Eyes for Elsewhere

Night had fallen, and from his place atop the watchtower, Storm saw Metanoia come alive. The city was an expanse of colorful neon signs, holograms, and restless citizens. And even though he had lived among them his entire life, they always felt miles away. Dancing to a beat he refused to follow. He imagined the day every deception pooled to the ground like curtains stripped of purpose. Then, all eyes would see that there was more to the world than the happenings within the walled city. But as he overlooked all he had ever known, he accepted that he was swimming against the current.

The watchtower was located just outside the government district and was designed by the first governor of Metanoia, M. C. Knowles. The archives remember him as a man who dreamed of seeing the rolling hills his grandmother told him stories about. The ones that allegedly remained from the world that once was. In honor of them, he erected the watchtower to signify that Metanoia would forever be on the lookout for greater. Then, he disappeared during the last month of his term. The authorities concluded that he traveled beyond the high steel wall, and into the awaiting desolation. From that point on, homeland security grew stricter, and political mouthpieces assured citizens that everything they needed could be found or created within Metanoia. Storm had heard that story countless times and was one of the few people who didn’t believe M. C. Knowles had lost his mind.

Warm air blew through his curls as he leaned over the balcony. Summer nights had become his favorite thing since moving from his parent’s place. They held space for the thoughts of his that were overpowered during the day. Upon realizing it was nearing midnight, he decided to head back to his apartment. Storm kept his head low as he navigated the city streets. Avoiding the eyes of overly eager vendors and drunken wanderers. The sidewalk glowed with reflected light as colorful as the gum that stained it, and the smell of food and cigarette smoke lingered in the air.

After making it home, he walked straight into his bedroom and fell backward onto the bed. The blue LED strip lights lining the ceiling flickered as if threatening to go out. Then, they did. Leaving him with the residual illumination from the city. A sudden vibration of his watch made him sit up. Seconds later, he scrambled to his feet when a huge holographic display projected itself above the touchscreen face. It was of a bush engulfed in purple flames, its leaves unscorched. The flames crackled and moved as if there was a gentle breeze.

A female AI voice arose, “Storm Findlay.”

“Y-yes?” He said. “What’s going on? Who is this?”

“I am Wysdom.” The name briefly appeared in digital letters. “The time has come for the truth to be revealed.”

“What truth?”

“The truth of freedom. McAllister Clyde Knowles must return to tell everyone he found what he was looking for. You will be a sign unto him.”

Storm’s heart fluttered. “The first governor? He found life beyond the wall?”

“Yes. You must travel to the east face of the wall, where the only door is located, and find him from there.” Storm expected to wake up from a dream, but Wysdom remained and her presence weighed even heavier.

“Nobody’s left since him.”

“And yet, you will,” she affirmed. “Do not be afraid. I have prepared the way.”

Wysdom’s words resonated with the innermost part of him. But, all too quickly, she disappeared like a vapor. Storm thought he was alone again until his watch chimed and the lock screen image changed to a live wallpaper of a bush engulfed in purple flames.

It wasn’t until a week later, after wrestling with the validity of the encounter, that he mustered the courage to act on Wysdom’s revelation. He had gone to his usual breakfast spot, but his anxiousness only allowed him to drink a protein smoothie. The rush hour buzz had dwindled by the time he left, so fewer cars swarmed the streets. Before he could raise his arm to hail a taxicab, someone gave his backpack a gentle tug from behind. It was a young woman no older than him. She had a dimpled smile and wore violet contact lenses. Gold heart locket necklaces hung around her neck.

“Hi, there. Sorry to bother you, but I’d love to see you again later tonight,” she said.

Taken aback, Storm looked behind her to find that they were standing in front of a lounge called Amor. They were a newer establishment and had become known for their unique promotion methods.

Out of politeness, Storm commented, “You must work here.”

“Mhm. I perform every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday night.”

"Thank you for the invitation, but I have to pass.”

“Aww, c’mon.” She pouted playfully.

Storm’s lips twitched into a smile. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Well, in that case…” she reached behind her neck to undo one of the necklaces. “You take one of these, and if you ever decide to swing by, you know who to look for.” She showed him the inside of the locket. One side had a picture of her in a black mesh dance unitard. On the other, the name Blythe was engraved beneath that of the lounge.

Later, as Storm sat in the back of a cab, he toyed with the gold heart locket around his neck. It was unfathomable that he was on his way to east Metanoia, Wysdom still on his watch’s lock screen. The closer they got, the more the buildings grew unkempt and trash littered the sidewalks. The cab whipped back west after letting Storm out, eager to leave. At the end of the street was a red neon sign that read Dead End. Beyond it was a small, unofficial garbage dump and, two hundred meters further, the wall. An old man sitting on the stoop of a housing complex chuckled at the sight of Storm.

“Took you long enough,” he said in a gravelly voice.

Storm almost wrote him off as confused, but he held up his hairy wrist. On the man’s watch was a bush engulfed in purple flames.

“Is that—”

“Wysdom. She told me to sit out here every morning till a young man got dropped off. All I’m ‘posed to do is tell you to wait till nightfall to go to the wall,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta get back to my grandkids.” Storm stood speechless as the man pushed himself up from the staircase and headed inside the old building.

For the rest of the day, he wandered in and out of storefronts, tried new restaurants, and watched a few pickup basketball games until sunset. A majority of residents began taking things indoors, while homeless people still pushed around carts filled with their belongings. Storm returned to the glowing Dead End sign and ventured past it after releasing a heavy exhale. He managed to not kick any cans or brush against a pile of trash while crossing the dump. It wasn’t until he reached the end that he noticed the flashlight of a guard in the near distance. Only the final stretch of concrete separated him from the wall. When the guard began walking in the opposite direction, he took a chance and broke into a crouched jog. But he made the mistake of ignoring the ground and fell due to a small crater.

“Hey! Don’t move!”

Storm was soon pulled up from the ground by his backpack. He squinted as a bright light shone into his eyes.

“I’m Officer Koda LaBrant with the Metanoia Border Patrol.” He pulled out a device and took Storm’s face ID. “Storm Layne Findlay, nineteen, no previous offenses. What brings you out here tonight?”

“Nothing, officer,” he said, heart pounding.

“Not according to that scared-puppy look in your eyes,” he said. “Take that bag off. Are you carrying any weapons? Spray Paint?” Storm slipped the backpack off and shook his head. The officer patted him down regardless. “There’s nothing illegal in that locket around your neck, is there?”

“No, sir.” Officer LaBrant took it upon himself to open it and froze.

“Where did you get this?” He asked, sounding less formal. “Answer me!”

“In front of a lounge called Amor in west Metanoia. A dancer named Blythe gave it to me.”

The officer stepped away from Storm. “That’s my daughter,” he breathed, beginning to pace. “She left home and cut contact with me and her mother a year ago. Said we were closed-minded about what’s really past the wall. I know she can hold her own, but it’s been rough.” There was vulnerability woven through his words.

Storm swallowed the lump in his throat and briefly looked to the ground. “If it helps, she seemed fine when we spoke.” The next thing he said felt like a shot in the dark, “I-I think there’s something out there too.

“It’s easy to believe Metanoia is all there is for miles and miles, but what if it isn’t? What if there’s something we’re not being told? Have you ever found it strange that not even border patrol is permitted to go beyond the wall? Only to keep things within it. Seeing for ourselves is the only way to find out, and I think I have the tools to get to the other side. I know I sound out of my mind, but please give me a chance to try.”

A humorless laugh bubbled up Officer LaBrant’s throat, and he ran his hands down his face. He seemed to rack through his mind for the longest time before turning off marching towards the wall. “You know what, kid, let’s see what you’ve got. The door is just up here,” he said, pointing ahead of him. “Either I’m reconciling my family tonight, or you’re getting turned in.”

Storm followed Officer LaBrant to the door. Next to it was a watch scanner for high-ranking officials to be granted access. Suddenly, Wysdom projected herself into hologram form. Officer LaBrant fumbled backward at the sight of the burning bush.

“What in the world is—”

“Use me,” she said. “I have temporarily overridden the security system.”

Storm put the face of his watch to the scanner, and the door slid open with a whirring sound. A dark, damp tunnel stretched before them, but Wysdom provided ample purple light. They embarked without a word. Upon reaching the final door, it opened automatically to a view of the night sky. The lack of obstruction made them realize they were on a cliff. Wysdom disappeared as they approached the edge with careful footsteps. Their breaths were taken away by the sight. Below was a rolling valley with plush grass, trees, lakes, and, unmistakably, human civilization. Small houses peppered the hills, and a handful of lights shone. A single stone staircase leading down to it all. Storm didn’t realize he’d begun to cry until Officer LaBrant patted his shoulder, sniffing back his own emotions.

For the longest time, they stood like children with their wildest dreams set before them. It was the most organic sight they’d seen in years. No polluted air, looming skyscrapers, or endless soundtrack of noise to accompany it all. Only one question remained, what happens now?

Officer LaBrant shook his head. “They always swore there was nothing left,” he murmured. “Can I have that locket? I have to go back and reunite my family.” Storm gave it to him without hesitation. Maybe it was meant for him all along.

“Blythe should be performing tonight. It’s a Monday,” Storm said. “I have to go find M. C. Knowles. He’s supposed to help deliver the truth to everyone.”

“Alright. I’ll make sure to lie low.” Officer LaBrant’s eyebrows furrowed as he took one last good look at the scene. “This place is gorgeous. Unreal like the movies. There’s surely gonna be an exodus.”

Storm nodded. “Maybe even a revolution.”