The unknown silhoutte

The lights the city fed were all so bright and colorful.

No man moved too far without a time on the metal rails. No woman went out without stepping on the station. No child played with little car toys for they did not knew what an automobile looked like. For the carless, restless, time consumed No-name City’s life relied on the trains.

This No-name city had no official name. For their neighbors up North, it was the Train City, as though the mountains blocked their view, the sound of the whistles, brakes and moving trains was ever present. The folks down the Southern called it the City of Lights, for they were modest and craved the night to delight themselves with the show that involved flashes of every color they had ever seen. Western neighbors named it the Retro Area, since they’ve seen their people’s fashion and architecture forever stucked in a slightly modern twist of what their great great great grandfathers called, the 90’s. And for the East, it was the Ever-dark City as the mighty sun could never reach it and a permanent night like shadow surrounded the place for as long as they knew.

But for its own inhabitants, the same way water was there, air was present and gravity existed, all the trains, the artificial lights, and the night were too familiar.The eldest never forgot that when they arrived all those years ago, every single luxury they had was already settled and working. So no one asked. No one wondered where the new train lines came, or how the new buildings became. For the nameless inhabitants only ever silently wondered about one thing:The emerald green pyramid with its eye shaped window and the man within.

The pyramid was the center of the nameless city. It stood higher than their tallest skyscraper and shined greener than any light they had seen. The whole structure was thick and solid. And only a single window shaped like an eye stood almost at the tip on one of its faces. Like the one in their antique “dollars”.

People wondered but often lost interest. Greed and envy had no place within them, for their luxurious lives payed themselves, any job could afford anything, so no one cared for what lay within. These walking perms dressed in flannels and tights and colored leather never worried about the pyramid, for everyone who ever did just vanished as fast as a new parking lot appeared. So no thought escaped their lips. But most had spent their time studying the green palace and been surprised when from time to time, the silhouette of a thin tall man appeared near the window. It was only the days when the thin tall man’s silhouette morphed into a small child’s shape when most of them looked away and left, only ever wondering if their minds played tricks on them, or perhaps the lights had damaged their perception.

The nameless crowd hopped on every train without doubts or suspicion. And their young eyes knew no distrust. For everyone trusts the man boy above.

*    *    *

INSIDE

I tap the eye shaped window lightly, watching as little droplets of rain fall downwards, as if they were racing each other. I look lazily at the streets that surround the pyramid. Everyone walks past it rapidly whilst only a few of the younger people stop and look up, trying to figure out if a man was actually behind the window. I smile slightly at them but they miss it and continue to walk. Perhaps one day I’ll wave, maybe I’ll open the window and poke my head out shouting greetings at everyone, invite them in and have some coffee or tea.... No, that won’t happen, even if I wanted it, they can’t know me or my...what if they found out about… I wave the worries away as I pull out my handkerchief to wipe some fresh sweat off my forehead. Silly me. They can’t and won’t be curious, they haven’t been so far and if they stay far from us and the pyramid, they’ll continue to be.

I walk away from the window, waving farewells at such worrying thoughts, dark thoughts, bad thoughts that used to crowd me everyday until...Breathe...1...2...3...More sweat. I fold the damp piece of fabric and tuck it neatly back into my pocket. Run a hand through my curly hair, pulling it back into place and fix my tie. Everything is good, fine, in place.

I keep walking away from the window, my back to the big eye  and my lips start curling up in a smile as I approach the old maple table. Maples, I still remember the trees and their names, their smell and their leafs. This town doesn’t have trees, at least no real trees. I tried explaining them to him, so that he could build them, but they’re fake nature. At least to me, since for everyone else, the fake trees are the only trees they’ve ever known. That’s a little flaw of his, he can’t build plants. Or perhaps he still hasn’t find a way to do so. I tilt my head a bit to watch him, face concentrated and frowning slightly as he builds.

“Another train, son?” I say smiling at how he places the Lego like pieces in place to fulfill his newest creation.

He stops for a bit, admires his work and keeps going. He has not spoken. It’s the only thing he never learnt to do. Yet when he’s building he tends to make little noises: grunts, sighs, giggles. You name it. Just never words. Maybe it is because he’s a very good listener.

The Lego’s keep adding up and just as he places the last piece, a roaring whistle echoes through the city. He frowns slightly at me, as in requesting for my permission, to which I nod, giving him a bigger grin. He giggles and stands from his seat, racing carefully to the window. In the city, a new train has appeared on a station not far from the pyramid. No one will wonder where it came from for what they know, it’s always been there.

As I’m about to tell him not to stay too long at the eye, he looks back at me, smiles sheepishly and makes his way back to the table. We both contemplate the huge Lego-built miniature of the city and its new addition. He beams at it with pride as he built it himself all those years ago around the pyramid. If there is a construction I am most proud is probably the pyramid. Solid structure. Impenetrable. Quite stylish to be honest. Built it myself the same way my son built the city. I even taught him the method. Get inspiration, make the miniature (Lego’s are great for miniatures) and focus. And focus until the last piece is placed and you can feel the real thing materializing.

As I’m lost in thought, my stomach grumbles and his grumbles back as in response. We giggle in unison.

“How about some pizza?” I say making my way to the first flight of stairs.

Quick nod. Motion approved.

“I’ll be back soon, remember the rules and…” I kiss the top of his head “the other rules”.

I make my way through the stairs until I’m at the base and head for the tunnel that connects to the life like plastic city.

OUTSIDE

Between the pyramid and the tunnel, a simple yet modern looking wooden door stands locked. I reach for the handle, still stressed from my previous thoughts, and pull it down. Locked. I breathe in...and out… I made this lock. Only opens when I am calmed. I clean my sweaty palm and let the cold basement air relax me. I try again, and this time the door opens without resistance.

The tunnel’s greenish light is dim, yet it is bright enough for the path to be seen easily. I walk at a rapid pace, making sure my trip is as short as possible, but I am careful not to run as the soft rocks that make the floor are usually slippery and reaching the walls for support is futile for they are humid as well. The whole thing looks as if little sparkling emeralds were forming it.

After quite a while, I reach the end, where another door stands. Only this is metal, with a bar across its center for it to open. An “EXIT” sign on its top brightly lit. Another clever lock that won’t open unless I remain passive and serene. I check my palms and they are dry, so is my forehead and the back of my neck, and I press the middle bar pushing the door open.

The exit door opens within the storage room of an old half-built theatre, at an unused part of the city. As the door closes I feel a chill on my back and regret my lack of coat, but discard the idea of going back all the way, which leaves me to folding my arms and shiver as I look for a medium metal box on the walls to turn on some of the inner lights of the place. I stop when I find it and carry on to light some of the switches on.

I then go from the storage room to the prop room, down a flight of stairs to the back part of the torn background and to the left side of the stage to reach the audience’s seats side. I walk quickly but not looking up from my feet, the path remains the same but there’s a strange feel I cannot connect. Just as I’m about to leap from the stage to the front row. I see him at the back.

A middle aged black man, slowly but steadily sweeping the path between the back rows and the entrance.

Don’t panicdon’tpanicdon’tpanicdon’toanicdon’t panicdon’tpanicdon’tpanicdon’toanicDON’T PANICpanicdon’tpanicdon’tpanicdon’toanicdon’t panicdon’tpanicdon’tpanicdon’toanicDON’T PANICpanicdon’tpanicdon’tpanicdon’toanicdon’t panicdon’tpanicdon’tpanicdon’toanicDON’T PANICpanicdon’tpanicdon’tpanicdon’toanicdon’t panicdon’tpanicdon’tpanicdon’toanicDON’T PANICpanicdon’tpanicdon’tpanicdon’toanicdon’t panicdon’tpanicdon’tpanicdon’toanicdontdontdont DON’T PANIC…

Breathe. One, two, three. One, two, three. In. Out.

Logic: I was here recently and might have forgotten to lock the front door. The outer part of the theatre has a normal lock, and since I did not create it, I can't modify it.

But it was I who thought no one would be curious about it. I’ve even left the door opened before for long-ish periods and everything has remained the same.

Yet a small voice whispers in my mind:YOUR mistake. They followed you. Watched you. And him…

Lazy man! Forgetful man! Stupid man! Arrogant!… Shush! I think and I stay still. No movements, no loudness, no time to assess. Prepared to go back, I move backwards without keeping my eyes off the man. How could you let this happen, you stupid man, you brainless man, you...

“You need to stop calling yourself names” said the man without leaving his chores.

I stop and carefully and nonchalantly reply, “I’m sorry?”

“At least make them creative, the insults, you know?” he answered back still focused. “You sound so old, yet I’m pretty sure our ages are not that far from each other!”

“I.... You are not like the... others, are you?” I manage to say whilst making my way closer to him. He’s not like me nor my son, yet he is apparently not alike the city’s inhabitants. “How long have you been here?” I rush my investigation without waiting.

He just chuckles, and then replies confidently, “Climbed into the wrong train I guess”

Ha bloody ha.

As if reading my thoughts, the mysterious man smirks in mischief and finally answers, “I was born here. With the theatre”.

Logic: Not possible. My son created everything and everyone in the city. If this man was created with the theatre he’d be like the others. Robot like figures, plastic lifelike copies. He is a liar. Yet… I can feel his nature. His essence IS like the others. Similar, but not quite.

Make him go, my inner voice says, vanish him.

Logic: Tempting proposal, but a) I’m weak, so “vanishing” cannot happen without draining me and b) BANISHING him is not wise, for he might carry on information to those abroad.

Then keep him. At least an eye on him. If he’s lying he is dangerous.

The man smiles at the ground and his face is warm and truthful and I really want to trust him but…

“I know I am different. But I swear I have always been here, cleaning. Why do you think this old building has always been impeccable on the inside?”

Dangerous. Lying…

“I am aware. Of the weirdness of the whole city and the people who live here. I know you are the man at the pyramid the others talk about and...I know about the kid. Your son. I don’t want to trouble you, I am just curious, and today, I hoped you’d come and finally meet me and tell me...why… why am I so different… special… can you?”

Logic: No

No

“No”, I pause thinking and fearing my next words, “but I know he can. I feel your nature. In essence you ARE like the others but more…” and I say a word a haven’t pronounced out loud in a long time. “Human”.

“ I don’t know what that means”, and he for once looks as confused as me. He has stopped sweeping at least. I realize just know that he has not looked at me once. Could he be actually lying?

“ I can’t leave you here, I can’t risk it. But to lead you face to face to my son, I am concerned of what you may learn, what you might see…” I leave the sentence unfinished as even I don’t know what to say next.

“Oh. But you see, sir…” and looks at me, placing two pupil-less faded grey irises at me, “I...am blind”.

And for once, my inner voice and I completely agree on my hideous mind, for I am beyond glad for his blindness, and as I smile the little voice replies to my thoughts, my selfish thoughts...

Even if he deserted... Who would ever listen, to a blind man?

And my smile is grand.