La Bastille (ManxBoy)

Prologue - Behind closed eyes

Prologue – Behind closed eyes

What if one day a snake consumes its tail? What then will become of it? Will it simply disappear from existence? And what if time were to eat itself, hmm? What then will become of us? Two sides of the same coin. Tick…tock…tick…tock…think.

—Cardinal Neumann, La Bastille 2089 AP

“Grandma, tell me that story again about Time.”

“Oh, my dear boy, that story is as old as time itself.”

“I know, but I want to hear it again. And please wear your robe. It’s much too cold outside. Brrr…it’s freezing. The temperature inside our house is at ten degrees. I can only imagine how much colder it is outside…brrr…cold.”

“There, there now. No need to lecture your Grams. I’m much too old for your sermon. Cardinal Neumann’s homily is more than enough to steel my spine, thank you very much. There. I’m wearing my robe, you happy?”

“Not quite. Oh, here Grams…wear your Sunday hat.”

“We’re just going out to buy some apples, dear child. No need to look too pretentious. I don’t like pretentious, ugh.

The boy irons the lapel of his cream-colored coat, “Can you walk?” he asks, concerned, and then pulls a red cane slotted inside the umbrella rack, “Your cane.”

“Thank you, child,” the old woman pets the boy’s head then leans down to kiss his hair, “Go on,” her left hand is on the boy’s shoulder while her right wields the cane, and together they lock the door to their house as they walk outside to greet a bright Sunday morning.

The boy punches in an alpha-numeric lock on the sliding panel of the door, “Are we going to walk, Grams?”

“Yes.”

The boy sulks, “Aww...can’t we just fly in the sky tram?”

“I get airsick riding one of those things, you know that.”

“Awwwww…no fair. I’m the only one in class who hasn’t ridden the sky tram.”

The old woman gazes above her, where interconnected tubes of clear glass run through the skies like steel snakes, housing the sky trams, one of many ways to get around the high-altitude city of La Bastille, “Hmm…I remember when I was younger. Life was so much easier back then.”

The two start walking, waving their good mornings to all their neighbors who are tending to what little patch of greenery they have in front of their two-story white houses, “Back when you were ten, Grams?” the boy asks, both looking ahead and peering glances at his grandma.

“Yes…back when I was ten years old…and that was what? Back in…um…1999?”

The boy does the math in his head, “Yes Grams. Wait. 2089 minus 1999 is 90. And you’re now a hundred years old. So yeah, 90 years ago is 1999. Back when you were ten years old—!”

The old woman smiles, “Nice to know that you can do your math,” she tousles the boy’s hair, “Studying at the Academy isn’t cheap you know. Hmm…1999…fun times. Back then there was such a thing as being seasick for riding those big ships…ooh those were the good times…now that…that’s what’s cool. But now…now there’s all these sky trams,” she scoffs, “Just looking at them makes me airsick. Ugh. What has this world come to?” she shakes her head blithely as they near the town square, where a fair is happening with booths, stalls, and an open market for the people of La Bastille.