Grounding Fans

Four white walls, concrete higher crapes building overcoming the horizon, their dirty windows that looked like millions of eyes, a constantly clouded sky, and the permanent buzzing of the grounding fans. My life resumed itself in different shades of grey and the constant presence of noise. I knew no quietness, no scenery that wasn't an ordained yet very chaotic succession of enormous blocs of heavy materials.

Light grey walls, ash grey ventilation boxes that looked like ugly dimples on the front, silver to grey for the fog, dark for the cloud above, even in the clothes there were hints of it. It was neutral in an overwhelming way. It was all I knew. Well not quite so.

When I say I didn't know anything but different shades of grey, it wasn't completely true. Technically it was since in the "physical" world I was living in, there weren't many places for bright colors to fit in, but I had what a lot of people didn't, Books. The first book I ever held in my hand had been a picture one, I was six, and it was the first time I had seen colors so bright before, as well as many other things. It was a book about animals at the zoo, though I had no clue what a zoo was, and still doubt that they even exist. My father had told me that it did exist, or used to exist, along with all the animals inside of it, but I had doubted that a four-legged being with a ridiculously long neck, could even be alive on earth. It was strange enough that they would use their four legs all the time, I couldn't imagine us staying at that state. It didn't make sense, so it couldn't exist, that's what my practical mind told me, but in a grey world as small as mine if you were practical, you need as much imagination.

No imagination here meant death. Not literal of course, but the death of the mind, the death of the capability of thinking, of questioning, of wanting more. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that in all the thousands of rooms of the building I was living in, the great majority of its inhabitants were dead. They took what they were fed with, didn't question, didn't want more.

I praise myself on thinking that I was just smarter than everybody else, after all, it seemed strange to me that no one ever questioned the way we were living, but as arrogant as I wanted to be, it wasn't so surprising.

I said I had books, and that most people didn't have that, and it was true. books were forbidden, there were no picture books, no novels, no essays, no scientific book no magazine. The only content we had was the TV and stupid emission that, once you came to understand, were nothing but ballant brainwash took and empty content. It was bad but good enough to feed everybody in entertainment. As for music, there was no music, I say that because what we had was far from anything like what music truly was.

The second thing I had that most people didn't, was music. Along with books, my father made it his mission to collect music tapes for me, He first found a music tape reader, and the first time I heard it I cried, he found that truly that's what I needed in life. And he wasn't wrong, The fan noises once you learn the quiet them down a bit, become ominous and mind breaking. You never get rid of them, they are always engraved in your mind, and even if you turn every ventilation system of, you would still hear the cacophony orchestra they made. However music still helped, it eased my overly-sensitive brain sells and made the life I had less unbearable. Although what made my life unbearable was to know that there was something else to this world than what I had.

I opened my eyes, disappointed once more to live my little imaginary realms to see once again that never-ending walls and its thousands of bland information. In my dream, the building in front of mine is wiped out completely, and every other after it, until there is nothing but a bare land. I thrived for it, a completely bare land, but all I had, was an immense building, and thousand ventilation boxes making their awful noises.

I didn't realize I had fallen asleep outside, I rarely did, my mum always told me not to fall asleep there since it wasn't safe. It wasn't much, but we had a balcony, which was rather rare for people to have one at such a high level in the building. It was cool, I liked that I had a space outside my little apartment, a space to breath even if it was toxic air -the air was considerably better there than at the rooftop, So I usually stayed there as much as possible, although it was indeed, as my mother said, dangerous.

I stretched slowly when my mum took away the headphones from my ears.

"I told you to stop listening to this machine outside. What if people see?"

I slowly turned my head up to meet my mother's eyes, watching how deep her bags were. She looked exhausted as always two kids in the arms, doing everything alone as if she had more than one body. Her nappy hair colors were like salt and pepper, although she didn't look old at all, and the bags under her eyes were worse than most days, proof that she hasn't been sleeping correctly recently. I was detailing her, she was pretty, beautiful even, no wonder my father fell for her even though her melanated skin looked a bit livid today, she was still beautiful. I smiled, I loved my mom, but I pitied her for having to live such a life.

"What? why are you staring at me like that? Didn't you ear me?"

"Yes. I did, don't worry mom, even if anyone saw they wouldn't know what it is and wouldn't question it."

"You never know Marika, you should take risks but use it and read books outside. What if someone realizes and starts questioning?"

I got that she was worried, but she didn't know how much people were ready to close their eyes to what was unusual to them.

"People would just think I did it myself, they think I'm crazy anyway, they would just pass it as a crazy girl crazy thing"

She looked at me, pitiful and sad. I know she would have wished for me to be blind like everybody else.

"I wish your dad had never brought you anything...You are not crazy Marika, you are just too smart for your own good."

I stood up, it wasn't the first time we had a conversation that followed that line, my father thought that knowledge was a gift, my mother that it was a curse that could do nothing but put yourself into danger. Yet there she was, being smart but forcing it to get out of her system.

"Don't worry mom, I prefer being called weird and crazy to being stupid. And it's not like it would be the only discrimination I'd face, we live on the 80th' floor, those under us already think of us as trash, and those above think they are trash and hate us for being slightly less trash than them. "

She sighed not really convinced but knowing well that I will be deaf to her plaint. so she turned away with the twins asleep in her hands.

"Put the laundry on the rope as I asked you to. You really are distracted today."

I was indeed out of space, everything seemed awfully slow and I had a bad feeling stuck in the back of my thought. The air was heavier and could sense that the cloud turned darker as the day was dark and gloom- not like it was anything other than gloomy. My attention shifted from my mother when I heard the familiar sound of the hanging basket. It was a wan and awful crick craking sound, that was barely stronger than the fans, but all together made the world unbearably loud. I put my headphones on, not to listen to music, but to lessen the painfull vibration in my ears. The only reason I didn't hate that noise because it only meant one good thing. My father would be back from work.

"Dad is back! " I said, getting closer to the fence of the balcony. That too I wasn't allowed to do, since it was dangerous. But I never really listened, and I was overexcited. I looked down, squinted as much as I could until I saw the tiny shape of the box, filled with all those little men like milk bottles. The nassel made an awful noise, and it usually took time until it got to my floor, as they were stopping at each and every floor to let fathers of every household get back to their wives and kids. There were several things like that all over the buildings and they were the only way for people living on the highest floor to get to the grounds as well as my only hope to ever get away from here.

When the high rise finally made it to our floor, just in front of our balcony, my dad waived at his friend and colleague and got down to greet us. He embraced me gently in his arms his body ridiculously bigger than mine. I was tall, like my mother, but my father was a had taller than both of us. On top of that, I was slim , just like mom, but he was big and strong. With a strong square face covered by a heavy beard. He looked like a woodcutter from the picture books or a bear. Some people found him scary because of his size, but he was the softest person I knew, even his voice while being deep, was nothing but calm and gentle. He never yelled, never got mad, he worked hard so we could have everything we needed. He was a great father, the best of them.

"How are you my sweet bird? Haven't you got taller"

He liked to call me that because I liked birds although I had never seen one outside of my encyclopedia.

"common dad you were only gone a week"

"you know I can't spend so much time without seeing knew, what if you suddenly get taller than me and become an adult?"

"I can't get taller than you dad. and I'll be an adult soon remember?"

His face gloomed for a moment, but he braced himself quickly enough for me to brush it off. He never explicitly told me what would happen to me when I turn eighteen, but we all knew. I had seen it five years ago, all those children were taken away to never come back. They said it was time for them to get a house for themselves and contribute to society. It was the dream of all, get a nice mouse house and contribute to whatever society we were living in, after all, if no one contributed, no one would eat. It was also the time my mother got permission to get pregnant again. Each woman should at least have Fives children by the end of their lives, she got me late, her menstrual cycle was too much of a mess to get a baby the first time, she had been lucky with me only this time, not so much with my twin brothers.

"How was your week?"

"Good! I finished all the books you got me I loved the new tape! I also helped mom a lot"

"Helped me a lot, that for debate if we count all the time you passed spacing out and reading a book." She was finally free of my brothers, I came to write her husband. When I watched them, I almost believed that I would also end up with the perfect partner and fall for them like my parents love each other, it wasn't true of course, I had learned that love didn't always come just by shoving someone to you forcibly, not forgetting that everyone wasn't so lucky. All I could do is prey I wouldn't end up with men like Amador's Father and more to someone like my own father.

"Welcome back honey. You look worse than last week."

"And your bags are darker than last time I saw you. Are you sleeping enough?"

She looked at him up and down. He did get thinner, although he was still massive. He also looked tired.

"Are you in any position to worry about me?"

"Of course, so are you"

I liked to watch my parent's interactions, they were not like what they showed us on tv. Inside the screen, all the couples were made like in reality, by the one from above, who put them in together because he only knew what was good for them. Every time they were sweet couples, head over heels for each other, with a hard-working man and a fertile obedient wife. I never understood why they insisted so much on pushing that image while the reality wasn't so much like that until my father told me. "It's an image to follow Marika. It implies that this is what is normal and what everyone should do. The law from the one above is absolute, he wan never be wrong so people have to do their best and copy, or else they would be seen as failures.". Everyone tried their best to fit in the image because it meant being successful, worthy of life, and it was just reassuring, even if it meant lying to everybody, including yourself. Everyone couldn't fit of course, but if they tried really hard, they could make everyone turn a blind eye and act like they did fit in.

Although they tried their best to conceal it, I could tell the palpable weight of their worries, They both knew their complexion looked worse as the time passed and it would be hard to keep up.

In some books I read, people lived until 80, but that wasn't possible in reality. Here it was normal to die around fifty. Living long wasn't even a thing, there was nothing to live long for anyway. Still, it hurts, they weren't so young anymore.

Soon the house fell silent, away from the excitement of reunion. Well it wasn't really silent, since the fans were still insistently grounding, and the tv was playing in the background, -"Remember the protector of all, everyone got a roof! The One above all, always in your mind". It wasn't quite but it was peaceful.

My mom came back from the kitchen, with a sandwich for my father to eat. She usually was against eating between meals, but it was still too early for dinner, and my father looked livid. I was laying on the couch, headphones on but no music, enjoying the activity in the house. I could hear my mother seat down at the dining table, serving what was probably soup for both of them. They talked low, were cryptic.

"So do you have any news? They will turn three now. Why is nothing coming?" my mother said distressed.

"Nothing in that matter I'm afraid. I tried to contact the higher-ups, but you know how it is. the process is long, with all those papers to fill I don't know where to put my head anymore. They asked me to fill a form for a higher department again."

"Again? Isn't it has been the 10th time?"

"I know but it's not getting anywhere. You had them later then demanded, and they are twins, so we should have anticipated that"

"What do they have to make everything so complicated?"

"I guess it's their way to dissuade people from trespassing the rules of the One above all"

"What about those who never asked to go astray?"

"Well, you know as much as me that usually they are simply disposed of."

My mother sounded more and more frustrated.

"First they force us to have children whenever they want, even if we don't want to."

"Aïsha. you are going far. I know you are upset, but please don't say that."

My father was being considerate of me, but I already knew that much too. Here having a child was never a choice, It was a duty. Because people tended o day young society needed a constant replacement for those who perished and needed people to always make new babies. It made sens, if no one did anything, factories would run out of workers which meant no food, which meant starvation which ultimately meant everybody's death. So women had no other choice but to give birth when permission was given, and only when permission was given -to avoid both overpopulations of buildings and under-working population.

I'm not saying my mother doesn't love me and the twins, I know that, if one day the One Above all decides that we are irrelevant to society and are to be disposed of, she would rather die or burn the building to the ground. I just also know that if she had been given the choice she wouldn't have had us when she was asked for-wich didn't happen anyway- or she wouldn't have had us at all.

"I won't give up Aïsha. Don't worry I will figure this out."

They both fell silent again. I wish I could have moved rooms to give them space, but intimacy wasn't really an option in the small space that was our apartment. So I sat and started zapping aimlessly. I would lie if I said that book had prevented me from watching tv, after all everything was better than the thing we were fed with, but I liked the way it would empty my mind completely, I needed that sometimes, and empty brain. I almost found something when my father broke the silence that was between them.

"I'm going back tomorrow."

There was a pause, as I looked I could see the confusion on my mother's face, like an echo to my own.

"Tomorrow? what do you mean tomorrow? You just came back!"

"I know. But I don't have any other choices."

"They are going to kill you, Samuel! They are going too far at this rate you won't make it! Can't they see you are already at this state!?"

"They don't care and you know that actually, it's more of a reason for them, They are opening a new project, people will get fired soon, I need to do my best. it's because of them we have food on our stomach Aïsha."

My mother was angry, my father pleading, it was pitiful to watch them.

"You won't eat if you die! Even if they provide us food, a house, this is barely enough to feed my kids! my kids they pressured me to have?! They're toying with my fertility and now they want to..."

"Enough."

He didn't raise his voice, nor did he sound angry, but I felt it, the shiver of alert. My mother stopped, sat back down, and looked at him with burning eyes, both from anger, frustration, and sorrow. She was bitter,

"Aïsha. You can't talk like that. It's better than nothing and you know it better than anyone else....."

She put her hands on her face we could almost think she was crying, but she wasn't I know she would allow that. They rarely fought, and although it didn't look like it, they were having an argument, yet it was a pointless one since none of them was to blame and they knew it.

"It's unfair.....So unfair.."

He said nothing but stroked gently her nappy hair. Oh, he loved her so much.

The day passed, without any of my parents bringing back the conversation again. They just went back to their usual self talking about their weeks, with a tacit tension in the air, nothing less nothing more.

I had my face down in the new books my dad got me anyway, I couldn't notice anything, I should have, but I didn't, I did my best not to, and filed myself with a world that wasn't mine, looking for the answers I couldn't get. Of course, my father never came back, but I didn't know it yet, instead, I heard a bang on my door I knew very well.