Degrees of Separation

Bolin let out a long sigh as he walked slowly around the barricade that guarded the inner ring. He kicked a stone along the dusty path and frowned to himself as he examined the barren land that stretched several miles long throughout the deep cave. The outer ring enclosing him and the land was occupied by 75% of the population of Zierth, but it was hardly a home for the people who lived there. The cavern was peppered with shacks and tents but beyond those austerities down under ground they didn’t have much.

“Are you really doing this again?” Asked a friendly voice. Bolin turned on his heel to Tula who was standing before him barefooted with a grin stretched across her face. “You’re like a dog, always waiting here.” She laughed; but it was true, day after day he returned to the spire in vain hope that he would be able to reach the Saints hidden within. “I thought you were moving on!” She teased and gestured to the wall looming above them. “You’re never getting in there, Muddy boy.”

“It’s going to be different now.” Bolin replied with a smile. Tula faked her surprise but stepped closer to him with her brow lifted to listen to his latest fanatical plan. Bolin laughed a little, his eyes danced brightly as he began to explain. He had recently caught the attention of and then later met a Saint who described their world to him in vivid details. The inner ring was the only place on earth that survived the scorching of the surface; the tall stone wall circled their tower and a thick glass dome sat on top creating a greenhouse effect within. The air was warm and fragrant, grass and flowers grew there and as it was effectively the last uncontaminated soil it was that small acreage of farmland that fed what was left of Zierth. The populace of the tower was made up entirely by the Saints, the sort of cult-like group that had managed to use the tragedies of the war to indoctrinate the government of Zeirth into their beliefs. The Saints were believed to be clear headed, enlightened individuals who sat above the power thirsty few and had gained peace within themselves that they prophesied would one day allow them to roam the earth again. They lived in what most Muddies called ‘an intoxicated state of holiness’. The thought of truly being free to resurface and rejuvenate the planet was otherworldly to Bolin, but he was filled with hope and could almost taste the honey on his tongue as he thought of the gardens.

He told Tula of how the garden keeper, Fae, had promised to trade him a small bag of seeds in exchange for his heart. As he recalled the promised exchange he reached up to his chest and with a quick tug snapped a necklace away. Tula groaned loudly, Fae was one of the only Saints who spent time observing the outer ring and Tula didn’t care for the self indulgent woman who only saw them from the tip of her nose. But Bolin kept rambling on about how if he continued to barter with Fae he’d be able to convince her to visit the surface with him so he could prove to her that the two tribes had a chance of repairing the world they’d hidden from for nearly three decades.

“When was the last time you looked at your surroundings? I think you’ve spent too much time looking up at that godforsaken crystal dome.” Tula was visibly vexxed- her face was red and sweat was beginning to bead on her upper lipper the way it did when she felt she couldn’t control her anger. Bolin frowned and looked down at the little heart shaped locket in his dark hand; the silver shone brightly and again he felt a flicker of hope. Tula huffed again as he slipped his heart into his pants pocket- that necklace had been with Bolin for years, Tula in fact remembered the tragic day that he returned to Zierth with it around his neck. She felt sickened that one of his only personal items would become nothing more than a trinket to Fae.

“You’re right because we’ve hit dead ends before,” Bolin started, his voice almost cracked, “and it’s ok that you brace for the worst, given all we’ve been through. But you can’t blame me for dreaming.” He had made up his mind, Tula could hear the heroic determination in his voice.

“Actually I can.” She snapped, surprised by her own sharpness she looked up at him in shock. Bolin fixed his dark eyes to hers, the curl at the edge of his lip arched down just slightly. “I just think you should consider embracing the life that was given to you. I’ve known you since we were very young and you’ve spent your entire life looking up at that tower like it’ll one day open up and take you in. But that’s not going to happen Bolin, you belong on this side of the wall. And look around yourself, do you honestly think a life covered in white linen holiness is going to be more fulfilling than this? We might not have a greenhouse to manufacture an environment for us but we do have some access to the surface, while they have none. We live in lowly conditions but because of that we’ve become more immune to that awful chemical air. We can go up with minimal protective gear and enjoy the sunrise or set or spend time counting the stars. The Saints have no resilience to the toxins that lay beyond their walls, even out here in Zeirth Cave Fae would likely fall ill if she spent time breathing our air.”

Bolin chewed on his lower lip as his eyes tracked across the ground, Tula sighed to let him know she had grown impatient for his reply. He straightened uncontrollably and fumbled through a few remarks. “I understand where you’re coming from, but I’m looking for unity between the two worlds. They can only see a fragment of the world and how it’s transformed since the war ended; they don’t even know what it is like to truly have feelings. All that holy, clear mind mumbo jumbo just translates to empty and lost.” His voice broke and Tula snapped her neck in surprise; was that how he perceived Fae? Had Fae’s religious upbringing made her two dimensional? If so that alone stung, to be bested by someone who’d never experienced rage or fear; let alone someone who’d faint before they reached the surface. “And our ways of life are so starkly different but together, we could completely change the world.” His voice was fluctuating between tense and hopeful as he spoke.

“Why do we need the Saints to change the world, Bolin?” She asked, her dark eyes were pleading with him.

“I just think we should share it with them.” He whispered as he looked away from her and back up to the glass dome that bounced the rays of sun back along the walls of the cave. Tula felt her heart sink to the pit of her already twisted stomach, she realized at that moment she had altogether lost him. Bolin’s eyes and soul were tied to the idea of encouraging the Saints from their hideaways, to hold Fae and to begin to fix the earth.

Tula dropped to her knees, tears welled up in her dark eyes. Bolin slipped his hand into his pocket and with eyes still fixed toward the glass he pulled the heart shaped locket out and closed it carefully in his hand again. Tula let the tears run down her cheeks as she watched him, he’d worn that necklace for the past few years as a reminder to make it home when his mother could not. She already knew that it was too late for Bolin. She’d spent years mapping out the surface with him, she had continued to try to convince him to keep his head under ground, with his people. She was with him the day they had the first downfall of rain in five years; that experience changed him, with the return of the rain he knew he needed only to get his hands on the right supplies to begin to regrow the surface. It was at that point that his obsession with the spire began to get out of control; his weekly visits turned to daily visits which soon turned to him nearly never leaving the side of the wall. Tula wanted to use Fae for seeds and nothing more, she didn’t want Bolin seeing her, let alone giving away pieces of himself. On the other hand the Muddies living with them in the outer ring of Zeirth were only a few years away from running out of carefully rationed canned meals; that and the idea of eating fresh vegetation was mouth watering to Tula who’d only eaten liquized plant leftovers. The Saints had been eating salads and breads for years while they fed the people who tended to their farms nothing more than condensed odds and ends.

Tula sat up and watched Bolin as he stood watching the tower. She had a sour taste in her mouth as she looked over the frame of the young man she’d grown so close to, in that moment she felt like she didn’t even know him. Over and over Bolin had turned a blind eye to Tula and the other Muddies. She swallowed hard and choked back tears; Bolin never saw her, he never cared about the Muddies. He was stuck looking up at the spire like an abandoned dog. Tula stood up with a sense of resolve settled in her bones; she had no need for himself, her feelings could wait but the seeds could not and if it was bartering Fae wanted she had a chest full of artifacts she’d gathered from the surface over the years and many of them would be far more alluring then a little locket.