FICTION
Where We Went Wrong
Taking it one day at a time
Lucy walked home from school, taking the same path as every other day. The gray in the cobblestones, a tinge lighter than her mood, the blue of her skirt contrasting with the sepia tones of fall. Her clogs clacked in rhythm.
Her head hunched between her shoulders, the wires all messed up.
It looked like a postcard, which could only be made better by her absence. Her thoughts wandered with the accompanying gust of wind, which swirled the falling leaves in rings before their final descent. So predictable.
Making a beeline for her room, she avoided eye contact with the adults. They had gotten into a routine, moving like alternating dashes on a clock.
October 15th, 2005.
Lucy wrote the date on the right-hand corner of a fresh page in her notebook. The ink bled into the following pages with passion as she furiously scribbled her day's observations. She wrung her wrist.
The computer took ten minutes to switch on. Enough for changing, grabbing a snack, and shoving the notebook into its safe place.
When your stomach is twisting itself into a knotty rope, it’s not going to be an ideal host for dinner. She needed those answers, today more than ever.
The only other option was surrender. So there were none.
A dark screen came on. Then another.
After a series of them, Lucy was finally where she wanted to be. An encrypted chat with her handler, the saving grace of her hellish day.
“Which shade of gray are we today?”
“The darkest Jess. Almost black, I think.”
Lucy was a record keeper, the most boring job one could have, in her opinion. And being sent back to 2005? She considered it a cruel joke.
Jess used to be a rogue seeker. She listened to no human or machine and was beastly good at her job. Then something snapped in her about three years in and she started forming her own group. Soon it grew to 500.
Lucy was recruited sixteen months ago, paired off with two adults, and sent to idealistic suburbia. Nothing could break your spirit more than that.
“Can you at least tell me if I am being useful?”
“Yes. I read your notes every night. I’ve told you before, I appreciate the methodical detail, the passion mixed in, and the dry sense of humor.”
“I don’t know why I must go on. It’s the same day every day.”
“You know I’m not the best person to ask that.”
If Lucy was gray, then Jess was the darkest shade of black that did not even exist. She knew that. And perhaps that’s why they got along so well. People think that you need cheering up after a bad day, but in actuality, all you need is to look in the mirror. Connect with someone who understands.
Lucy contemplated how best to use the rest of their time.
Back home, if you can call it that, things were different. They weren’t good obviously, in fact on so many days it was a struggle to find food and shelter. Daily combat training wasn't fun. But there was a sense of camaraderie.
Here in the saccharine-soaked pretend utopia, where everyone was always peppy, Lucy couldn’t help but feel like she was living in a nightmare.
Nothing made sense here. Absolutely nothing.
“What got you through your worst days?”
“Honestly? No idea. I’ve had more doubt than most. I’ve turned back countless times and questioned my purpose. In hindsight, and I know this is a major cliché, it was what I could do. All the roads converged.”
“I wish I could see the future version of me.”
“Me too. But, we can’t do that yet. We can only learn from the past.”
Lucy tried to believe. If it were anyone else, she’d for sure consider it a bad attempt at sarcasm. How could this fierce seeker have an iota of doubt?
“Remind me why we’re doing this again?”
“It’s our project, Lucy. Mine, yours, ours.”
It was a shared dream. They were searching for answers, for the points in history of note. Lucy’s part was to live through her stint and observe, and copiously report. Every day didn’t matter, but the big picture sure did.
Somebody else would decipher her notes. Another would merge it with the rest of their data. And finally, they would plant their metaphorical flags.
They wanted to know where we went wrong.
Previously in this series:
