Systemic Persistence

If walls could talk, a lot of good things would happen to the people of my commune.

Fai would win the lottery. Mother would finally be accepted by her peers. Kaliva would leave her abusive husband, Uncle Dan’s business profits would soar. Gira’s cancer would vanish.

Father would come home.

I heard it all the time, whispered in darkness when my commune felt most hopeless.

“Yeah, I’ll get that promotion when Walls talk.”

I spent hours sitting by each wall, telling them my woes and stories; they never said a word to me.

If they would just… speak to me, to say even one word, all the woes of the commune would be cured.

So I started making flashcards with pictures on them. “This is a cat.” I’d tell the walls. “This is a table, this is a computer. This is me, I’m Maero, and this is Mama.”

Mother would watch me sometimes, as wordless as the walls.

She brought a man home whom she introduced as Doctor Warner. I’d never seen him around our commune, he was an outsider.

I said nothing to him.

“Hello Maero.” Doctor said. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ll be coming by every week to spend some time with you and your mother.”

We stared at each other; Mother looked between me and the doctor, her caterpillar eyebrows furrowed together as if they were trying to kiss. She grabbed his arm and led him away.

“I don’t think I like Doctor.” I told the wall. “If you could say just one word… would Doctor go away?”

When I received no response, I returned to the flashcards.

Doctor left an hour later. They whispered in the entryway; I stopped to listen.

“It’s perfectly normal to have imaginary friends at his age.” Doctor said. “I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“He talks to imaginary friends more than he talks to real people. And the way he just stares at us… It’s unsettling.”

“Kids learn from observing others. He seems like an intelligent and perfectly healthy young boy.”

They exchanged pleasantries; Doctor left. I stared at the open archway for a long time, until Mother stepped through it. She jumped in fright when she saw me, her caterpillars kissed again. Mother opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but closed it tight and left for the kitchen. I waited until I heard her preparing dinner, then I returned to the wall and its lessons.

****

Dawn, third sol of Auwe, year 74.

Tall figure donning green cloak, likely male; walked with a cane. Left housing S-55 walking north towards Alpha. Slow saunter, weak ankle, likely inadequate.

Afternoon, fifth sol of Auwe, year 74.

Three figures, two small one tall, thought to be a family of three exited housing V-52 and entered housing V-54. Smallest figure wore a purple cloak, middle figure with a black cloak and tallest had a gray cloak. All seemed healthy and adequate.

****

I was ten years old the first time we left the commune. My mother put on a long-sleeved purple shawl that trailed to her toes. When she spread her arms, she looked like a butterfly taking flight. “Maero… Once we leave, you mustn’t look at anything except the ground, do you understand?” Her hands touched my face gently.

I looked deeply into the wrinkles and creases of hers.

Mother’s lip quaked. “This is important, Mo… Promise me, promise me you won’t look up.”

Slowly at first, then quicker, I nodded.

She smiled and put a gray cloak over my head. “Don’t remove this until we reach the next building.”

Again, I nodded.

"Good boy." She tugged my cloak closed and took my hand.

It was easy at first. I knew these floors, they led to the front door, and the floors that came next wound through the commune. I heard Auntie Kay and Nancy, Liam and Josey. Poe was having a heated argument with Hector, and Eshel cooed to her newborn baby. But their voices grew quieter, these floors were less familiar. I peeked to the left, and saw the walls closing in.

We stood in a hallway, one I’d never noticed before today.

A door opened, wind tore at my cloak. I felt threatened as my hood was pushed back, but by what I couldn't say.

Mother’s hand was there immediately. She pulled my hood and by extension my hair down over my forehead. It hurt, her hands felt cold. And then, warmth spread over my back. I wanted to look up, but mother’s fierce hand on my hood kept my head down.

Bright concrete roads stretched before us, a material I'd only seen used for walls. Mother’s hand moved to my shoulder, and she hurried us along. I ever so slightly tilted my head.

On the edge of my vision there were shoes attached to legs; I saw them every ten paces or so.

Another door before us; wind blew down my hood. Mother pushed me quickly inside; I looked briefly over my shoulder and I saw them.

They lined either side of the paved roads, staring silently ahead.

One of them caught my gaze; his eyes narrowed and mine widened.

Mother slammed the door; she stepped forward to speak to a woman at the counter. I tapped my toes on the floor, I thought of all the concrete communes outside, like giant boxes, and for the first time, I realized how small my world was.

When Mother returned, she was anxious. I tugged on her shawl and I quietly asked: “Who were all those people outside?”

Her face drained, Mother’s hands trembled. “Did any of them see you?”

“Mama…?”

“Did anyone see you?!” She clutched my shoulders fiercely.

“No,” I said, though his blue eyes remained at the forefront of my mind.

Mother’s face tightened. “They are the Wall.”

Though I begged, she said nothing more.

****

Late dawn, eighth sol of Auwe, year 79.

Young boy walking to hospital with an adult individual. Dark blue eyes, kinky black hair, medium skin tones. Exited from community building S-55. Adult wore a purple shawl, boy wore a gray shawl.

Mid-afternoon, eighth sol of Auwe, year 79.

The boy and his adult guardian returned to building S-55. Their faces were hidden entirely this time, however the shawls matched the earlier description and no other individuals were sighted. Boy was observant and curious. Highly adequate.

****

They came for me two years later. Mother tried desperately to reason with them.

“You're mistaken, we've never left the commune.” She squeezed my hand. “It must’ve been someone else!”

The man at the forefront of the three-person posse pulled up a notepad and summarized: “Blue eyes, pale skin and dark hair, approximately ten years of age. Left with a guardian from S-55 to the hospital. Boy appeared highly observant and curious.” He lowered the paper and stared at us. “This boy is the only one in S-55 who matches that description.”

I tugged on Mother’s skirt as her caterpillars kissed. “Mama, what’s going on?”

The man leaned down slightly; he stared into my eyes. “You’ve been selected for a very important program, Maero.”

A frown carved its way down to Mother’s chin; I looked between her and them. “I… have?”

“Yes. We're going to teach you how to read and write, you’ll learn a new language and keep everyone in your community safe.”

Mother’s hands trembled. “The Walls are no place for my child, he’s sickly and sees things that aren’t there. I had to summon a psychologist here because of his episodes!”

“Mother, I-”

The pain came before the sound; my cheek tingled, my vision slackened.

“Shut up, Maero, you’re unfit to join them.”

As the shock wore off, I found my eyes fixed on the floor. My hand gently touched my face; it felt sore.

“Restrain her in the other room; I need to talk to the boy alone.”

“Get your hands off me, this is illegal! I'll have you stripped of your merits! Maero! Maero, don’t say anything to them!”

I flinched as Mother screamed. Never had she behaved like this before. They pulled her into the living room and shut the door; I heard her muffled shouts continue there.

“Maero.” His voice softened. “Working for the Walls is the greatest honor we can grant anyone. Once you accept, I'll give you something special to celebrate.”

“Like what?”

“Anything you want. Think of it as a wish.”

If walls could talk… when walls talk…

I looked at the man. “Okay. I want everyone in my commune to receive one wish.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Everyone in S-55 you mean?”

“That’s… this commune, right?”

He nodded.

“Then yes. That’s my wish.”

“Easy enough.” He held his hand out to me; I took it nervously. “My name is River. Welcome to the Walls, Maero.”

****

Midmorning, twenty-third sol of Braen, year 81.

Squat figure in yellow cape. Female, skin olive, hair covered, Sixty-seventy. Rolling gait due to old age, gout, injury, scarring or combination of above. Inadequate.

Afternoon, twenty-seventh sol of Braen, year 81.

Two figures, one tall in red cape, other diminutive in green cape exiting V-43 moving south to Omega. Diminutive figure was lively, active, conversant. Initial promise led to disappointment; catching a glimpse of diminutive figure revealed a very short man, pale complexion, bald, estimated mid-fifties. Inadequate.

Tall figure built strong, wide shoulders, youthful voice and demeanor. Highly adequate.

****

Just relax, okay Maero? She spoke to me using her hands. You’ll do great!

I sighed and tried my best to smile. Thanks.

We stepped from the training grounds to the outside, where the sun blazed like Hell and the pavement released mirage-like messages that reached skyward. I found my position and stood tall.

Metal poles rose from the ground and pushed through the hollow cylinders they surgically inserted in each of my feet. I was now locked in place.

I felt excited for this shift, nervous even. But working as a Wall was nothing like what I saw on the orientation videos. I expected there to be people bustling up and down these streets, I thought I'd keep them safe by watching out for danger.

The only individuals here were us Walls, pinned to our structured spaces.

See? I told you Maero, you did great! Tia, my trainer, communicated soundlessly to me.

I frowned at her. But I didn’t do anything. Nobody even came out of the communes!

Tia shrugged. That’s most days. She motioned me to my desk and patted the chair like she was summoning a dog, a smile shoved her cheeks into her hazel eyes.

I blushed slightly and sat. She stood behind me as my fingers drummed across the computer keys for the first time.

Twelfth sol of Taeo, year 84.

Nothing to report.

For seven days, nobody exited their commune buildings. It was the eighth day that a small girl peeked through the door of V-52. I smiled at her and gave a big wave. She smiled and waved back; there was a tooth missing from her upper jaw.

A man shouted. I frowned deeply, my friendly hand falling slightly limp.

He snatched her and pushed her back inside. Then, he rushed over to me. “Please…” He begged. “Please don’t mention you saw her.”

I smiled.

“Sir… If you have any humanity left, please, don’t report her.”

My smile vanished. I blinked at him curiously. From my tongueless mouth came a sound like “Ah- oh.” I tried communicating with my hands.

Tia to my right signed to me: They don’t know our language.

“Ah…” The man stumbled back like I’d struck him. I held up my hands in an attempt to calm him, but it only made him more erratic.

Maero, it’s best to ignore civilians, everything we do frightens them.

With a final glare over his shoulder, the man ran back to V-52.

But… why? I thought we’re here to protect them.

Tia sighed. We are. But they don’t like being watched as closely as we’re instructed to.

An electric shock surged through my feet. I cringed. Tia’s face contorted as she, too, received a shock.

Walls are not to speak until returning to our hub. Distractions would only make us less effective at our job.

****

Afternoon, twentieth sol of Taeo, year 84.

A girl, approximately aged 7, peeked through the door leading to V-52. Dusty blonde hair, tanned skin, hazel eyes. Friendly and curious. A man ordered her back inside, black hair, dark skin, hazel eyes and approached us asking that we don’t enter her in our report. Approximately thirty years old; adequate. Girl was...

****

A boy's tortured screams gave me pause. They sounded hollow and strange, like the moan of an injured animal.

They just removed his tongue.

The cursor flashed tauntingly at me.

Reporting the girl positively would certainly lead her to the same torturous fate as the rest of us Walls. If I chose to keep the girl out of my report altogether, I would be rendered “inadequate” myself and forcibly removed from my position.

Never had I seen a deposed Wall; once they left this building for “inadequacy,” they were never seen again. The other Walls would write the girl into their reports. The only difference was my fate, not hers.

Repeating this cycle would continuously cause pain and exacerbate the problems our society faced. But when the system was created to be perpetuated, what else was I to do?

Mother was right about everything.

I sighed and bent back over the keyboard.

...Observant and curious. Highly adequate.