The Orange Orb

ORANGE ORB

I am in a desert park; dust everywhere, no trees, and no relief from
deathly choking dirt, nothing but rubble. The wind whips whirly-whirls
in every direction. Heat rises from the dry land, burning my feet,
robbing me of oxygen, I have to fight for breath. My head and eyes feel
as if monstrous spiders are busy spinning cobwebs.
I am dressed in a filthy, hard piece of hemp and I smell like a
night-relief bucket. My hair feels like a bristle brush, the hair of a
hyena in a drought. My wrists have scarlet pinpoints of blood in deep
pressure abrasions. I cannot bend them. I hold them out gingerly to the
side of my body.
My throat is dry, like parchment, but there is no water. I cannot
quench my thirst. There is only the orange orb high in the sky,
lighting the day, and the blustering wind. No buildings or huts to seek
refuge from the heat.

Great, black, dead, tree trunks stand like sentries, guarding this
barren land. I have no idea where I am. Where are the people? I cannot
find anyone to get help. The horizon is bare, rimmed with orange red
and purple clouds and no sign of tall buildings.
What has happened? I do not remember.

I wander, and walk in circles, getting nowhere. I stumble and hurt my
ankle. I sit for a while to regain my strength. I am in a large gentle
depression that looks like a dry lake. Rising from the middle of this
earth-bowl is an unusual rock outcrop. I stumble forward, toward the
outcrop hoping I can find some shade so I can lie down for a while. On
and on, it seems as if a mirage is ever moving away from me until
eventually, I collapse under an overhang of rocks and boulders
underneath which gnarled, twisted tree roots emerge from the ground. I
rest in the slight coolness. A patch of dust at the base of an immense,
upright stone is different from the surrounding dirt. I sit down and
gently doodle in the talcum soft dirt with my fingers. A hatch suddenly
lifts leading down to steps. An updraft feels so cool I enter and the
opening above me closes immediately. Inside the tunnel light instantly
fills the whole area. Looking up I cannot find the source of light.
Light engulfs me as I move down the steps, like a caterpillar
undulating as I descend.
The steps, cut into the earth, spiral ever downwards. Clouds of dust
powder puff around my feet each step I take. Down, down, and down I go
in a never-ending inward curvature of smooth walls, round and round in
circles. I'm not frightened. I have the light to guide me. It's just so
far no end in sight. On and on?
I hear a voice Continue on your way down the steps. There is nothing
to fear. I have no idea where the words are coming from. Am I going
crazy after all that has happened? I have nowhere else to go, I
continue down.
I hear a train, but not a train; it is a pulley like cart carrying
people dressed in fine clothes; hair beautifully held in place. One
lady looks up and sees me; she beckons me over and invites me on. She
speaks to me in my head, what is your name? I heard the same voice in
the tunnel. I answer, "My name is Dare." I am Christ Ella. She answers
in my head. I am given a little water to drink and my wounds are
tended, as we move further downward, into the underground, and travel
for an interminable time going around many bends. The light comes from
interlocking light sticks in the tunnel ceiling. The train travels so
fast, I feel faint.

We reach our destination and to my amazement, there is a city.
Daylight, shops, cars. Giant moving screens, everywhere, all carrying
the same pictures. The air smells sweet and fresh, cool to the
flesh.

Dare, I'm going to leave you here to be freshened up. I'll be back in a
few moments.
Christ Ella leaves me in a department store to be attended to by
several aides. I am fitted for new garments, have a cool shower, my
hair cleaned, and dressed in one of my new garments. Here, everything
is immediate. Christ Ella tells me there is no waiting for anything.
Just like the ancient ones. Only more so.

The ones of the past had so many wonderful things. Blue skies, blue
water. Drinking water that fell from the skies. Houses had all the
conveniences that were needed to live. Something new invented every
day. Music, motion pictures, communication by telephone, cordless
phones and communication by satellite. Why didn't they appreciate what
they had? Green trees and blue water, sandy beaches, people splashing
water at each other and laughing. Why couldn't they be content with
what they had?

Christ Ella understands my puzzlement about our communication.
We transcended the ancient ways of verbal communication long ago. We
now communicate telepathetically.
We board a vehicle that floats on air. It takes us to the outskirts of
the city where at last we arrive in the suburbs. Here, the sun shines.
Clouds, like white fairy floss balloon and expand eternally across blue
skies. Green trees, blue skies. Houses, round with no square external
edges. I have difficulty believing we are underground.
How has this happened?

Christ Ella relates to me the underground world has taken several
centuries to reach the stage where I now see it. It came about when the
upsiders made war on each other and wiped out the most of the surface
population. Some survived and found refuge deep in the high mountains,
but radiation killed most. Over time, some stayed in the mountains and
some descended into the desert. They were the lucky ones who found the
only safe place left was underground. Renegades sent raiding parties to
steal and pillage from the undergrounders. They also raided the
mountain people and stole their women to use as sex slaves. Renegades
still wander at large on the surface. They roam the land in tribes,
killing and raping. Surviving as well as they are able. They worship
the dark side and build totems to false gods. Totems that rise into the
orange sky. Totems that spit smoke and fire when not satisfied. The
totems are evil gods and demand their underlings kill for them. Those
they don't kill are taken to a place of sacrifice. There they are
tortured and mutilated until they welcome death when it finally
comes.

So, entrances from the upside were dug into the earth to allow access
to the safe underground. Other survivors found their way to ravaged
cities. They wandered aimlessly looking for others of their kind. Some,
like you, found us, but many do not make it to safety. The radiation
stays in existence for many hundreds of years so the upside world has
only partially rejuvenated itself. However, we are safe in our
underworld, we have not made the mistakes of the upside world. We are
at peace.
In Christ Ella's house, I am treated to the most wonderfully fresh
food. Fruit salad, vegetables cut into tiny colourful flower shapes.
Mouthwatering, hot from the oven baked bread. Finally satiated, I am
shown to a room to rest. I am now part of her social unit and it will
soon be made known where I stand within the group.

I hear what she is saying, and memories slowly flicker into my
gradually clearing mind. My happy childhood, playing with children in
the deep mountain caves. We studied together in the cave school. We
learned from copies of ancient books. About wars that led up to the
final war. The nuclear war that wiped out most of the civilised world.
We learned about the environment. The diversity of extinct animals that
I will never see. The green trees and the farmlands that provided food
for the population. We learned that and much more.
The whole village lived deep within the mountains. A renegade tribe
from the desert attacks my family. They kill my parents and take me
prisoner.
I am left in a room, tied to a post with thick scratchy hemp. The
smell of human waste is overwhelming; I am covered in my own shit. My
stench fills the room. Men come in at odd times, give me a morsel of
stale food, and water the colour of urine to drink, and then rape
me.
One day, I had become so emaciated I found I could wriggle my hands
out of the hemp ties.
I waited my chance.
Many days later, the third or fourth man who came to me was drunk. He
could not perform, so he slapped me, hard, around the head. I fell down
and pretended unconsciousness. He laughs, and leaves the door unlocked
when he departs. Whether this is by accident or design, I do not know.
Perhaps he thinks I am dead. I have no idea of the time, so I wait
until dark, people are still up and wandering about, I hear footsteps
in the distance, and I hope they do not come to this room. They don't.
I wait, and wait and still I wait.
Soon the darkness is filled with silence. I slip my hands from the
rope and crawl to the door. I am weak; my legs will not carry me. I
inch my way forward on my hands and knees, eventually reaching a rock
crevice; I slip into it and stretch my skinny legs until they have some
kind of strength in them.
I escape that dismal, drunken place and make my unwilling legs run as
fast as they will take me. I fall into shallow holes in the ground.
Pressing on, I hear cries and howls in the distance; I take refuge in
shallow ditches and cover myself with sand, hoping I will not be
discovered. I must make it as far away as I can.
I come upon an inhospitable desert park with tall dead trees that hide
my body from sight when I stand behind them. I find a crumbled dead
lake and walk in it. Round and round the crumpled rocky edge I go. My
feet are bleeding; I sit at the bottom of a tall rock outcrop to rest.
I let talcum dust dribble through my fingers. A hatch opens upward to
steps leading downward into a tunnel. I enter?
The hatch closes on it, as it does, long intertwined stick lights come
on instantly, lighting my way. I descend steps and hear a voice in my
head inviting me to continue my journey downward.