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by Davis 5/14/2013, 7:44 amLike a white rabbit, speeding through a tundra of freshly fallen snow, the lithe girl felt quite at home within the forest. She was a city dweller, like most of the people she knew, but that didn't mean she didn't yearn for some unpolluted air every now and again. All the adults, they stayed within the shroud of toxins, under the burning lamps of Adagio city, where every muscle that moved, every breath inhaled was closely monitored through the lenses of cameras everywhere. Precautionary, of course; to keep the children safe from the beasts residing just outside the city limits. But to Carmen? The line of trees, rich in green and brown and red, stretching as far as the eye could see was a safe haven. And she'd hardly ever found trouble. She didn't understand the adults, how they knelt down, slapped calloused hands on her shoulders, and gazed into her flickering, curious eyes with a grimace deeply inbedded in their features, heaving dejected sighs. It's not safe, they said. Living in the forest is no life at all. But how would they know? Not once had Carmen ever seen a social worker, fireman or police officer wade across the open field. Never did she see her parents leave out apples for the few deer that remained, many sick and grossly misfigured from a tragic accident she'd read in the history books known as the "Green Raze." She didn't see them pick from dark, twisting branches of the old willows clawing at the dirt, using the stringy bark to make bracelets. Not like she had. Not like her friends had. No, none of the adults dared move outside, too unsafe. But it was so freeing. Away from the factory smog and crumbling warehouses. Protected from the lead and asbestos that plagued many of the "apartments," or stacked shanties that made up the vast majority of buildings not used for work. Nobody knew just how beautiful life truly was. Instead they withered away within concrete cells, goggles digging permanent indents around their eyes and fingers scarred and shaking when a tool wasn't in group. Carmen would have to do that, too, in a few years. But until then she lived a dual life, escaping into the woods as often as she could to visit an old friend with her brother, Connolly.
Speaking of her older brother, at a time Carmen felt had passed just a few weeks ago, he'd been inducted into the Electronics force--those who regularly repaired the electrical grid. They were a particularly important class, as they provided the energy to keep every other tool functioning. Within Adagio, there was no choice of career. On December 1st of each year, those who'd reached 18 years of age were lined up, sized up and assigned jobs according to which class needed what talent. Kids with bigger builds were often sought out by those in the physical labor industries, such as shipping, stocking, fire fighting, and military. Those with nimble fingers, like my brother, became doctors and surgeons. Connolly, he was okay with his fingers, but it was his mind that was fast. And he was sharp, too. Funny and snarky and really very nice. His gift was picking up on patterns, and drawing out mechanical designs within his head. Didn't even need paper! He'd look at a lightbulb for a few seconds, experiment with the switch, and tell you exactly how the wiring worked. That's why he was instructed to become a grid mechanic. And since Christmas, he hasn't really had much time to to escort Carmen into the woods. It made Carmen upset, seeing her frail brother come home with bags under his eyes. The smile he once wore when telling his goofy jokes at the dinner table was gone, having followed shortly after the sense of humor. It was like he was a whole different person. And that happened to the neighbors and Connolly's friends, too. Somehow, after you reached adulthood, you transformed into a mindless workaholic. Didn't want to adventure or play or even think about anything; didn't have time. Just have to fix the grid, or cook the food, or remove the broken stones of collapsed towers. Go in, work, go out, sleep. Do it again. Since Christmas, Carmen had gone to the forest by herself, and every once in a while, Carmen smiled at the thought of her best friend escaping the dreary "life" that those who remained within the city limits were subjected to.
She vaulted over a log and dove to the side, just in time to avoid a drooping branch. Several of the trees she blurred by had peculiar slashes on them, remnants of when she was new to the territory, and still needed a way of finding "home." In one hand she gripped a small arrangement of flowers, wrapped in a bouquet if red tissue paper and adorned with a silk ribbon bow. In the other hand, a letter, the edges browned from spilled pourage of last evening's meal, which had been accompanied by a sweet piece of chocolate cake that, in all honesty, Carmen was surprised her tired mother had the time and energy to make.
The trees began to spread, letting light--real, natural light from the sun filter in. From the edge of her sight, she could see the blazing star up above, a view that honestly never got old. It wasn't something you could see within the city, not within the cloak of exhaust fumes, dirt particles and who knew what else. Stars were the same way, though they were a rare gem that Carmen had only managed to see once, when she'd had the guts to escape at night while everyone was home for curfew, most of the families sleeping anyway. She'd run hand in hand with Cody, the doctor's son and her best friend, all the way to the stream. Her brother met them there, and together, the three children sat on a log near a stream. After Connolly had cracked a few jokes and they'd passed around a snack or two, Cody cast his gaze up into the sky and said, "You know, it's funny, how they tell us not to live out here. Because living back there? Well... It's not really living at all."
That tiny note, a child's musing one night, had stuck with Carmen, even after Cody left and Connolly joined the workforce. It was kind of funny, really, that Cody ended up never working a day in his life. It was almost as if he refused to fall into that line. Instead, he joined the forest, even though the adults forbid that and punished them for leaving, time and time again. The Green Raze had made the animals feral. Dried the soil and plagued the land with swarms of bugs. People once did move freely between towns, providences and even countries, but when supplies became scarce, walls went up, and military secured the perimeter. Few could leave or enter at a time, and those who did were picked off by rogue thieves, the "Vermin" that lived within the sickly forest remains. That was why nobody was allowed out... But that was history in the text books. It happened years ago! Everybody prayed for regeneration while the masses starved and exhausted the products they did have access to. Trade routes crumbled, and people needed to adjust their lifestyles to this new world, a world that some scientists spectated humanity itself made made through modifying the natural state of the planet with welling, burning and polluting. Everyone just... just got used to this way of living. They became afraid of the outside. Cody, though, he believed in the regenerative process. That, maybe the world wasn't as good as it might've been thousands of years ago, but it was something people could explore, and even improve. That the forests, while posed their respective dangers, might once again be livable. And Carmen, well, she believed him! She'd been going out to bathe in the sun, collect different stones and nuts, and watch the fish make their way in hundreds up the winding stream. It was life. A life nobody believed could exist out here, because nobody dared to search.
Carmen gripped the letter tightly in her palm, wrinkling it some as the forest brightened, and sun pierced through the veil of leaves to make checkers of darkness and light across the ground. She slowed to a stop at the edge of the clearing, their clearing, Cody's and Connolly's and hers. Absently, delicate fingers traced across the etch in the tree, as she looked at the moss covered log, settled towards the stream's bank. To the stick plunged into the ground, and the rock resting at its feet. Her throat felt dry, and her heart ached, as it did every year around this time. Especially today, though, as it marked her 18th birthday, and within the upcoming months, she'd fall into the line of duty. She wasn't as smart as her brother was, nor as quick has Cody, but if nothing else, they could put her to work in mass production.
Carmen was an adult now, and initially, she could only feel sadness. Despair that Cody and Connolly were gone, and that she would eventually join, just becoming another wandering ghost. But the words rung through her head, over, and over, even though Cody was gone. She'd tried to ignore him in her head, at the memories of their childish banter and competitions. Their splashing in the stream and barreling down hills. She tried to ignore him because it hurt and that he was right. Cody wasn't killed out in the forest, their real home. He died in the hospital, on a soiled cot, to an asthma attack, with his father looming over him. And Dr. Frans didn't shed a single tear over his son's death, he'd become so accustomed to seeing it. So numbed to the pain, just like every other adult in the town.
Everyone but Carmen, who sucked in quivering breaths before slowly approaching the stick driven into the dirt and knelt before the rock, placing down her bouquet and laying a gentle kiss on the surface of the stone. She hadn't been able to ask that they bury his body out here, even though Cody was a vocal advocate of exploring the outside, and claimed to have done it himself (claimed, because nobody believed he'd been able to sneak out and survive) but it was out of the question. People were not ready to see the forest as it really was, a wound that was mending, and could help others do the same. It had helped Carmen at midnight, when the clock struck twelve and her "birthday" officially began, and once more in the morning after she awoke, crying once more into her pillow at the prospect of getting shoved into the work force and becoming another city zombie. The forest comforted her, and let her think about Cody without despair. Carmen had this feeling that Cody wasn't really gone, but got exactly what he wanted. That he'd become one with the forest after passing on. And so long as Carmen could see it and sense it nearby, she knew she really wasn't alone. That he was always watching, aligned with the spirit of nature, and all the critters and plants, and that they would always be waiting for her return.
She gave a small smile, bowing her head respectfully and whispering a "thank you" as loud as her voice would permit, before rising to her feet. One last look at the memorial before she turned around back in the direction she came, and sprinted off.
Today was Carmen's birthday. She turned 18, and became a full-fledged adult. Her opinion was no longer that of a child's, though her feelings never changed. And Carmen was a firm believe that the world could and was regenerating, and that she and the rest of humanity could nurture it, and nature could nurture them. They could mend each others wounds and live together, because being trapped within Adagio City's walls? Well, that wasn't really living at all.
Months passed, and years passed, and Carmen grew old. Her faced wrinkled, and she had the same bags under her eyes that every adult in Adagio city seemed to have. Her fingers became calloused and scarred, and they shook when she did not place a tool in hand. But Carmen never lost her smile. She married, and had three beautiful children--two boys and one girl. And every night she snuck out with them, and her husband, and her retired brother, and his children, and his children's children, to visit the forest. Every birthday, she put a bouquet of fowers, made of red tissue paper and adorned with a silk ribbon in front of the stone, which mossed over like their old log had. They brought a blanket, and spent the night lying about, watching the stars. The crickets chirped, and the trees rustled, and Carmen knew it was Cody saying 'thank you.'
Speaking of her older brother, at a time Carmen felt had passed just a few weeks ago, he'd been inducted into the Electronics force--those who regularly repaired the electrical grid. They were a particularly important class, as they provided the energy to keep every other tool functioning. Within Adagio, there was no choice of career. On December 1st of each year, those who'd reached 18 years of age were lined up, sized up and assigned jobs according to which class needed what talent. Kids with bigger builds were often sought out by those in the physical labor industries, such as shipping, stocking, fire fighting, and military. Those with nimble fingers, like my brother, became doctors and surgeons. Connolly, he was okay with his fingers, but it was his mind that was fast. And he was sharp, too. Funny and snarky and really very nice. His gift was picking up on patterns, and drawing out mechanical designs within his head. Didn't even need paper! He'd look at a lightbulb for a few seconds, experiment with the switch, and tell you exactly how the wiring worked. That's why he was instructed to become a grid mechanic. And since Christmas, he hasn't really had much time to to escort Carmen into the woods. It made Carmen upset, seeing her frail brother come home with bags under his eyes. The smile he once wore when telling his goofy jokes at the dinner table was gone, having followed shortly after the sense of humor. It was like he was a whole different person. And that happened to the neighbors and Connolly's friends, too. Somehow, after you reached adulthood, you transformed into a mindless workaholic. Didn't want to adventure or play or even think about anything; didn't have time. Just have to fix the grid, or cook the food, or remove the broken stones of collapsed towers. Go in, work, go out, sleep. Do it again. Since Christmas, Carmen had gone to the forest by herself, and every once in a while, Carmen smiled at the thought of her best friend escaping the dreary "life" that those who remained within the city limits were subjected to.
She vaulted over a log and dove to the side, just in time to avoid a drooping branch. Several of the trees she blurred by had peculiar slashes on them, remnants of when she was new to the territory, and still needed a way of finding "home." In one hand she gripped a small arrangement of flowers, wrapped in a bouquet if red tissue paper and adorned with a silk ribbon bow. In the other hand, a letter, the edges browned from spilled pourage of last evening's meal, which had been accompanied by a sweet piece of chocolate cake that, in all honesty, Carmen was surprised her tired mother had the time and energy to make.
The trees began to spread, letting light--real, natural light from the sun filter in. From the edge of her sight, she could see the blazing star up above, a view that honestly never got old. It wasn't something you could see within the city, not within the cloak of exhaust fumes, dirt particles and who knew what else. Stars were the same way, though they were a rare gem that Carmen had only managed to see once, when she'd had the guts to escape at night while everyone was home for curfew, most of the families sleeping anyway. She'd run hand in hand with Cody, the doctor's son and her best friend, all the way to the stream. Her brother met them there, and together, the three children sat on a log near a stream. After Connolly had cracked a few jokes and they'd passed around a snack or two, Cody cast his gaze up into the sky and said, "You know, it's funny, how they tell us not to live out here. Because living back there? Well... It's not really living at all."
That tiny note, a child's musing one night, had stuck with Carmen, even after Cody left and Connolly joined the workforce. It was kind of funny, really, that Cody ended up never working a day in his life. It was almost as if he refused to fall into that line. Instead, he joined the forest, even though the adults forbid that and punished them for leaving, time and time again. The Green Raze had made the animals feral. Dried the soil and plagued the land with swarms of bugs. People once did move freely between towns, providences and even countries, but when supplies became scarce, walls went up, and military secured the perimeter. Few could leave or enter at a time, and those who did were picked off by rogue thieves, the "Vermin" that lived within the sickly forest remains. That was why nobody was allowed out... But that was history in the text books. It happened years ago! Everybody prayed for regeneration while the masses starved and exhausted the products they did have access to. Trade routes crumbled, and people needed to adjust their lifestyles to this new world, a world that some scientists spectated humanity itself made made through modifying the natural state of the planet with welling, burning and polluting. Everyone just... just got used to this way of living. They became afraid of the outside. Cody, though, he believed in the regenerative process. That, maybe the world wasn't as good as it might've been thousands of years ago, but it was something people could explore, and even improve. That the forests, while posed their respective dangers, might once again be livable. And Carmen, well, she believed him! She'd been going out to bathe in the sun, collect different stones and nuts, and watch the fish make their way in hundreds up the winding stream. It was life. A life nobody believed could exist out here, because nobody dared to search.
Carmen gripped the letter tightly in her palm, wrinkling it some as the forest brightened, and sun pierced through the veil of leaves to make checkers of darkness and light across the ground. She slowed to a stop at the edge of the clearing, their clearing, Cody's and Connolly's and hers. Absently, delicate fingers traced across the etch in the tree, as she looked at the moss covered log, settled towards the stream's bank. To the stick plunged into the ground, and the rock resting at its feet. Her throat felt dry, and her heart ached, as it did every year around this time. Especially today, though, as it marked her 18th birthday, and within the upcoming months, she'd fall into the line of duty. She wasn't as smart as her brother was, nor as quick has Cody, but if nothing else, they could put her to work in mass production.
Carmen was an adult now, and initially, she could only feel sadness. Despair that Cody and Connolly were gone, and that she would eventually join, just becoming another wandering ghost. But the words rung through her head, over, and over, even though Cody was gone. She'd tried to ignore him in her head, at the memories of their childish banter and competitions. Their splashing in the stream and barreling down hills. She tried to ignore him because it hurt and that he was right. Cody wasn't killed out in the forest, their real home. He died in the hospital, on a soiled cot, to an asthma attack, with his father looming over him. And Dr. Frans didn't shed a single tear over his son's death, he'd become so accustomed to seeing it. So numbed to the pain, just like every other adult in the town.
Everyone but Carmen, who sucked in quivering breaths before slowly approaching the stick driven into the dirt and knelt before the rock, placing down her bouquet and laying a gentle kiss on the surface of the stone. She hadn't been able to ask that they bury his body out here, even though Cody was a vocal advocate of exploring the outside, and claimed to have done it himself (claimed, because nobody believed he'd been able to sneak out and survive) but it was out of the question. People were not ready to see the forest as it really was, a wound that was mending, and could help others do the same. It had helped Carmen at midnight, when the clock struck twelve and her "birthday" officially began, and once more in the morning after she awoke, crying once more into her pillow at the prospect of getting shoved into the work force and becoming another city zombie. The forest comforted her, and let her think about Cody without despair. Carmen had this feeling that Cody wasn't really gone, but got exactly what he wanted. That he'd become one with the forest after passing on. And so long as Carmen could see it and sense it nearby, she knew she really wasn't alone. That he was always watching, aligned with the spirit of nature, and all the critters and plants, and that they would always be waiting for her return.
She gave a small smile, bowing her head respectfully and whispering a "thank you" as loud as her voice would permit, before rising to her feet. One last look at the memorial before she turned around back in the direction she came, and sprinted off.
Today was Carmen's birthday. She turned 18, and became a full-fledged adult. Her opinion was no longer that of a child's, though her feelings never changed. And Carmen was a firm believe that the world could and was regenerating, and that she and the rest of humanity could nurture it, and nature could nurture them. They could mend each others wounds and live together, because being trapped within Adagio City's walls? Well, that wasn't really living at all.
Months passed, and years passed, and Carmen grew old. Her faced wrinkled, and she had the same bags under her eyes that every adult in Adagio city seemed to have. Her fingers became calloused and scarred, and they shook when she did not place a tool in hand. But Carmen never lost her smile. She married, and had three beautiful children--two boys and one girl. And every night she snuck out with them, and her husband, and her retired brother, and his children, and his children's children, to visit the forest. Every birthday, she put a bouquet of fowers, made of red tissue paper and adorned with a silk ribbon in front of the stone, which mossed over like their old log had. They brought a blanket, and spent the night lying about, watching the stars. The crickets chirped, and the trees rustled, and Carmen knew it was Cody saying 'thank you.'
Last edited by Finch on 5/14/2013, 11:12 pm; edited 1 time in total
