Broken

As I attempt to lift my head, I realize I haven’t got a clue where I am. The piercing light from the sun makes opening my eyes a struggle, and the heat searing into my skin makes me feel as if I could spontaneously combust at any moment.

Lying on my side, I feel awkwardly stuck and numb. What I assume to be my hip, is nuzzled into the ground. What I think are my legs, lie like weights beyond my ability to lift. The numbness I feel makes it difficult to assess what my body is actually feeling or what my body even is.

I slowly and tediously attempt to extend my arm in front of me; I can barely grasp at anything with my left hand.

Is my arm broken?

Is my hand broken?

The thought of what could be wrong causes me to mentally shudder, as my body is incapable of doing so.

A hot, grainy substance surrounds the parts of me that I actually can feel; my arms, my face. My fingers laboriously stretch out to begin caressing whatever I am on. Back and forth, back and forth… my index finger is making a miniature trench in the...

SAND!

I’m lying in sand. Thank Universe I have the cognizance to recognize what sand is.

As my thoughts begin to acknowledge my physiological existence, I am becoming aware of my other arm as it lies crushed beneath my weight. My hand tensely grips something that I can’t decipher. It feels hard.

Through the heat, a sporadic hot breeze wisps my hair further onto my face. The long strands of black that are usually pulled back are inconveniently in my mouth, draped across my cheek, and tight around my neck as if attempting to squeeze my ability to breathe. If I wanted to, would I even be able to bring my hand to my neck to release its grasp, or to my face to pull it out of my mouth?

My mouth.

It feels about as dry as the sand I am manipulating and I desperately wish I had something to drink. Anything wet would do. Anything.

I blink my eyes and try to focus on what may be in front of me. I’m so hot and ill-aware of what has transpired that I just want to close my eyes and die.

Am I dead?

Is this a waking dream state?

I want to wake up… I want to wake up…

Please wake up.

I blink again and make another attempt at focusing my vision. I can’t make out anything around me and I hope that this will change. Are my eyes even working?

Through the heat, the wind, the discomfort, and feeling as if I can’t will myself to get up even though I so desperately want to, I give up on trying to focus and close my eyes thinking of the only thing that comes to mind. A boy whose name I cannot recall. My mind wanders to surreal places and unknown faces with the one thing that I’m sure of-- my trust and faith in him. How I know this boy, or how our lives are entwined, I’m not so sure, like a lot of things right now, but I know that I can see his shadow in the back of my mind as the one who has helped me, taught me, and protected me. With my thoughts still wandering, I wonder if I’m dreaming now. I see myself running and panting and trying to get away. I feel tense and scared, worried and confused, but what am I trying to escape?

WHY can’t I remember anything pertinent?!

WHY am I here?!

My thoughts of wonder become vocalized as a beastly scream like I’ve never heard escaping my lips. I painfully force myself to roll onto my back and jerk my head in an attempt to snap myself out of whatever state I’m in. I open my eyes again in another effort to see and realize that I’ve moved myself! Oh, to be able to move myself; what joy! The movement is not nearly as adept as I would like, but at least I’ve done it. I mentally congratulate myself just as a shadow crosses my face and the sun is no longer blinding me. Still trying to focus my parched eyes, I attempt to rapidly blink. I see that the shadow is not just some shadow, it’s some one.

Although I can barely make out the face, I feel a knowledge of this someone who is now with me.

“CAYDEN!” I hear myself shriek in a way that is almost disturbing. In an instant, the boy’s name comes barreling out of my mouth as if I’d never forgotten it. I see the shadow of his arm reach down toward me as I feel his hand extending against my fingers. His palm embraces mine with a subtle potency. His grasp holds power in it beyond the physical. With his touch, I sense a strength that lies within. I am more at ease because of his presence.

With a forceful pull, I am lifted off of the sand to my unsteady foal-like legs that tremble and wobble beneath me.

“We must go Mac” Cayden says with a seriousness that does not go unrecognized.

“Where are we going?” I question, though I feel I should not.

“We’ll talk about it later, but now we must move” he says with a calm in his voice that seems to belie the intensity I feel in our situation.

We begin to walk in the direction of the sun with me moving, mostly, because I’m being pulled along. I feel as if I’m not in control of my limbs; that they are propelling forward without my approval as if I’m being controlled remotely. In my free hand I maintain a death grip on the hard, small object I had been holding as I became conscious. I unclasp my fingers and look. It is small and silver, brushed worn from age and use. It looks like…a heart. It’s a heart shaped locket. I don’t quite know why I have it, and am reticent to ask. I shove it quickly into my pocket and shake out my hand as it tingles from the blood beginning to re-circulate through my appendage.

As I lumber ahead with Cayden’s firm hand hold, I suddenly stop and tug back on his grip.

“Cayden?” I question. “Do you know why we’re here?”

“I’m here to help you escape” he says calmly.

“From what?” I hear the trepidation in my words as they gently push past my lips.

“From you.” He replies flatly.

My head shakes in confusion as I attempt to remember something. Anything. Any detail that will clarify the conundrum in which I find myself.

Cayden walks swiftly. “Do you think you can run?” he asks.

“I, I, don’t know” I stammer as I try to pick up the pace. My legs begin propelling me forward as Cayden continues to pull my hand in an effort to get us to a steady speed.

We jog toward a blurry object in the distance. It looks imposing against the barren landscape. A giant metal figure silhouetted by the sun. I begin to hear the whirring of the generators, and images start flashing through my mind. The memories exist like afterimages of all I have known…all I have worked for. My heart aches at the thoughts. I feel sick at the knowledge of everything I have tried to do to make things better, but that have only made things worse…primarily for me.

“The Beforetimes” I mutter.

“Yes” Cayden replies.

As I say it, I remember. It begins to flood through my awareness as if it is me.

We are living in the Aftertimes. The world as it exists after the Deniers of the Beforetimes decimated our beloved Provider through greed, hate, and self-centered pompous ways. In the Beforetimes, the Deniers had opportunity…opportunity that they wasted due to misinformation, lack of critical thinking, and a resistance against anything they felt was a personal attack even if it were all untrue and delusional. They killed the seas, they killed the poles, they eradicated the animals, and ultimately, themselves. They worked hard to murder our Provider, but they underestimated her strength. It was they who would see their demise. Their pure hatred of the Others—the group of Extollers and anyone else who wasn’t like them--ripped their society, and their world, apart, starting with the very thing that gave them all life…our Provider.

I feel my legs begin to slow. The fervent movements I was making as if my life depended on it, calm to a stop. I breathe in slowly, deeply, heartachingly. Cayden’s eyes lilt toward mine compassionately. I reach into my pocket to grab the trinket. I gaze at it with residual bewilderment. This artifact represents the love and hope that existed in the Beforetimes despite the evidence to the contrary. It also represents the connection and care that is needed to re-build our world--this raw, harsh world--into something we can tolerate; nay, propagate and thrive from.

My drive to find solutions has often put me in precarious situations with those who do not want to achieve something better...the Distractors. My last interaction with some of them left me for dead, or so they thought. Cayden has long warned me of my resolve for confrontation, even if it puts my life at risk. He may be right. Haste is not something that is conducive to our survival.

“What do you want to do?” Cayden questions with a tone of understanding into my thoughts.

“I want…ugh, I don’t know what I want” I say with genuine confusion.

Cayden is my assigned Companion. He is a specialized AI designed to be with me for life. Every New Hope gets one, but not everyone gets one as special as Cayden. His intelligence has grown beyond his programmed capabilities. He is more than a companion; he is part of me. And, he has saved me, literally and figuratively, on more occasions than I can recount.

“I am worried that they are not far away” Cayden states.

“I know” I say softly.

“So, let’s not waste time” I say louder as I grab Cayden’s hand and begin marching toward the giant silhouette ahead of us.

Cayden squeezes my hand, and we resolutely trudge through the sand, heading for our next chance to fight those in command. For now.