Scorched

by Michael Soll

  The city lights had dimmed to simulate the night, but extra bulbs had been strung up in the City Center for the ball. Everybody looked spiffy. Spec and I went our separate ways, and we soon found Cotta who was walking to a table, carrying several drinks back to his family.

  “Have you seen Kaolin?” asked Spec.

  Cotta placed the drinks on the table. “No, but I heard she would be here soon.”

  I saw the eagerness in Spec’s eyes. “You two don’t know how to dance do you?” They shook their heads. “Come with me and I’ll show you.”

  The two of them followed me to the dance floor, which was essentially just the center of the venue, tables circling around.

  “It’s pretty easy, really. You put your hands on the girl’s waist and you take a step forward while she steps back. After that, step to the left. Then step back. Then to the right and repeat. That’s how you dance.”

  Spec nodded and put his hands on my waist. I laughed and pushed him back, “No, guys don’t dance with guys.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, only guys and girls do that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, that’s the way it is.”

  And then, a burning, red blur appeared in the front of the stage. A girl I had only seen a couple of times appeared, blazing crimson dress flowing to the ground. Spec and Cotta watched in awe.

  Kaolin looked beside her, at the woman who had bought her. Meredith Washburn looked down with a sense of pride. “Go ahead, dear. Let everyone gather you in like the light that you are.”

  And then, James walked up to her. “Hi, do you remember me?”

  Kaolin looked back at Meredith who nodded. Kaolin turned back to James. “Yes.”

  “I’m James. Would you like to dance?”

  “Yes, I would like that.”

  James took her by the hand and the two danced as if they had been dancing their whole lives. Kaolin knew exactly what she was doing and looked graceful as she did. I looked back at Spec who watched her every movement. He was jealous. I could see it. I could feel it.

  Kaolin’s eyes left James’ and fell onto Spec. She finished her dance and walked over to us. “Hergels. I harvulen it herbru.”

  Cotta and Spec gave each other a look. The tension was palpable.

  “You look great in that dress, Kaolin,” I said encouragingly.

  “Thanks,” she tersely replied. Turned back to the other two. “When are we lerverlpy?”

  Spec looked back at me. “Is it okay if I dance with Kaolin?”

  “Sure.”

  The two walked to the dance floor, leaving me alone with Cotta. Across the floor, James watched the two closely as they danced.

  “What did she say? Just now…”

  Cotta seemed conflicted. “We were just catching up, sir.”

  “Does he like her?”

  “Spec?”

  I nodded.

  “Of course. Don’t you?

  Kaolin and Spec stopped dancing. They were standing still in the center of the floor, just staring at each other, speechless. And then, Kaolin lifted up her dress and took it off. She stood in nothing but her undergarments as those around her gasped. Spec picked up the dress and handed it to her, but she pushed it away.

  “No! No more of any of this! I hate it. Let’s go! It’s arilite aberillious!” she screamed.

  “Kaolin!” Meredith appeared and quickly covered her up with the dress, pulling the girl away from the crowd.

  Spec walked back, defeated. I fixed up his tie. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Okay.”

  We walked away from the City Center, away from everyone and life and movement and into the stillness.

  “You’re never going to like me as much as you do the others, are you?”

  Spec placed his hand on my shoulder. “You kept my flame lit. Nothing changes that.”

  I looked deep into his beautiful eyes and then, I kissed him.

  He stared blankly at me, unwilling to reciprocate.

  “Should I not have done that?”

  “It’s not my place to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do.”

  “You can’t tell anybody I did that.”

  “It’s not my place to tell people what you do.”

  “Stop it. Stop talking like that. You only say that stuff to please me. You don’t mean it. I see you when you mean it, when you’re talking to them.”

  “I don’t know any other way.”

  “I love you. Did you know that?” He shook his head. “I feel about you differently than everyone else. I want to be with you all the time. I dream of you even when you’re next to me.”

  “By your definition, I love Cotta and Kaolin.”

  I shook my head. “No. When you love someone, you’re with them and only them. You can’t love more than one person.”

  Spec was offended. “I’m sorry, but I don’t agree with you.”

  “Your love isn’t real.”

  “Why’s your love any more real than mine?”

  “Because! Because I was born and raised to feel a certain way. I grew up understanding what real love is, and you, you just have this degraded version of it. You don’t know what love is!”

  My body was trembling. I felt I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to cry until I was dead.

  “You can’t tell anybody about this, Spec. Not what I said. Not the kiss. None of this happened.”

  “Okay.”

  We walked back to the house and neither of us said a word. All we heard were the distant echoes from the music.

  When we got home, I quickly jumped into bed by myself. I didn’t look at the cracks or at Spec. I just closed my eyes and wished the day had never happened. I clenched everything and wished I had never met him. I wished I never saved him. I wished I didn’t love him. I wished I was like everyone else. I wished he was like me.

  He lay in his bed beside me but again, I was alone. There were thousands of people in a mile radius, but I was by myself. Nobody felt the way I felt. Nobody thought the way I thought. Nobody saw what I saw. I could be hugging Spec, but I was still alone. I was locked up and the key was constantly and perpetually out of reach.

  I wish I could just lay an egg, I wish I could be told what to do and how to do it and then I would do it and that would be purpose enough. I wish I was how my father appears to be. I wish I was everything everyone expected of me. Every day wouldn’t be so hard. Every day wouldn’t be such a challenge.

  I closed my eyes and wished that when they opened, it would be the day of the ball. I wished to rewind time. I wished this was all just a bad dream as I closed my eyes, and for a moment, the world went black and the light went out.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Slumber:

  It was my turn to patrol the borders with James and Bryan. Spec grabbed his axe, but I stopped him and told him to stay at home. He was a bit confused, but he consented.

  “Here,” he said, handing me the axe, “in case you come across any NaNas.”

  I left him behind and walked through the town, past the shopping district, past the City Center and Agricultural Square. I walked past everything and headed toward the borders to where there was nothing but empty.

  For a moment, I wondered about Spec and who he was before me. I had known him for eight months, but I never asked about his home, I never asked about his story. My father, though emotionally difficult to read, would drink from time to time, either in celebration or woe. And in those moments, I could see the real him, or at least the version I considered to be real.

  “Everybody has a story; some are just not worth examining.” That always stuck with me. It was cynical, but it had some truth to it, not because the merit of any person’s life was more worthwhile than others, but because there isn’t enough time to truly consider every person’s life or perspective. I see my life in its entirety, but Spec and others only see the abridged version. My father sees his life in its totality, but I only see what I can see and know what I can kn
ow.

  I could try to hear Spec’s story. I could attempt to hear about his childhood and his existence, but I’ll always be limited because I’m me and he’s he. I could put myself in his situation and walk in his shoes, but they’d always be my feet. My vision of his being is skewed by my mind. My perspective inevitably inhibits me from truly understanding and relating to others. And the more they differ from me, the less human they seem.

  And then there’s me. I can’t truly share my story with anybody because there are always consequences to opening up, my story is never just my story, it always involves others and sharing limits their privacy. I wasn’t free to share me without intruding on others. I wasn’t free to say how I felt or who I was. I had no freedom over my own domain, over my own utterances.

  “Freedom of speech is an illusion,” my father would say when he was intoxicated. “The more power you have, the less you can truly say. That’s the irony, Joseph. I’m the most powerful man in the city, but can I say what I want to say? No. I say what they want me to say. But Carl in Sanitation, well, he can say whatever he’d like to say. He could rant about anything because less people listen and there aren’t any consequences. His words have less merit than mine, but he can say what he truly wants to say. I can’t tell all of Newbury what I truly believe. I can’t say anything outrageous because I’d lose my job. But, everybody listens to what I say. Do you see the irony?”

  I closed my eyes and my world widened, my everything expanded.

  “Where’s your puppet?”

  I opened my eyes, and I felt the earth all around, I felt the weight of the world.

  “Where’s Spec?” Bryan snapped his fingers in front of my face.

  “He isn’t feeling well.”

  “Sure sure sure. I’ve been practicing my knife throwing skills all week. James wants us to meet him there. I’m gonna beat you for sure.”

  We walked to our hidden spot where James had set up the dummy.

  “What do you guys think about Kaolin?” he asked as casually as he could.

  Bryan jumped in front of both of us and flung his knife through the air, missing the dummy and hitting the dirt. “James gotta thirst for savagebait. He wants them animal-like.”

  James stood on the mark and aimed the knife at the dummy. “She’s nice and pretty.” His knife hit the dummy right in the gut. “I think I’m going to ask her to be my girlfriend.”

  I examined Spec’s axe in my hand. Every groove. Every ridge, crafted so diligently. Every detail was exactly how he wanted, and it was amazing.

  Bryan hurried back to the mark, running with the knife in hand. “She’s got them tiny titties. I like em big and squishy!” He thrusted multiple times.

  “You’ve never seen a boob.”

  “Sure have. Tracey showed me after school one day. She got them big ole titties!”

  Bryan flung the knife. Once again, it missed the target and hit nothing but dirt.

  “What do you think, Joey?”

  I put the axe on the ground and watched it sit still, alone. “She’s okay.”

  “Well I think she’s nice.” James took a step on the mark, then looked back at me. “You haven’t even gone yet.” He moved out of the way and let me go.

  I held the tip of the knife firmly in my hand. It was sharper than Spec’s axe, but it wasn’t made with the same love and care and affection that gets imprinted on a work of art. I could feel it. I could feel the coldness in my hand. His axe was used for survival. The knife was to take down a rival.

  I aimed at the target and I thought about Spec and Cotta and Kaolin. I thought about myself and how unfair it was I didn’t feel the same joy as Bryan and James, that I couldn’t partake in talk about breasts and girls like they could.

  I took a deep breath and concentrated on the target and for a moment, I felt this intense clarity. I felt the world’s colors melt into one. I felt the rightness and the wrongness swap meanings. And then, all that mattered in this precise moment in this precise location was that I would hit the target in front of me, that I would pierce its fake skin and hit its fake heart. And so, I cocked my arm back and I heaved the metal forward.

  The knife struck the dummy’s chest with unbelievable force, pushing it backwards and propelling a puff of dust into the air.

  Bryan and James screamed in jubilation. Bryan yelped in disbelief, “Did you see that!? That was amazing!”

  James shook me and lifted me into the air and I could almost touch the ceiling. Almost.

  “Now I gotta make a new dummy,” James gleefully stated while slapping my hand.

  “I’m gonna do that next!” Bryan aimed his knife and practiced his form while I walked over to the dummy.

  I looked down at the lifeless entity beneath me, hole in its chest, dirt dribbling out. If the dummy could talk, would he be happy? Would he be glad his purpose in life had been fulfilled? Would he be content knowing he did his job? Could something ever be happy at its own demise, even if its end was a necessity?

  Grains of dirt dribbled onto the dummy’s head, and then, I felt grains of dirt dribble onto mine.

  I looked up at the ceiling and that’s when I saw her.

  She looked down at me, and for a moment, our eyes connected and we connected in a way that is impossible to explain.

  The girl was clinging to the ceiling. She opened her mouth and snarled and I could see the daggers jutting from her mouth, scar across her cheek. And then --

  She pushed off from the ceiling and landed on top of me. Her razor sharp claws cut into my chest and I instantly coughed up blood.

  I could hear James’ and Bryan’s screams. I looked over at my friends as they ran away, leaving me behind with the girl.

  She raised her claw and ripped into my stomach, and I could no longer feel the world; I could no longer feel anything.

  Her mouth widened. Her teeth shining.

  And then, my world went dark --

  SECTION THREE

  Ignited:

  “Sure, everything is ending,” Jules said, “but not yet.”

  -- Jennifer Egan, A Visit from the Goon Squad

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Alive:

  It had been eight months since I last awoke next to my father in our cubby, but it felt like a lifetime ago. For so long, I had hoped for the new, but now I find myself dreaming of the old. Painting pictures with my father, excavating with Cotta, and even watching Grub’s magic show in the Grotto.

  There was so much I wanted to share with him. I wanted to tell him about our harrowing escape from the hive and my near death and the large civilization that took me in. Sometimes I would lie awake and stare through the ceiling, listening to Joey as he struggled breathing in his sleep, gasping for breath. I would imagine busting through the barrier and propelling myself upward, to the past that is my future. I would walk the burnt rubble and find my father waiting for me, and he would ask what took me so long. We would walk beside enormous rivers, and I would tell him all about the wonders I had witnessed. We would discuss music, the sweet sounds and harmonies we could never imagine. We would discuss the animals and the plants in which they ate. We would discuss couples who only bred with each other and clothes and flowers and Kaolin. We would discuss everything.

  I had always hoped for something different, and now that I obtained it, I still wanted more. I wasn’t content, and I was beginning to wonder if I could ever have my desires quenched. I found myself immersed in everything new, but the more I learned, the more I discovered I hadn’t known and the more I wondered what else there was to know.

  In the hive, life was simple. I’d wake up and collect and survive. I had so much time that it was inevitable for me to think and yearn. Now, in Newbury, other people collected, other people worked, and my job was simply to learn. And so, I learned. I absorbed it all in and the knowledge changed my thoughts but it didn’t warp my imagination. My inventions had merely become more elaborate. Instead of imagining large insects, I dreamt of large chickens and pigs.
Plants that went higher than the eye could see. Music that reverberated deep within my body and shook the very foundation that is me. Sweet scents that lifted me off of my feet and made me immune to my deficiencies. I realized anything was possible because everything was possible.

  Today was supposed to be our day to patrol the borders, but Joey left me at home. It was one of the few times he let me be alone, and I couldn’t help but relish the time where I did not have to worry about another living person. I was alone for most of the time back in the hive. Sure, I’d walk to the gathering spot with Cotta, but we always worked at different plots of land. It was only now that I truly understood real isolation. Only after finding myself surrounded by so many people and being beside Joey for most of the day did I understand this feeling of lonely and cherish the moments of being alone.

  Cotta, Kaolin and I had all taken to Newbury in a different manner. Cotta seemed to enjoy the city the most, incorporating far better than I. Kaolin liked it the least and rejected most of their customs. I was somewhere in between. I did not like all that was presented before me, but it would be foolish to say it was all bad. There were some things I liked more than home and some things I did not. I liked the options but disliked the lack of choice. I could supposedly do whatever I wanted to do in Newbury, but I had to go to school with Joey -- that was mandatory. I couldn’t just be mayor like Joey’s father. I was told the option was there, but I didn’t have that choice. That choice was limited to a few. We were free to be who we wanted, to wear what we chose, but I had to wear something. I could not go as I did before, naked and untarnished. I had the option of clothes but not the choice to go without.

  We were all being held prisoner by each other. If I were naked in front of Joey, he wouldn’t mind. But if I went outside nude, he would be upset. Why is this? Why are there rules that exist in front of the many but not the few? An individual’s rationality is somehow altered when others are involved.