Although they were sitting side by side she was as distant from him as she was from the animals at the zoo. Some scientists argued that other animal species could communicate with one another but Bimble doubted that was the case. As it was, she couldn’t even converse with this other type of human.

But there was no time for idle speculation. She had better act smart. Soon the hole in the fence, through which she had slipped, would be fixed. The menders were vigilant. They would already have reported the break in the barrier. At any moment, sirens loud enough to alert the forces on both sides would blare that a creature had broken through.

Naturally, they would not look as attentively on this side. The wild people often wanted to escape to her side but to date it was unheard of for an advanced person to come over here.

She had often wondered why the wild people wanted to come over to her side. Once there, they were unable to communicate with anyone and, when discovered, they were roughly returned to their proper place.

It was said that some did make it across, hid in back alleys and stole food to survive. Bimble had never seen one. Never, that was, until today. And that was not on the ordered side but on their side.

Curiosity had done her in or at least encouraged her daring decision to slip through the break in the fence. Curiosity compounded by grief at losing her uncle to the permanent third side. The side through which there was only one-way access—death.

The week, which now looked like ending in humiliation or imprisonment, had begun like any other. Every seven days, for as long as Bimble could remember, she had taken the SuperSpeed to visit her uncle.

Sadly, as she got older and stronger, her uncle got older and weaker. But until the last few seasons it had been a joy to visit him. Although his body was frail, his mind buzzed. He was the only one she could discuss taboo subjects with. The only one from whom she could find out about what it had been like before and how the future might unfold. He was the only one who never said bad things about the people who still talked with their mouths.

But today had not been like any other day. Today she had left the institute where her uncle had lived swimming in sadness, made worse by the grey rain-heavy sky.

It was unfortunate but no matter how advanced their technology, they could not control the sun and rain. The leaders insisted they were working on it and that and it was only a matter of time, but to date, the weather gods just did whatever they pleased and sometimes the result was unpleasant.

Perhaps sensing the future, that morning when she boarded the SuperSpeed, she had been so sad a man sitting next to her had messaged, “Perk up girl, today is good, and tomorrow is better.” The old folks, except for her Uncle, always said that but sometimes she wondered if that were true.

When she got to the door of her Uncle’s complex, the man at the door sent out a grey message, ‘He is not his old self today.’ That was an under-testimony she soon realized when she found her Uncle, prone on the bed, his arm hanging by his side.

“Bimble,” he communicated. “I was waiting for you.”

“I’m here,” she replied. “I’m always here on the seventh day.”

“But I won’t be,” he said and he sounded so small and miserable, she touched his hand.

“Be strong, be curious, do not be afraid,” he continued and then went silent. Immediately the alarms exploded and uniformed people burst into the room.

Before she could catch her breath, she was whisked into the hall and instructed to wait. She saw through the open door they were covering her uncle head to toe with a silver sheet and she knew that meant he was gone.

But she instead of waiting as they had instructed, she ran down the hall, and out the door. Dodging the people at the front entrance, she slunk around to the back of the property and scuttled towards the fence separating her uncle’s building from the wild county behind it. Then abandoned, she drifted along the barrier, her slender body shrunk in grief.

As she trudged along, her arm was roughly brushed but not with the excruciating zap she’d have experienced if she had tried to climb the fence. Like a drone her thoughts kept circling to the same place where suddenly she was alone. Her parents, who she seldom saw, were somewhere in another continent or maybe another planet. She couldn’t remember their agenda. The only one she had loved and felt tied to, her uncle, had left her.

She stared across the fence at the wild country beyond. In the distance she could see aliens doing something with the vegetation. She knew that this was where the products they ate, in a powdered state, came from but she was not sure about the process. On the ordered side, there was nothing living or green, such things were far too dangerous. As far as the eye could see, the vegetation moved in the breeze. It was almost beautiful but, of course, unkempt.

Suddenly the thin tingle in her hand stopped. Looking down she discovered a hole ripped open in the fence. Not a big gap, only large enough to let one of them come through. Or, she surprised herself to consider, to allow her to cross over.

What if she did slip through? Her uncle had always instructed her to be brave. He was criticized for having the vision: knowing what was to be. Had he known she would find the hole and did he mean she should be curious and go through?

She looked around, there was no one within sight on either side, and there were no drones in the sky.

What was the worst that could happen? She could slip back in a minute if there was danger and if she was found they would say it was just an adventure or she hadn’t known what she was doing.

Glancing furtively in all directions, she crouched and slipped through the hole, careful to avoid touching the metal. And there she was.

She stood and looked around. It was like that old story about the little girl Alice on drugs but she was quite clear-headed. She moved forward slowly. The field was not as wild as it had looked from the other side. There seemed to be some order. There was a pathway between the green stalks; the tall poles swayed high above her head. In a few minutes, she came to a path that veered off. A creature—an alien—jumped out at her. She was caught. They stood frozen and frightened, inspecting one another.

She sent a message “I am only visiting. I will not hurt you.”

He opened his huge mouth and a sound came out but, of course, she had no idea what it was messaging. The noise was much different than that of the little alien she had been shown at the learning center.

They stood for a long time and then started to circle around one another. Bimble moved backwards searching for the path to the fence, anxious to get back to her side and quickly. In her struggle to escape, she stumbled against a large green stalk.

The creature, bobbed up and down, and jutted out a hand. What did he want? Would he try to burn her?

He turned and signaled for her to follow. Too confused and lost to do otherwise she did so. When they turned the corner there was a bench in front of which was a mass of flowers, like in the market but not tied together, just flowing like an ocean of color. So many, hundreds all stuck in the ground.

He, for he seemed to be a he, bobbed a few times and sat down. His large red mouth, so soft looking, made a strange movement, and he touched the bench. Was she to be seated?

A strong intoxicating perfume drifted from the field; the flowers moved as if dancing. The smell made her dizzy. Why did they not tell her that flowers could be in the ground like this? Somehow, they appeared more beautiful than in a glass container.

The two of them sat there for some time. Bimble looked at her reminder and saw that her uncle had only been dead for three units but she felt she had lived much longer since his demise. She was having such an adventure.

But if it were three units then the menders would be coming along soon to check the fence and then there would be the sirens and they would immediately seal the gap.

She had better find her way back. Maybe the alien would help her but how could she ask for help? They didn’t understand brain messages only their loud noisy language.

He was sitting there quietly, the sun reflecting on his face, his head nodding. Maybe that meant something. She felt a sort of peace, a stillness, as if she had moved to another kingdom where even flowers communicated.

What if she stayed? Would he help her? Would he make her powdered food to sip through her mouth straw?

The sun was warm on her face as she sank into a gentle comfort. She would just settle beside the alien for a short while and then decide.

~ Melodie Corrigall
Published in Creativity Website Sept.2019.