Saturday, October 27, 2012

A Glass Leaf

was an interesting image that I thought of one day a few weeks ago when autumn was still beautiful instead of blustery, so I decided to write something about it.

This is my first real creative piece in a while. I wrote this at two distinct time periods, each with a very different emotion in mind that compelled me to pick up my pen (keyboard...?). See if you can spot the discontinuity!

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The sun hazily crept over the mountains to the east, casting a faint orange glow on the now-abandoned monstrosities of concrete that once towered over the concrete undergrowth that used to bustle with the activity of a thousand passing vehicles per second. These towers once used to be capped with seamless windows that would reflect the light of the rising sun and would mimic its orange hue in the dawn, and would reflect the artificially enhanced moonlight in the night so that the buildings would always be shining. Atop each one of these buildings was the insignia of a once-fearful conglomerate.

Now, some windows were stained by decades of unchecked dirty rain. Others were fragmented, and a few select others had been covered with seagull feces, accumulated back in the time when the city still had signs of animal life. Now the buildings were enshrouded in a permanent haze, caused by the eternally running factories in the north of the valley.

The only superficial surfaces in the city off which sunlight still reflected were the statues commemorating the various leaders of the once-fearful conglomerate, each statue located at the end of a pier. The city used to be a major shipping center. The piers used to be covered with freight containers stacked like Lego blocks. Today, decades after the last freight container was burned and thrown into the ocean, the statues basked in the morning sunlight as they had every past morning for some years, their revelry shared by a man, who was sitting on a bench at the end of pier 19.

The man had arrived here about thirty minutes ago. He was the only human to have moved into the city for nearly twenty-five years, and every morning he had the same routine. He would wake up, wash himself, and then walk down three flights of stairs in his house to a cellar which was filled with nothing but boxes of sponge cakes, and took six nicely wrapped sponge cakes, which still looked edible even after having been put there by a resident before the revolution. Two of the sponge cakes would be thrown in the food extractor, a futuristic device the man brought over from his previous residence, and would make a glass of milk. Half of a sponge cake would go towards making butter. Three sponge cakes were processed into two pieces of multigrain toast. The man would eat the last half sponge cake on the way to the pier. 

While the food extractor was processing, making a sound akin to a metal pan that was being repeatedly bashed onto a person’s skull, the man would dress himself. He put on pair of faded brown shoes, a pair of finely tailored green pants, a blue cotton shirt, and if it was cold enough, a bright orange wool sweater. His outfit was completed by a dirty and stained grey overcoat, and his bowler hat, which had a neat blue trim on it. The man changed outfits every time it rained. Curiously enough, however, it had only rained one time since his arrival to the city, and that was on the day he found the glass leaf.

While walking back from the docks one morning, three weeks after the man had arrived to the city, it started to rain. The man, who was at that point about ten blocks from his home, started to run, knowing well the dangers of a sudden downpour. The rain was so dirty that it could be seen visibly boring holes into the concrete above, and tracing out lines, as if it were cutting paper, on the concrete below the man’s feet. The man heard the crumbling of a pillar ahead of him, and quickened his pace. His jogging turned into a sprint as he barely managed to avoid the crumbling of a pillar to his side, and the subsequent falling of a slab of concrete, which managed to scrape him on the back and dirty his jacket. The slab of concrete that fell revealed a slice of the sky which was as grey and volatile as the concrete that had fallen down.

After that close brush to death, the man saw a shiny object, perhaps the only object of some color around, being washed towards a gutter. His curiosity led him to reverse direction and run after the leaf. He picked it up right as it was about to be carried away to the lower layer. The leaf was an odd little creature; it had the consistency and weight of a typical maple leaf, but was so translucent and reflective that it had to be made of glass. The man picked up the leaf, and at that instant turned his head around and saw the crumbling of two parallel pillars. Then, he watched in fascination as a whole section of the highway above began to peel away from the concrete sky.

A minute after the dust from the collapse cleared, the man lay prostrated on the concrete floor, and clutching the glass leaf, he sent forth a huge cough that exuded some blood that stained his shoes. The rain stopped. The man now saw that the concrete section that fell from above had split into two near-perfect halves, each half buttressed by the fallen pillars, which had fallen almost in phase so that they were supported by each other and created an archway filled with light under the ruins of sudden destruction.

The man fashioned the glass leaf into a locket of some sort, and wore that instead of a tie from each day forth.

-
The sun, about thirty minutes high into the sky, had almost started to recede into the everlasting haze, so the man closed the book he was reading, and prepared to walk home. He was stopped by an unnatural presence to his left, and instinctively dropped the book and clutched his locket with both hands.

“Mighty fine day it will be, no? I’m not sure about you, well, maybe I can tell about you since you seem to be dressed like a multi-colour pig, but I adore the colour grey, and all of its venerable shades.”

The man was about to run, but then he saw out of the corner of his eye some spots of blood on the strangers’s grey shoes.

“Grey is such a fine, representative colour. Why do we need colour, when we can colour the world with shades of grey? I’m wearing all grey, and I dare say, my outfit looks better than your mismatched atrocity. Of course my jacket, my only jacket, was stained by the rain about nine months ago, but nobody looks at one’s back anyways.”

A smile emerged on the man’s face. The stranger laughed, and took out a cigar from his side pocket and lit it.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” said the man. “Nearly ten months! I had almost lost hope.”

“Hope comes in shades of grey, does it not?” replied the stranger.

“I much prefer the blinding white of light. Seems more hopeful. Maybe you haven’t spent that much time in this city, but looking at nothing but shades of grey for all except an hour of each day can get a little tedious, no?”

“Right! The day of the last rain! You followed the light didn’t you? How could I forget?”

“Time has stood still since then.”

“You really wish to get to the point!”

“Perhaps I grow tired of waiting, having to bear the burdens of a million sins.”

The stranger finished his cigar and threw it into the ocean. “Right, but see, you don’t know how much of a saviour you are! Really, if that old company was still in charge of things around here, you would have your own statue, and I bet you would go to that one each morning instead of the statue of your father!”

“How can one be called a savior after causing the permanent destruction of a city, and allowing two million people to suffer?”

“Simple fixes, all of them! This city has been erased from the maps for at least twenty-five years now, and humans can reproduce. All very simple fixes!”

“Right but…”

“And look, there are millions of people that would wish to meet their saviour. How many people you ask? Almost twenty-three million! If you do the math, a ten percent casualty rate is paltry compared to the behemoth you took down!”

“Look, I don’t think you quite understand what I’ve been going through. It’s not about the sacrifices others have made, mind you, people that I have absolutely no connection to. It’s about what you did to me. It’s about those three years of prodding and baiting me along a string of lies that would eventually ruin myself and the ones I loved.”

“You need to liven up. Would you like to exchange shirts, your coloured mess for mine?”

The man remained silent, but turned his head in pensive appreciation of the ocean.

“Okay, but amidst all your pity, do you understand the great lengths I have gone to find you? I have tirelessly searched every single continent of this globe, and finally in desperation, return to the place where it all started. It was the last place that I would expect any human to be, especially someone like you. And would you please stop staring at the ocean and look at your dear friend, who is now on the verge of death?”

The stranger also turned his head to the ocean. Together, they watched the waves. Silent, but also for the first time sharing a common appreciation for the things that brought them together so many years ago, such common and trivial things that had been marred by years of distrust, and decayed through years of neglect, just like the buildings around them.

“E.,” said the man, for the first time addressing the stranger by name, “I’m just here to appreciate what little is left of those memories, those memories I cherish so deeply. It’s just a shame that embedded with those memories also lie the those memories that were marred by the revolution, and all of its shameful consequences.”

“So you have warmed up slightly A.,” said E., also addressing his partner in conversation by his name, “Tell me, A., does this place have special significance for you?”

“Someone I knew once long ago would go to this precise spot, the only bench on all of the city’s piers, whenever he was in a state of angst. Watching the ships go about their business must have given him some contemplative solace. I guess for me instead of ships I watch the sunlight reflect off the waves.”

“Ah! A., I think I have found the reason why you feel so tied yet so pained by the ruins of this city. I’ll let you figure it out yourself, though.”

-

The sun had now completely disappeared into the sky as the two men sat in silence, surrounded by a fog reminiscent of a murky winter day.

“E.”

“Have you found out, A.?”

“I think so. I realize that the beliefs of the maddening crowd may sway my thoughts in the common direction, despite all of previous moral insistence. It has taken your presence and this glass leaf locket for me to realize that even when surrounded by the maelstrom of the corrupting crowd, I have to materialize what I truly believe in into a unique and tangible object, and I have to treasure all of those people who have stood out from the rest, and even if in silence, just appreciate the passing of time with these very special people.”

“Well said, A. Now, awake!”

-

The man realized that it was already close to high noon. Outside his apartment window, the cars were streaming down the highways, down the cliff into the downtown core, and further south, he could see the sunlight perfectly reflecting off of the glass windows of the office buildings, and towards the ocean, he could see the dock bustling with activity, and even further south, ships dotted the horizon. Upon focusing his vision back to what was directly outside his window, the man saw a glass leaf plastered on the window, blending almost seamlessly with the window itself. The glass leaf seemed familiar, but he was not completely sure why.






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