Turning behind me, I saw farms ahead. Farms, that is, a large path splitting between a few fields of crops, washed out wooden buildings, and even an occasional windmill. Change of pace. Potentially: food as well. Between eluding people, arduously traveling a forest until the end of time, and simply not remembering my last meal, I knew food was the most logical progression.
Everything from the grass, to the ground, to the horizon and sky looked organized. Except for the clouds and sun; the fluffy and even mighty titanium white clouds appeared wherever they saw fit, and the sun was in its usual spot. Otherwise, every blade of grass looked too scared to fight with one another. White fence posts protected the crops from anything running into them. Buildings often ran parallel to each other.
Speaking of buildings, I knocked on one. It was clearly a barn with what giant door it had. I tested it anyway. Nothing, so I moved onto the next door I could knock on. And the next. And the next. I didn’t hear barn animals though, nor any of what would’ve been them call out when I made noise. I knocked on another, and another. There had to be something. Farms don’t just exist without someone to tend to them.
Unlike the forest, I could see for potentially miles. Well, I could see the horizon for miles and miles. I couldn’t see the very flat ground, which was obscured by the crops and the other ground that was at the same height. Flat. All flat. No bumps, no hills. In the distance, I saw what appeared to be more urban buildings. There were maybe one or two skyscrapers. The one had some sort of diamond, or complex pyramid shape that topped it off. The other had a flat roof. I bet the parties up there must be wild. Nothing really stood out. All of it could be categorized, broken down, and appeared less impressive than something scraping the actual sky. Not even the skyscrapers were that tall. Even if they were, their shape, their glass, and everything that made them what they were looked to be meant for utility. Function over form.
Very clearly, I found myself a city to dwell in. Perfect for living. The horizon gave promise to no other settlement. In fact, most of the buildings spiked up more around a particular epicenter, making the shape of the city a cone. Maybe it wasn’t even a city. No, that’s ridiculous. All buildings should have people in them. And people inside buildings mean living, meaning its a city.
Back to finding food. The crops were out of the questions. They weren’t processed enough to be edible. They didn’t smell like it, they didn’t look like it, and I wouldn’t even dare taste a single stalk of them. So, another person.
I called out. I called out again as loud as possible. Even nearby houses: actual homes that had windows, walkways, front porches, and everything needed to look liveable. No one would come out, if there was anyone. What is the point of farms if there aren’t any people to tend to them?
There was one person. I think. I thought I saw a silhouette from one of the windows. Approaching that house, they went out of view. Maybe they just hate me. What a way to be greeted in a new- I guess, city. No matter how much or in what way I called out, nothing would get them to reappear.
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I lingered. I stopped, I tried moving on. I ran back. Running in circles and circles, deciding between finding food inside the city, or right now. No one was here to help my decision. Maybe everyone going forward would treat me this way. Breaking in would be a viable option with how remote and quiet it was here. That would be crossing the Rubicon.
I pressed on. I noticed a few streams. Maybe it was irrigation. Maybe they were from a natural river. I slid down to get close. Water, at the least, would be nice. It was salty. The water tasted salty. Why? Even the water has something against me. That’s not real water, I also thought. Either it hates me; let me correct myself, either everything hates me, or none of this is a real city, I was not in a real forest, and that is not a real running stream of real water.
Maybe I was experiencing only partial reality. Everything could be off, or could be a setup. Maybe I was a ghost in the process of accepting his death. Maybe I was in a game, and someone was playing me. It really didn’t, and doesn’t, matter what level of reality I was in. For all I care, I was in opposite world. I just needed food. Food, or maybe I needed a concrete objective to reach. The city ahead didn’t count, as it could be more than willing to wait for me.
I passed by more farms. I saw more silhouettes that would actually die rather than to greet me. Sometimes they would double take, moving and then coming back to where I first saw them. Others would walk from one side of my vision to the other. None of them really had features I could identify. Was I speaking the wrong language? Was I speaking the wrong kind of language?
Streams became more common as I approached the city. Nothing blocked the path, but the perfectly organized farmlands began to lose their geometric shapes. One stream led to a puddle. With curiosity, I attempted to look down at it, conversely to look up at me. It wasn’t running, and without any ripples in the water, I could see my reflection. I looked like me, surprisingly unharmed and nearly unblemished. My skin was made of me, and my clothing fit me like me. I checked for any other cuts, finding possibly one at most. I also washed my hands as best I could.
The only thing between the city and I was a river. It was clearly manmade, as concrete protected its sides. Sewer outlets, or some sort of cylindrical set of holes also notified what kind of river it was. A few bridges connected the outside in. From what I could see in the distance, a few bridges were made to transport cargo. Before me, there was a bridge made for people. It had large wooden planks, polished and painted to appear new but natural.
I want to stick around. This environment is new and has plenty of information to learn on its own. I see no reason to scorn it, or abandon it. It’s not that I fear change so much as I feel like something is missing. In quiet, puzzle-like locations, a key would normally be found to lead them to unlock a puzzle. Puzzles take time to think through. Plus, whether or not they are a puzzle often confuses me. Plenty of secrets pass right over my head. And although I might figure out that there is a secret, I would need that secret spelled out to me. Spoken to me, ideally, directly. I’m sorry to this world for not being clever, but I’m not sure what to do in order to be accepted and greeted, saying-
“Welcome, you’re free to feel at home here!”
But I’m given no such greeting. I turn towards the city again, and press on.