The City (An original short story)

My heart beats to a different rhythm in the city; I can’t hear it but can feel its tension. Galaxies of glass buildings conspire to cast off an overpowering glare, blurring eyes with tears or glaring onto tear filled eyes. Of that I am unsure. But the polished glass reflects a million lost dreams into the caverns of my mind. An obsidian skyline cutting a vicious horizon, concrete pavement inlaid in the scramble for space. Betraying all the vivid possibilities of human potential. Fat wallets and endless numbers on the screen poison the mind with the new false god. Omnipotent and infinite, the power of our invention so great that we forget that we invented it! But peer beneath this numbing mediocrity, the pretty faces and ugly minds. I know that my heart beats, reverberating tirelessly, cyclically like the rising and setting sun. But one day even the sun will fizzle away to dust. In these walls we bleed all the light from ourselves to power the city lights, afraid of that darkness creeping in. Happiness by the kilowatt.

The airport looms up; they are always low to the ground so nobody gets the idea of leaving. My ears humming to the low rumble of morning traffic, the faint whir of sirens invites a black curiosity amongst the deadening noises of hurried, mumbled conversations. More energetically now, I bounce off the cold pavement, rolling from heel to toe , the padded noise just audible over the monotonous drone of taxis, always occupied, heading to the drop-off and then around again into the huge queue. Smoking and joking, it seems boredom is the price of convenience.

Without any conscious thought, my ears pick vibrations out of the silence, spinning a tapestry of noises for my brain to interpret and judge. Tyre screeches and the blaring of horns clash with the sometimes tranquil hum of the city, bustling with continuation. The show is always going on. Inside me this universe of cells, neurons and chemicals, multitasking effortlessly to bring this world to life and keep me alive within it. An infinite chemistry of happenings, refusing to ever be condemned to understanding through any scientific faculty, there will always be mystery; just like reading a phonebook will never tell you much about the people in a city, despite knowing all their names. The universe is nothing without its observers! What is a ship without a dock, captain and crew? The city enrages my soul with apathy but the ocean within calms it to a more direct purpose, reminding me of the illusion of separateness.

The city never rests but everyone is asleep, cookie cutter people amble up the road, always a coffee in their left hand and the phone precariously glued to their right, constantly stimulated into an ever-deepening anxious overdrive. Either afraid or blind to the infinite power that exists within, all our stories began in the heart of an exploding star.

The crack caught my eye, it was large, a fettered line that traced raggedly through the marble, showing only an eager direction, it would not have looked out of place on a terracotta figure left to cook to long. I imagined the figure, eerily like the ceramic faces around me, blank and unconscious, mouths tensed into that forced unnatural smile. Relentlessly pretending that nothing is wrong, somewhat like an enlivened brick. The eyes; cold, buried beneath 10 layers of needless thought and scotch tape safety sealed to bury that raw purity that urges them to dream, love, create and laugh with joy. An ocean of feeling constricted by the dam walls of thought. But the cracks are always there to the right eye! Even in the simple rebellion of a loose extravagant tie, colourful odd socks, a youthful spring in the step, a brutal morning hangover or a tender smile reveal their humanity.

I traced the crack with my eyes, the immense force of the Earth ensuring all will crumble. It bridged the intersection of the smooth marble wall and the calloused pavement. Out of this epitome of the failing city, the green stem curled as powerfully as any mythical serpent, growing up towards the light, out of the dark cold gap and spreading it’s fullness up towards the hazy blue sky. I inhaled deeply but was so lambasted by the vapid fumes of oil, sweat, the corrosive construction dust though soothed slightly by the fleeting breath of a touch of salty, moist ocean air. Not a hint of the tiny flower’s aroma, a pink soft thing, juxtaposing itself as if in protest to its thick, grey foundations. There was life in full form, hiding in a forgotten corner wall of the airport terminal three. It didn’t seek to get out of the concrete it just grew, stretched up for the light without worry. Like the ocean casting the luminous full moons reflection along its surface, neither wants nor tries and though our eyes do not struggle to capture it, without them the reflection would not exist. True beauty is effortless, but never accidental.

I sit just above the aluminium wing, the aircraft is a work of art, the wing shudders under the force of the wind, bouncing on thin air, but stabilising as it goes. If only the cramped seats were engineered so thoughtfully. As I orbit the Earth, it orbits our burning sphere as it orbits the Milky Way, a fact begging anybody with an imagination still intact too picture this profound but effortless universal dance.

Beside me is Greg, a businessman from New York, we make small talk and I ask about his life, his family. He works in insurance. He hasn’t seen his kids in 3 weeks. His striped collared shirt matches perfectly with his grey dotted tie. He hates his job. His mind is still in the city, on his report, on his boss, on his new BMW M4 with all the extras parked in his driveway that he hasn’t driven in three weeks. The first lick of the sun’s rays light up the atmosphere a scorching orange, an ocean of colour graces the skies, bouncing off the scattered pillowy clouds. Greg missed it. Greg had two sleeping pills.

Quarantined by a life spent in worried fear, he lost the rhythm in the chaos; but we are all just playing our part in this universal dance, just some looked down at their feet and tripped, unable to laugh they forgot it was only meant to be a game. Though we play this game along with the world, never let yourself be cut down to a shape that fits.