In a world where every shadow is an enemy, and every strange sound bodes death, security equals freedom on an earth that has been swept empty yet flourishes. One represses the thought of being alone, of endless expanses, because loneliness is like death and the open expanse means one is exposed to the unknown enemy outside the walls. But human beings cannot survive in a world that does not obey them, and so, however small, we create the territory in which we rule, and nature is subjugated to us. That's the only way we could - and still can - live and thrive.
We are probably the last thousand people to populate the earth, crammed into a few square miles surrounded by a glass wall. We can't remember whether we lock ourselves in or leave the enemy outside. Generations of generations have lived and died here. A wall, 20 meters high, insurmountable, and we are hanging by its thread.
Walking along The Solitude was almost meditative. The Solitude that's what the strip between the glass wall and the inland was called because it burned the areas near the border when the sun was shining. But on cool, sunless days, you could touch the glass, look out, and imagine the wind blowing and freedom just being a step away. Whether the wall was built to keep the inmates at bay or the enemies out didn't matter. It didn't matter if you had only known this security for more than two decades, relied on it, and appreciated it. Society worked. Everyone had work, and resources were provided. There was no overpopulation in this small, isolated world and no crime. Occasionally, stories could be heard about illegal acts, but Eve didn't know what happened to the suspects. Possibly the government was merciful and allowed them to stay and work away from the judgmental eyes of society. One thing was certain: the wall never disappointed, and no one overcame The Solitude.
Gentle streams of wind blew through the narrow, barely perceptible holes in the wall. They must have had a reason, but that was long forgotten. It was perfectly safe.
Sometimes, as the days and nights lengthened, she imagined the wall receding, needing more steps to circumnavigate the city. But today, there were just as many as last week – including varying stride lengths. As she approached the view of the main square, which, unlike previous cities, was on the outskirts, she noticed the unusually large crowd moving hesitantly towards the wall. Nothing was dangerous but humanity itself, she kept telling herself like a mantra until her thought was stopped by her icy blood, frozen by sight before her. On the wall, proud and ominous, was the bloody imprint of a hand on the outside. Outside, where security had no rights.
Takeda
His footsteps echoed in the dark corridor. In the end, he saw light coming from an open door and soft voices that seemed to be in a lively discussion. He adjusted the bag on his shoulder and pushed open the door, not caring to knock. The voices died away, and a face turned to him. The other remained to stare at the chessboard, a black bishop in hand, ready to move.
'It's time. We have to go,' Takeda said. There was no excitement or hurry in his voice.
The doctor, whose eyes had stayed with him since he had entered, sighed heavily. "We'll continue the conversation later. I never lose an argument." He got up, pushed past Takeda, and disappeared into one of the rooms down the hall. Takeda noticed how unkempt, unshaven, and visibly sleepless Dr Harper was. He, too, turned to go. The woman finally turned her face towards him, and he noticed her bandaged left eye. She dropped her arm clumsily on the board, still holding the bishop in her hand and making no move to rise. She gave no other sign of his appearance, but he knew she would be at his and Harper's side in a few minutes, ready to go.
Harper
The last few thousand humans - always assuming they were right in their assumption that they were the only ones - had much space to live and thrive on, Harper thought as he walked with Takeda and Irene from the hospital in the glaring sun, making their way to the main square of the city. They were in no hurry, for the hospital was on the outskirts, and like all the streets in the unnamed city, this one was dark, dusty, and empty. Empty was a word that could be used to describe many things in this city: schools, buildings, homes, and streets, to name just a few. But he couldn't help grinning as he looked towards the sun with closed eyes and followed his companions with his ears, both talking animatedly and in light tones. Companions. The two young people were more than his companions.
He took Irene in when she was six years old, and she lost her parents, her left arm and her left eye in an accident when an old building that a few families occupied collapsed. He took her in, treated her, and trained her. Now she worked as his assistant in the hospital laboratory. He knew she didn't mind spending all day in the hospital's windowless catacombs conducting tests and examinations. While he couldn't resist the occasional comment to tease her about her isolation, he found it more than justified. Over time, her gaze became more thoughtful, restless, and critical. Her nature became more closed except towards her family.
Takeda also came to him when he was young. Seeing them growing up and now in their thirties made him feel old. If there were still the prosperity of retirement, it would have been his time. Takeda was either the more outgoing, people-friendly or the quiet conspiratorial of the two. He wore his tousled hair in a high ponytail, and if he carried a katana with him, his appearance as a fighter would be perfect. From the outside, his lineage would not allow any other conclusion.
Of course, there were simple weapons in the city. Even if the need for defence was not given, all eventualities were taken care of in silence with the "government" from the very beginning of the " foundation " of this city. However, one could hardly speak of foundation. Harper wondered where and if he had read anything about the origins of this city. Books were not scarce, but only a little time and mental effort were wasted in making new transcripts other than preserving the existing works. And the government only consisted of a mayor and a democracy. He was not re-elected because there was no need for any change - as the residents were content with him and had no sense of politics - nor was there much to decide. Every person had a task and pursued it conscientiously. There was no favouritism or better treatment of any particular person. Despite agriculture and animal husbandry, resources were scarce, and no one dared to think about technology; electricity is mainly only used in public buildings, and even if every household theoretically had it available, few used it because rumours were circulating among young people, and sometimes, after a particularly monotonous day, rekindled again and again, even among the older generation. None of the residents had witnessed the city's founding, not even their ancestors. Yet everyone seemed to know about it, almost to have witnessed it. But Harper knew they were all wrong.
But such stories were like shadows in the midday sun on cloudless skies and dust-dry streets. But not today. Because people flocked to the glass wall, and the closer Irene, Takeda, and Harper got, the louder the whispering rose. The bloody handprint was on the wall, clearly visible through the thick glass.
Takeda and Irene fell silent. Her eyes met his and grew serious, knowing what would await them.
Irene
'It's never going to be okay,' Takeda muttered as they made their way back to the hospital. She didn't know if he meant the overall situation or had something specific in mind.
Harper, who had gone ahead, stopped and turned to face them. 'I'll go straight to City Hall. They want a doctor who accompanies the expedition to the outside and helps to prepare it over the next few days. Apparently, I'm good enough to be called up and asked for advice and considered crazy and expendable enough to leave town.' He grinned. Still, Irene knew he wasn't taking it personally. Harper was by no means a well-known physician. Although his patients knew him and their families respected his "miraculous" skills, he could hardly pass as a model doctor.
'Tell Avery I won't make it to Mrs Bantry's operation. You two can do it alone. Takeda, please get the things I asked for. While people here assume it will be a short adventure out there in search of a survivor, I suspect we'll be gone for much longer.' After waiting for a nod in response, he turned down a side street and soon disappeared from sight.
Outside, Irene thought. There was no way out, and there was no way in either. In the general bustle and whispering, however, two main thoughts could be heard from the crowd: Is there a survivor out there, maybe even several, who wanted to draw attention to themselves? Then why didn't that someone show up? Was he injured and didn't want to present himself as injured prey to strangers? Why draw attention to yourself and then flee? Did he want us to follow?
There was a squad searching the area around the wall. Eventually, the ominous stranger, exhausted and with no hope of finding living people, let alone a functioning society, might have kept walking to find a way into the city. However, Irene and Takeda were sure that someone would have already been discovered. Harper stayed out of the discussion. What he didn't know for sure didn't bring him victory in an argument.
Another theory floated to the surface of people's consciousness: What if one of us had made it outside and was trying to lure us out? The wall was too high to get over, with or without aids. In addition, it reached many meters deep into the ground. It was unknown how far down it went, but so far, no shaft went deep enough. It was impossible to dig a tunnel beneath the wall. The only option left was a hidden exit. An exit that nobody has found for centuries? Absurd. It had to be someone from outside, whatever the reason for his disappearance.
'The good Mrs Bantry then? She has a heart defect, doesn't she?' Takeda asked after a while, unusually interested as he crossed an arm behind his head and sauntered on.
Irene followed. "Yes, since her husband died, her health has worsened rapidly."
"Did you know that she used to kick me out of the library? It was a hell of a job keeping it from Harper. I think he likes her." He winked.
Mrs Bantry was the librarian as well as a substitute teacher. She was younger than she looked, but fifty years in the same place hadn't done her any good. Some people took it better than others. In a society like this, everyone had to work as a farmer, teacher, doctor, nurse, butcher, lumberjack or construction worker. One only sometimes had a choice, but the population was now large enough that a certain range of careers was needed. However, "soft" jobs had the aftertaste that most people who practised them had to pursue two jobs. Like writers, librarians and musicians. Then again, there was no money in the proper sense. Everyone got the same for their work. Everyone was equal; everyone contributed to society.
'You found a donor?' Takeda pulled Irene out of her thoughts. His questions, formulated as statements, sometimes annoyed her.
She tilted her head back and grinned. She knew that question would come. 'Yes, we have. Nolan.'
'Irene' She knew the voice that called her only too well because she belonged to some of the few people she knew and with whom she spoke regularly, even if "regularly" was expressed a little too optimistically. She had to admit that even if she saw more daylight, she would not be spending that time among other people. Harper had never been able to teach them this habit. 'You're going; you, Takeda, and Harper?'
She stopped and turned to wait for Eve to catch up with her. She continued walking, 'Of course, you know Harper.'
'You know,' Eve said casually, "at first, I always envied you for being taken care of by him. A laid-back doctor who lets you try everything and gives you freedom. I've always wondered why he pushed me away. We were both present at the accident, the same age. Why you and later Takeda? Not that I would envy you today,' she added bluntly.
Irene gave her a few seconds to continue her speech. When there was no further objection, she replied wearily, 'Harper's a strange man. He likes having guinea pigs around, and Takeda and I, as injured children, were much more attractive than an intact, bright girl.' They both laughed, but Eve's gaze darted briefly to the bandage on Irene's left eye. 'He still can't do anything?'
'Other projects are more interesting and important,' she winked, even though it was only visible to those familiar with the problem to her one eye.
Irene noticed that Eve was getting to the point of the conversation, which was why she had approached her in the first place. 'You never looked for her, your sister. Why not? She was never found in the ruins, but you didn't give her a thought? Have you ever wondered if she's still alive? She could live across town and think you're dead too, which I sometimes feel the same way when you're locked away in the basement for days - sorry,' she conceded when Irene raised an eyebrow, "when you're helping out in the lab for days and lovingly caring for the old and the sick. And yes, dear old Mrs Bantry has many people who care for her and await her quick return.'
'Hear, hear,' laughed Irene. 'Now that we're going--and I know Harper will find a way out of the city fast - I'm actually thinking about her. About the few people we leave behind and how we leave them behind."'
'You won't be gone for years, but assume that something unexpected happens to one of you. Don't you want to find her?'
'I don't have time for that anymore. I thought she had been dead for decades, and it's too late now. But if you care, will you find her for me? Then I know that, just in case, she's not alone. Whatever is going to happen here.'
Eve was silent and thinking. 'You shouldn't go. The answer is not there, even if you should find a way out. There is nobody out there anymore. I don't know how, but it was someone from our town. If Harper and the others find a way out, it proves someone knew about an exit. You're going to die out there...'
'You're going to die in here!' Irene interrupted loudly and got ahead of Eve with her prophecy. She was sure, so sure, that the space was getting smaller; they were rabbits in a maze. She and Takeda surely knew Harper's every thought, they were his confidants, his family, and this wasn't living.
Eve kept her composure. "Like everyone here. Like many before us. And after us. In safety and as a community." She turned around after saying goodbye to Irene with a good-natured smile.
Sometimes the urge - which the mind conjured up through illustrious fantasies - to push into life would germinate, and one felt that it might be the last opportunity to do something good, even if there was no time pressure and no visible danger for the foreseeable future.
Irene's voice flew softly to Eve's ear. "Find her, keep her safe."
While Takeda went about the tasks Harper had assigned him, Irene made her way to one of the hospital's underground wards. The top floors were usually not supplied with electricity, and the hospital was far too big anyway, so not using them was not a loss. Some windows were barricaded so that no light could be seen from afar at night. While there had been no incident so far, no one wanted to risk luring the unknown horror from outside. A dense forest along the city wall obscured the lower floors, and the sense of security and indomitable will to live a fear-free life were strong enough to relax precautions. Irene checked into the station with her card, the only one electronically secured.
She checked on the two patients. Mrs Bantry looked pale, her face sunken, and she was asleep. The devices beeped rhythmically. In the bed next to her, behind a curtain, lay a young man, no older than Irene herself. He didn't move, and he hadn't opened his eyes. He, too, was connected to monitors that ensured his life. She laughed softly. It was absurd, but as much as people strive for safety and leadership, the price paid for a functioning society has been even crueller. There were a few unnamed graves in the city cemetery. Some, Irene knew, bore the wrong names of their resting ones. Nolan would be one of those cases. His tomb was empty. His parents got a decent funeral for their son. Didn't they know he was still alive a few hundred meters away from their home?
The logic was simple: if people didn't see any missteps, they wouldn't be enticed to commit them themselves. Whatever the situation, human nature seems prone to drug use and violence, behaviours so self-destructive that nothing and no one can break them. Nolan wasted his life making drugs and amassing a small group who wasted their time and occasionally attacked peaceful residents. Last week, he ripped off a man's ear in a heated argument, and law enforcement again took him into custody. He was incorrigible. And that got him into this situation.
Irene felt no sympathy for the people who ended up on this station. There weren't many, but she'd seen quite a few. The mayor and a handful of other people believed—correctly for Irene, Harper, and Takeda—that these people were only valuable to society in one way: they could give their organs, before they were rendered useless by drugs, to people who were marked by illness and were about to die. She had already seen Nolan three times on the operating table. She herself had removed a good eye and given it to a young, hard-working family man. His kidney was removed last week, followed by his lungs. He was just a shell to be kept alive as long as possible in case one of his organs was needed. And hearts were rare. She knew that only too well. Because Takeda also had a heart defect as a child. Harper knew this couldn't be the only solution, so he kept researching. From the moment they met him, he was dedicated solely to his research. Though she and Takeda only shared those passions to a certain degree, they kept his path clear.
Mrs Bantry woke up. 'Good evening, Mrs Bantry. I'll take you to Dr Avery. You get your new heart.' Irene looked at her in a friendly and encouraging way. Her soft voice was reassuring and confident.
The old lady laughed, and tears welled up in her eyes. Irene knew they were doing the right thing. She glanced behind the curtain at the young man and hardened her gaze. It would be his last surgery.
***
'It will never be good again?'
Irene and Takeda sat in their usual place, high on top of the hospital roof, watching the setting sun. As always, they sat many feet apart, a habit they had developed as children. They spent the day in and out in the same place, with the same people. Although there were many places to be alone, the constant company was draining. The symbolic distance was a constant that could not be broken.
Irene waited for Takeda's reply, which came without him taking his eyes off the lowering sun. 'It doesn't matter if we're in here or out there. You know what awaits us there. It's our own fault, and yet we plunge into our undoing. Or wait here for our death after a lonely life.' After a few seconds, he averted his gaze and looked questioningly at Irene.
'I think the answer is out there. Not the concerning the handprint, but the one concerning humankind. And our story isn't about whether we stay in here or ever get out. We will, and there, a few hundred meters away, our task begins. Everyone who comes along wants to be a part of this. You know, "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."'
He smiled. 'You're reading that book again. Like every year.' Then he got serious. 'They don't know what to expect. You and me. We're the only ones who have a clue. And he's the only one who knows for sure.' Both were silent until Takeda spoke again. 'You think he's known for a long time?'
'Of course.' She smiled at him. 'That's why he took care of us.' After a long silence, she added: 'We're going to die, aren't we?' It wouldn't be the last time she asked that question.
'Quite possibly.' Silence. 'How is your arm? Harper performed a little surgery on it this morning?' He grinned.
'Good. No, fantastic.' She put her hand in front of her face.
Takeda's grin widened. '技術だけは得意です.'
He got up and went inside. Irene remained seated, and although the late-summer wind cooled the air, she kept staring through the wall to the other side.
'あなたはそれを持っています.', she murmured, smiling to herself. The light of the setting sun was not reflected. Harper worked with a small team around Takeda on a theory regarding the coating of the wall. Delicate, almost imperceptible strands running across it seemed to be all it took to keep the city secret, hidden from the eyes of the enemy, until now.
Breathing in the fresh air, she followed Takeda inside and made her way to their apartment alone, which she saw less often than the windowless rooms of the clinic.