Chapter 92 – Deprived Foreigners

The eyes of the person open. The person felt floaty. The person looked at the place. There was an old cement-made dock in the right. It was falling apart. In front of the person was the endless sea. The person could see the horizon. It was far and wide. The sea was flat and there were no big waves that wash the grey sand

The person felt the cold and warm wind. The person walked a step. The person leaned on the railing that looked like wood but it was just formed like lumber. It was a cement that was molded out of a lumber. The person didn’t know what wood it was. The person did not ponder about it further.

The person stared at the beach sands. The person looked at the little black crabs that dug holes. A few leaves coming from this tree rolled down the beach, which’s tree the person had forgotten. Up above, the person saw this flying machine leave being a cloud of trails. A hot breeze of wind with a mix of cool air pressed upon the person’s face.

The person stared at the flat sea again. There was a tiny boat far from the shore. It was lonesome and the sea seemed like it would suddenly swallow the kayak whole, leaving nothing but the plain unmoving sea. The person could hear the leaves rustling. The person looked behind. There were men and women carrying bottles of alcohol. Some of them sat with a weary face. Some wore a construction hat. Some carried a little baby that was barely a year old, eating, celebrating the child.

The place was quiet despite them. All the person could hear was the hush of the wind and the small brushing sound of the wands. It was a soothing feeling. The person had been trying too hard. The person had been too busy that this little bit of calmness made the person forgot all the hardship that the person has been through.

Duties and the Obligations, the person had been choked with those two things. That the person had forgotten what was it like to stay and stare at the beach where things are quiet. No stress, just the person, and the wide sea. The person was fond of the sea. It has been long since the person went to this beach. The person remembered friends that had long moved on. The person had long forgotten their faces. And as the person grows up, alone, and without any family to wake up to, made the person realize that it was time for the person to be a good tool for society. It was a cruel truth that the person faced.

It was a jarring truth. The person didn’t want any of that truth. In the end, all the person was good for was as a tool for others. Be a good person for the sake of society. Be an upstanding citizen of the whole damned world. The person could understand the reasoning of being a cog in the world. That’s why the person cherished this bit of peace.

Of course, the person knew that ‘peace’ was taken. The person had already realized that there was no way that the person would be in that place. The person knew it too well that this bit of peace was already deprived of him. It was denied and taken.

The room had a bed. It had a table near it and there was a curtain billowing along with the wind. The soft sunlight illuminated through the window, revealing the wooden pattern of the walls. In this room, a man and a woman simultaneously open their eyes.

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

The two said. They looked at each other before wiping their faces awkwardly.

“And you are?”

“Zola Dawn.”

“I see. I am Joshua Stanco. Are you a nurse? I am sure that this place is the hospital.”

“You can tell?”

“Yeah, I’ve been helping around the place, making use of my first-aid skills to treat people’s wounds.”

“You look fine.”

“I am?” said Joshua, observing his body. “Oh, I sure had a lot of scars now...weird. Hey, I am not in some kind of heaven am I?”

“No. Sadly, you are still in the living.”

“Oh. So...anyway, about my question, are you a nurse?”

“No.”

“Oh, then did I know you from somewhere?”

She shook her head.

“No, you did not.”

“Then who are you?”

She suddenly pulled something from her belt. It then materialized into a familiar weapon.

“A shotgun...or at least that’s what I think it should be. Oh, you are that angel with a shotgun?”

“Angel?” she rested her shotgun on her lap. “I don’t think I am. So, now that you’ve seen that. What can you tell?”

“You are not from here?” said Joshua, speaking in his native language. “That you are a foreigner perhaps?”

Zola smiled thinly. “I guess that I am not the only foreigner here.”

“Looks like it,” said Joshua. “So...I am from the 3rd millennium.”

“25th millennium...” said Zola, her head lowered down. “I guess we are from a different time.”

Joshua looked at her. “I guess so So about we compare if we really from the same world?”

“I guess so,” she nodded.

The two started comparing the history that they both knew. Joshua started from the first world war, then to the moon landing and so on. Zola confirmed most of the history that Joshua knew, but beyond that timeline became vague, and there was only this Dark Age where people grew in fear against what Zola calls as the ‘Quietus’ plague. A disaster that made the AI’s of Zola’s timeline went rogue, creating the ‘Quietus’. The unholy matrimony between the Organic and the Synthetic, creating the abomination that Joshua had witnessed in that forest.

Joshua didn’t know what to say to Zola. He only listened in silence while trying not to act as if he knows. He wouldn’t know what it would be like to live in such disturbing age. He wouldn’t understand her plight. He wouldn’t know what it would be like.

So he could only listen. Listen, to this person that was lost in this foreign world like him. She was speaking her truths, despite not knowing him. All Joshua knows that she’s speaking because he was in the same situation. Their times were too far apart, but they at least belong to the same world and that he could understand... as a fellow deprived who was denied of his home.