The Guardsman
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CLONK! I look up. I find a steel armored thing looking down on me. I try to peer in the dark abyss where the eyes are supposed to be, but there is nothing but pitch black. I can’t even tell if there is a man or a woman inside the silver contraption. The metal monster points to a giant box that it has placed on the floor. It beckons me to open it. I gulp. I close my eyes and think of how dry my mouth is. How I’m starting to sweat a little. How cracked my lips feel. This is it. The moment that will change my life forever. After this I will finally know my destiny.
I open the box and inside is a small blue candle. The color of the wax reminds me of the desert sky. A deep blue color that could not be replicated even if one tried for decades. Yet here was such a candle. I pick it up trembling. Not a very heavy thing. Just a simple candle that couldn’t mean anything to anyone. But it controls my future.
Underneath where the candle used to lay is a small red match. I pick it up as well.
The iron behemoth moves its hand down the box in a striking fashion and then stands there sternly; demanding that I follow suit. I do. The flame flickers for a moment before I move it to light the candle. The heat transfers gracefully, like the Shadow Dancers Troupe that came into town last month.
They moved with such finesse and beauty. i remember Diego finding a perch just below the remains of the old State building. We found a window that gave us a fantastic view of their performance. It was a wonderful show. Diego tried to kiss me. But I knew therules. If anyone saw my face, anyone at all, they would be killed on sight. So I pushed him away. I wish I hadn’t. He was the only person that made me feel like a woman should. or at least, the way they should have before the Undercities. Now everything was different.
But God, how those dancers moved! They glided so elegantly. Almost like the wind drafts that pick up dust particles in the Seventh Sector. The drafts make even the dust that our feet crunch on beautiful. I love the Seventh Sector. From the simpletons of the monastery to the hustle of the market. But my favorite will always be the huge turbines that bring in clean air from above-ground. Those glorious monstrosities that could knock you off your feet with one rotation and stand thousands of feet tall. There is nothing on the planet that can match feeling the clean, desert air hit your face. It’s like a breath of life.
The mysterious silver man pushes me out of my dream. Its cold fingers grasp my shoulder and yank me to my feet. I nearly drop the candle. It shoves me down a hallway and I get the memo.
As I meander down the dark hallway, i take notice of the world around me. The walls are a dark black; so dark one might think one is looking into an abyss. A few curtains hang symmetrically on either side of me. They seem so eerie. The red color almost looks like blood oozing down the walls. I shiver.
Halfway down the hall I see my destination. A brown wooden door is staring down at me. It must be twice my size. As I approach it slowly cracks open. CREAK! I gulp.
An elderly woman pushes the door open. Wrinkles are all that is left of her face. She seems so fragile that I begin to wonder if she might collapse right there on the spot.
“Come here child.” she groans. She turns, and hobbles back from where she came. I follow. We enter a large stadium. Thousands of empty seats line the arena around us. I gulp again. In the center lays a brown tarp covering something thin and flat. Around it small candles flicker, creating a circle around this strange object. Off to the left side of the circle is a shrine with various statues and objects scattered all over. The little old lady walks me down a path to the shrine. Candles line the pathway and my fear becomes suddenly greater. What if I mess this up? What if I’m not what I need to be? What if I fail? Can I fail?
The old woman shushes me, as if she can hear my thoughts.
“In line with our traditions, you must remove your coverings, place the candle on the shrine, and recite the words of our people.” she croaks. She then steps to the side. This is it. I start to remove my coverings starting with my head. As I start to unravel the sheets of silk I start to feel freedom call my name. Eventually my dark black hair drops. I quickly undo the rest. I now stand wearing a simple shirt and pants. I feel naked. Never have I been this exposed in front of a person before. It feels awkward. The old lady starts to hum, giving me my cue. With candle in hand I walk towards the shrine. I place my sky-blue candle on the podium and turn around slowly.
“We lost the face of the old world and because of it we remove our faces out of respect for the dead. The living shall not know their faces but once when-” I stop. The old lady has ceased humming and her jaw is dropped. I turn. The most awful thing that could ever happen, well, happens.
My blue candle has fallen off of the table and knocked over the other candles. They quickly start a chain reaction that leads straight to the tarp. Before my very eyes the tarp bursts into flames. It spreads faster than an inferno. Soon the entire tarp is burning like it is covered in oil. I’ll be killed for sure. I can only stand and watch as my future goes up in flames.
I look back at the old woman. She is nowhere to be found. Gone to find the guard so that he or she can kill me. I might as well see what all this was for.
What is left of the tarp is now burning slowly, and what it was covering is now partially visible. I rip the remains of the tarp off of the top. It burns my hands, but it doesn't bother me too much. I’ll be feeling much more pain soon anyway I’m sure. What I’m
faced with is shocking.
It’s me, I think. At least, whoever it is has the same color hair as me. She is beautiful. Her skin is brown like the fine grains sold at the market. Her nose is free of marks and her eyes are captivating. They pierce me with a curious silver look. these eyes could peer into the souls of men and know what drives them and they are looking at me. I try to look away. For some reason the figure in front of me copies me exactly. In fact, she’s wearing my clothes too. In the traditions of our ancestors, we never get to see or speak of our appearances. Could this strange woman truly be me?
“You are one of the eight my child!” a voice shouts behind me. I turn to see the old woman behind me.
“I'm what?” I ask her.
“Any other person would be killed on sight for ruining this, the most important of ceremonies! But you are one of the eight my dear, which means you are worth more to me alive. You will fetch a high price in the markets of New Charton!” she rasped. I had heard of New Charton. It was an Undercity hundreds of miles from here. But I have no intention of being sold. I make a break for the door. A large metal object smacks me on the back of the head. I fall on the floor dazed. My eyesight starts to fail me, but not before I see the silver guardsman from before start to pick me up. I looked so beautiful i think. but that won't matter anymore. Then all becomes dark.
I open the box and inside is a small blue candle. The color of the wax reminds me of the desert sky. A deep blue color that could not be replicated even if one tried for decades. Yet here was such a candle. I pick it up trembling. Not a very heavy thing. Just a simple candle that couldn’t mean anything to anyone. But it controls my future.
Underneath where the candle used to lay is a small red match. I pick it up as well.
The iron behemoth moves its hand down the box in a striking fashion and then stands there sternly; demanding that I follow suit. I do. The flame flickers for a moment before I move it to light the candle. The heat transfers gracefully, like the Shadow Dancers Troupe that came into town last month.
They moved with such finesse and beauty. i remember Diego finding a perch just below the remains of the old State building. We found a window that gave us a fantastic view of their performance. It was a wonderful show. Diego tried to kiss me. But I knew therules. If anyone saw my face, anyone at all, they would be killed on sight. So I pushed him away. I wish I hadn’t. He was the only person that made me feel like a woman should. or at least, the way they should have before the Undercities. Now everything was different.
But God, how those dancers moved! They glided so elegantly. Almost like the wind drafts that pick up dust particles in the Seventh Sector. The drafts make even the dust that our feet crunch on beautiful. I love the Seventh Sector. From the simpletons of the monastery to the hustle of the market. But my favorite will always be the huge turbines that bring in clean air from above-ground. Those glorious monstrosities that could knock you off your feet with one rotation and stand thousands of feet tall. There is nothing on the planet that can match feeling the clean, desert air hit your face. It’s like a breath of life.
The mysterious silver man pushes me out of my dream. Its cold fingers grasp my shoulder and yank me to my feet. I nearly drop the candle. It shoves me down a hallway and I get the memo.
As I meander down the dark hallway, i take notice of the world around me. The walls are a dark black; so dark one might think one is looking into an abyss. A few curtains hang symmetrically on either side of me. They seem so eerie. The red color almost looks like blood oozing down the walls. I shiver.
Halfway down the hall I see my destination. A brown wooden door is staring down at me. It must be twice my size. As I approach it slowly cracks open. CREAK! I gulp.
An elderly woman pushes the door open. Wrinkles are all that is left of her face. She seems so fragile that I begin to wonder if she might collapse right there on the spot.
“Come here child.” she groans. She turns, and hobbles back from where she came. I follow. We enter a large stadium. Thousands of empty seats line the arena around us. I gulp again. In the center lays a brown tarp covering something thin and flat. Around it small candles flicker, creating a circle around this strange object. Off to the left side of the circle is a shrine with various statues and objects scattered all over. The little old lady walks me down a path to the shrine. Candles line the pathway and my fear becomes suddenly greater. What if I mess this up? What if I’m not what I need to be? What if I fail? Can I fail?
The old woman shushes me, as if she can hear my thoughts.
“In line with our traditions, you must remove your coverings, place the candle on the shrine, and recite the words of our people.” she croaks. She then steps to the side. This is it. I start to remove my coverings starting with my head. As I start to unravel the sheets of silk I start to feel freedom call my name. Eventually my dark black hair drops. I quickly undo the rest. I now stand wearing a simple shirt and pants. I feel naked. Never have I been this exposed in front of a person before. It feels awkward. The old lady starts to hum, giving me my cue. With candle in hand I walk towards the shrine. I place my sky-blue candle on the podium and turn around slowly.
“We lost the face of the old world and because of it we remove our faces out of respect for the dead. The living shall not know their faces but once when-” I stop. The old lady has ceased humming and her jaw is dropped. I turn. The most awful thing that could ever happen, well, happens.
My blue candle has fallen off of the table and knocked over the other candles. They quickly start a chain reaction that leads straight to the tarp. Before my very eyes the tarp bursts into flames. It spreads faster than an inferno. Soon the entire tarp is burning like it is covered in oil. I’ll be killed for sure. I can only stand and watch as my future goes up in flames.
I look back at the old woman. She is nowhere to be found. Gone to find the guard so that he or she can kill me. I might as well see what all this was for.
What is left of the tarp is now burning slowly, and what it was covering is now partially visible. I rip the remains of the tarp off of the top. It burns my hands, but it doesn't bother me too much. I’ll be feeling much more pain soon anyway I’m sure. What I’m
faced with is shocking.
It’s me, I think. At least, whoever it is has the same color hair as me. She is beautiful. Her skin is brown like the fine grains sold at the market. Her nose is free of marks and her eyes are captivating. They pierce me with a curious silver look. these eyes could peer into the souls of men and know what drives them and they are looking at me. I try to look away. For some reason the figure in front of me copies me exactly. In fact, she’s wearing my clothes too. In the traditions of our ancestors, we never get to see or speak of our appearances. Could this strange woman truly be me?
“You are one of the eight my child!” a voice shouts behind me. I turn to see the old woman behind me.
“I'm what?” I ask her.
“Any other person would be killed on sight for ruining this, the most important of ceremonies! But you are one of the eight my dear, which means you are worth more to me alive. You will fetch a high price in the markets of New Charton!” she rasped. I had heard of New Charton. It was an Undercity hundreds of miles from here. But I have no intention of being sold. I make a break for the door. A large metal object smacks me on the back of the head. I fall on the floor dazed. My eyesight starts to fail me, but not before I see the silver guardsman from before start to pick me up. I looked so beautiful i think. but that won't matter anymore. Then all becomes dark.