The Seed

The rubber trees twisted toward the sky, dwarfed only by the glass towers that competed with them against the streets of the city. The air was a smoggy mustard yellow on the clearer days. She propped herself up against the synthetic tree. The plastic leaves bent toward her, in anticipation of her next movement, to offer shade from the burning sun. The entire city was built from the trash of generations before her. Compiled and compounded to contort into the shape of nature. Water was rationed in the city so the Autocrats could water their lawns in the neighboring villages. They spent their days enjoying fresh air, far away from the polluted airs and dense populations of the city dwellers.

She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. As she inhaled again, a light mist of filtered air gently sprayed from the tree. She held it for a moment before slowly exhaling again.

She looked around and shrugged. She longed for nature... its organic textures and fragrances. The city dwellers weren’t allowed to access the villages. The Autocrats had built walls around the cities, shortly after World War 4 ended in 2271, to protect themselves from another uprising.

She picked herself up and proceeded down the paved road, looking for a crack in the sidewalk.

I just need one patch of dirt.

She had been searching for days. If she couldn’t find it, her plan was useless.

Her picture had surfaced on monitors that hung from the towers. They were the same towers that offered her ambiguity among the crowd as people darted passed her. She was officially missing. She thought about her life; what people must be thinking and how much trouble she would be in, if she were even allowed back, after they find her.

It’s too late now. I can’t go back. I need to find it. My grandmother would have wanted this for the future.

She remembered her grandmother’s stories of her childhood. When the villages on the outskirts of the plastic, urban jungles were still open to the public. She spoke of holidays relaxing in a forest or splashing around in the waves of the beach. A smile brushed over Eila’s face, as she remembered the excitement in her grandmother’s eyes when she would reminisce on the days before the War. Her grandmother always told her how she dreamed of one day living among the Autocrats, but as time passed, so did the realization that the day would likely never come. It didn’t. She died impoverished, like most of the elders of the community. They would disappear into the basements of the skyscrapers to be given a single hospital bed, nightstand, and a book of their choosing to pass the time.

She began twisting the aged gold, heart-shaped locket through her fingers. The locket sat unassumingly against her pale skin, covered by her long auburn hair. She could usually be found in a pair of worn jean shorts and a form fitting tank top that showed off her athletic build. She never went outside without her scarf and sunglasses for protection against the heat. Everybody did. The average temperature was 117 degrees Fahrenheit.

Her grandmother used to tell her stories of snowfall on the mountains surrounding their city. She couldn’t recall a single time she had seen it herself.

She stared at the neatly paved roads and rubber plants that sat in modern planters outside of the glass monuments. The government made sure to keep the streets pristine, as they believed that cleanliness would bring them closer to God, who had forsaken them years prior, at the beginning of the onset of unending heat waves, famine, and war. Many referred to the heat as Hell on Earth and a sign that their souls were doomed. Others felt that it was a warning of what would await them if they did not repent. Scientists kept quiet and spent their time engineering solutions to sustain life in the city.

Eila was one of the engineers. She knew how meticulous they were about the aesthetic of the city. She knew it would be nearly impossible to find the break in the pavement that she desperately needed.

This is for you, grandma, she thought as she clutched the heart shaped locket with a delicacy that wouldn’t break the weakened chain.

She started to walk toward the outskirts of the city. She pulled her scarf up to the edge of her sunglasses, so she wouldn’t be recognized by the guards. In the corner of Apartment Building 25, she found a patch of dirt between the slabs of cement that made up the sidewalk. She knelt down and gently caressed the crack with her fingertips. A smile spread across her face for a brief moment.

The guard began walking toward her with a look of intent in his eyes and his lips pressed into a scowl.

She looked away, hoping that it would make her invisible. It didn’t. The guard stared at her as he passed. She held her breath and bent down to innocuously tie her shoe. He studied her for a brief moment and followed her gaze to the patch of dirt. He walked by uneventfully. She picked herself back up, notated where she was in her head, and continued on until nightfall.

Darkness surrounded her. She grabbed her coat from her backpack and wrapped it around her. The smog grew into a thick fog and the air around her turned a muddy gray. It was hard to see. She had remembered the path she took to her current location.

Right two blocks, left, followed by another right after four more blocks, and an immediate right. Walk past the first two buildings and you should be at building 25.

She followed the directions in her head. When she arrived, she found freshly poured cement. She bent down to examine it closer.

No! How can that be??? The guard must have seen it when I bent down. Damn it!

She frantically began thinking of new solutions. As she was standing back up, she felt someone grab her mouth and pull her toward the wall by her waist. Before she had a chance to yell or fight, he began to talk.

“I know what you’re doing,” a male voice whispered in her ear. “I want to help.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she retorted.

“The locket. I know what’s inside it. I’ve seen the way you guard it. I heard the stories, but I didn’t think they were real. May I?” He reached out to touch the necklace.

“No!” She began to kick and shift her body back and forth to escape his grip. He let go. She fell to the ground. He towered over her.

She recognized his face as he stared at her through the fog, offering a hand up. She refused.

“Our grandparents knew each other. My grandmother told me to look after you, that you may need help one day,” he casually explained.

“Well, I don’t,” she retorted, while picking herself up. He extended a hand again. She pushed it away.

“You do need help. I know exactly where you need to go and I know how to distract the guards,” he offered. “I’m Xander. We met when we were younger. Our grandfathers were being recognized for their service together.”

He smiled at her. She hesitated and reluctantly smiled back. “Okay, but we need to move quick.”

“Copy that.”

“Why are you really here?” she persisted.

He sighed, “Same reason as you… I remember the stories.”

They began walking. Everything looked unfamiliar in the fog. She brought herself closer to him as he navigated the neighborhood with an ease that left her questioning whether he lived there or was a guard.

“Found it!” he whispered, loudly.

They stopped. She looked around, but didn’t see anything.

“Is this a joke?” She was growing impatient.

“Of course not. It’s right here,” he replied, as he shifted a paver on the path to the front door of a nearby building.

“The guards will notice a missing paver,” she retorted.

“We aren’t going to take it. We’re going to shift it. Trust me,” he smiled at her and began digging a small hole. She pulled a spoon from her pocket and began digging with him.

She opened the locket. Inside, was a photograph of her grandmother as a child, sitting among the blossoms. Behind that were the seeds.

“Incredible,” he said quietly. “May I?” He reached out his hand and picked up one of the seeds, rolling it between his index finger and thumb, studying it intensely.

“We need to hurry,” she replied, as her body filled with anxiety. She realized it had been 20 minutes since they started and she was certain a guard would be coming by for a curfew check. She dropped the seeds into the dirt and began packing the Earth back down. Xander grabbed the paver and set it down next to the freshly compacted dirt.

As she stood back up, she saw the lights approaching. “Run!” she shouted at Xander.

They took off around the corner and continued into the fog. More lights approached from the other side. They pressed themselves up against the wall and crouched down to make themselves look as small as possible. The guards found them instantly.

The guards picked them up roughly. “What are you guys doing out past curfew?”

The guards put them in the back of the HMMWV and asked for ID. They handed over their IDs. One particular guard, Cassian, looked familiar to Eila. She realized he was the guard from the other day. As she studied his face and pieced together the familiarity, he locked eyes with her and smirked. He already recognized her.

She asked for a lawyer. The guards insisted one would be provided, but he never came. They shut the door to the vehicle and transported Eila and Xander to separate holding facilities.

“Hello, Eila. I have a few questions for you.” The head guard turned on a handheld device and words projected onto the wall in front of her.

One question stood out to her as she skimmed through the interrogation. “Are you a traitor to the country?” it asked. She sat quietly and thought, Are YOU?

Cassian marched through the neighborhood of Building 25. He had Xander with him. “I don’t know what you and Eila did that night, but you’re going to show me.”

Xander had tried to refuse, but the torture was getting worse. He was covered in bruises that made it difficult to walk.

Cassian tugged on Xander’s handcuffs, pulling Xander to the ground. “Did I stutter?!” he exclaimed impatiently, as he began tightening the cuffs.

They went down the last block. A smile spread across Xander’s face. He could see the blooms from the end of the street. The tiny white flowers with their bright green stems seemed to have pushed themselves out from the pits of hell. He noticed they were slightly withered.

“Is this what you were doing? Planting flowers?!” Cassian laughed as he walked over and tore them from the dirt. He studied them for a moment. “A little pathetic, don’t you think? Could use some water.”

Cassian carefully pressed them between the folds of his passport and placed it in his back pocket.

“My wife will love these. Thanks!” he taunted. Xander stayed silent, as he felt a wave of grief wash over him.

Cassian returned Xander to the vehicle to take him back to his prison.

Eila sat in her cell, wondering if the flowers had bloomed. While her hope and wonderment grew, the world was tapering back into silent compliance. She drew in a deep breath and coughed slightly on exhale. It may not have been the organic air the Autocrats breathed, but she found herself missing the rubber trees. A smile returned to her face, as she thought about the blooms again.