Walking the Ruins

Evening thoughts and morning rain

I run through the forest, as fast as I can. The undergrowth reaches out for me, scratching my hands and face.

Turning back, I see one of the villagers struggling 

Much later, I stop, panting. I scan the trees, expecting to see my pursuers. But nothing moves between the grey-black trunks and the green bushes. The only sounds I hear are my breath, the incessant chatter of the birds and the rustling of leaves in the wind overhead.

I have been running up the main valley, away from my camp. I decide to return, giving the village a berth.

On my way back, at the height of the village, I hear voices. I squeeze into some bushes with dark-green, thorny leaves, which add to the scratches that I already have. The voices come closer. But finally, they recede. I see no one, and the words remain unintelligible.

The forest's chatty silence returns. I wait some more, then I resume my path.

It is evening when I reach my camp. I enter the building, welcoming its physical and emotional shelter.

I sit down on my sleeping bag and look outside.

I think of home, and I realize that home is now that house at the lake, where we have left Kevin and Rose. I wonder how they are. At least they have each other for company.

The last rays of the sun touch the tips of the mountains on the other side of the valley. Towards the right, smoke rises from the village. The columns of smoke that brought me here.

My thoughts turn to Steve and Jenny who now probably sit at one of the fires feeding that smoke. How do they feel? Are they aware that something is awry? Or is it completely normal for them to live in that village over there? Do they care at all about the things around them, or have the chips stripped their physical world of its importance?

Maybe, there's nothing that worries them now, their struggles replaced by divine serenity. They have a home, enough to eat, and company. No yearnings, no doubts, no fears. No wishes unfulfilled. The daily toil for survival replaced by a sequence of days full of peace.

I could have that, too. As Jenny said, Jan would certainly be happy to help me.

Jan! At the thought of him, my hands clamp into fists. No, I don't want that chip. I want to remain human. A human being that feels anger at the sight of such injustice. A human that hates those who do this to others. A human being that can feel the pain of loneliness.

Jan will regret his deeds. A lovely thought accompanying me into sleep.

The next morning, I approach the village more carefully than usual. After my performance of yesterday, I expect to see guards everywhere. But I reach the forest's edge without incident. The morning activities of the villagers are devoid of any excitement, dull as usual. Everything looks like the day before, except for the sky whose color has turned from blue to gray, the clouds covering the valley like a heavy lid. A light drizzle is falling.

The first villagers have already moved onto the fields to start their work, but I see no trace of Steve and Jenny.

The first change in the daily routine is apparent when Jan and his thugs arrive. Jan is carrying a gun strapped over his shoulder, clearly visible. It's the first time that I see him armed. This cannot be a coincidence. And I wonder if the firearm will be the only reaction to the hapless appearance I made yesterday.

The three men approach one of the houses, and the longhaired villager emerges. They talk. Jan's cronies set the baskets down against a wall, and the whole group proceeds to the house where Steve and Jenny live. Jan and longhair enter, the others wait outside.

I feel my heart thumping in my throat, waiting for the events to play out. Transfixed and helpless, like a rabbit sitting in a road and staring at a pair of approaching headlights.

Some minutes later, the two men emerge, accompanied by Steve and Jenny.

All of them now head for the fields. Slowly. The procession is led by Jan's thugs, followed by Steve and Jenny. 'President' Jan is walking behind them, one hand on the butt of his rifle.

I want to have a closer look, so I decide to move to the other side of the village, which they are apparently headed for. I keep a large distance between myself and the clearing, constantly looking out for guards. I see no one.

On the other side, I approach the fields slowly. I discover the group at a distance above me. They sit on a felled tree trunk. Jan is talking to his companions, Steve and Jenny sit silently beside them. Longhair has disappeared.

I move closer, still keeping an eye on the trees around me. The silence feels like a trap. But nothing happens.

The closest I can get is still some fifty paces away from them. They speak quietly, and I can't understand what they talk about.

I realize that my hands are cramped around the shaft of my spear. I breathe deeply, trying to relax. Then I settle in the damp bushes and wait.

After what feels like an hour, Jan gets up, and the others rise as well. The group starts off uphill, in a slow, measured gait, in the same formation as before, with Jan bringing up the rear. I follow them, at a safe distance.

Soon they reach a path that I have never explored. It leads towards a narrow side valley.

I don't feel good about this. But I'm tired of waiting.

----

Where will this path take them?

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