La-Bastille

Prologue - Behind closed eyes

Prologue – Behind closed eyes

What if one day a snake consumes its tail? What then will become of it? Will it simply disappear from existence? And what if time were to eat itself, hmm? What then will become of us? Two sides of the same coin. Tick…tock…tick…tock…think.

—Cardinal Neumann, La Bastille 2089 AP

“Grandma, tell me that story again about Time.”

“Oh, my dear boy, that story is as old as time itself.”

“I know, but I want to hear it again. And please wear your robe. It’s much too cold outside. Brrr…it’s freezing. The temperature inside our house is at ten degrees. I can only imagine how much colder it is outside…brrr…cold.”

“There, there now. No need to lecture your Grams. I’m much too old for your sermon. Cardinal Neumann’s homily is more than enough to steel my spine, thank you very much. There. I’m wearing my robe, you happy?”

“Not quite. Oh, here Grams…wear your Sunday hat.”

“We’re just going out to buy some apples, dear child. No need to look too pretentious. I don’t like pretentious, ugh.

The boy irons the lapel of his cream-colored coat, “Can you walk?” he asks, concerned, and then pulls a red cane slotted inside the umbrella rack, “Your cane.”

“Thank you, child,” the old woman pets the boy’s head then leans down to kiss his hair, “Go on,” her left hand is on the boy’s shoulder while her right wields the cane, and together they lock the door to their house as they walk outside to greet a bright Sunday morning.

The boy punches in an alpha-numeric lock on the sliding panel of the door, “Are we going to walk, Grams?”

“Yes.”

The boy sulks, “Aww...can’t we just fly in the sky tram?”

“I get airsick riding one of those things, you know that.”

“Awwwww…no fair. I’m the only one in class who hasn’t ridden the sky tram.”

The old woman gazes above her, where interconnected tubes of clear glass run through the skies like steel snakes, housing the sky trams, one of many ways to get around the high-altitude city of La Bastille, “Hmm…I remember when I was younger. Life was so much easier back then.”

The two start walking, waving their good mornings to all their neighbors who are tending to what little patch of greenery they have in front of their two-story white houses, “Back when you were ten, Grams?” the boy asks, both looking ahead and peering glances at his grandma.

“Yes…back when I was ten years old…and that was what? Back in…um…1999?”

The boy does the math in his head, “Yes Grams. Wait. 2089 minus 1999 is 90. And you’re now a hundred years old. So yeah, 90 years ago is 1999. Back when you were ten years old—!”

The old woman smiles, “Nice to know that you can do your math,” she tousles the boy’s hair, “Studying at the Academy isn’t cheap, you know. Hmm…1999…fun times. Back then there was such a thing as being seasick for riding those big ships…ooh those were the good times…now that…that’s what’s cool. But now…now there’s all these sky trams,” she scoffs, “Just looking at them makes me airsick. Ugh. What has this world come to?” she shakes her head blithely as they near the town square, where a fair is happening with booths, stalls, and an open market for the people of La Bastille.

“Um, Grams, aren’t we going to Le Vestibule for Cardinal Neumann’s blessing?”

The old woman scoffs, “Heh, let him age. I’m 100 years old and all my bones are creaking all over the place. Dying is the least of my worries,” she waves her hand dismissively, “Aah…will you look at these apples. They are as red as blood itself,” she takes a succulent bite, “Hmm…as red as blood, and as sweet as sin,” she examines the assortment of fresh fruits and starts filling her basket.

“Grandma, let me hold the basket. You’re much too old to be carrying stuff, you know,” the boy says, “What about that story? Come on Grams…” he pouts and the old woman laughs.

“That will be 120 Cids,” the vendor smiles while holding out the scanning apparatus. The old woman lifts her eyelids to have her eyes scanned, “There we go. Thank you for your business.”

The old woman rolls her eyes, “I remember when paper bills were all the rage back in my day. Then in my twenties those credit cards became popular, which I still believe is the main cause of poverty. And then the internet made everything online. People no longer went out to shop and just did everything at home, doing that disgusting online shopping with points for credits. Ugh. And now…now this! This despicable invasion of privacy! Getting a retinal scan. Ugh. What has this world come to?” she shakes her head in mock disgust and the vendor laughs scratching his head in amusement.

“Stop complaining, Grams. Hmm…this apple is really sweet. Now, how about you tell me that story about Time?” the boy is persistent as they take a seat in one of the benches circling the fountain in the middle of the fair, “Will I grow as old as you if I keep praying to Cardinal Neumann?”

“Oh, trust me, you will, little boy, you will. I’m as old as Cardinal Neumann. He has secrets he doesn’t want people to know,” the old woman pulls a mischievous smile, “You know, age is but a number, my dear. Age is a machination of time. A work of mischief, timing, and fate.”

The boy is wide-eyed and all-ears as he bites into his red apple, listening to his grandma, “In our wickedness, we have broken the commandments. The gods have forsaken those who live in La Purge, down below,” she ruffles the boy’s brown hair, “We should get you a haircut soon, my dear, you’re starting to look like a girl,” the young boy sulks and the old woman chortles, “Smile, my little boy. A frown is a thief. It steals your youthful glow. Now, where was I? Oh yes. Here…here in La Bastille, in the skylines…we are blessed. And as long as we keep our affairs separate from those who live down below, in La Purge, then nothing should go wrong.”

“Why are they below us? Can’t they live up here?”

“Sorry, love, they can’t. The gods have damned those stationed below us. And that is why there are more than a hundred floors separating us from their world.”

“Did they do something bad?”

“Not they. Just one. Just one.”

“Is that one person a bad person?”

“You ask too many questions, dear.”

“Hmph…tell me the story ‘bout true love.”

The old woman smiles and looks to the clouds which are so low she can almost touch them, “The only thing that can beat time is love. Love is eternal. It’s infinite. It has no end. Time is a b***h if you ask me. But love…love is different. She is forever kind.”

The boy offers an apple but the old woman refuses, “Love is all around us. But true love…oh ho ho, true love is different. True love is what’s going to turn back the hands of time, my dear. Even Cardinal Neumann knows that,” she pauses and takes a moment to appreciate her surroundings, looking at all the love around her, painted in the faces of every man, woman, and child…smiling as they enjoy the ethereal and futuristic beauty of La Bastille.

“Oh no! Grams! Someone took my apple—!”

In a flash, a stray young boy wearing tattered clothes vaults to a sprint holding an apple to his chest, scurrying to find a safe hiding place. Security is alerted of the petty thievery almost instantly and they spread out to pursue the young pickpocket.

The young boy is a commoner. He wears a hooded vestment made of sack, a scantily-clad outfit that covers too little of his body. Security would not have reacted the way they did if not for the boy being a resident of La Purge, the city down below.

The armed guards radio a breach in security as they chase after the young reprobate. The boy is heaving ragged breaths as he skirts an alleyway and hits a crate. He tumbles and twists his ankle, but he quickly recovers, although walking with difficulty.

“Freeze! You are in direct violation of the tenets of La Bastille. Drop to your knees—!”

Wide-eyed and in shock, the boy backs away slowly, holding the apple close to his heart like it’s a lifeline. With his gun drawn, the officer eyes the stray thief who walks back slowly, “Pull back your hood. I want to see your face,” the man orders.

The boy reveals his face but does not make eye contact. The armed guard walks closer then tilts the boy’s head by the chin using the tip of his gun, “You’re pretty. Let’s see those eyes.”

Shaking, the boy slowly looks up, lifting his gaze into the eyes of his captor. The armed guard examines the boy, eyeing him intensely as his attention makes a beeline to the exposed leg, “Yours is a body that many a man will want to f**k. Tell me, young boy, why are you alone?” he menaces.

The young boy spits in the face of the brute and in a fit of rage the armed guard retaliates by backhanding him hard across the face, making the poor lad hit his head against the wall before falling down. The officer spits, “And to think I was about to let you off easy,” he grits his teeth, “I change my mind. We’ll have some fun, little boy…come here!” he grabs the kid by the hair and slams him to the ground, pulling each arm behind his back while positioning himself behind him. The boy lets out a scream but the man quickly covers his mouth, “You know what happens to little boys like you?” he menaces, pulling down his zipper, “They get punished…from behind,” he is about to perform his deed when he feels something, “What the…” he wipes his nose and sees blood, “F-fuck.”

The man reels back, warmth flowing from his nose, “W-what are you doing?” he drops to his knees as the boy nears him. In his fear, the only thing he sees are colored eyes…one blue and one green. The boy dips a finger to the man’s forehead and the man convulses. The last thing the man sees in his last breath of life are the boy’s eyes…and they are red.