Science fiction: The fact

 

#Sciencefiction: The fact

"Whizz, whizzzz, whizz. Whoooosssshhhhhhh!

Wow!” 

Exclaimed a young boy. I guess he was 10 or 12 years old and as I turned to see what was so fascinating and what actually drove him to such an excited reaction. I could not see anything, then I joined the angle of his eyes and I tilted my eyes in the same direction, aligning with his glance that looked right above his head, and pierced the sky that spread over him. And there it was. His Whizz, whizzzz, whizz. Whoooosssshhhhhhh!

He had spotted a falling object from the sky and along with him I was the second witness to this cosmic spectacle. Or should I say a tragedy. Who knows!

It was evening and I resumed my journey; and as I was about to cross the stream, where the bridge had been washed away. I had to carefully tread over a huge log of Deodar tree that was laid across the stream. Its upper surface had been chipped off carefully to make it flat. But it was extremely slippery because Deodar trees have natural wax in them, and crossing it meant being extra cautious. Had the person cut small wedges over the flat surface that would have offered a better grip. But whoever did it, we all owe a gracious amount of gratitude to him. Because he/she did it out of social goodwill and no personal interest, or profit. A true social service.

Anyway, as I was balancing my feet on the Deodar log, I heard loud and frantic splashing in the water. And on my right side I saw the same boy, who was crossing the stream barefooted, with the laces of his shoes tied together and dangling across his neck. I must have taken my fifth step, whereas the lad had already crossed the stream and was on the other side trying to dry his feet and force them into the shoes. There was a sense of hurry, a sense of pervading rush in his body language. And as he wore his shoes he dashed through the fields. While I somehow managed to cross the log of Deodar and reached the other end of the stream. I paused and wondered where the boy was headed.

Nevertheless, I Ieft the log behind and the thoughts of the young boy too, and I moved ahead. I had a few important things to accomplish at my room where I was staying. I had shifted to this place a year ago and was yet to make new acquaintances. So I often went to my room early and allowed myself to be occupied by the novels that I was working on. And today I had a brilliant idea that I could add as a new twist to the plot of the story that I had been working on for almost 4 years now. 

If you are wondering, that I have taken very long to write it, you are right and I would not object to this. But if you are thinking I want it to be a bestseller, well I would not object to that either, afterall, 4 years is a lot of time and when you invest so much time into something, it becomes a part of you. Almost like your child, whom you would not share with anyone, except that special someone you truly and madly are in love with.

But as of now, I am neither an accomplished writer, nor an accomplished poet. But as a child I always believed in one of the lines from the school anthem that all students, including me would sing every morning. I think we all sang it with a lot of passion. I took it a bit too seriously than others I guess. Both the passion and every word in the school anthem.

And here is the line that influenced me the most:

“We shall overcome someday,

I do believe we shall overcome someday!”

Now it is possible that this someday can be any day, and it may even take a lifetime or eternity, for this someday to find me. And especially with my passions still intact and the purpose of quest as well!

To a few that shall be the reason to give up and discard their dreams. But to a few, so called the mad few, haaa haaa! The desire is so strong that they are willing to pursue it and strive for it till eternity, and even seek it in the darkness and silence of their graves. Maybe these few are built that way. Maybe they believe in destiny, but they also want destiny to believe in them as well. Otherwise it will be a debt that they shall carry, and to them it shall beget neither pleasure nor satisfaction.

So without being philosophical and being straightforward. If these few believe in something, they tend to seek it even at the cost of their own lives. Because dreams and passions are worth dying for, as much as they are worth being alive for! 

The only thing that mellows this intense passion and steals a bit of the fire from it, is when you miss the one you love. And when that special one is not with you, it becomes a struggle of a different kind. Because then you have to wage dual wars at the same time, and balancing them in parallel can be extremely demanding: mentally, physically; and emotionally it is like a tsunami that has your address written on it.

But all of a sudden you realise that you have come too far and there is no turning back now. And you imagine the day when you will get to share this joy with her. And it keeps you on track. Because it adds a new and renewed purpose to the entire phenomenon of this passionate strife.

Ah, I think I got too personal and carried away. Well well! I have finally reached my room. And I almost immediately commenced working on the novel. At 08:00 PM I felt hungry, so I left my chair, and went to cook something. I was still thinking about what to prepare for dinner, when I heard someone knocking at the door. 

I went to open the door and there was no one. I thought maybe it was just my imagination and returned to the kitchen; and to the thought about the menu for the dinner. I again struggled to decide what to cook for dinner and then I again heard someone knocking at the door. I raced to open the door and again there was nobody.

And now I was certain it was not my imagination but it was someone playing an unwelcome and rude prank. If at all it was a prank. I locked the door from outside and went out to investigate the surroundings. Only to find out that there was nobody.

Now I had completely forgotten about the dinner and this thought occupied my mind. I opened the door, dragged my chair and placed it next to the door, and I sat there. Hoping that this anonymous and unseen force will again knock the door, and the moment it did so, I will open it. And hopefully, the anonymity of this person will be revealed.

I must have waited for nearly an hour, but there was no knocking. So. I cooked my dinner and ate it. Then I returned to writing and I was fully concentrating on re-writing the climax of the story. When I dropped my pen on the table, I tried to think of something that would add a more complex twist to the plot of the novel. I usually do it every night, And I have been doing it for many nights now. I write it down, and when I read it as a neutral reader and not as a writer, I tend to exclude it. 

Then somehow I convince myself that tomorrow I will work on a new climax. And it was no different tonight as well. While I was dealing with this thought, like most of my nights. Almost 45 nights now. I felt the need to find out the actual cause of the knocking, because it could not be merely my imagination.

So, I went out and this time instead of the surroundings, I examined the door. Again there was nothing. And I felt deeply disappointed! Then as I was about to lock the door and go out for my evening run, I saw a couple of burn marks on the door.

And this was strange. They could be caused by cigarette butts, but there was no ash on them. So, I wondered what might have caused them. I was feeling one of the burn marks with my finger tip when I heard something hitting the pillar at the entrance of the door. I quickly rushed to check it, and the pillar too bore burn marks, it was white in colour, and it had more than 100 burn marks. As of now I was clueless about their cause.

I began gazing at the horizon, and there I saw a fountain of fireflies spewing in the distance. It looked like fireflies, but actually it was amber. Strange amber like grains shooting into the sky and many of them. In all directions. And it seemed, tonight my room, especially the door and pillar of my compound, were the favourite target of this strange firework.

It was almost 12:00 in the midnight and I wanted to sleep, but right now only one thing seemed urgent, to look for the source of this shooting amber. I grabbed a 7 feet long and stout stick, and began walking in the direction of the source of this night time and unknown firework.

In 45 minutes I was there. Looking at a huge crater, as big as 15 football fields. There was black powder and amber everywhere, and most of it was crackling like popcorn, and whenever it crackled, it flung upwards, and in all other directions too. And over the black powder were small footsteps. Human footsteps, not too big. From the size of the marks left in the black powder, they could easily belong to a child, not more than 9 to 12 years old.

When I arrived at this conclusion, I realised that the boy too had rushed in the same direction and the celestial body that fell from the sky, could have crashed here, leaving behind this crater. And with this thought, I cried, “Oh my God! What became of the boy, if he walked into the center of this crater?”

And his footsteps that originated at the edge of the crater led right to the center of the crater. And there were no steps that would confirm his return. This began to worry me, it actually began to worry me a lot, because he was a young and energetic boy.

I stood at the edge of the crater thinking what could I do.

Finally, I too followed the footsteps of the boy and arrived at the center. Being careful to avoid the still hot and burning amber. Every step was like the first day experience of a person learning to use the keyboard. very much like the way he/she struggles to find the exact letters, mostly and instinctively via his/her index finger. I too placed my steps carefully so as not to land on hot amber.

When I reached there. I only saw shoes. Just his shoes. The boy had disappeared, but his shoes still told his story, still echoing in my ears as he ran through the stream and then raced towards this place. 

And whenever I cross the stream, I think of the boy. The crater is still there, the ambers have long died out. His shoes are there too, but, with a layer of black ash that has solidified as if to immortalise the will and passion of the boy. I often visit the crater and stare at the shoes, which have become a part of the crater. To all those who visit this place, it is a crater where the celestial body crashed and where the boy disappeared. But for me, it is where the boy became immortal, and he confirmed my belief that phoenix is in fact not a myth. It is true. Very true, only if we look at it with the mind and passion of the young and carefree boy. Who always followed his imagination and gazed at the sky, with a strong belief that Heaven and the One who made the Heaven is there somewhere waiting to be discovered. Because the universe was willing to reveal it all to him alone! So he believed! And he ran, and he crossed the stream in desperation. 

Tonight, I have completed my #sciencefiction novel, and I have titled it, They Loved in 2075. Because the shoes of the boy will outlive time in that crater. And in 2075, when humans will have forgotten to love and feel like humans, in the growing presence of self aware machines. The shoes in the crater, shall remind them of true and bonafide human passion, human emotions and human love. 

Those small shoes of the boy, the same shoes that he had strung around his neck while crossing the stream. 

Explore the #scifi novel, They Loved in 2075, and experience the intensity of romance, rekindled in every word and every line of this romance #scifi: They Loved in 2075!

All #scifibooks create a deep feeling of romance. I call it scifi romance that is unlike other forms of romance. To experience it at its new peak, please read the #scifibook, They Loved in 2075.