Cadence~ Part One of One: Out of Darkness

Electronic Record Recovered from Ground Zero
Ophelia Litten, Day 576
Filing Code: 672198

There are many feelings that people are afraid to look upon; #FF0000 ">You can't really look upon an emotion, I think "acknowledge" would work better in this context. #008000 ">feelings like sadness, disappointment, or defeat. #FF0000 ">Defeat isn't really an emotion, despair might be better here #008000 ">When confronted with emotions such as these, people tend to act awkwardly, offering misguided comfort or empathy meant to suppress tears. They don't seem to know that sometimes, when faced with tears, it's nobler to pretend not to see them th#FF0000 ">an #FF0000 ">then is used for passage of time, than is used for comparisons. to force them under a light. #008000 ">This is a principle that I wished my father could understand when he instructed the Sleepers to return from their exile. The idea existed as a thought for only a day when it was transformed into a document which in turn became an order. No one could have predicted its #FF0000 ">it's is the contracted form of it is. repercussions as no one could have seen it coming. One day the streets were empty, the residents locked in their flats for the night and the next they were lined with people watching a parade of weary travelers rise from the horizon. They #FF0000 ">Pronoun confusion, who's "they"? looked dry and flaky, as if coated with salt water that had been baked into their skin. #FF0000 ">Huh? How can you bake water into something? Make this clearer Their skin is what I remember from pictures my father sent us that reflected #FF0000 ">from the first days; translucent and cracked like a frozen glass dropped into an oven. They cannot speak or move their mouths and thus their eyes dart around wildly as if they are being followed. #FF0000 ">How does not being able to speak cause their eyes to dart around? The "thus" in the sentence implies that they're related to each other If I had been allowed down into the streets with the rest of the people I would have been afraid to look them in the eye as#008000 ">I would have acted as awkwardly as I accuse others of doing. I could never understand what it would be like to, in my greatest time of need, be suddenly feared #FF0000 ">Unclear verbage, you're talking about the outsiders, but the subject of "feared" is the villagers and thrown into the dark where no one would have to remember me. It is easy for me to ask why, instead of being repulsed by them, we did not help them as I was not here to watch them change. #FF0000 ">I don't get what you're saying here at all. Why is it easier for her to ask? Why does her being there effect whether or not they get help? I wish I could say that I would be brave, but when it comes down to it, I’m sure I’mas weak as the rest.

I 'm watching the streets again.and The Sleepers seem a never ending deluge. I feel as if we were never supposed to see them; their fragile appearance too bare and broken. The people have cleared the streets and every few seconds I hear their doors lock again and the sound of feet charging up staircase after staircasein an unsteady pulse. My heart is racing as well. There is are so many of them and my father expects them to stay in the old neighborhood. Why would he lead them out of one prison and into the next? The only difference is that one was underground while this one is drenched in sunlight. My father is approaching my study and he will want me asleep like everyone else. I must find out more about his plan as I’m sure he has discovered something about the Sleepers that he hasn'trevealed to those he governs #FF0000 ">told us. I found out one thing about them though. They call them Sleepers because they seem to be sleepwalking; their bodies reacting to things that aren't there, while it guides them, seemingly#FF0000 ">almost instinctively, through the city they #FF0000 ">once inhabitedwhen they were awake. Do they recognize it, do they know they are free, or are they still seeing images from dreams that keep them trapped inside their heads?

I am not happy to have been returned to my father’s care. #FF0000 ">When was she anywhere else? I didn't realize how his politics could quietly seep into this household to the point where its stink is too much too bear, but its volume too much to air. I will only be contented when I find a way to clear it from our lives. I want my father, not this strange man obsessed with strange people.#FF0000 ">How is he obsessed? You said that he had thought about it for less than a day

“Day 576? You make this out to be an ancient record but this couldn't have been conceived #FF0040 ">written more than a few years ago. Cadence is not that removed from our conscience to file it under Historical Documents,” Luca muttered and adjusted his glasses as he narrowed his eyes at the words on the screen. #FF0000 ">Passive voice

“Let it go and put it where it belongs,” the elderly woman replied shortly, not bothering to look. “As far as we are concerned, Cadence is nothing but a bump in the road. We learned nothing from it and thus we can forget about it,” she continued when he did not reply or make any move to follow her advice.

He glanced from her resolute frown back to the screen and swept his finger across it, placing the record in a standard file that would, in time, be swept under the rug of cyberspace. There was no reason to focus on this specific document, there were many like it that had been recovered from old hardware whose decrepit frame would be recycled when the data #FF0000 ">it contained had been wiped. This institution #FF0000 ">what institution? Where is any of this taking place? was nicknamed the Bermuda Library and its sole purpose was to take data from one place and dump them in another that, though originally intended to be organized carefully for future recovery, had become a cesspool of information that had been all but forgotten.

“Go home Luca, I can shut everything down by myself, you need your rest, I can't see how you balance school, homework and this lousy job. But I suppose I can't blame you for keeping it, college is expensive these days,” the shaky voice of his manager called out to him from where she typed rapidly, as if racing against herself. She had never learned to use Train of Thought, and preferred typing on a dusty old board whose letters were out of order and scattered, accessible only by unnatural finger contortions. No wonder she was angry all the time, as her stubbornness to hold onto tradition had limited her to old technology that had been deemed obsolete ages ago. #FF0000 ">How is her stubbornness related to her anger?

“Goodbye Sarah, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said after gathering his hat and jacket. His wiry frame shivered,even from inside the thick wool. His brown curls had outgrown the hat which he carried only out of habit. "I'm leaving now!" He called out to her, squinting his dark eyes to focus on her hunched and weary frame. He was not surprised by her lack of response. She was absorbed in her work as if captivated by the screen she stared into.

As he walked home he noticed a streetlight flickering, making the darkness move in circles around him and reminding him of Ophelia writing so innocently about her new home, #FF0000 ">New home? the city of Cadence. #FF0000 ">Is Cadence important at all? Is this what it would have felt like to be in Cadence during its final days? Watching from a room that you barricaded yourself into, as one by one, the lights dim and finally vanish altogether, leaving you alone with your fears? #FF0000 ">Lights dim and vanish? How? He shivered and walked a step quicker wondering if Ophelia had known what was coming when she had turned off her computer and opened the door to greet her father.