The 3rd Memory: Seeing Eye-to-Eye

As we found ourselves waiting at yet another station to transfer, I had begun to worry about the time. By then the anemia had subsided, yet the apprehension remained. The boy had not stopped talking to himself.

Suddenly, he turned to address me.

"Since I'm doing a better job at running this city than Dad do you think he's proud of me?"

He resumed his train of thought before I could respond.

"If Dad were angry he'd have sent lightning to burn buildings down…but it's only been raining!"

The boy explained how the City was reliant on rain, as water left to pool in the streets became polluted. He went on to mention how, forced to resort to old stores of soda and spirits during times of drought, the Understory had come to love the rain and loathe the sun.

Upon reaching our destination and ascending the Understory, I spotted a flooded pothole to fill my water purifier. Within seconds the oily fluid lost its iridescence and I took a sip before offering it to the boy.

"Aw man! This tastes better than rain! If only we had this before. A long time ago there was this old guy who wanted water so bad that he even slashed Dad across the face to get it!"

Suddenly, reminded of the wound from earlier, I raised my sleeve to discover that the ointment had managed to heal it. Astonished, the boy asked to examine the ointment. I grew alarmed as he slashed his forearm to prepare for the procedure. As the topiary sizzled, he didn't so much as wince. Then, it healed without a trace of a scar, as if nothing had happened. Casually flexing his arm, the boy tossed the ointment back at me.

"With this, nothing's a match for me! Well, now that there's nothing to worry about--let's make it straight for the statue." He was smiling for the first time since we met.

As we emerged from the shadows of the back alleys the sun was low on the horizon. The boy assured me that taking the "straight" route would have us arrive before nightfall. On route, the boy informed me about the City and in return I divulged about life Outside. We realized we had been conversing for some time when the streetlights turn on. Shortly after we arrived at the central park.

Until we arrived at the park fence, I hadn't realized why the ointment had been necessary. Heavily fortified with razor wire and electric current, the fence was the final barrier we would need to surmount to get where we needed. Having devised a strategy, the boy scaled the perimeter with alacrity and ease. After halting the electric current, he called out to me. Recalling his route, I rejoined him. While I had accrued little injury, he had not been so fortunate. It was evident that the electric current had hurt him, for he was applying the ointment to a debilitating burn along his arm. When he had pilfered the ointment was beyond recollection.

Noticing a scratch on my face, the boy offered to return the ointment, all the while grinning like a devil. Offering genuine gratitude, I let him know he could keep it. Victoriously pumping a fist using his recovered arm, the boy then implored to hear more about the Outside.

Then a shrill screech pierced the silence and the moment was over.