Chapter 3: Debriefing
“So much left to know, and I’m on the road to find out.”—Cat Stevens
“Please stand Mr. Skye; we need for you to stand,” buzzed a small box at the upper left corner of the mirrored wall. Alec stood slowly, and faced the middle pane without speaking. After the stadium ceremony, he had been led carefully away from the media by means of a concrete tunnel, forced into a white sedan, and led here—a chamber with tiled and grouted walls, a concrete floor, and the crashing fluorescent lights often used to illuminate desks and papers in public schools and government installations. They radiated the oppressive nature of their setting, casting an overwhelming sickly, pale light on everything within range. His hands at his sides, Alec remained prone, receptive to the messages to be parlayed to him via speaker. His nerves, already carrying a crescendo of signals across the tract of his spine, had begun to crack, breaking thought into chaotic signals of white noise. “Thank you,” returned the voice, “This is important Mr. Skye. You absolutely must know these three things if you are to complete the task levied upon you by the decision tonight. First, this is happing, and everything around you is real. Second, more importantly, the indigo rose is real. You are not being sent on a wild goose chase. Third, if you discover the indigo rose, you must return with it here, to us. It is our position to make sure the indigo rose is administered for the best interests of humanity.” Again, his strained synapses relayed lightning news across the length of his body, but perhaps, that was more from the frigid air flowing in from ventilations shafts mounted above the lights. His skin tightened in anticipation of release. Alec could feel Jonathan’s anxiety, though this was only a dream, and both men would have liked nothing more than a way out, for the cage to be opened, to be free to plow onward to their fate. The lights were turned off, ghosting slightly and fading to black as the excited electrons in the fluorescing gas release the last of their charge, and Alec was moved quickly while still disoriented by the darkness.
At last, he was released onto the street, deeply jammed into the cavernous crevasse between buildings, like an axe head into the grain of a log. From alleyway to thoroughfare, Alec plodded onward on his path out of the city, and into the countryside, away from the nearly vascular construction of arterials comprising the city’s roadmap. As he emerged on the surface, beyond the streets of the Underground City, the sun caught individual strands of Alec’s blonde hair and illuminated them, allowing each to glow translucently and reveal his hair’s natural hues—something usually hidden by the artificial lights of his hometown. The crisp air entering his lungs was something reserved only to people traveling between the cities, a treat intended only for those who choose to open their eyes and explore the truth of an expansive and relatively untouched world. Even with the machinations of humanity causing the ground beneath him to vibrate, Alec could sense his distance to the city below. Free from the cave, Alec examined the brighter healthier hues of the outside world with insatiable curiosity, pausing briefly to pass his fingers through the tufts of poorly kept grass and inhaling repeatedly to contain as much of the world around him as possible. Eventually getting his fill of plants and bugs, Alec pulled his head up and scanned the horizon for anything that might reveal the direction of his target. Seeing only the tip of a distant mountain cresting the broad skyline, Alec chose the mountain over the featureless expanse in all of the other directions.
As he walked, Alec occasionally reached down and picked a random wildflower from the tufts of foliage growing at his feet. Every time, he picked a different flower and marveled at the gentle texture and wild colors displayed by each, likening them in his mind to fluorescent lights and color displays, but falling short due to the experience of the genuine issue being right there, in his grasp. These wildflowers would have been perfect to give to girls when he met them for dates, for his mother as well. To be fair, the flowers were perfect without the having such a purpose, but Alec thought it would have been nice if he’d known.
As the mountain grew larger on the horizon, the land around Alec began losing its color and foliage, and the air grew colder. Miles and days passed, and Alec found his way toward the mountain, spending his nights in the company of families who recognized him from the telecast days earlier. Nightly, he was asked the same questions: “Do you know where it is?” “Is it real?” “Is the road hard?” “Do you get lonely?” Alec tried, every night, to be eloquent and kind to his hosts, but he felt and odd disconnection between the voyaging man who fielded questions for room and board, and the scared and overwhelmed kid he was on the inside. There were perks to being a hero, or at least in trying to be one; his dinners were always free. He was served the best meal available because of his station and importance, and Alec tried to be gracious company when the need for conversation presented itself to him, but these conversations only reminded him more of the distance between whom he was and who he needed to be. He traveled during the day, mostly, because of this hospitality. Every morning, the mountain grew nearer, and every morning the terrain ahead grew colder, until everything surrounding Alec was completely encapsulated by winter. Days would pass between farmhouses, and Alec found flora and fauna to be steadily decreasing in prevalence in much the same order as the houses. At the final house between him and the mountain, Alec packed a bag full of rations by the advice of his host, and prepared for the strenuous walk across the remaining miles of fields and foothills.
Alec walked for a week without rest, hoping in the back of his mind to run into someone who might know how to reach his goal. The dirt he walked had become frozen sandpaper, slowly wearing his shoes away as he walked during the nights to stay warm and the daylight hours to maintain his direction. By then, though, Alec could clearly see the base of the mountain, but he was hurting greatly: cold, starved, thirsty, and beaten down by the sterile land around him. His steps were erratic, often in such a way that his toenails dragged on the ground beneath his feet as they skidded forward into the next step. Alec’s mouth was open in a soundless plea for air to reach his lungs; he stood erect because any variance forward or backward would cause him to fall. His body suddenly became too heavy to move. Without anything to grasp on to, Alec succumbed to the weight and dropped to his knees.
Then he caught the odor of meat turning over in an open spit. Involuntarily, his body struggled back to its feet and shuffled toward the direction of the scent. When the sun abandoned Alec, sinking beneath the frozen horizon, the small fire he had been moving toward grew to be visible, casting light over the surrounding plain. When Alec approached the fire, he saw a small man turning a large hunk of meat over the open flame. It glistened as fat formed droplets up on the outside and the fire crackled when the drops found their way into it. The man stayed behind the flame and continued rotating a pole which held the meat over the flame; he was certain of the effect of his lure. A warm meal was the perfect attractant for weary travelers, especially this one, Mr. Jonathan Skye.
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