chapter i.
Up early again, Irene stared out over the shining city as the sun rose, throwing rays of light out onto the towering silver buildings. All was quiet around her, the city was silent with slumber. She herself was sitting in a window seat, still in her nightclothes. Her dirty blonde hair was tossed up all over her head, and the light in her eyes was unmistakable. Irene was going to talk to Ben.
Ben. Ah, how sweet the word sounded inside her head! Smiling in spite of herself, Irene went to go get ready for her classes, beginning by showering. She thought that it was stupid, living in such an old building that there were still showers. None of her classmates had them, because the technology was outdated. They all used InstaClensers. Step into the stall, press a few buttons, and in a few seconds, you'll come out, squeaky clean.
After placing her hand on the electric current dryer that sent a low-voltage jolt through her body, evaporating all the water and leaving her hair and skin dry; Irene pulled one of the many identical dresses she owned. The feeling of the silky cloth flowing over her knees made her smile, and the scent of lilacs washed over her. For some strange reason, Irene's dresses always smelled like lilac, which had become a very comforting and familiar thing to her. Slipping into simple white flats and pulling her hair into a braid down her right shoulder, she trotted into the kitchen, where a push of a rubbery button later, her food appeared. Shoveling down the tasteless mass, Irene hurried to finish so that she could get outside.
Outside.
The only place she felt free. Inside, the young girl felt tethered, trapped, held onto the earth by the sheer will of others. The bonds of the government and their laws held her fast. Ah, but outside, all that open space! Although she only saw them once, she knew they were out there. Stars. When the power had failed during a rebel attack, they had smiled down on her, beckoning her to them.
Her parents awoke, doing their daily morning routine, and Irene sat in her bedroom, watching the city come to life. The people, they were what roused it from its slumber. Without them, what was the city? Cold steel trying to mimic the mighty mountains that surrounded it. Visitny was nothing without its inhabitants. Opening the unshatterable glass windows that surrounded her seat, Irene sat on the sill, feet dangling out into nothingness. Well, there was a ledge some ten feet below her, but the girl suspected that it wouldn't hold her weight, and wasn't willing to try something so stupid. Knowing her mother would be upset with her for trying something adventurous, Irene slunk back inside her room, leaving the windows open.
It had rained the night before, she could tell from the general freshness and rebirth the air seemed to radiate. As Irene walked to school, she couldn't help but notice that the sun was shining brightly, despite the clouds that had invaded its sky during the dark hours. The light glistened off the buildings in a blinding fashion, casting dancing spots to worm their way through the full canopies of the trees.
Striding into the school building, Irene couldn't help but shiver as the cool shadow and scent of cleaning products washed over her. It was always too chilly in the school for her taste, though she knew that the temperature was calculated –like everything else- to be the perfect fit. The day passed rapidly, Irene’s mind was elsewhere and she hardly paid any attention to her lessons. History went by fleetingly, as if afraid of her. Chemistry and Biology ran through with hardly a backwards glance. Thinking of Ben the entire time. Then sauntered in Physical Training, and lunch in the blink of an eye, followed by Reading and Language Comprehension. And bringing up the rear was Algebra, dragging its feet as the last class of the day before Irene would see Ben.
Not even attempting to hide her joyous smile, Irene practically skipped on her way back to her house. Her parents weren't home yet; they still went to their Occupations for another four hours, giving the young girl plenty of time to visit Ben. Throwing down her book bag in her room, Irene hastily checked the time as she re-braided her honey-toned hair. Three-thirty in the afternoon. Perfect, she still had plenty of time – meaning she wouldn't have to run down to Ben’s place. Leaving a note on the kitchen table, Irene let her parents know that she was going for a walk. They wouldn't object, Visitny was a very safe place for a stroll.
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That smile. Ah, how that smile could light up the world! Sitting with Ben, entwined within the roots of an old oak tree, surrounded by the sights and smells of the forest around them. The two sat close together, though not touching, and talking. Ben. A dirty, disheveled boy of eight years old with a scrawny body, brown puppy-dog eyes. His skin was pale, but caked with dirt and dust over his smattering of freckles. The boy's hair was long, black, messy, and leaves made themselves at home in his dark tresses. Ben was a child of the forest, and his tattered clothing made that apparent. Stiff brown pants and a shirt, clean, but well worn and smelling like the earth. Like Irene, Ben was a hopeless dreamer, though Irene thought he had it all, and Ben thought she had it all. Surprisingly, they were very close friends, despite all of their differences.
Two similar children from two startlingly different worlds.
Ben lived alone, and as they talked, Irene's usual fears of being discovered to have startlingly different ideas disappeared. With Ben, she felt at home and free. Like she was reborn and actually had a future of her own design ahead of her. Even though he was younger than her, Ben often proposed very intelligent topics. After all, what is age? Just a clever way for humans to see how much time they have left, how mortal they are. That afternoon, the young boy's first words were not anything connecting to smarts, but instead connecting to Irene and how she was.
"Do your 'rents know you're here?"
"Of course they know, Ben, what d'you think I am, some sort of hoodlum?" Irene answered, tousling Ben's dark hair. Pushing away her hand, Ben smiled.
"Great, I want to show you something new I found," and with that, he scrambled over the roots of the tree into a small door nestled at the base of the tree. Ben emerged a short while later clutching something small and wriggly. Something alive. Irene backed away in fear and wonder. The creature was no larger than Ben’s hands pressed together, and it mewed pitifully as it squirmed in the boy’s arms. Approaching the two, Irene tentatively stroked it with a finger. The little body radiated heat and was soft, almost downy.
“What is it?” Irene asked, taking it from him gently.
“No clue. I checked some of my books, only one gave any clue as to what it is. The book called it a ‘cat,’ and in the book the ‘cat’ is the beloved companion to the main character,” Ben shrugged, handing over the cat without a qualm.
“So is it a boy or girl?”
“How should I know, Irene? I think she’s a girl, because. . . I dunno. She just seems like one. I call her Oliver though,” Ben scurried back into his “house” and came back with the book, thumbing through the moth-eaten pages. Irene cooed at Oliver, who simply nosed her way into the girl’s elbow, where she curled up. Eyes closed, her chest began to vibrate and Irene looked up at Ben, eyes wide.
“Is that supposed to happen?” She asked frantically, as the boy’s brow furrowed.
“Um, yea. She’s done it a few times before and she’s always fine afterwards. I noticed she only does it when she’s happy. I think its Oliver’s way of smiling at us,” Ben muttered quickly, and Irene could practically see the wheels in his head rotating.
“So, Oliver, huh? Where’d you get that name from?” Irene nudged Ben’s bare foot with her own, careful not to squash his toes. Ben poked her back and replied, blushing slightly,
“It was a favorite character of mine when I was little . . . in a book.” Ben scratched his head. Irene was shocked; he never shared anything from his past. “My mum used to read it to me. All the time, in fact,” he added.
“Well I always read books to myself!” Irene said in a mock-imperial voice. “I was born reading!” She stuck her tongue out at him. Ben flicked a piece of bark in her direction, laughing.
“I bet you did,” He replied, “I always knew there was something off about you! Now I know!”
“Oh shut up, Forest Boy!” Irene giggled, standing up. Ben, realizing what was coming, shrieked and fell over backwards. “ARRRGGG!” Irene growled, peering over the root. Ben lay in the leaves, laughing manically and writhing around. Placing Oliver inside his house, she let him get up and run a bit before giving chase. They ran around for the duration of an afternoon, time passing in childish joy.
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When Irene finally made her way home, the sun was sinking into the sky. Walking through the forest bathed in fiery orange light, well, who wouldn't feel empowered by that? She skipped merrily through the gate into the city, her “signature print” being read by a computer that powered the iron-wrought doors. Since she belonged in the city, Irene was admitted without a snag, and walked the ten minutes or so down to her living quarters.
As she shot up in the clear elevator, Irene brushed off the leaves that clung loosely to her clothes and hair. When she stepped out, Irene was free of any evidence that she had been outside the city at all –excepting her memories. She shuffled down the soft carpeted hallway, running her hand along the wall. Nearing her own home, the smell of her mother’s cooking filled the hallway. It was a dreamy scent, full of exotic spices and rich, meaty aromas. Before her hand could even grasp the doorknob, her father was there opening the door. He scooped Irene up over his shoulder, and she squealed happily as he ran into the kitchen with her, closing the door behind them. Setting Irene down on the livingroom couch, he tickled her belly until her mother came out of the kitchen. Tapping James on the shoulder with a towel, she scolded him gently.
“Hey, you were supposed to be cutting up the peppers, mister! Get back in the kitchen, goof!”
“Oh hush, am I not allowed to spend some time with my daughter?”
“No! Cut up the peppers!” Sophia growled in mock anger. As her husband walked back towards the kitchen, she whacked him on the rear end with the towel. James immediately whipped around and ran at her, arms stretched in front of him. Sophia shrieked, smile wide on her face, and grabbed her skirt in order to trot around the couch. James proceeded to chase her into the kitchen where they circled each other around the table. Irene, still laughing hysterically from being tickled, got up and walked down to her room.
The window was still open, and the room smelled like fresh air. A bird twittered on her windowsill, but fled once she took a step towards it. It was cooling off outside, but the heat was on in the building. Her arms erupting into gooseflesh, Irene closed the window as a particularly chilly blast of air came through. Shivering slightly, but still content, Irene flung herself back onto her bed, tossing her shoes off into the corner. Rolling over and curling up, Irene closed her eyes for a moment, counting on her mother to wake her up for dinner.
She could tell that she had slept too long from the start. When Irene opened her eyes again, it was morning. Not to mention that her stomach was growling painfully. As she sat up groggily, it gave another lurching gurgle. Saturday. Visitny's day off.
w.i.p
