Flickering in the Sky

It was Tuesday. They always came on Tuesday.

”They still haven’t fixed the flickering,” Venilia said, gazing up at the dark shapes in the sky.

“Why would they?” Janus said. He didn’t bother to look up. He was far more interested in the stick he had found than what was happening above. Besides, he had seen the procedure dozens of times already. And the flickering was old news.

A cool breeze ruffled Venilia’s hair as she pondered his question. The jagged cliff they sat on always gave them a spectacular view of the procedure. Every time they climbed up to watch it, they tried to find new flaws in the illusion. The flickering was by far the most obvious.

“Craftsmanship?” she asked.

Janus laughed. “Why would they care about that?” He took the stick and began drawing with it, etching lines in a small patch of dirt. “They already have everything they need, so why spend any extra effort on fixing something that’s already working?”

“Besides,” he said, “the glitches make the spell more powerful.”

“What do you mean?” Venilia asked.

“Think about it.”

“I am thinking about it,” she said. “What do you mean? What spell?”

Janus smiled as he scrawled details into the drawing. Venilia was younger than he was, but she was certainly not naive. The very fact that she could see through the illusion at her age was remarkable. She just lacked the proper vision to see the bigger picture. Still, he enjoyed her company. Before he had met her, he had been the only person in the village who saw past the lie. Everyone else was cooked, even his parents. The truth can be a very lonely place to be.

“The spell,” he said. “The magic spell they cast over human consciousness. It works better - much better - when the illusions they create have obvious errors or don’t make any sense at all.”

Venilia looked at him with her huge wide eyes, wondering how an eleven year old boy could know such things. Then she turned her attention back to the sky. The dark shapes inched closer and closer, softly cutting through the wispy clouds as they slowly imposed their shadows on the land beneath them. The flickering was really bad. On one of the ships, it looked like an entire wing was half there, popping in and out of existence like a wavering candle flame. Maybe it was a broken shader. Could the sky have a bad graphics card?

Far below them lay the village they both called home. Soon it would be filled with the sounds of chaos. Venilia knew these sounds well. She had heard them many times before. First, several loud shouts would come from some observant onlookers, the first to see the invaders. This would trigger others to look up as well, each providing their own unique cry of terror as they confronted their new place on the food chain. The cacophony would continue to escalate, each villager cycling through a primal, subconscious array of vocal reactions to the unknown, until the entire village had become a symphony of panic. Then the procedure would begin, and there would be nothing but silence. If only the villagers knew what was really happening, she thought.

If only they could see past the lie.

The dark shapes stopped moving. They hovered over the village like floating spiders perched on an invisible web. Venilia turned to Janus. He was putting the final touches on his masterpiece. It was a drawing of a large eyeball, scrawled into the dirt, with rays projecting out from the center of the pupil, down onto a tiny landscape below. He looked up at her and smiled. Venilia wondered how an eleven year old boy could be so detached from what was about to happen. Then she wondered the same thing about herself.

“It’s about to begin,” Janus said. “Enjoy the show, it might be the last time we see it.”

The shapes in the sky began to transform. Their wings and panels slid and pivoted, unfurling like clenched fists that were beginning to relax. A glowing portal opened in the underside of each one, from which dark, wispy figures began to emerge. They swirled around in the space beneath each opening like clusters of ethereal jellyfish. More and more of the figures appeared, too many to count. They danced and bobbed around under the ships, more and more appearing until the spawning was complete and all of them had formed. Then they began to gently descend to their target below. The first cries of alarm from the village broke the eerie silence, right on cue.

“It’s time,” Janus said, his drawing complete. He tossed the stick aside and stood up, grabbing his backpack and hoisting it over his shoulder. Then he turned, but not towards the village. Instead, he directed his gaze in the opposite direction.

There stood their next destination - a grand, statuesque mountain. It was both glorious and daunting, with cool hues and strong cliffs and clouds swirling around its base. It towered over the rest of the world, promising freedom and prosperity to those who sought it. Janus and Venilia knew that there were others in the world who knew the truth about the visitors and the procedures. Others who had decided to stop living under such lies and go their own way. The mountain was where they had gone. For Janus and Venilia, it would soon be their new home.

“Wait,” Venilia said. Her voice sounded distressed, as if she was about to cry. Janus turned to look at her.

“It’s time,” Janus said again. His voice was cool and stern.

Venilia watched the dark wispy figures enter the village from above. The cries of terror began to escalate. She turned to look at the mountain and then at Janus. He could see in her eyes a lack of commitment.

“Venilia,” he said again, clenching his teeth. “It’s time.”

“I have to go back,” she said, her voice quivering. “I have to try one more time.”

“Venilia, that is not an option.”

“Janus, I’m sorry…”

“Venilia, no!” Janus shouted, throwing his backpack to the ground. “We had an agreement!” He stormed to the edge of the cliff, standing inches from Venilia’s face. “How many times are we going to play this stupid game? We’ve tried this before, and it never changes a thing!”

“This time is different.” She was crying now, and averting her eyes from his. Her head and hands were shaking. The busy winds whipped her hair around her face as she tried to catch her breath and keep control of her emotions. She looked at the village, the place she had called home all of her life, and wondered how things could have possibly gotten this way. Finally she looked at Janus, straight into his eyes, with soulful intensity and determination.

“I don’t know how I know,” she said, “but I just do.”

Janus put his hands on her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. The winds picked up in strength and the screams from the village intensified. It felt as if they were witnessing the end of the world, just like last week.

”Every time is different, Venilia. Every time. But the fact is that no one in that village wants to wake up. No one wants to see the truth. We’ve tried, Venilia, my god have we tried. I spend years trying to wake up my entire family before I had even met you, but the reality is that you and I are…just different. The others - they just don’t want to know.”

“I have to try,” she said. “One more time.”

Janus released her from his grasp and took a step back. He looked at the village. The screams of terror had stopped and the procedure was about to begin. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a long, slow breath. When he looked at her again, he knew that she had made up her mind and there would be no arguing against it.

“Who do you want to awaken?”

Venilia reached into her blouse and pulled out a small, heart shaped locket. Made from fine silver, it twinkled and glistened in the afternoon light. She opened it up to reveal a picture of a little girl several years younger than she.

“Amata,” she replied, brushing her hair out of her face. “I want to awaken my sister.”

“But you’ve tried so many times, Venilia,” Janus said. There was a tone of compassion and understanding in his voice that had not been there before. Venilia knew that he too had been through this same conflict with his own family.

“I know,” she said, staring at the picture in the locket. “I know. This time…I don’t know how, but I think...I feel….like I can do it.”

For a moment, the two of them stood there and neither said a word. It seemed like time had stopped. The dark shapes floated in the distance like frozen leaves, the flickering still persisting. The village was dead silent, which meant the procedure had begun. Janus and Venilia both knew that the visitors prized efficiency in their operations, which meant that they did not have much time.

If they were going to do this, they had to do it now.

Janus turned to look at the mountain. There was no doubt in his mind that it was the best option they had for a better life, but it seemed like every time they came up here, they found another reason to delay their journey. Would it be there forever? The familiar fear of their pathway to freedom somehow vanishing crept into his heart. Still, if he was brave enough to risk venturing to such an unknown destination in the first place, then surely he could be brave enough to confront his fear of not being able to go, no matter how much that scared him. He looked back at Venilia, into her pretty eyes, and he knew what they had to do.

“Ok,” Janus said, picking up his backpack. “We’ll try one more time.”