After an intense, high-pitched grind poured forth from the lock’s hidden mechanism, the wheel began to turn with minimal effort, completely unbolting from the wall, allowing the door to swing wide open. Retrieving his lamp from Sofia, John peered inside, carefully sweeping his light back and forth about the room. Various orange-yellow reflections littered the walls from the mirrorlike golden-brass ornaments adorning the long hidden abode.
“What do you see?” Sofia asked.
Stepping over the threshold and into their new home, John held his hand out to her.
“It looks safe enough,” he said. “Come, take a look.”
Taking a firm hold of John’s arm, Sofia stepped over the lip of the threshold and moved inside, flashing the cone of light from her lamp in various directions in an attempt to better orient herself to the new environment. Although the monochrome, crimson spectrum that her lamplight emitted was not favorable to the appreciation of that afforded by the natural light of the Savior, Sofia perceived by the flowery designs of the rug-covered flooring and the beautifully embellished living arrangements, that the layout of their new quarters could only have been chosen by Mrs. Sanders herself. Considering all of the Golden World furnishings crated in the warehouse vessel, the Sanders certainly had a variety of choices with regards to the enrichment of their place of residence.
Following the beam of his light around the room, John happened upon a thick, golden, satin rope dangling beside the entrance like a gilded vine. Shining his light upward, towards its attachment point high above, he could see that it extended through a series of pulleys, terminating at a junction box attached to a metallic plate out of which wires of various colors trafficked across the ceiling and walls. Concluding from his minimal experience at the Education that it was essentially the actuator of an electrical circuit, he gave it a firm tug. In the blink of an eye the room was filled with a soft, white light that dropped its illumination from the brass fixtures attached to the bracing that crisscrossed overhead. The gentleness of the atmosphere was accompanied by a melody of brass horns with a woodwind instrumental backdrop that began streaming out from an ornamentally carved, wooden box. The beautiful sound machine was wired to another apparatus that housed a strange black, plastic disk spinning within it at a steady revolution. Beside it there were stacks of other licorice colored disks leaning against the wall.
Panning his light across the ceiling, following the traffic of wires, John traced them to their point of origin. The Sanders, through their incredible engineering prowess, had somehow wired the entire arrangement to the wrecked vessel’s power system, seemingly giving them a virtual supply of unlimited electricity.
With the comforting brilliance of the lamps, and the warm rain of auditory loveliness blanketing their senses, the gorgeously adorned room, now visible in its entire kaleidoscopic splendor, was a unique universe in itself. The wood flooring, deep and rich, that spanned from wall to wall, continued its spread into the adjoining rooms, an incredible witness to the constructive abilities that the Sanders had once possessed. The broad, flowery rugs displayed upon the floor were varicolored in hues in similitude to the natural world outside. By the way the furniture was situated, it was quite obvious to both John and Sofia that they were standing just inside the entrance to their newly acquired living room.
Off in the corner, a richly decorated, low profile table was placed in the center of a squared series of high-legged couches. A bookshelf carved with ornamental patterns, matching that of the wooden outer shells of the couches, rested against the arch of the wall, filled with a multitude of reading material. The trim that was fastened to the walls was of a carved floral arrangement, not unlike that of the rest of the finely crafted artistry of the rest of their palace. Waist high tables topped with brass works of art, completed the adornment, along with several paintings and a rather peculiar statue of a youthful male with a soothing ambience of expression, humbly walking with his eyes lifted to the sky.
“I wonder who this is supposed to be,” Sofia commented.
“I have no idea,” John said, looking closer at the detailing of the face. “He does look quite familiar, though, doesn’t he?”
“Strangely familiar, I’d say.”
As John continued to ponder on the identity of the stony image, Sofia passed through the next threshold. Pulling on the room’s golden rope, she opened it up to the same illuminating beauty and melodic symphony of the former parlor.
Standing in what appeared to be the home’s bedroom, the enormity of the sleeping quarters was oddly overwhelming. The cylindrical chamber was of equal size to that of the largest compartments of the warehouse vessel. But instead of housing a multitude of various sized crates, there existed but a single bed and a few makeshift rooms with only the interior hull of the ship, several meters above, substituting as the ceiling.
With much assumed difficulty, the Sanders had somehow managed to mount a steel railing across the diameter of the hull, situated between the ceiling and the floor. Energy transfer occurred from another junction box straddling the wall besides the railing. From this box, a rainbow of wires streamed along their pathways, with some terminating at a series of brass ceiling lamps just overhead.
Partitions of richly decorated wood, constructed at the far end of the sleeping quarters, housed a lady’s room and a separate men’s room, each adorned with a mirror of extraordinary reflective clarity and a bath of eggshell porcelain, pure and bright. There also existed a complex reservoir and drainage system designed using the plastic and metal pipes and clamps intertwined among the various fluid containers that were once part of the ship itself: another testament to the ingenuity of the creators of the project.
Taking into consideration the amount of work that had been performed at their home site, Sofia figured that the crash must have happened many years ago, perhaps long before she and John had even been born. It brought tears to her eyes to think of the happiness that Mr. Sanders and his wife had once experienced together while they were preparing this very room in anticipation of one day escaping from Labor. She felt as if she and John were too undeserving of becoming the recipients of another couple’s hard work.
Stepping through the threshold and into the bedroom, John could see that Sofia was deep in thought. Remaining silent so as not to disturb her moment of reflection, he watched as she walked alongside a wood framed bed that was ornamentally carved at the headboard and footboard, and matched to the artistic motions of the floral arrangements of the wooden furnishings of the previous room.
She was running her hand across the soft, satin-like sheet with its silvery sheen and colorful embroidery that was spread across the mattress. Although he was unaware of it, there was a soothing of her emotions in the action, as when one relaxes in the warmth of a bath. Picking up a pillow stuffed with a material so light and comforting that it was like holding a cloud in her arms, Sofia closed her eyes allowing her mind to come to terms with the reality of the events that had taken place over the past week.
Her radiance reflected off of his eyes like the brilliant reflection of the Savior off the mirrored stillness of a pond of water. Sofia’s beauty was not merely in her youthful skin, soft and smooth, nor in her hair, thickly flowing and yellowish-white. It was in the way she wore her heart on the outside, revealing the innocent, but discerning, young lady that was concealed inside the body of a petite girl.
She was glowing under a golden reflective aura, saturated with the gentle mist of musical splendor. The image, like a black and white photograph, was captured forever in his mind. Incited by the portrait before him, the impassionate sensations within his own thoughts began tearing at his heart. Although their current situation was a reality, it felt more like a wonderful dream. One from which they could never awaken.
The emotional trauma of the past few days had caught up to Sofia and was now laying siege to John’s consciousness as well. Grasping and rending him in an incomprehensible number of directions, he could not find any way to pinpo
int from where it began or where it ended.
Volatile and kindled, he was like an overloaded circuit, ready to burst into flames at any moment. But, he now understood why Sofia was so lost in her own world: Mr. Sanders was a friend, the shortest of which duration had no factor. It was eternal. They had only known him for a fraction of time within this world. He was there one moment and then he was gone. But in some ways he seemed to be continually keeping watch over them. He was the father that each of them had always wanted, the only caring soul within a city devoid of feeling.
He and his wife had attempted to create for themselves a paradise within a paradise, far from the suffocating enclosure of the City of Labor. Their self-sufficient home, with all the supplies that would be needed for several generations to survive, seemed to be an impossible episode within an environment where chance reigned supreme. Could they have just wandered upon it by accident, or was it essentially handed directly to them by way of a determined, causal series of unimaginable proportions?
The material items of which their home was furnished, and of which were crafted, crated and stacked in their warehouse, were neither destined from their originators for the City of Labor, nor were they meant for the Sanders themselves. Certainly they were not for him and Sofia. They were pre-labeled for Golden World and Red, wherever they may be found. But, in this time-space continuum as a whole, as can be seen by the fates of these inanimate objects, by the occurrences of all the events that had transpired over the past week, what appears to be one’s destiny in life can be altered within this causal nexus by sheer will, as well as by forces unseen, by a ripple effect initiated through a causal series set in motion by an action committed too long ago for anyone to remember. A simple, random throw of a rock, a left turn when one should have gone to the right, the seemingly minuscule actions in the lives of all people had profound effects in the world causing untold harm or benefit to innumerable others.
Whether he and Sofia were brought to this point by accident or purposeful design, John was not absolutely certain. But there existed that suspicion in the back of his mind that attributing everything, if not anything at all, to accidental phenomena was merely a baseless cop-out, a reason not to reason. Could there possibly be a valid framework to begin with chance interactions as the basis for the initiation of all causal events? Would their own hands now be required to carve their paths, or was there an Overseer of sorts, leading them onward? Were all the recent events merely a series of means pushing them towards a greater end, or was there truly an end at all?
As John stepped back into the material world, leaving behind that black-and-white, inner realm where self evaluates self and the cogs and gears of the mind attempt to keep a consistent perspective on all things, he found Sofia positioned upon the bed, curled up like a fragile infant. The slow, deep breaths by which her chest was rising and falling indicated that the exhaustion had finally overtaken her.
With the end of the musical score, a sliver of silence entered into the room, patiently awaiting the start of the next orchestral piece. As he made his way towards the bed, the creaking of the floor beneath his feet, which was previously inaudible, seemed out of sorts, adding an imperfection to the room’s comeliness, making a deduction from its overall beauty.
Approaching the bedside, John sat down beside her, brushing the thin strands of hair from off of her face. Sofia was his only friend, his lover and companion on their journey into the unknown. He would protect her with his life, for she was all he had… and the soft hum of brass instruments accompanied by the symphonic, smooth layers of a wood blown instrumental backdrop fell once again, like warm rain, upon them.
Chapter Fifteen
The celerity by which the couple acclimated to the new environment was of no surprise, as the Sanders had taken great care in creating an ambience fit for the nourishment of the soul. From the smallest pieces of glassy, decorative articles, to the largest of paintings that adorned the walls and the auditory streams of music that accompanied all the visual assemblage, everything was fitted just right for encouraging an inner peace.
The first few weeks were an adjustment period, as John and Sofia found it quite awkward adapting to the new environment without considering from whence they came. Achieving the mindset to live immediately and completely in fearlessness and harmony after years of forced structure and policing, was difficult at best, and the days, nevertheless, went by in such a fleeting manner that even a retrospective consideration of any particular event during the present interval was nearly impossible. This was the only period when the tormenting entity, of which only time could do away with, maintained a presence in their minds. Wherever they were and whatever they were doing, it was always shouting out about that one frightful possibility: that at any moment someone could happen upon them and they would once again find themselves returning to the prison-like confines of Labor.
After several months without any contact from the Security Forces, or from any other persons of the City for that matter, the two of them began to feel less vulnerable regarding the potential loss of the permanency in their lives, and they quietly settled into their daily routines. They had organized each day to allow time for meal preparation and eating, the taking of several walks throughout the local lands and to the enjoyment of hobbies. The living conditions were remarkably well tailored to their spiritual and physical growth, and with each day that passed them by, they felt the strength of mind that comes with a confidence in one’s own ability to cope with stressful situations. Looking to the future, there was only the light of the Savior, as the entire world seemed to be illuminated at their feet.
Chapter Sixteen
It had now been nearly two years since the great escape, or, nineteen months, to be exact, and Sofia had finally found the happiness and stability that she had always wished for. But, as John had pointed out long ago, he still had that pressing desire to follow the path leading to the Savior’s rise. Although, curiosity and adventure were untamed creatures within both of their hearts, Mr. Sanders’ warnings still rang loudly in Sofia’s ears, and she continued to refrain from discussing any matter related to their journeying to the northeasterly lands.
In the days of living in Labor, John never seemed to have the time, nor the resources, for learning anything other than what he was forced to at the Education. But, with all the time that was available from this moment until the day in which he would pass away, he figured that there was more than he could ever hope for. Taking on the challenge of reading all the books at his disposal, he first began the task with the writings available in their library.
After several months, his knowledge began to increase with regards to the various topics with which the Sanders had stocked the shelves. There were novels of, what he assumed to be, strangely fictitious lands and peoples, field guides related to unique animals, plants and flying creatures of which he had never had the occasion of seeing with his own eyes. The military guides dispensed their information to him with experienced precision related to firearms use and many outdoor skills, of which he would put into practice during their several wanderings in the southern and western spheres. The warehouse crate log, of which the Sanders had used in their cataloging process, had revealed to him that there were more books available with a quantity so vast that he knew he would not be able to read them all during his lifetime.
Sofia had also taken up a newly found hobby for herself. During the earlier days of living in the crash site, they had spent much of their time rummaging through the warehouse. They were wholly fascinated by the novelty in the wealth of material goods available to them. But there were several crates, loaded full with various fabrics of assorted colors, stitching materials in abundance and stacks of patterns that caught her attention. As the crates were organized in close proximity to another grouping of wooden boxes, she figured that there had to be a relation between them, and so she had John pry them open. Nestled inside within a cocoon of straw, she discovered several stitching machines and their instr
uctional manuals detailing the techniques for their use. It was the beginning of a new and wonderful enterprise for Sofia to express herself artistically.
After several weeks of practice with the simpler projects, she hastily advanced herself to the production of the more basic garments. She spent many hours of the day with her hands, actively taking part in her newly found craft. After many months, she had become quite proficient, although not perfect.
Night after night she would put on a display of the gorgeously streaming costumes for John to admire. As she was still, relatively speaking, a novice in the fabrication of the more fanciful apparel, John often had to bite his tongue to keep from smiling too hard, revealing the laughing that was hidden within him as she would prance about, spinning and dancing, not realizing that her lengths were uneven, or that the hems were sometimes undoing themselves.
During the cool of the mornings, before the Savior had poked His head above the horizon, John, having taken up a secondary hobby in the art of rifle shooting, would use these hours to the improving of his skills. Although Sofia would sometimes accompany him during these practice sessions, even taking the time to learn the art for herself, she eventually lost her interest in weapon utilization, desiring to spend more time with her hands in the fabrication of clothing.
Finding several crates of weapons and ammunitions of various sizes and calibers that had been destined, some for Red and some for Raw, John chose a medium length, shoulder mounted machine with iron sights to train with. Just as the books and fabrics, foods and other odds and ends, the ammunition was in such abundance that he was able to get in all the practice he needed to eventually become a superior marksman.
The Lover's Parable Through A Seven World Journey Page 11