The Last Utopia

by Michael M Finch

  At the time, Nate's words placated me. I understood that he was only worried about me, that he tried to protect me, like he had done in all those years as my caretaker. And like always, I trusted him. If only I was patient enough, I would surely get the chance to prove my ability. To Nate, and to myself.

  But then, weeks turned into months, and my chance never came.

  Reality

  - One

  “Brayden, I told you to wait outside!” Nate snarled at me, even though he couldn't see me from his position.

  “What, again?” I argued with Nate's backside, stuck in a narrow corridor of paper. Flecks from the pages danced in the dim light as if alive. No wonder, since we were boxed in by mountains of books, stacked up to the room's ceiling. When I had first entered the classy mansion, the view had been a surprise, but no shock.

  After many wards and many houses, I had grown used to this sort of neglect, to the dreamscapes of the city's people. Not even the real, physical books were a surprise. Others might have been fooled by the wealth all that paper represented, but I could tell the truth from the smell. Rather than true paper, they were all synthetic, made from the materializer. Even so, all of it still felt like an enormous waste.

  “All year you've had me stand in front of this house,” I continued my complaint in response to Nate's grunt. “What can be so bad I can't even meet the ward here? How am I supposed to learn if I can’t even go inside?” I looked left and right, into the darkness of the paper corridors. This place was a maze. At least I had been brave enough to rush after Nate right away. Without him to guide me, I would never find my way.

  Under grunts and pants, Nate made his way through the corridor and into a crossroads, just wide enough for him to turn and stare at me. For a while, we had a silent duel, but my will stayed firm. I wouldn't give in, not again. This time, I would do my job as a proper caretaker. Nate couldn't coddle me forever.

  “Fine,” my co-worker sighed. “If we argue here we'll only upset Ms. Lector. So you're off the hook for now. You can come along, just... be careful and don't touch anything.”

  Even though Nate still stared me down, a giddy jolt rushed through my body. At last I could meet the mysterious Ms. Lector whose presence had eluded me for months. With a silly grin splayed all over my face, I bounded over to Nate, focused on the books around me.

  “Slow!” a panicked voice hissed at me, so I looked up at Nate. Only now did I realize that his face was pale as a sheet. “What are you doing? I told you to be careful.”

  “Sure, Nate.” My eyes rolled as I squeezed my way past my colleague. Beyond my mountainous companion I found another two long corridors and a set of stairs to lead us up above. “So where to now?”

  “It's up the stairs. Be careful though. Don't touch the books.”

  “Right,” I said. Of course I understood Nate's worry. If I moved the books, there was always a chance the entire stack could collapse. We might end up buried alive and the birds couldn't enter the houses to save us. So I took a step into a corridor before I motioned my partner to move ahead. He knew the way, and knew the ward. It wouldn't be the best if Ms. Lector first saw me, someone she had never met before. With nothing but a grunt, Nate squeezed past me and trundled up.

  For a while we walked in silence, until something caught my eye. On top of a short book stack sat a novel titled 'Enlightened'. I knew this one. It was one of my grandma's. Oh neat, I thought and decided to pick it up. Since the book sat on top, there was no danger of collapse, was there?

  “Stop, dammit!” Nate's shout made the fake paper around us rumble. My foot slipped from the step and my hand stretched to the precarious pile of books to my side. Only inches before my trembling fingers touched the paper walls, my toes caught the lower step, and with it the rest of my body.

  Again we stared at each other, Nate's eyes large in horror. After a few seconds, the swaying books around us settled back into place. Not even the home owner showed any reaction, so my heartbeat calmed again.

  “What?” I whispered with a frown. “Why'd you scream like that? I almost fell, and the book isn’t gonna hurt anyone. It's just lying there. Nothing's gonna fall.”

  “I know what you're thinking,” the gruff voice whispered back, always the mind reader, “but this place is made of more than just books. There's traps everywhere!”

  “What?” I hissed back. “What do you mean traps? Like an adventure game?”

  “I told you not to touch anything. The owner, Ms. Lector, has placed traps all over her bookshelves in case anyone tries to take them.”

  “Who would expect traps from just that? What kind of maniac would-” before I could finish my sentence, I caught myself. My hands covered my mouth as I stared at Nate in shock. Insults against the wards were the worst offense I could commit before the dutiful caretaker. However, rather than scold me like he usually did, Nate just frowned.

  “Just stay behind me, keep quiet and don't touch anything.” And with that, Nate turned and marched ahead again. His silence hurt more than his usual scolding. This time I followed with weary steps, but my boss still glanced behind every three steps. Though the tension between us increased further and further, soon we reached the bedroom of the homeowner. At once, Nate readjusted his attitude as he put on his usual buddy facade.

  Meanwhile, I looked around the room itself, careful to not touch anything. Unlike the other rooms, this one was at least barely considered clean. In the corner, I found the expected materializer, which had spewed out all the books for its owner, in exchange for much of her social credit. At least in here, the books only stacked waist high, and there was more room to move around. No wonder, as the room's inhabitant was bound to a wheelchair.

  According to the documents, Ms. Lector was a woman in her forties. However, she barely looked human any more. Like many of our wards, she appeared thin like a twig, burned out from her obsessions. Her legs were immobile, but didn't flop down like I had thought. Instead, they were folded up on her chair and scrunched together, intertwined with her arms in an arthritic nightmare. Only her face still seemed mobile, and she used a small monitor to its side to live her entire life. In horror, I watched as Nate began his standard procedure, indifferent to the misery before him.

  “And that's your checkup done, Ms. Lector.” For how much he talked about the caretaker's code, there were far too many instances where he had forced me to watch as people just died from his neglect. In that regard, I could never understand Nate's so-called 'respect' for the freedom of our wards. To me, this inaction was nothing more than sloth. For many of these people, a real, human connection would achieve much more than robotic nods and standard procedures. Thus, I did what I had rarely done before. I disobeyed.

  “Ms. Lector. I saw that you've read Enlightened.”

  When I stepped forward, I could see Nate move in my periphery, but I was focused on my ward alone. Although the crippled body didn't move, the dim, gray eyes also focused on me in turn.

  “A. R. Rovis was my grandmother, you know? It's great to see that there are still people out there who enjoy her writing.” I tried to put on my warmest smile. It ignited a tiny, almost invisible flame within those dull eyes.

  “Who are you?” a raspy voice echoed from her dry throat.

  “My name is Brayden Rovis, Ma'am. Unfortunately, I have none of my grandmother's talents, but I always loved her books.”

  “A. R. Rovis was a good writer. Her themes always had a weight most others lack today.”

  Encouraged by the ward's reception, I took another step forward.

  “You know, if you like her books, I can bring you some,” I urged. “I actually have the real ones at home.”

  True shock entered Ms. Lector's apathetic eyes. “Really?” she asked in a whisper.

  “Yeah, it's real paper, too. They're in my room, to make sure nothing happens to them. We also have some handwritten manuscripts, but those are in lockup.”

  “I would love to see them only once, more than anything
.”

  “You can. It's easy,” I grinned.

  Wasn't this a great first step? A real human connection? Maybe like this, I could convince Ms. Lector to leave her house and get her arthritic body cured. However, our ward responded with a hollow laugh.

  “Not with my body. I can hardly see, I can no longer walk. In my state, how could I ever make it through the city and appreciate those rare pieces?”

  Sadness filled her voice, but to me it sounded sweeter than any laughter. This was real emotion, real desire beyond the prison Ms. Lector had built for herself. Just one more push and I could save her!

  “That's not a problem, is it? Just call on a clinic and request a pick-up. I can stay around until the-”

  “No!” While I froze in confusion at the outburst, a dry cough overcame my ward. Things had been going so well. What happened?

  “No doctors. I've read. I know. No tests. No probes. They'll only take out my eyes! How will I read without eyes?”

  Confused, the woman begged to be spared. Still, I couldn't give up now.

  “They won't. Ma'am, if you want to read my grandmother's-”

  “Excuse us.” With a rude tone and a rough hand, Nate barged into the conversation and shoved me out the door. “Ms. Lector, I am very sorry about Brayden. He is still in training. Please have a pleasant day.”

  When Nate followed me outside, I wanted to argue, but his stern eyes shut me up. This time, he wouldn't even let me walk ahead, and instead decided to take the front again. Every time he looked back, my mood soured.

  How could he know that I couldn't have convinced Ms. Lector in the end? If he wasn't so paranoid all the time, if he was willing to push just a bit harder, how many of these poor souls could have been saved? Although he always said not to disturb the peace of the wards, where was the peace for a miserable existence like Ms. Lector's?

  At the foot of the stairs, Nate turned again to look at me like a disappointed parent, as if I would run back at any moment. And then it happened. With large eyes I saw how Nate's foot slipped on the lowest step. Before he realized what had happened, he had already stumbled halfway across the room.

  “Careful!” My shout was as pointless as it was late, and Nate's hands found balance on the stack of books by the entrance. Like a child in front of his first school, Nate stared up at the towering books. Whether or not he had activated a trap, the entire stack began to sway back and forth. With a sluggish inevitability, the stack leaned farther and farther, dragged to the side by its own weight, soon to bury Nate beneath mountains of synthetic paper.

  A terror ran through my entire body as everything around me slowed to a crawl. While my mind was frozen solid, my body reacted all on its own. My feet shot off the steps and launched me halfway down the stairs, faster than I had ever moved before. A single leap and I was across the room, leaned against the crooked stack, while Nate still stood there paralyzed. As soon as my hands touched the paper, I could feel my weakness. I wasn't strong enough! Several tons of synthetic paper had been stacked together. How could I ever hold them by myself?

  Though my muscles quivered, the paper buckled more and more. As my heart escaped into my stomach, I looked to Nate for rescue. My former caretaker just stood there with big eyes, no use to anyone. My view returned to the book shelves right before me. Since I couldn't rely on anyone else, I would rely on myself.

  And then, a miracle happened to save us both: Somehow, from somewhere, my body pulled a strength far beyond me. A strange power shot into my veins to fill me with strength. Above, the stack shifted and buckled, before I forced the unwilling paper back into its original position.

  Drenched in sweat I turned to Nate, who stumbled out of the house, and back into the sunlight. For a second I took in the claustrophobic maze of knowledge, and the few loose books on the ground who still waited on all their brothers to follow. Soon however, I returned to my senses and followed Nate out into the city.

  “That was close,” I said as I wiped the cold sweat off my forehead.

  “What were you doing in there!?” Nate screamed at me out of nowhere.

  “What do you mean what was I doing? I saved your damn life, man!”

  “No, not that! When you talked to the Ms. Lector! I would have never tripped if I didn't have to keep an eye out for you all the time!”

  Even though his excuse was more than just a bit unfair, I would much rather focus on the actual core of our conflict. It was important to be open about our misgivings, otherwise nothing would ever be resolved. Nate taught me that.

  “I've been a caretaker for almost a year now and all I've done is watch you work. How am I ever gonna get any better if you never let me do anything?”

  “That's not how this works, Brayden! You can't just invade people's personal space like that! Ms. Lector has a hard time as is! You need to be delicate or you'll make things worse!”

  “How much worse can Ms. Lector possibly get!? If we don't push her a bit, she will just rot away!”

  At first it looked like Nate would just push back stronger, but instead he held his breath. Once he released it with a sigh, it appeared like he had cooled off and aged a decade in the process. Suddenly, I felt bad about my outburst. I had known Nate for years, and I knew what kind of man he was. He always just wanted the best for me, and I repaid him with nothing but entitlement.

  “Brayden,” he said at last. “I know I've not been forthright with you, but please try to understand me. I'm worried. Not only about the wards, but also about you. I'm sure you'll be a great caretaker, but you don't want to get involved too deeply. So far, you haven't seen what sort of stuff goes on in the City Council. Believe me, you don't want to do to well and get promoted. Recently, the boss has asked some questions about your performance. I'd rather you just stay an anonymous cog than-”

  Before he could finish, Nate's phone interrupted his explanation. As the caretaker read the new message, his eyes widened.

  “Ah, shoot. Looks like there's an emergency at Carlos' place.”

  “Mr. Oraya? What happened?” I was worried, maybe more than I should have been. After all, even though Nate always stressed how the wards came first, he also talked about the importance of distance. Still, over our past visits, the haggard painter with the peculiar temper had grown on me.

  “The old idiot's been drinking paint for no goddamn reason,” the caretaker frowned, in spite of his own advice.

  “What? Why would he do that?”

  “How would I know? Anyways, as his official wardens, we have to show up there, give a statement for the clinic. Let's just hope he's fine. I hate this part of the job,” he mumbled more to himself.

  “But... what about the rest of our route? It's almost evening and we still have one more place to visit. There is no way we can get this done on time.”

  If there was one thing I had learned in my first year, it was to avoid tardiness. Whenever we failed to finish our schedule, we would be deducted part of our monthly allowance, with no warnings. Nate looked conflicted as well, torn between his responsibility towards his ward and the one towards me. This time, I had to make the choice for him.

  “It's fine, Nate. Go look after Mr. Oraya, I got the last one for the day.”

  For a long while, he stared into my smile, before a curt “you sure?” showed the full extent of his distrust. Still, this was the best solution for us. Maybe like this, Nate would relent and finally let me do a job by myself.

  “Yeah, you should really go to Mr. Oraya. It sounds serious, and I want him to be fine too. After all, he was my first ward.”

  With another deep sigh, Nate thought again, before his phone rang a second time. Without a single look, we both knew what the message was about.

  “...alright, guess here's your chance to prove yourself. At least the last ward seems like a mild case. It's only a registration, so you should just have them fill out the basic form and leave right away. I'm serious, stay on protocol and don't try too hard to fix everything. Our work takes time, e
ven more so with new wards.”

  “I'll just do my job, nothing more.” Even though I didn't mean it, at this point I would say anything to get some hands-on experience. “Call me when you know more about Mr. Oraya.”

  “Will do. You can take the cab over and then sign it off when you're done.”

  “Wait, the cab? What about you?”

  “It's only three streets away from here. I'll walk over and take the bus home.”

  For the third time, Nate's phone rang. Although the sound was the same, it felt much more urgent than before.

  “Anyways, gotta run. Good luck, buddy. Do your best.” After Nate had thrown his last well-wishes over his shoulder, he ran down the empty street. Had I known what would happen next, I would have said something. Our past selves are always so carefree.

  Unaware of future regrets, I found the silvery gleam of the cab ready and waiting for me.

  “Finally!” I called out in relief. Of course, I was grateful for Nate's help. Throughout the year, he had done his best to shield me from danger and answered all of my beginner questions. Still, I wasn't allowed to do anything under his watch. Rather than his trainee, Nate had treated me like one of his wards. This was my chance to prove myself. With swagger, I grabbed my permit and slid it across the cab door.

  A few seconds of nothing and I began to get nervous. I had never even opened the cab, so I thought that swiping the permit in its vague direction would be enough.

  Don't panic.

  An examination revealed a found a slight, rectangular indentation towards the door's top. This time, I made sure to abandon the confident flourish from before and stared swiped with a slow motion. The light beep from the door made me recoil in terror. Before anyone could witness my embarrassment, I hid inside the vehicle.

  As my heart calmed from the excitement, I looked at my phone, at the documents for my first solo ward.

  Sophie Rayne. 19 Years old. Recommendation as teacher. Scheduled to continue studies. Depression. Address...