By: G.S. Spence
INTRODUCTION
The growling of my stomach drowns out my thoughts. I can't help but feel the twisting and turning of my stomach inside of my body begging me for an ounce of food. Our portions are getting smaller and smaller over the years. The leaders of our home say it’s nothing to worry about, just a temporary change. I’ve heard that before. I don’t know how much longer this can last before someone, or many, start to retaliate. That level of violence could look like something I've only read about in books. I can confidently assume it wouldn't end with all of us fed, though. I would sneak a little extra food for my family, but we’re not allowed above the surface. They grow the food for us up there, but only the guarding officers are allowed outside. They say it’s too dangerous.
It’s said that after the Great Flood, the planet’s land was drowned out and uninhabitable, so our people moved out to sea. It’s far too hot above the surface to live is what they told us. So almost a century ago, the elders built us a thriving civilization under the waves. My grandma liked to call this place the upside-down snow globe. When I was younger, she tried to explain what snow was, but it never really made sense to me. But here, everything we could ever need is in our underwater bubble of a society, except for our food supply that grows just above the surface.
Over the years, I’ve watched as our rations of food become smaller and smaller. Our people look weaker than I remember them growing up. Our leaders tell us that as the seasons change, it's harder to grow and maintain our food production and that we must adapt to this change or else we will be cast out. Everyone seems to believe them, but for some reason I cannot find a single bone in my body that trusts them. I’ve tried asking my parents about what Grandma told me, trying to come up with some explanation as to how we got here and why the people before us let our world turn to destruction. My father says I've been reading too many dystopian books in our old run-down library. It just astounds me that humans wrote books about what they saw coming but didn't do anything to stop it. How could we be so blind?
CHAPTER ONE
What are you reading?”
I look up from my book to see my best friend Matoli standing in
front of me, peering over my book. For all the years we’ve known
each other, basically our whole lives, he never fails to interrupt my reading. “The Fifth Wave,” I reply.
“Sounds boring to me,” he remarks.
“Any book is boring to you.”
Normally he’d pick on me right back, but Matoli seems a little distracted today. His grandmother has been having health problems lately, and I don’t think it's a coincidence that it started when they cut back on our portion sizes. “How’s Grandma Viora doing?” I ask gently.
“Not much better. Grandma refuses to go to the doctor. She says her body is too weak to get out of bed,” he sighs.
For a normally happy-go-lucky kind of guy, it’s strange to watch as Matoli’s face falls. “I'm so sorry, Mat. I wish there was something we could do to help,” I say, trying to comfort him.
“I do too,” he says hopelessly.
I realize our helplessness has gone on long enough. I can feel the sadness and anger mixing and flowing through my mind and body. They are lying to us about the food, I just know it. If I could just get to the surface, I could gather enough food to bring down to Matoli’s family and mine. It would be dangerous, I could be exiled, but something has to change. It’s a risk I'm willing to take for the health and survival of his family and mine.
“Well, I'll see you later, Casania.” Matoli gives a little wave and walks away. “Yeah, you too. Hope Grandma Viora feels better soon,” I smile.
As soon as he turns the corner out of sight, I begin to plan. I've been watching the guards for days. I know they switch posts every five hours and that there's about a ten minute break between one guard leaving and the next one arriving. I’ll have to make my move first thing in the morning, right at 5:00.
*****
I'm awoken by a sudden sharp noise. I realize it's my alarm clock: 4:50 am.
CHAPTER TWO
I can't believe I’m doing this. If I’m caught I will be in so much trouble. My family could be punished or maybe even exiled for doing this. Why am I so stupid? This is crazy! I can’t steal from my own colony, I'd be a thief. Father says there's only two kinds of people in this world he cannot stand: liars and thieves. And I’m about to be both.
“STOP!” I uncontrollably shout to myself to drive away my racing thoughts, but my voice echoes down the dark chamber from which I just walked. I panic for a second, expecting to see someone appear to apprehend me. When no one appears, I take a deep breath. There's no going back now, not without food.
At the end of the tunnel chamber, there's a large metal ladder whose rungs climb to meet a metal submarine door. I'm starting to second guess myself. Hunger can make people do stupid things. My heart is racing and my head is pounding so much I fear it might burst. My mind flashes back to Grandma Viora and the many others like her, sick and starving, and I’m reminded why I need to do this.
I start to climb the ladder. The cold of the metal rungs pierces through my hands and droplets of water drip down from higher rungs and onto my face. Some of the ocean water must have seeped through the latch door. I've never touched the ocean before; I've never even seen it. I wonder if it will be the same beautiful, vast, moving waves of blue that I have always dreamt it would be.
I reach the top of the ladder where the latch door is directly above me. The latch from the inside is a circular shape that I have to spin to open. I hold onto the ladder with my left hand while rotating the latch with my right. I'm struggling to turn the latch all the way, as the door is excruciatingly heavy. At last I hear a sort of pop, like the seal of air between the outside world and the air down here just met.
With all my strength, I push up on the door until it starts to open. I’m blinded by the faint white-yellow light seeping in. I realize I've been holding my breath since the latch popped. Should I breathe in?
I grab onto the floor of the world outside of my home and use my arms to push myself up. I'm standing. I'm breathing. I'm not dead.
Yet.
I'm inside a building of white plastic with clear windows. I’ve read about this somewhere. I think it’s called a greenhouse. There’s plants everywhere, all over the ground and on top of raised tables. There’s more than enough to feed everyone, which makes me wonder why they say our food is in such short supply. As I look around, I see a door at the end of the greenhouse.
“Might as well,” I say to myself as I walk toward it.
I reach for the door handle and turn it until the door creaks open. My eyes widen as I see a large, vast, blue liquid in front of me. I take a step closer and out onto a metal platform. I look around to discover the greenhouse is in the center of a circular metal roof. I see water all around the edge of this roof that I'm standing on. My eyes gloss across the horizon to notice that there's nothing out here but the ocean, sun, sky, plants, and me.
As the awe of everything around me begins to fade a little, I feel the heat starting to creep up on me. I begin to sweat as I go back into the greenhouse and pick a cucumber off of a vine that's climbing up the side of the wall. I begin to gather a variety of vegetables in my arms and take a few bites of some I've never tried before. I reach for a plump tomato on the vine but I notice my vision becoming blurry. I'm starting to feel lightheaded. I need water.
I gently set my produce down and walk outside to the edge of the roof. I go to kneel down, but the heat of the metal in the sun burns my legs. I jump back up and feel my head pounding. This time I carefully bend down, ensuring I don’t touch the metal, and cup my hands together. I reach down to scoop up some water and– “Stop!”
I turn around to see Matoli standing in the doorway.
“Are you crazy?” he shouts.
My face twists into confusion. “How did you get up here?” I question. “Must be the same way you did,” he replies snarkily.
I can’t believe he followed me up here!
“What are you even doing? You must have lost your mind coming up to the surface!” he yells, his face starting to turn as bright as the plump tomato I found in the greenhouse.
“Matoli, I'm trying to help! Our families need food.”
“I know, but why didn't you even tell me? You left without so much as a note. This is seriously dangerous, Cas.”
“I just didn’t think about it. I knew I had to come here, and soon. It's becoming harder and harder to live down there, and our people need help.”
There’s a moment of silence. While I can tell he’s still furious with me, I know he understands. He gives me a little nod and look of understanding. He steps out to the edge of the water with me and we stand in silence for a long time, staring out at the endless blue. The shade of blue changes yet blends together beautifully at the horizon where the ocean and sky meet. I'm oddly relaxed in an indescribable way. Matoli breaks the silence and whispers, “I didn't expect it to be this…vast.” The break in the silence brings me back to why we’re here in the first place. “We should probably collect the food now and get back,” I say, but part of me never wants to leave this place. “There are people waiting for our help.” Matoli nods in agreement.
*****
We say goodbye to the endless blue of the ocean and enter the greenhouse. I pull a few bags out of my pockets and begin carefully stuffing the bags with as much food as they can fit. Matoli stacks the food in his arms to create a meticulously constructed pile. I laugh while watching him attempt to balance his growing mountain of produce.
After quite some time picking produce, an alarm goes off on my watch: the next guard change.
“Time to go,” I say.
Matoli and I make our way over to the hatch, and I bend down to put my ear to the metal. I can hear the faint sound of footsteps fading as I imagine the guard walking away from their post. Now is our chance.
I set aside my produce bags and put my hands on the wheel to turn it. It doesn't budge. I readjust my grip and try again. Nothing. I grimace as I put all my strength into turning this stupid wheel, but nothing happens.
Matoli puts down his food pile to help me. We both grab the wheel and try to spin it with all our might but no luck. We give it a couple more tries but my hands start to
slip. We slowly take our hands off the wheel and look at each other, fear-stricken. We're trapped.
CHAPTER THREE
After many futile attempts to open the hatch, Matoli and I collapse on the ground of the greenhouse, thoroughly exhausted. My body is drenched in sweat and a few tears. I can feel the heat fogging my brain and blurring my vision to the point where I can only see some colored blobs. My head throbs; each pulse feels as though it’s banging into my skull. My tongue mimics sandpaper and I can only think of water.
Matoli must be thinking the same thing because he slowly stands up to cup his hands under the drip irrigation system of a raised bed. He waits patiently for a few minutes, but the pipes must be as dry as our mouths because nothing comes out. His knees weak from standing, he slowly crumbles back down onto the ground.
He looks over at me and I look at him. He has that same helpless look in his eyes, but this time there’s nothing I can do. I watch as his eyes slowly close, and mine follow suit until I’m left in darkness.
*****
My body feels light and comfortably warm. I can feel the sun on my face, but it doesn’t burn. I sit up, slowly open my eyes, and squint in the brightness all around me. It's absolutely beautiful here. I want to blink but I’m scared if I do, this will all fade away like a dream. Is this really here? Am I actually seeing the things I've always read about in books? This place feels like how I’d always imagined the earth in its glory. I’m overwhelmed with an array of bright colors all around. There's so much green everywhere, more than I’ve ever seen in my lifetime. The foliage is rich with plants and food of all colors and shapes.
I turn to see Matoli rubbing his eyes and taking in this new heavenly world around us. We both stand and look at each other in awe but somehow without a hint of worry behind our eyes. It’s as if we are made to be here.
Almost like an instinct, we find a wooden pathway up ahead and begin to follow it. Within a few steps, we are peacefully greeted by many people coming down the path to meet us. They have a tenderness about them as they ask us where we came from, as if they’ve been expecting us all along. All I can think to respond is, “From under the waves.”
They offer us food, water, and shelter, insisting we try all of their local produce. Matoli gladly takes them up on the offer and tries all their food. After I feel like I’ve regained my strength, my curiosity gets the best of me and I begin to wander. I come to discover the land is an island. The island has water irrigation systems, diverse crop fields inside of and on the edges of the forests, and animals roaming everywhere. I’ve never seen most of these animals before. There are fruit trees and bushes, herbs, and plenty of insects. I'm amazed at this whole new world and the beauty of its interweaving complexity. I wish my family could see this. I wish they were here with me.
I return from my exploration and tell Matoli we need to find a way to get back to our families, but like me, he's wrestling with his own thoughts of staying here. “We can’t stay here, Mat, not without our family,” I say sternly.
“I know Cas, but there's got to be a better way. Are we really going to just walk away from this? Isn't this what you've always dreamed of? What we've all dreamed of?”
He's right, I thought. A home like this is all I’ve ever wanted. This place feels so natural, so right. But still, it doesn’t feel right to have this knowing that my family, my people, are suffering alone out in the sea.
“What if…what if we brought them here?” I wonder aloud. Matoli’s face scrunches up, confused. “Think about it: what if there was a way to move our globe to this place? We could share our technology with these people and they could teach us their ways, how to tend to the land and live in harmony with it, like humans used to do long ago. We could all live together!” I exclaim.
“How would we even get them here?” says Matoli. “We don’t even know where we are!”
“We can find a way to send them a message,” I respond confidently, trying to convince myself that this can really work.
We bring up the idea to some of the locals, and they wholeheartedly agree. They’ve been looking to share their ways and knowledge. Here, human connections are important and they seem to really care about one another.
“This is the way of the future,” an older local woman explains. “This is how we thrive. This is our path. But if we don’t share it, it is nothing.”
Although avoiding elaboration on their methods of passing on our message, the locals send out the invitation for our people to join them. They say they’ll let us know immediately if there are any updates.
We nod in gratitude, and Matoli and I make our way to the edge of the island to sit and look out at the water. We watch as the sun falls in the sky and begins to drop under the horizon. The sky changes from pale blue to shades of orange, yellow, and pink. It’s as if someone painted the sky and let it drip down onto the rippling water beneath. The sun almost completely dips under the horizon and Matoli begins to panic. “Wait, where is it going? The sun is disappearing! It’s almost gone!” I look at the reflection of the sunset in his eyes and smile. “Don’t worry, it’ll come back. The earth knows what it’s doing.”
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