The Fourth World: Chapter One

Chapter 1

Another twenty-five steps and I’m there. At least according to the map traced on the stained napkin I hold in my hands. Skylar handed it to me in the school cafeteria this lunchtime with his usual crooked and sly grin. God knows what he’s dragging me into this time.

There’s the rock that looks just like a turtle, the one labelled on my map, I should be almost there. I wonder where he’s taking me. Every once in a while he gives me these strange clues that lead me to either places, or most of the time, him. Sky’s always been strange this way. Mysterious. Never comes out and just says things. He always has to do it in his hidden, disguised way. The first time was my 8th birthday. Skylar set out this whole complex treasure hunt that after a series of hints and clues, finally led me to a tiny burrow at the end of the stream with a family of white bunnies. I was so thrilled. It was the best birthday present anyone had ever given me. After that, everyday after school I went to visit the little rabbits to give them food or even to just simply observe them. I found it fascinating, how the life of these tiny animals is always the same, every single day, but they’re still happy. They never want anything more in life. It was Skylar himself who pointed this out to me.

Once I go down the little slope covered in holes and half-chewed-on twigs, I can finally see a tall, slim boy trying to skip the rocks on the river. The stream where he took me to find the rabbits all those years ago must be somewhere in the midst of all the trees behind us. I sit down next to him on the small batch of sand trying to make as little noise as possible. Neither of us says a word. I look around me and realize that the bridge we’re sitting under is the big Goullard Bridge which connects our town to the next one.

“Why here?” I break the silence that’s been separating us for almost three minutes now.

It took him a few moments to answer me. I think he was trying to think of the perfect way of formulating his phrase. I’ve grown used to him doing that. Skylar has always been the antisocial underdog, underestimated by everyone because of his quiet and shy exterior. I guess I’m the only one who knows about his double personality and just how berserk he really is. Most just know the reserved, strange boy who doesn’t like to mix with anyone. I’ve known Skylar ever since we were babies. He’s like a brother to me. I’ve been with him through highs and lows, like a ‘friendship-sort-of roller coaster’. He’s been my best friend from even before I was able to say the word.

“It’s perfect.” he turns around to look at me and his honey-coloured, dishevelled hair almost looks blonde with the rays of the sun shining on it. “Right in the middle of two towns. That means there’s nobody watching us. I feel safer here, it’s more private.”

He comes and sits down next to me on the golden sand and looks at me straight in the eyes. I don’t know why he always does that. It’s like he’s trying to understand what I’m thinking. Well, it’s useless anyways, because when he does that, the only thing I can think about are his eyes. They really enchant me. Even though I’ve been staring at the same eyes for 17 years now, it always feels like I’m looking at the eyes of a different person. As if Skylar can transmit his emotions with his eyes. I’m normally not the type of girl who believes in all this, but his eyes are a mystery to me. Right now they’re their usual colour, a darker shade of amber.

“What?” I wake up from my daze, quickly looking away and blush, realizing I’ve been staring at him so intently for too long.

“I said, don’t you like it here?” I see a small grin dancing around on he corners of his mouth, trying to escape.

“Oh yeah, it’s alright.”

He gets up and goes to skip rocks again. I guess he got bored of our uninteresting conversation. Sometimes just having each other’s company is nice. We don’t always have to talk. I agree with him. I look up trying to focus on the clouds and their strange shapes. One almost appears to be--

“I always feel like we’re being watched in Newbrook.”

Maybe I was wrong. He does want to chat. Thank God, I felt like I was going to go insane by staring emptily at the shapeless clouds. I feel my gaze stare down from the sky and face the cloud’s reflection on the clear water instead.

“I’ve been coming here for the last week to spend my afternoons here until supper time.” He pauses for a second just in time to skip a rock on the river with a simple and gentle whip of his wrist. Finally, it works and the stone hops across the water, as if it were a shining ballroom floor. “You’re welcome to join me next time.” He says it quickly and emotionless, as if it were already obvious.

Before I can answer, he starts to talk again. His back still faced to me, I see his expression quickly change in his blurry, yet glimmering, reflection. His eyebrows come closer and he looks more concerned, as if a thought haunted his mind and he wanted to get it out.

“You know, I’ve been having these strange dreams… or nightmares I guess. It’s me in this little white room, so white that it blinds your eyes, and then slowly, out of my shoulder blades, wings start to form. Big, black wings.”

He turns away from the river and walks towards me, emphasizing with his hands the wings springing out of his shoulder blades. Without realising what I’m actually doing, I turn to look as if there really once were huge, feathery wings flapping against his back.

“Then my whole body transforms along with the wings… and I turn into… into a bird. Like, a huge black bird with yellow eyes. I don’t know, maybe a raven, maybe a crow. But that’s not the important bit.” I could recognize the familiar impatience in his tone when he gets too carried away with his stories and wishes he could just get straight to the point. “It’s like I can’t take anymore of this ridiculously tiny white room, and I have this desperate need to spread my wings and fly. Just fly, fly wherever I want, with no restraints and no limits. But as I go up to escape from this frustrating, cramped space, I get to a pair of gold bars. So I realize… I’m in a cage. I’m in a cage and I can’t get out. I’m forced to stay somewhere I don’t want to be in.” He pauses to look at me again, his slightly square face locked into a serious stare. I know he’s not joking. Sky never jokes about these things. Am I supposed to respond? What does he want me to say? No, he’s probably just trying to decipher my mental reaction to all this again.

Luckily, he starts again, “The other strange thing is that as I tried to call for help, the humans outside didn’t seem to hear me. They could see me, and it looked like they were observing me; as if I were some lab rat. An insignificant part of their experiments. I bellowed and cried until my lungs could bare no more – ”

He pauses and abruptly takes my hand in his to place it against his chest, right in the middle of his rib cage.

“Even in the dream, my heart shrieked so loudly and beat so fast that I could feel it vibrating and shaking my whole body.”

I am so caught up in his story-telling that I didn’t even realize that he had let go of my hand and I still kept it stuck to his heart like a band-aid. I quickly take it away before he would feel the awkwardness I’m feeling. Sometimes I wonder if these strange moments are all in my head as Sky never seems to be disturbed by any of them. Is it me who’s too anxious all the time or is it him who lives in his own world and doesn’t even notice?

“But they pretended not to hear me. So I was stuck in that cage.”

Skylar comes back down to sit with me. I’m the one looking at him now. Is he finished?

“It’s just that…” No, not yet. “Sometimes, I think I would rather die than having my life owned by strangers instead of me. It’s---” I cut him short after that.

“Oh please, Skylar, don’t exaggerate.” He’s not even looking at me, probably not listening either. “Don’t be such a drama queen.” I tease him and laugh trying to ease the tension after his story. I try to go on, but it’s useless. When Skylar sets his mind on something, there’s no turning back.

“Yes Ember, but you don’t get it, do you? It wouldn’t be your real life, how you would live it.” He turns to look me in the eyes and they’ve become a darker amber, almost brown, but still with streaks of green and gold in them. “Is it really worth living a dictated life with other people’s choices instead of your own?”

Before I could protest and disagree with him he immediately gets off the sand and yanks me up with him.

“Come on, I’ll show you something.”

I sigh. He’ll never tell me where we’re going so I don’t even bother asking. Instead, I grasp the chance to look around me and try to guess. I’ve never been to this part of Australia before. Well, I’ve actually never been outside of Newbrook to be exact. I think practically nobody has. Everyone stays in their own identical houses, their own little towns and get on with lives with the people they’ve grown up with and sooner or later die together with. No one in here ever travels or leaves the country.

As I’m being dragged by Sky’s sweaty, rough hand, he leads me further along the sand which is slowly starting to expand into one big beach, leaving the tiny woods behind. Step by step that we take, the shimmering river gradually transforms into a big, blue blanket and it’s easy to understand where he’s taking me: the river mouth. There’s nowhere else to go beyond that anyways. Just infinite waters.

Skylar’s pace quickens, as if he’s in a rush to show me something really important, like it’s going to disappear if we don’t get there fast enough. He seems more excited, his now amber-green eyes bulging out of his forehead. He’s going so fast that I almost trip over some little rocks on the sand but instead of falling, cut my ankle with the sharp point of one of the bigger stones. I do let out a tiny “Ow” but Skylar has already vanished into his world, leaving everything and everyone behind. After a few more big, eager steps from Sky and more of my tiny, reluctant ones, we reach the golden maiden hugging the blue knight in the shining armour.

“Look at this,” Skylar finally lets the words he’d formulated in his head while we were walking come out of his mouth. “The sea. What’s beyond the sea, Ember? What is beyond the sea?”

I knew it was a rhetorical question but I couldn’t help smirking in my mind and thinking, To see what’s beyond the sea, you’ll have to sail through it. If you want to sail through the sea, you’re going to meet me on the other side of Australia because that’s all there is. If you leave for the waters from the Eastern side, you’ll just make a circle round the country until you arrive on the Western side. What does he think he’ll find? Never Land? Atlantis maybe? There’s a fine line between children’s fairytales and unreachable dreams.

“Sky, did you forget all your history lessons of the past 11 years or what?” I smile, trying to break the seriousness of his vacant stare with my expert degree in sarcasm. f

“Why do I feel like I’m stuck here then all the time?”

No, my plan obviously did not work.

“I really do feel like that bird. As if there were invisible, gold bars trapping me into this secret prison that no one knows of.”

I don’t really know what to say anymore. This isn’t the first time Skylar starts with his huge, incomprehensible talks of nothing but vain fantasies and theories for all the unknown in life. After these many years, I’ve grown bored and eventually just decide to zone out as soon as he starts. There’s no possible way of stopping him, and I’d give away my life to anyone who is able to get some sense into him. Reasoning, laughing, even trying to see it as he does did not work. Arguing would just make me waste my breath.

This time, I go for a type of my own reverse psychology.

“So, Sky, if you feel like you’re being kept by something or someone,” It’s even strange saying these words out loud. Sometimes I wonder how on earth we became friends in the first place. “What do you think it is that you’re being kept from?”

His vacant stare at the ocean tells me that I shouldn’t expect an answer any time soon.

He puts his shoes back on his soaked feet and jumps up, pulling his school rucksack with him.

“Come on, then.” Sky looks at me with the usual smile he manages to pull off even after a serious and exhausting day. I can’t help but smile myself. Of course I know why we’re friends. I’m lucky to have Skylar all for my own. Not many people have the gift of making you happy just with a curve from their mouths.

I stand up, patting all the sticky sand off my grey jeans and drag my bag along with me. It’s exactly the same as Sky’s, grey and black. Everyone’s is like this. The Authority provides them for us as they do with our clothes. It’s easier like this. Everyone is identical. It’s just a tiny detail to help keep the peace; people act superior because of their possessions, if everyone has the same clothes, there is no jealousy and social groups are avoided. I remember learning at school, in the history lessons, how centuries ago humans were divided in various groups that separated the rich and the poor. There would often be a lot of conflict, and the wealthy were highly superior than the poor and would always win and nothing could be done to stop it. I just can’t imagine living in a world with everyone separated. For me, everyone, my neighbours, my family, my friends, are like bright, autumn leaves stuck onto the tree. Without them, my tree is incomplete. Empty.

We head back home, through the path Sky lead me through to get to the river mouth, past our little spot with the woods behind us, past the rock that appears to be a turtle, and high up the small hill where Goullard Bridge starts. We ignore the bridge and go left into Newbrook.

Grey. Grey, grey and more grey. That is the only thing that greets us while we slowly step back into the city. I even find myself wondering if the sky is only grey because of the city’s dull reflection. The concrete floors, houses, schools, the only thing keeping me from turning myself into a grey statue are the beautiful parks and nature reserves. Streaks of green, pink, yellow and orange bring the life back to our city.

We walk through a narrow road, with identical houses on either side. Our homes are a different grey, almost white, and are shaped like giant cubes. Each one has a tiny front yard where the Authority leaves a couple of flowers or trees to keep the neighbourhood alive. It is forbidden to keep real plants or any living things though, so the flowers we have are the Authority’s transformation. They’re not plastic or anything as such, but they are sort of machines. They grow and sooner or later they also die, but they are not living things as that would be like watching someone die every day.

Not many people are out at this time, probably already preparing dinner or heading home before it’s past their curfew.

Number 34 and 35. Bloom and Hale residences. We nod a quick goodbye and head into our cubes. The corridor is well lit due to the solar panels built onto the top of each house. Our society has become extremely eco-friendly ever since our Earth almost died because of us. The Authority uses only environmental resources not damaging our planet, that way everyone is happy and we won’t have any worries regarding the planet’s “health”.

I can hear faint murmurs coming from the kitchen and slowly I identify my mum’s soft voice caressing the air like a mermaid’s song. But the second voice is neither my father’s nor my brother’s. Someone I can’t recognize. A woman’s voice surely. I lean against the wall to hear the conversation.

“…so soon it will be Ember’s Third Numering Ceremony.”

I find myself looking down just beneath my neck to my collar bone, at the two fluorescent green numbers from my previous Ceremonies, as if something had changed because of what the lady said.

“Yes, where her ideal job shall be determined. Third step to becoming a Complete.”

Of course, my mother always stating every single fact in her overly formal tone. I see their conversation isn’t going anywhere interesting so I start for my room upstairs.

“I’m worried about her though.” Oh. Didn’t expect that. “I mean, of course, it’s an exciting day, and it is not only a step closer to Completeness but also a step closer to finding yourself. Who you are. Your marked destiny.” Yes, obviously, just like they always tell you:

Four Steps.

Four Obstacles.

Four Clues to Discover Your Marked Destiny.

Four Numbers to be Complete.

Numering Ceremonies Are the Key to Unlock Your Future.

The Only Way to Find Yourself.

Everyone knows that since they were in Junior School, when they made us memorize it to learn about the Authority.

“But…” She hesitates for a second but then continues, “There are always some kids who end up feeling disappointed. Lost.”

“You mean those who don’t get what they expected?”

I don’t hear my mother’s response and imagine she’s probably nodding.

“I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. If that does happen, she’ll get over it. She’ll just sooner or later realize what was best for her as after all, it’s her fate.”

The lady’s last words ring in my head a couple of times, piercing at her high voice. It’s her fate. I never pictured it like this, as if we all already have our whole life planned and thought out like a story book. As if someone already lived it for us, and we’re just following their steps.

My mother doesn’t answer and I see that was probably the end of their Ember-related conversation. I tiptoe as silently as possible to the stairs, making sure they didn’t realize I hadn’t shown up after the door behind me closed some minutes ago. As I pass the last step I hear a bing! and my brother exclaiming, “Pie!”.

The soft parquet laid all across the house helps me silently sneak into my room, again unnoticed, and I walk over to the cupboard next to the window to leave my rucksack and coat on. The mirror lying on top of my drawer reflects an older girl than it did a week ago. It’s probably just my mind playing tricks, but I feel and look older now that it will already be my Third Numering Ceremony. I stare at the fluorescent green numbers ‘13’ shining underneath my tangled brown hair, imagining that in a few days there will be three instead of two. I take out my brush, trying to at least look presentable like a normal mature woman would, tidying my unruly hair. I look more intently at myself, wanting in any way to convince myself that I am now, finally, an adult. I frown, creasing my thick eyebrows so that they almost touch, at the way my face is still so childlike. My hands stroke over the thousand little brown spots on my pale face. It’s strange, because nobody else in my family has as many freckles as me. I look nothing like my mother. She is blonde, just like Nolan, my little brother.

When I was younger I used to get lost in thought while looking at my mum’s strange beauty. She always kept her hair in buns or ponytails, always been simple and plain, and I don’t think many people recognize how truly beautiful she is. Her eyes are so light blue I consider them grey, and my father’s brown, darker than Skylar’s. I understand how Nolan got his gorgeous ocean blue eyes, but I don’t understand how I got mine dark green. My mother have always said I look terribly like my father’s parents, my grandparents, but I wouldn’t know since I never met them. I don’t know many people my age who have actually ever seen theirs either.

A memory flashes through my mind from when I was very young, I don’t even remember what age.

It’s a pleasant memory, I remember hearing my mum’s soft voice humming slightly out of tune to a song I didn’t recognize. I figured that she was just so happy that she didn’t feel like being restricted to humming to a particular order and tune, just to be free and let her instinct guide her wherever she wished.

I can’t make out much of this memory and my vision is very blurred, like an old photograph slowly fading out of colour. The surroundings to me are unknown, I can’t match them to anything that I have memory of now. I’ve never asked my mother about it because I know that talking about one’s past is… practically forbidden. It is looked bad upon people who reminisce their past and memories, when they should actually be thinking about the present. Those who cry over lost hopes and dreams live sad, unfulfilled lives. Those who spend their time wondering about the future and preparing for what they hope will be, end up never getting there on time because not everything’s perfect as they expect it to be. At least that is what the Authority has always taught us.

I quickly look away from the mirror, knowing that vanity is one of the keys to unhappiness as my father always says, and I start towards the window.

Just across to number 35 is Skylar’s room, parallel to mine. The space in between our houses is quite narrow, less than 2 metres long. I see his own rucksack on his cupboard, with the latch open, spreading all his books across the floor. As I ponder about what he could have been day-dreaming about to leave the books just lying around, I see his back-door creak open and Sky rushing out with his coat held over him to protect him from the rain.

Where would he go at this time? With this rain? And it’s practically past curfew, the next thing on the Citizen Schedule is dinner. Skylar and I have had the same routine every single day since I can remember, and before dinner we always chatted from in between our windows.

Just before the glass of my window completely blurs with the thousand streaks of the now heavy rain, I make out his tiny figure disappear until completely vanishing behind an alley corner. Where is he going?