could ask you the same question," he smirked, "Wanna walk?"

"Sure.  I can't see where you are, though, so I would probably bump into you accidentally-on-purpose."

Peter laughed softly.

They followed the flickering lights as they walked.

"So, what do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know, you decide."

"I'm not a very interesting person, you know.  I'd rather listen to people than talk about myself."

"I don't believe that.  Have you ever been to France?"

"Yeah!"

"Then you're interesting."

He could almost see her grinning in the faint light.

"What's it like in France?" he continued.

"It's beautiful.  You have museums, art galleries, amusement parks, great restaurants, great hotels....great everything.  The Louvre is, like, amazing.  So many famous paintings, all in one place!  Just like The Pantheon."

"What's the Pantheon?  Another art muse--?"

"Ssh, do you hear that?" Rose whispered.

"No, I don't, where's it coming from?"

"It sounded like water," Rose took his hand and led him forward, "and it must have been somewhere around.." she walked a few steps to the right, stepping on his toe; he winced. "Sorry about that...here."

They squinted into the darkness.  There were no floor-lights here.  The dripping sound was now close.

Too close.

Coal Tar.

Image Source: dreamstime.com

Coal Tar.

Pitch black.
Blended darkness.
Secrets smouldering
In burning velvet
Lost forever
To the graying silvered
Ashes of time.
Rainclouds storming
Through the sky;
Thunder after,
Silence, deafening.
They forgot
The calming rays of
Sunlight everlasting,
The morning dew on the cut grass

The crisp smell of the wet earth,
As everybody forgets
There is dawn after darkness,
And darkness after light,
So there is peace after war,
And war after peace;
Words that have been said
Cannot be taken back:
Like burnt coal in the hearth
They leave scars on the hearts
Of people who once believed
That everything would turn out fine
They forget
The laws of nature
Pertain to all beings
And while their days away
In glorious despair
As the future runs its course
Without want of consultation.

~Vruta Gupte.

Wide Awake.

Corpuscles of light flying
From our laser guns
As we fire
At the invading aliens
Stuck in space
Gliding untethered
Towards a ball of rain
It looks like fire, red sand
Houston, there's still a problem
But it's not one we can fix
I realize as they cut off
Our communication systems
That they never meant
To keep us alive
We are
Just puppets
In their extraordinarily advanced
Hands
We have to save our oxygen tanks
And the spaceship
We have to save the ISS
Before they take it away
Forever
They stop us
They never meant to let us go
Houston, they are coming.
It is only when we are threatened
With the possibility of
Eternal sleep
That we are
Wide awake.



~Vruta Gupte.

The Wall: Part Four

For Part One, click here.
For Part Two, click here. 
For Part Three, click here. 

She sat huddled in a corner. The day's events had drained the life out of her--she laughed sadly. How ironic, she thought, that this thought should occur to her mere hours after being told that she was immortal. 

The boys had asked her to stay with them, and she had agreed wholeheartedly. She couldn't see why she should not have.  She needed friends now that she knew she was going to be stuck here for the rest of her life anyway. 

“Rose," her father had said to her once, when she was smaller, “Be good to everyone you meet, because the countries of the world are taking up arms against each other, and might be at war with each other very soon. By then, it will be too late to apologize for past wrongs.  Be kind." The tears had dried on her cheeks.

And her brother, two years older than her, he was her rock, her guide, she would go to him when she wanted to talk about her troubles at school, or things she thought her parents would not enjoy hearing.  He humoured her even when she could tell he didn't find her words very interesting.  Where was he now? Was he even--no! She would not allow herself to think--she must be strong.

Now she allowed her thoughts to drift towards her present condition. Really, the High Council had no right to change them, much less this fundamentally. Then there was also the off chance that they were lying.

How was she to know? There was no way for her to find out stuck in this stupid bunker.  Of course, there was no other alternative really, now that the Earth was ridden with nuclear radiation from the--oh, yes, there'd been a war, too. She shook her head. After all these years of living peacefully--although they had seen the war coming, given the tension between certain countries--it was still very sad that humans had chosen to end this way.

But her mother had said that after a great fall, there was almost always a great triumph.

She'd been careful to remember the ‘almost'.

Was it possible, however remotely, that they would go home sometime?

Home.

The word stung.  She took a deep breath of the artificially purified air.  Everything was artificial here.  Except intelligence. Humans had learned not to mess with robots after the Fall of 2020, and that was enough to stop them from building advanced humanoids ever again. Now it was just machines--vacuum cleaners, computers, ACs. Innovation in the technological sector had been stalled for years after that, or so the governments said.

Of course, if they had found a way for humans to stay immortal, they wouldn't run around with banners proclaiming it.

Funnily enough, they still hadn't found a cure for cancer. That would have been on the news. 

She tried to stop the morbid thoughts racing through her mind, but there was nothing else she could think about except her family, and where they were, and other questions she had no answers to.

(To be continued...)

The Wall: Part Two.

Hello, everyone. The Wi-Fi has been down for quite some time, and I don't know when it'll be back, which is why I hadn't been posting much lately. 

Anyway, this is the second part of my story called ‘The Wall'. Hope y'all like it! 

The Wall: Part Two

“The High Council requests an audience." A woman's shrill voice perforated the silence.

“Yeah, right, like you need to tell us that every time you come in anyway, ever-present so-called High Council," Ned grunted.

The boys sniggered, and glanced up at the screen that had materialized out of thin air in front of them.  

The woman sighed and inhaled deeply. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Nayla, would you spray some Everlastant around here? I can't believe this room was used only yesterday. Oh, and bring in some fresh flowers from the gard--"

“Hey, lady, just bloody get on with it, will you?! We don't have all d--"

“The High Council will NOT tolerate the use of swear words--"

“YOU AND YOUR BLOODY COUNCIL CAN GO TO HELL! NOW TELL US WHAT TO DO WITH THE GIRL!" Kurt shouted into the microphone. 

The woman was shell-shocked, and still staring at the boys with wide eyes, took out a black spiral notebook and scribbled something down.  

But she recovered quickly.

“The High Council will tell you that. I am not authorized to."

“Then why art thou 'ere, eh?" a boy with jet black hair and green eyes smirked. She was scribbling furiously. ‘Uses arcane words...'. Presently she looked up.

“I was merely told to... request you not to hurt the girl."

“'Course we won't," this time it was Peter, the oldest, who spoke. “But tell us why."

“She is very important. That is all I can tell you."

“And us? What about us, why are we here?" 

“The High Council will tell you that." And the screen went black.  

“That was a very informative conversation. Jeez, why don't they just tell us everything?"

“D'you think we should go ask the girl? She might know."

“Yeah, I think so too. They never said anything about not talking to her. I'll go." 

He got up to his feet, his tall frame rising like a shadow out of the darkness. A gentle breeze blew his dark brown hair into his eyes, and he frowned. He saw a door before him, and knocked softly.

“Can I come in?"

Inside, the girl's head snapped up. Her eyes widened in surprise. 

“Yes."

He opened the door. The girl sat huddled in a dark corner (well, almost everything was dark here) and she was looking at him; her sea-green eyes had a tortured and haunted look in them. She was beautiful, different... magnetic. But she would look more beautiful if she were smiling.

“Hey," he said gently.  

She was still staring at him intently. Gosh, those eyes, he thought. They reminded him of Maui, where he'd been on vacation a few....months... or years ago. He didn't quite remember.

“Why am I here?" the girl asked him fiercely. She hadn't looked like that much of a fighter when he'd led her back to that room that day when she tried to escape. But then, some people never fail to surprise you. 

“To be honest, I have no idea. I think all of us were sent here a few months ago. There seems to be no way to escape, since after you tried to get out, some kind of alarm went off, and we got a call from the High Council after that, telling us to...er...keep a closer watch on you."

“Oh," she said simply. Then she asked, “We?"

“Me and the other guys they sent here with me."

“Really? I haven't heard anything from outside."

“Maybe this room is insulated or something, I don't know." 

They didn't talk for a while, each staring off into different directions.

“Don't you get bored in here?"

“Not really. You learn to live with your thoughts once you realize you're alone."

“Would you mind if I came to see how you're doing more often? 'Cause it must be pretty bad staying in here with nothing to do, and no one to talk to."

“Oh, I wouldn't mind. A little light in this endless darkness wouldn't hurt."

“....I remember reading that somewhere..."

“It's from a book by Spruce McHall, called Desparado."

“...Oh, yeah, now I remember. ‘The human tendencies to cling to another human, in times of loneliness, when normally it would not be appropriate, are fascinating.' That was a good book." 

“Indeed it was."

He looked at her. She looked at him, trying to remember if she had seen him before. And then she smiled.  

He got up and walked to the door. He stopped.

“What's your name?"

“Rose. What's yours?"

“Peter." 

He left.

She remembered where she had seen him. The memory was not very pleasant. Before she'd been sent here, she had once known a boy named Jason. Jason Domiguez. He'd been after her for ages. Her eyes were hypnotizing, he'd said. There were days of passing notes in class, and phone calls in the nights, but she wasn't crazy. She'd seen the signs one day. Although dating at her age was normally not advisable, and you weren't really expected to be very committed to someone, Jason Domiguez was cheating on her, she just knew it. And she wasn't going to allow that. 

So she decided that the next day she would tell him she didn't want to date him anymore. She would use the it's-not-you-it's-me tactic, the I'm-just-not-ready tactic, and he would have no choice but to let her go.

That was where Peter had come in. She'd known him for a few days before that. Apparently Domiguez had been bragging about his various exploits to his friends, too, the slimy git. Peter had had enough character to actually come and tell her. For that, he'd gotten into trouble. The next thing she knew, Peter was in the hospital with a broken nose. It had been bleeding when he'd come and told her, so she was surprised he hadn't gone to the school nurse first. Domiguez was suspended for causing physical harm to a fellow student for two weeks, Peter changed schools because his father had got a job somewhere, and so she was never able to thank him properly. Yet here he was, of all places and times to be in, with her. Fate worked in strange ways.

“Oi, guys, he's back," Kurt called out to the rest of the boys as he watched Peter walking towards them. He raised his eyebrows. Peter shook his head. 

The guys sat down in a circle waiting for lunch, which was flown here by helicopters from who knows where. 

“So how'd it go?" Winston asked.

“She doesn't know anything. The first thing she asked me was why she was here. She says she's okay, but she looks kinda lonely in there. I've been thinking we should invite her to the Council Meetings."

“But those are, like, random. Pop up outta nowhere at the worst possible time." 

“Hmm..."

They heard a whirring sound right above them. The helicopter dropped their food packets in the centre of their circle.

“I fink we shid let 'er shtay with us," Ned volunteered through a mouthful of food after some time.

“What?! But she's--" one of the younger guys (his name was Quentin, but he said everyone called him Q) started, but stopped abruptly when he got dark looks from everyone around him. 

He realized most of the guys were older than him, and probably did want a girl around, if only for variety.

All the boys looked back interestedly at Ned. 

A tense silence followed.

“Okay, I'll ask her tomorrow," Kurt said, opening his own sandwich bag hurriedly.

“I'll go," Peter mumbled. He stared off into the distance, at the high walls that were surrounding them. A light bulb had just gone off in his head a few moments ago. He knew where he'd seen her. He'd been trying to--‘save' would be the right word here, he thought-- her from Jason, a fair-weather friend who became even more unfriendly after he'd told him off for cheating on yet another of his ‘catches'. He remembered that conversation as if it had happened yesterday.

“Aw, dang, Pete, remember I was telling you about that chick I saw at the park? I think she likes me," and then after a pause, “I think I like her too, man. I took her for a drive a few weeks ago, and almost every day after that, and, well, we....talk."

“Jason, you have a girlfriend who is in love with you."

“Yeah, I know, but did you ever catch me in love with a girl? I don't play for keeps, man."

“If Rose finds out, you're screwed."

“I know. But it's not like you're gonna tell her, is it."

“It just might slip out sometime."

“Dude, what the hell? All these times you never said anything and now you're all--"

“ She's a nice girl, you shouldn't do this to her!"

“ What's in it for you?" And then slowly a look of comprehension dawned on his face, and he punched Peter in the nose without warning.

“OUCH! JASON, YOU S--"

“YOU'VE BEEN SEEING HER BEHIND MY BACK, HAVEN'T YOU? WHAT'VE YOU BEEN TELLING HER?! YOU MORON!"

“Jason, just listen to me, I haven't been seeing anyone--"

“SHUT UP, MAN! JUST SHUT UP!" and Jason had stalked off without a word. Peter's nose was bleeding, and his insides felt on fire. Hurt and revenge burned through his veins. He was going to tell Rose. Now.

“Hey, Peter, everything okay?" He snapped out of his reverie. 

“Yeah, just... yeah, I'm fine."

“Dude, you looked like you were gonna kill someone," Winston said, eyeing him cautiously.

He snorted. “I just remembered where I'd met Rose before." The boys scooted to face him.

“Rose?" 

“The girl." 

“Ah, so you guys are on first-name basis already, huh?" Rajesh Subramaniam (his aunts from India all called him ‘Raj' or ‘Mani', so certain someones in his eighth grade class-- before he'd moved to the U.S., had insisted on fusing the two, and from then on his nickname was ‘Rani', which was not a very masculine nickname to have) ventured slyly, raising an eyebrow at him.

Peter rolled his eyes. “My friend was cheating on her."

“And you, being an immensely moral being, could not tolerate that." Ned grunted.

He chuckled. “No, I couldn't, so I told her exactly what he was doing--"

“So let me get this straight. You just decided to save her from your friend, AND lose your friend, AND make her see you as an older brother." Rajesh interrupted, ticking each point off on his fingers as he went.

“Hah! Buuuuurn!" Several of the boys chorused. Apparently saying burn was still cool. 

“--You'd have done it too, if you knew what he was doing," he countered in mock anger.

“Chill, man, we were just messin' with ya. But really, it was that bad?" 

Peter recounted the story of how Jason had given him a bloody nose, and was surprised to learn that Jason had been suspended for a few weeks after that. 

“How did these guys know we'd been fighting?"

“Dude, everyone knew-after word got around that Jason was suspended, that is. Anything to do with Rose, and the whole school knows about it. Come to think of it, she must've been the one to tell them. Gee, you guys would make a pretty good team, y'know? Like vigilantes out to end the Reign of Terror of The Slimy Cheating Undeserving Boyfriends." Rajesh answered.

Everyone laughed. A few slapped Rajesh on the back. “You're a smart kid, you know that?" Winston said, snorting. 

“I got all ‘A's on my end of year exams, dude. First in my class." Rajesh said nonchalantly. But he was smiling.

“The High Council requests an audience."

*

Jack of All vs. Master of One (Survival Showdown)

Disclaimer: No offence is intended to any individual, community, religion, or profession.  Any resemblance to the person(s) and/or objects mentioned in this post is purely coincidental.

I woke up this morning and was meditating upon (amongst some of my other morbid and ghastlier thoughts) what would happen if the zombie apocalypse came a little earlier than expected.  (If you were wondering, if it does happen tomorrow, we're all fried, of course, because you wouldn't have had a chance to actually think about the things I've written about in this post.)

And then, I thought about my chances of surviving (close to 0.1 percent; don't ask me how I know that).  If I were a different kind of person, would I have better chances of surviving?  Then again, in the end, would it really matter what kind of person you are if you have to survive the zombie apocalypse?

'Cause when the zombies come, they won't come in bits and pieces, first in one city, then a state, a country--when the zombies come, all of them will come.

No second chances.  It's either us, or them.  (Although I fail to understand why zombies would want to take over the world anyway, seeing as how they're already dead, and they have graves to live in.)

In the midst of all this chaos inside my brain, one question stuck with me: would it be better if I knew a little bit about everything, or a whole lot about one thing?

Instead of making this just about me, let's make this about everybody.

Case in Point: Jack of All Trades (A Little Bit of Everything)

Let's say you can sew, cook, read, write, juggle, shoot (a gun), program stuff (only a bit, pun intended), solve algebraic inequations (but not the hard ones), know a little Spanish (uno dos tres quatro--that kinda stuff), throw an axe (or knife, whichever you prefer), play basketball (but you're not on the team), and just know a little bit about everything else in general.

You live in a cottage in the countryside that has only the bare minimum supplies: wood, ropes, an axe, water, a bathroom (can't see how that's very useful, 'cause when the zombies come, we'll all pee in our pants anyway), some bread, blueberries, and an iPhone (just kidding).  Also, your cottage has a fireplace.

You hear the zombies knock on your door.  You are taken by surprise (or not).  You look out the window, and you see five of 'em ruddy creatures.  You can't run, there's no back door.

The zombies enter your room.

You're a moderately good actor, so you act all friendly with the zombies--

"Yo, wassup, dude? You want some sandwiches?"

"Man, we came here for you, not yer stupid sandwiches."  The zombies step towards you, sneering menacingly.  You still haven't peed in your pants, which is a good sign (and very favourable), since zombies are most likely to be attracted to the scent of pee.

You realize you have ten seconds to act (because zombies aren't Edward from Twilight and probably won't be ultra-fast).

You grab a burning log of wood from the hearth and swing it all around yourself.  In the process, you accidentally on purpose set fire to one zombie.  The remaining zombies step away from you.  You throw an axe at one, chopping something off, pour water over another (she literally melts).  Now one zombie has your axe and is pursuing you but you quickly step behind the other zombie so he gets hurt instead.

The one zombie who made the mistake of taking your axe from you runs away.

Then, you take everything and run away because you realize he's probably gone to get reinforcements.


Ergo: You survive, mission accomplished.


Case in Point: Master of One (A Lot of One Thing)

Let's say you are very extraordinary at music, and you play the cello every day.  You are moderately good, bordering on bad, at nearly everything else.  You have wood, ropes, an axe, water, a bathroom, some bread, and blueberries.

You see five zombies outside your window.  You start playing Pachelbel's Canon.  The zombies fall asleep.  You sneak out the front door, leaving your cello behind and taking only those supplies that will keep you alive.

Take another case.  You are extraordinary at science, this time.  I think it's a given you'll survive, since you're able to think logically and find a solution to every problem.

(Ergo: You survive.)

Suppose you are extraordinary at writing.


Now somebody tell me what the hell I should do, because I see five zombies outside my window.