Friday, March 20, 2009

The Day We Stuffed Our Pockets With Stones

When? I can not remember.
How, I don't know, and I do not care, since everything is alright now. And this is what matters, present tense.
I’m sure it started when I was young, not even old enough to smoke or drink, but old enough to work for our survival.
A vague sensation stays in me, hunting me, till those days…of those days.

it was during the days of the Great Winds. When all living things stayed underground, not because of the polar cold, or the extreme heat, or the radioactive pollution, or of alien invasion and overflow of land by sea, but rather of windstorms, hurricanes, fiercely traveling through the empty space of soil, constantly moving a huge amount of dust, among other things, that could reap one’s flesh to the bone. Only grass could survive the winds, and the ecosystem developed to live under those conditions.
They did get one thing straight, those scientists of the old times, environmental changes were imminent, but in unpredictable ways. No one could ever get the small details that would define the true outcome of the changing. And one factor was still there, the sun, shining as ever, heating the equator in temperatures never before reached on the earth’s surface. But the poles, although hotter than before, were still cold enough to create a temperature difference from the equator, and that vast difference in temperature was enough to create hurricanes, speedy winds with devastating results. The ground above was a mess, with only the strongest of human’s creations standing.
A few people had clearance to surface to the ground above, for maintenance of the communication systems, the only machines operating at ground level, necessary for our communication with other remaining colonies. All those colonies spread around the world strived to create the kind of civilization existed before. Those were the ones still remembering the influence they had back then, the power.
The survival of the fitness was number one rule, nowadays. There was no meaning for ownership, since you never had something under your possession for too long. There was always someone, bigger, stronger, smarter to take your items, sooner or later.
That was one of the reasons we always carry stones in our pockets, for protection. Small enough not to restrain us in our flee, but big enough to inflict damage when it was necessary. We always moved in groups. The safety provided by numbers, by people you trusted was one of the factors that catalyzed the formation of groups.
Things were far from good, especially for older people who had known the sensation of the sky above their heads. They were under pressure, of an unknown kind to the ones born in the tunnels, they were alone, lost. The few ones still remaining.
Every day the population of the colony decreased, not by illness, but mostly from suicides and sudden bursts of violence, that ended up in a blood bath. The ones responsible for those actions were the old ones, the fossils of the ground above, the “grounders”.
I was just 15 years old by the time it started. My assignment was to monitor and service the communication center. I was one of the the few people, that had special training and special protected armor that could overcome the hardness of the winds above, an armor weight more than a ton, that could be operated with electric power for its movement. Only small children could operate those machines, since only undersized people could fit into that robotic armor. Once in a week or when malfunction was reported, I was away from the security of the underground. Into the void, that always brought me nausea. Because of the winds the visibility was reduced to no more than a few steps away. The exit point had been designed to be no more than that distance away from the machines.
Days passed by, routine faded the sensation of time. Our time in this superior position was almost at the end, we could no longer be of the ones wearing the budge of maintenance, with the armor engraved on it. Soon we were going to stop being untouchable, our marks would be passed down to younger ones…but we didn’t care. At least we would be away from the void that swarmed above. The horrible twilight of the morning or the deepest darkness of the night. Even in the deepest caves there were some light to lighten the path so that none would get lost

It was that time that I realized the unthinkable, i can remember that much, when my...when our expectation for the future altered.
As I was above, doing the week’s inspection, I spotted, far away, something that seemed to me as a ray of light breaking through the dust. Never again for decades had anyone seen the sun that should be somewhere there. I could never believe what I saw, and certainly I would had ignored it. Next week I had the night shift. And the week after nothing happened out of the ordinary to recall the previous incident. After two months I had forgotten all about that incident. As I was above, doing what I had to do, I looked over from small window in the direction where the sky should be. I was lucky cause I was not looking for it. Once again the manifestation of he improbable was up ahead. It was there a faint passage of pure light through the innumerable particles of dust , but it was there, I was astounded, it was mine, and I would never share it with no one. I counted the days, the nights when I could be above, when one of those rays would illuminate me. It took my a while to ask the question, to wonder what could produce this magnificent effect. I never was a bright one, so I didn't care. But, one day while I was above trying to finish the task before me, looking over for the light, it came to me the answer I was looking for. As I was looking at the stream of light, memories of old teachings filled my thoughts, about the harsh climate of the air above, of the speedy winds carrying tones of dust, and more. And then I knew, I knew what I was seeing. This manifestation, could mean only one thing. The winds were breaking up, wind's velocity was dropping enough, for the dust to settle on the ground after decades.

I had to test it. I had to know if winds were as dangerous as described by the tales of people of the old times.

When my turn came up I grubbed one of the rats swarming the place underground, strapped it to my armor and surfaced. I finished my routine and I descended back to the familiar moist, to see the results of my experiment. I was astounded, the rat had suffered great damage, but was still alive. Not for long anyway, cause a couple of hours latter was dead...

I didn’t know what to do with the information, as I was reviewing the results of the test, the observation of the past months, the tales, the facts, the science, something from deep inside me came to feel me up, and I started to smile, it was a discreet twitch of the lips, it was for the first time in my life the sensation of hope, the one feeling forgotten.

Every time i ascended a guinea pig would face the wind for me. Would let me know...
...would let me know of what? What I was thinking, what was the point of these actions...I could not thing straight. But, I knew that this battle inside me had a reason. I knew that it was time for me to ascend to the surface. And this thought, this belief was far from the teachings of our world. The surface, the air above was forbidden. But, all the tests were successful and a hard layer of protective clothes were enough to diminish the effects of the harsh winds. Animals strapped with thick clothes could survive for more than an hour, without even a scratch. A full helmet and goggles, and filters for my nose, mouth ears to protect them from the vicious dust, those were enough to protect me.
But by the time I felt ready for the task, I had lost my permission to use the armors,. So even if I wanted to get out, the only way would be without the safety of 10 cm metal. There was no other way. I wanted to fell the air.
I studied old maps of the area not that I would ever leave the spot, but to be able to imagine the area around me.

...the time had come. I strapped myself in old clothes, I could get my hands on, fixed a metal helmet, took gloves, boots, goggles, anything I could get my hands on. The docking station was empty as it always was. No one would ever come near the last frontier of the caves, if it was not necessary. Pressed the big red button and the hatch opened with a hiss. The wind was fierce, from the smallest cracks was pouring a significant amount of dust into the station. But I was OK. The hatch was almost half open but I closed it immediately. I felt as light as a feather, the wind almost got me of the ground. I need to be heavier. I grubbed my old coat and filed once more its pockets with stones. This time with large ones, heavy stones, even scrap metal. When I felt heavy enough I pushed the red button and waited for the hatch to reopen. This time was even better. I felt my feet firmly close to the ground. I didn't feel anypain, or dysphoria, as it was expected. I could even breath right, although without the mask I would have choked to death from the dust.
And for the first time I could breath fresh air, dry air. I looked up the twilight was there. I closed the hatch behind me. I could not afford for anyone to find me out here in the open, for as long as it lasted I wanted this only for me.

I was happy and I knew that the time of our resurface had come. We waited long enough in the darkness, suffered from the errors of the past.