Crucible – Chapter One

Crucible is the third in the week of samples, yet it distinguishes itself right off the bat when compared to Ascension or Crow. I do not know what endears me to the open of Crucible, but I find it sets the world and story up with absolute perfection. Enjoy the opening chapter.

 

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The last of the bombs fell one hundred and seventy-three years ago. That was how long the walls have stood around the world’s havens to protect what little remained of civilization. The leaders told us not to concern ourselves with what sat outside the corner of the world that we called home. Tumbleweed is the haven that I called my home along with one thousand and thirty-seven others (One thousand and thirty-eight if you include myself in those numbers), and it has long been all most of us have ever known. The walls, at thirty metres tall, blocked our view of the outside world save for the sky above. I cannot recall the first time I looked upon the sky, but I have always felt an attraction to the vast expanse above. Oftentimes while working hard to maintain the wall, others would catch me staring directly upwards with a forlorn look on my face. That was how my story started, lost in my own thoughts and filled with wonder.

“Hey! You feeling ok?” Christopher said and gave me a light shove.

“Ummm, yea. Yea. I’m fine,” I told him.

The last I recall of Christopher was that he stood five foot nine inches tall and built like a truck. His hair, unlike mine, was dark and that only served to accentuate his brilliant green eyes. His voice was gruff and mesmerizing (but still surprisingly more feminine than one might imagine), able to captivate an audience of his peers for hours on end. I had been friends with him for as long as I had been able to talk, and I still remembered all the mischief we would get into trouble for. The first thing we did as a duo was try to climb the wall. We made it halfway up before the guards caught us and punished us. A week of isolation did not cause us to slow down. We only changed our attitude when we received our duties at age thirteen. That was three years ago.

“You zoned out again, is all. I see you got the sad task of figuring out what went wrong with the gate. Been broken for months, and no one knows why,’ Christopher said. He was carrying several metal pipes. Without asking him, I knew they were going to be used to replace the busted waste disposal system.

That was the bad thing about Tumbleweed and the other havens; everything was falling apart and it grew more expensive and taxing on the people to keep everything working and running. I would say we made things efficient, but that could never be further from the truth. Tumbleweed, as I knew it, was equipped for no more than four-hundred people. We all did our duties as best we could, but food was under strict rationing to the point where you were lucky to get more than a potato. Many used food to make deals and the lack of adequate foodstuffs provided a bargaining chip for the shadier denizens of Tumbleweed. I knew many of those people and counted a few of them amongst my closest friends.

“Hey! You zoned out again. Sure you feeling ok?” Christopher’s voice woke me from my stupor.

“Yea, I’m fine. I’m trying to figure this out. I’m just thinking that either capacitor three on subroutine four-three is misfiring or there isn’t enough power left in the generator,” I said with a smile. I turned my focus back to my task. Of course, everything I told Christopher was all lies.

I am prone to telling lies. Mother scolded me often for blaming something that I clearly did on others. The first time was when I ‘stole’ a loaf of bread from Sunshine’s stores. Yes, that was her name. She was from one of the more outlandish families that had taken up residence in Tumbleweed when their haven of Hudson broke down completely. Stories circulate that when the power goes out in a haven, then those outside the wall overrun and slaughter everyone inside. The elders teach us that those on the surface who are not us are no more than savages that sought our defeat. I did not believe that for one second, as, though I was a liar, I knew that those outside our walls do on occasion trade with us. I never saw them as all transactions occurred when most of us were supposed to be sleeping. I often snuck out to observe what went on but most times, it was too dark to see anything. However, some nights, when the moon beamed down from its position high in the clear sky, I managed to make out a few details. Each visit was different, based on the way the hands looked and acted. I made out half a conversation once. That was the middle of July. It served to be the catalyst for the change that built up inside of me and made me want to see more of the world. I was sick of being inside the walls. I wanted to be free.

I had snuck out from where I slept with many of the other workers of the wall. I made sure to keep quiet. Mal snored his head off as usual, so I timed my steps with his phlegmy, guttural snorts. Mal was uninteresting save for the fact he was as round as a barrel. Orange haired and often out of breath, he would sit around more than anyone else would. He believed himself to be a supervisor. No one complained. It was easier to do the work without him, as he would be prone to major accidents. He was the reason I had to repair the broken gate. I tried asking him what he did to break it the first day I started work. All I got for it was a stinky, warm gob of spit on my forehead. I left Mal alone after that. Thankfully, he served as my muffler for this night, and I made it out of the bunk area without trouble.

“You’re late. I thought we agreed on this shipment arriving three nights ago,” an unknown voice that I later identified as belonging to Artemis whispered near the gate. “I know your people had to work hard for this, but you assured me that if I gave you the correct information, you’d have it here and no, I don’t care how many you lost.”

I did not know whom Artemis was talking to and I made no plans to find out either. All I saw was the shadow of a small sack handed through a small hatch in the wall. The sound of hooves signaled that those outside the wall left. I watch Artemis look around. I manage to hide myself, but when I peeked out from my cover, Artemis was nowhere in sight. I do not see her for several days afterwards. When I did see her resurface, it was for a few seconds. She popped her head out of the makeshift building that served as the town hall and said something. I did not catch what she said due to the loud hammering coming from a few metres away.

I made no complaint or mention of what I saw the following day and that evening, I am one of the lucky few that received a cut of protein. I did not intend to eat it though. I marched with unnerving intent across the mess hall. I called it that for ease of naming. It was the only room in Tumbleweed with a sturdy roof. Sitting in his usual spot was Gen. That was not his actual name. We only called him that since he seemed to know everything that went on around Tumbleweed whether others willed him to know or not. I sat opposite him.

“Gen,” I started.

He raised an open palm and I stopped. One of his eyes opened and narrowed on me. Greasy, thick, black hair fell to his shoulders. Tumbleweed’s water purifier stopped working a month or so before this meeting with Gen, so it came as no surprise that his face was dirty. Of course, he would not bathe often even when the water was, for the most part, clean.

“‘With the new day comes new strength and new thoughts,’” were Gen’s first words to me.

I will never forget the chilling tone his voice carried. I had heard tales of how intense this man might be, but to see him up close proved how far off those stories were. I could find no words to describe the feeling that Gen puts into a person. In his right hand was his favorite item. He would often quote from it, though the cover long since faded.

“I hear you have information. I happen to be in need of your services,” I said to him.

Gen’s other eye opened, and he leaned forward so little I swore that he did not move an inch. Even someone who paid a lot of attention to his or her surroundings would never notice the subtlety with which Gen moved and repositioned himself. I noticed his hands did not move though they shook without pause.

“‘Honesty is the chapter in the book of wisdom.’ You have garnered my attention, child. I do not come without a price. I am positive that you are well aware of that fact given it would be unwise to approach me without knowing,” Gen always spoke different to all the rest of us.

For a brief moment, I forgot that Gen required the bribe I had got as part of my meal. I clenched my jaw and slid my plate halfway to him. “This enough for, uhh, what I’ll want to know?” I said. My voice quivered with each syllable I got past my lips.

I pretend not to stare as Gen moved his eyes down. I knew he was inspecting my person to see if I was worthy of his time. His eyes traced over the table. Multiple old, empty bottles littered the top of it. Aside from this corner, Tumbleweed was almost immaculate in its cleanliness. Most of that was Caretaker’s doing. As with Gen, I stress that Caretaker was not his real name. The only information about Caretaker pointed to him being the oldest resident of Tumbleweed. It was the common story that circulated regardless of whether or not it was true in any event. Gen pulled the plate closer to him.

“‘I look for what needs to be done. After all, that’s how the universe designs itself.’ You will find much wisdom in the words of our forebears. Your gift is acceptable and it earns you the right to ask of me a single, unequivocal question.” Gen said.

I spent the next few minutes thinking long and hard about which question I wanted answered. My first thought went to asking what lay beyond the wall. My brain thought that was a good question, but my gut told me otherwise as I already had an inkling as to what was beyond the safety of the haven. I scrapped it. The next thought begged me to ask what Gen knew about Artemis. I went through all the facts I already knew about Artemis. My brain resolved to tell me to scrap that idea given I knew quite a lot about Artemis already. The final thought I had was the one where I could find nothing in my body telling me not to ask it. I leaned forward. Gen slowed his breathing as he waited for my question. He was a rather intimidating fellow when he sat there. I swallowed a wad of spit.

“What’s the Crucible?” I said.

A matter of seconds later and the entire room had fallen silent. A few coughs came from across the way. Someone dropped some cutlery. I swear I could hear the sound of three, maybe four hundred heads turning in my direction. Gen licked his lips, and took a bite out of the meat that I used to pay him. Juices ran from the corner of his mouth and dripped onto his stained shirt. It was in that moment I realized where the greasiness in his hair came from when he mopped the mess up with a low grumble.

“‘Intelligence without ambition is a bird without wings.’ You find yourself asking me an intelligent, precise and, most important of all, the perfect question for your wandering mind,” Gen paused to gnaw on the last of the meat in his bony fingers. I found myself fascinated with watching him eat. I did not know whether it is the fact that I could not seem to pull myself free from his captivating grey eyes, or some unseen force held me there. I chose to believe it was the latter. He burped and continued. “You know what happened before this area became Tumbleweed, I hope? If not, I can give you a concise overview for that story would take several lifetimes to recall.”

I gave a nod. “Our ancestors grew to despise and hate each other to the point where there was only one way to settle their differences. No one knows the exact number, but many nuclear warheads detonated all over the world. Some places were untouched by the fallout from those weapons. We call them the havens. Tumbleweed is one such haven.”

Gen listened with intensity I have not seen since as I spoke. He nodded his head in agreement with me at certain parts of what I said. He did not attempt to stop me talking. I realized I began to ramble and so I finished what I was saying, and cleared my throat. Gen retrieved a second small book from of his tattered, torn trench coat. He placed it on the table between us. He tapped it twice.

“‘Ignorance is the curse of God; knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven.’ Do you know what this is?” he asked me. His face lit up as he spoke.

I took a long look at the faded and frayed binding of the book. What stood out most of all was the scuffed cross adorning the front cover. It reminded me of something I heard about in the days before the devastation of the world. Tales continued to travel down generations about the prophets who foretold the destruction of life yet their warnings did not resonate with anyone until it was too late. I knew that the book Gen had was special, but I did not know its name.

“I have seen the symbol before, but I do not remember where,” I said.

“‘He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.’ There are many good reads inside the pages of the Good Book. It contains the answer to many a complicated question. It guided us in our darkest hour and it lights our path for the future. As it pertains to your question, it is not an easy one for any one soul to answer. The best thing I can do is advise you on your next step, for I see the determination in your eyes that you wish to go on a quest. That is the best I can offer you. Whether you wish to listen to what I have to say to you is on you, but know I have a partial amount of the information which you seek,” Gen said.

I leaned forward. “What do you know?”

“A riddle that you must solve. It will reveal to you the location of one who can better explain The Crucible. Listen close, for I will not repeat this again. ‘The place that the sun touches the earth is where you should head, but you will never reach for your destination lies in the shadow of the caldera, flanked by the skinny poles of an ancient and forgotten forest. There you will find the bones of what we were. Then, at the heart of the founder, will you find what you seek,’” Gen paused and took a deep breath. I saw the beads of sweat roll down his forehead. He closed his eyes and recomposed himself. “I hope that gives you the requisite information you need to move forward. I wish I could be of more assistance, so I will permit you to ask one more question of me. I will do my best to answer it to the best of my ability.”

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

The speed at which I spouted out that question astonished me. It is not often I lost control of my own inhibitions like that, but I knew as soon as I finished saying it that it needed to have an answer. I felt the atmosphere of the mess hall change from a sort of jovial tone to one of hostility. Gen’s identity was always a mystery, and so almost everyone was curious as to his backstory.

Gen smiled and leaned back in his chair. It squeaked and fell into the worn grooves, scratched and sanded into the wood from long years of use. I did not recall seeing anyone but Gen use the seat, and it amazed me that the damage came from a single person.

“In short, I will say I am not one of you at least. The full story is a blur in my mind, but I was in fact born in a Haven, if you can believe it. I know I do not look it. My age is a dead giveaway that I am from a different time where there were less of us to care for. I do not mean that in a bad way, but things were simpler. That was fifty years ago. I spent half my life outside the walls of a Haven and it was the best experience of my life. There is nothing to fear outside the wall. Something all of you seem to have forgotten. Those people out there are like you or me. We’re all human, so why do we think we are any different? I’ll tell you why. It’s because we were born in a gated community, isolated from the real world. You can call me a liar, but yes, child, I am as much one of them as I am one of you,” Gen said.

A cacophony of grumbles rose from the crowded mess hall. A lot of them shot down Gen’s words and tried to disparage him there and then. Other voices agreed with what he had to say. I was amongst the latter group. I did not remove my eyes from Gen. I listened as he did. His way of thinking about everyone on Earth was unique, but I believed it was the right way.

Once all the lights in Tumbleweed went out that night, I decided that it was the best time to put my plan into motion. I did not intend to spend the rest of my life inside the walls, not after what Gen said. I did not own much outside of a couple pairs of grimy clothes and a few keepsakes. I stuffed them all into my tattered khaki backpack. I knew it would not hide me in the brown brush out there, but it would be useful to provide some protection from the sun during the day. At least I hoped it would.

The door to the sleeping quarters creaked open. I took a deep breath and listened for any sign that it disturbed anyone from their slumber. Mal snored and I relaxed. I pushed through the small opening and into the open air of the camp.

Orion, the hunter, shone above me. His bow seemed to guide me in the right direction. I would take a last glance around the familiar surroundings of the Haven. I did not know if I would see it again, but I had to see if the rumors were true. I had to know if Gen was telling the truth. What I wanted more than anything was to find the Crucible.

The Crucible was more like a myth than reality with the way others spoke about it. They thought it was the key to the salvation of humankind. An otherworldly device capable of changing the flow of time itself. The story continued to expand over the generations. Some outsiders told tale of how it was capable of changing the very landscape when activated. Much like most mythological fantasies, no one I knew believed such a thing could exist. I was hopeful.

I did not encounter anyone until I came to the gate. It was open. I ducked behind some of the crates used to store supplies when I heard voices. I peered through a small crack and saw two unfamiliar figures drag their feet out into the open area of Tumbleweed. I forced myself to breathe light in order to try to pick up anything they said.

“We need more time. You promised you would give us enough time to prepare months in advance and now you are saying we have a week left?” the first said.

“You’ve never understood the severity of the situation that we are all in. My people have seen what is coming and we gave you ample warning. Is it my fault you are not ready? We are out of time. The real apocalypse is coming, and it will not care who you are. You need us and we need the protection you promised you would provide,” the other voice said.

I missed the rest of the conversation. My mind was more concerned about what the second voice said about the real apocalypse. I ran through the various scenarios I could think of in my mind, but none of them seemed to be bad enough.

I saw the pair turn their backs to my position and I took the opportunity to sprint from my hiding spot and head for the gate. There was some rain before the sun set and I know I left footprints in the mud but I could care less about them as I passed the security of the gate. There was no going back from this point and after a hundred metres of running through the brush and receiving multiple lacerations on my lower legs I came to a stop, panting.

I took a long, deep breath. The myriad of new scents mixed with the staleness of the purified air of Tumbleweed and it was wonderful. I could taste the flowers and the leaves that grew so close to the Haven. A tear streaked down my face. I stretched my arms out and did a twirl as I took it all in. For a brief moment, I was free. I did not have a care in the world.

Then it all went black.