The Lover's Parable Through A Seven World Journey (14 page)

The celerity by which the couple acclimated to the new environment was of no surprise, as the Sanders had taken great care in creating an ambience fit for the nourishment of the soul. From the smallest pieces of glassy, decorative articles, to the largest of paintings that adorned the walls and the auditory streams of music that accompanied all the visual assemblage, everything was fitted just right for encouraging an inner peace.

The first few weeks were an adjustment period, as John and Sofia found it quite awkward adapting to the new environment without considering from whence they came. Achieving the mindset to live immediately and completely in fearlessness and harmony after years of forced structure and policing, was difficult at best, and the days, nevertheless, went by in such a fleeting manner that even a retrospective consideration of any particular event during the present interval was nearly impossible. This was the only period when the tormenting entity, of which only time could do away with, maintained a presence in their minds. Wherever they were and whatever they were doing, it was always shouting out about that one frightful possibility: that at any moment someone could happen upon them and they would once again find themselves returning to the prison-like confines of Labor.

After several months without any contact from the Security Forces, or from any other persons of the City for that matter, the two of them began to feel less vulnerable regarding the potential loss of the permanency in their lives, and they quietly settled into their daily routines. They had organized each day to allow time for meal preparation and eating, the taking of several walks throughout the local lands and to the enjoyment of hobbies. The living conditions were remarkably well tailored to their spiritual and physical growth, and with each day that passed them by, they felt the strength of mind that comes with a confidence in one’s own ability to cope with stressful situations. Looking to the future, there was only the light of the Savior, as the entire world seemed to be illuminated at their feet.

It had now been nearly two years since the great escape, or, nineteen months, to be exact, and Sofia had finally found the happiness and stability that she had always wished for. But, as John had pointed out long ago, he still had that pressing desire to follow the path leading to the Savior’s rise. Although, curiosity and adventure were untamed creatures within both of their hearts, Mr. Sanders’ warnings still rang loudly in Sofia’s ears, and she continued to refrain from discussing any matter related to their journeying to the northeasterly lands.

In the days of living in Labor, John never seemed to have the time, nor the resources, for learning anything other than what he was forced to at the Education. But, with all the time that was available from this moment until the day in which he would pass away, he figured that there was more than he could ever hope for. Taking on the challenge of reading all the books at his disposal, he first began the task with the writings available in their
library.

After several months, his knowledge began to increase with regards to the various topics with which the Sanders had stocked the shelves. There were novels of, what he assumed to be, strangely fictitious lands and peoples, field guides related to unique animals, plants and flying creatures of which he had never had the occasion of seeing with his own eyes. The military guides dispensed their information to him with experienced precision related to firearms use and many outdoor skills, of which he would put into practice during their several wanderings in the southern and western spheres. The warehouse crate log, of which the Sanders had used in their cataloging process, had revealed to him that there were more books available with a quantity so vast that he knew he would not be able to read them all during his lifetime.

Sofia had also taken up a newly found hobby for herself. During the earlier days of living in the crash site, they had spent much of their time rummaging through the warehouse. They were wholly fascinated by the novelty in the wealth of material goods available to them. But there were several crates, loaded full with various fabrics of assorted colors, stitching materials in abundance and stacks of patterns that caught her attention. As the crates were organized in close proximity to another grouping of wooden boxes, she figured that there had to be a relation between them, and so she had John pry them open. Nestled inside within a cocoon of straw, she discovered several stitching machines and their instructional manuals detailing the techniques for their use. It was the beginning of a new and wonderful enterprise for Sofia to express herself artistically.

After several weeks of practice with the simpler projects, she hastily advanced herself to the production of the more basic garments. She spent many hours of the day with her hands, actively taking part in her newly found craft. After many months, she had become quite proficient, although not perfect.

Night after night she would put on a display of the gorgeously streaming costumes for John to admire. As she was still, relatively speaking, a novice in the fabrication of the more fanciful apparel, John often had to bite his tongue to keep from smiling too hard, revealing the laughing that was hidden within him as she would prance about, spinning and dancing, not realizing that her lengths were uneven, or that the hems were sometimes undoing
themselves.

During the cool of the mornings, before the Savior had poked His head above the horizon, John, having taken up a secondary hobby in the art of rifle shooting, would use these hours to the improving of his skills. Although Sofia would sometimes accompany him during these practice sessions, even taking the time to learn the art for herself, she eventually lost her interest in weapon utilization, desiring to spend more time with her hands in the fabrication of clothing.

Finding several crates of weapons and ammunitions of various sizes and calibers that had been destined, some for Red and some for Raw, John chose a medium length, shoulder mounted machine with iron sights to train with. Just as the books and fabrics, foods and other odds and ends, the ammunition was in such abundance that he was able to get in all the practice he needed to eventually become a superior marksman.

An empty tin can exploded from off the top of a rock approximately three hundred-fifty meters down in the valley below. From the prone position, John lifted his head from his weapon’s stock and smiled with delight, as it had been the furthest distance that he had been able to hit a target with any degree of accuracy. Outfitted with a military uniform and hip pack, and adorned with the grass and branches methodically detailed in the books for blending into the environment’s greenery and brown rocky terrain, he was camouflaged within the natural world, completely eliminating his bodily silhouette.

Sitting up, he placed the rifle across his lap and pulled out a binocular, looking-glass apparatus from the pouch hanging at his side. The panoramic view from his vantage point allowed him to see for many kilometers in all directions.

He and Sofia had, through their daily walks, established a circumferential boundary of safety from which they had ventured from on only a handful of excursions to the south and west since their arrival at the crash site. They had set up markers denoting nearby hidden supplies, which were helpful at first in keeping their minds in a positional perspective when roaming about. But after several weeks the guideposts were of little use, as the two of them had become so intimately acquainted with every nook, every tree, every outcropping of rock, that there were no natural entities within their confines that were unknown to them.

After scanning the perimeter around the hill, John looked to the sky. As the Savior had not made its presence known just yet, he could make out the last few wishing stars taking flight across the open expanse of purple and blue.

Of peculiar interest to him during this general time of the morning was not so much in the increasing of his weapons skills as it was in the careful observation of the
stars
, which were to him obviously not naturally occurring phenomena. John’s morning shoots allowed him to monitor that perfect moment when the planet was angled just right to the Savior’s rays, allowing him to study the transient vapor trails that dispersed the early light as the vehicles retreated from the northern territory before disappearing into the vastness of space. Where, he wondered, were they traveling from, and where were they heading?

The flying warehouse with which they were now using as their home, he concluded, had to have been a
wishing star
at some point in time before it met its untimely end. Like one of the small, wheeled transporters used in the City, but of a greater caliber and capacity, these airships appeared to be used for transporting goods to other citizens of the planet in far away lands. That was the only explanation he could think of as to how to reasonably apply the names
Red
,
Golden World
and
Raw
to the scant information that was available to him.

Sofia was just finishing up with the final touches of her skirt when John entered through the door. Setting his weapon down beside the bookcase, he passed her by. Without saying a word, he vanished into the bedroom.

“How did the shooting go today?” she inquired, clipping some thread and resetting her needle.

“It was alright,” John called from the bedroom closet.

Entering back into the room dressed in a fresh shirt and clean pants, he walked over to the bookshelf, carefully scanning through the rows of titles. Looking over the top of her stitching machine, Sofia watched him with a cautious, but curious eye. He was acting rather odd. Pulling out several books, John flipped through the pages of each one rather haphazardly before returning them back into their rightful slots. She could see that he was not actually reading any of the material
inside.

“What are you doing?” she asked uncomfortably.

“Just looking for something,” he said, in a mildly harsh tone.

He was rather annoyed by her inquisitiveness, as he knew that bringing up the pretentious
wishing stars
would cause a contention to arise between them.

“What are you looking for?” she asked.

Placing another book back into the empty space from where he had originally pulled it out, John turned around with a frustrated sigh, sitting down on the sofa chair beside him. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back

“I was just looking for some pictures, that’s all.”

Flipping off the light on her machine, Sofia strode over, taking a seat on the short-legged table in front of him. Desiring to say something she would not regret, the distress in her face was apparent. By the demeanor that John would often return home with after each morning’s session, it was more than obvious to her that his behavior had something to do with the those terrible northeasterly lands. She was well aware that, over the past few weeks at the least, he had been up to something other than shooting.

“You really want to travel up there don’t you?” she said.

Letting out another sigh, John moved his lips around as if contemplating his next words. She was on to him, and perhaps, he thought to himself, there had been a subconscious effort behind his actions with the hopes of bringing the avoided topic to a head.

“I don’t know what it is, girl. There’s been this… I don’t know how to explain it… pressure, I guess.”

“Like a headache?” she asked.

“No. No, more like I need to do something, but I’m fighting against it.”

“It has to do with the
wishing stars
, doesn’t it?” she said with a sullen tone.

“That… and other things,” he said, mumbling under his breath.

“What other things?”

“
Golden World
,
Raw
. What are they? Where are they?”

“I don’t know.”

“I know you don’t. Neither do I. But I feel so compelled to find out, as if there were answers there.”

“Answers to what?” Sofia’s voice was a mixture of amazement and sadness.

Sitting up and leaning forward, he met her eyes. After pausing for a moment he looked around the room. Then, waving his arms in the air, he said, “To
this
. To everything around us. Why did that old man help us? What is this broken down machine we live in? Why do we call that glowing ball in the air
the Savior
but our parents just call it a Great Star? I just want answers. Maybe then I’ll be fulfilled and I won’t have this nagging sensation pulling at me all the
time.”

Excusing herself from the room, Sofia was speechless as she walked down the hall behind him, disappearing into the kitchen area. The conversation was ending as it always did when the
wishing star
topic was brought up. John could hear her opening a cupboard. By the sound it, she was gathering a cup from one of the cabinets and pouring herself something to drink.

As she had not returned for several minutes he leaned his head back once again, closing his eyes. But the sound of her returning footsteps brought him back to an upright position. Taking up her recently vacated seat, Sofia held a cup out for him.

“Here, it’s fruit juice,” she said with a half smile.

Taking the cup from her hand, John pressed its rim against his lips. The sweet sensation filled his mouth as he savored the first sip. Although they had an easy access to all the new and exotic foods, neither of them had grown too accustomed to any particular item yet so as to begin taking them for granted.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you’ve said in the past, about searching to the east and to the north. Whatever Red is, I really don’t want to know. Mr. Sanders strictly warned us not to ever go up there. Wherever the Highway leads, it’s not good. We have it so nice here, John. During all those nights on the rooftops of Labor,” she said, as her lip began to tremble and the watery pools began to form at the corners of her eyes, “this is what I had wished for… nothing more. I have no desire to find out what Red is, or what Golden World’s people are like. But I promised you that I would follow your lead, no matter where it was you were taking us. If to the north or to the east is where you are going, then fine, I’ll go. But, please, promise me this: after you find what you’re looking for, you’ll bring us back here to live out our days in peace. And you’ll never speak another word about going up there ever again.”

It was difficult for him to see her so afflicted. Her reddened, tearing eyes were the result of his doing. He did not want to commit to the journey at this time knowing that it grieved her so. But on the same note, he could not let it go, leaving that gaping hole in his heart, that yearning for closure before going on with his life.

As they sat together among the twinkling brass of the ornaments of the room, John finally made up his mind.