The Domes

When I was a little girl my father told stories about the world before The Domes. How as a child he would lay outside and look at the open sky, or play in fields of grass, or climb tall trees. He described the world as a place of beauty and freedom. But when he was a teen a sickness spread across the land and it began to die. It was then that The Domes were built.

This is the only home I have ever known. Our Dome is insular. After a few year communications with the other Domes failed, and convoys across the barren lands beyond our walls were considered to dangerous after a few failed attempts.

My father’s stories always stayed with me growing up, though he passed away when I was 10. I wanted nothing more than to live outside our Dome, in a land of clear skies and lush greenery, but we were taught in school that the lands outside were no longer that. They were barren. A wasteland that could not sustain us any longer.

As such, youth were trained to fulfill roles within the Dome. We were educated within our skill set and guided along with reading, shadowing, training, and finally by the age of 16 we emerged as workers. My love of plants, though largely based off my father’s stories, influenced my skill set. I found myself seeking out text and knowledge regarding plants, and so my instructors placed me on an agricultural track.

For 10 years I have worked with the crops and in the labs working to maintain the Domes food source, but recently we have seen a decrease in product yield. The scientist in the lab continue to argue about why this is happening, but a answer has yet to be determined. What we know is that as the community in the dome grows, we cannot yield less food.

It’s decided that 3 teams will be assembled, and they will each embark on a journey to one of the other Domes. I volunteer to join one of the convoys. I will finally be able to see outside the walls of our Dome.

My convoy consists of 2 security officers, 1 communications officer, and myself. We pack into one of the Dome’s military vehicles, bringing along supplies for a few days and additional fuel. The journey should not take more than a day, but after so many years we don’t know that any mapped roads will be passable.

After the convoys are prepared, we climb into our vehicles and enter The Gateway, an area outside the primary dome but within an extra barrier dome. I’ve never been in this part of the dome. It is a vast void, perhaps a mile wide, ringed around our Dome in another large barrier dome. The walls are concrete, but I can see higher there are windows and walkways, as well as vents and fans. The security officers don’t seem concerned with our surroundings, so I assume they’ve been in here before, but beside me our communication officer, Peter, is pressed against his window taking it in just as I am.

The doors behind us close with a heavy thud, and my heart leaps. Soon the exterior doors before us will open and I will get my first glimpse of the sky. As I hear the air lock release, I hold my breath, heart pounding in anticipation. I lean forward willing the doors to open faster before my eyes.

I release my breath sharply. I had hoped, beyond reason, for the beautiful blue skies my father had told me about, but instead the sky was a dusky beige, the air was heavy with gusts of dirt blowing across dead dry earth. My heart breaks at the sight. I sit back in my seat, defeated.

We drive for what seems like hours, nothing but dirty sky and dilapidated structures destroyed by nature and time. A few times we have to evade obstacles in the road, or navigate around roads that no longer exist, but our security officers seem knowledgeable about our direction and keep us on track.

The drive itself was quiet. No one seems eager to chat as the bleakness of the world outside our dome weighs heavy on our minds. I think that we all had held out hope that world would have recovered with our departure into The Domes.

I notice that the rough road we have followed starts to climb, and climb, and climb. I stare apprehensively out my window feeling myself rise into the bleak sky and unable to see much of where we are. But as I stare, I notice that the sky begins to brighten slowly, and become less and less laden with debris. I realize that the others have noticed too. The air within the vehicle seemed to be choked with anticipation, and … hope.

The air remains thick around us, but now it is thick with bright white smoke. It is hard to see beyond us, and our vehicle slows to a crawl but continues to follow the road. And suddenly, as if by magic the veil smoke lifts and a forest looms before us in the high mountains.

We pull our vehicle to the side of the road and exit in awe. The sky is crisp and cold, bluer than anything I have ever seen. Behind us remains the haze of white smoke… Clouds! We are above the clouds!

I wish my father could see what I see. I look around and see we are surrounded by lush trees, and heavy brush. Further off I see a field of fire. No, I realize, not fire, fiery flowers. As I walk closer, I release I have seen these before in a book. Marigolds.

I laugh out loud with joy. We haven’t reached our destination, but we had found hope.