At the shore of the creek

She grew up in a backwater. The community was, in its heyday, a source of pride for the company, evident in the well-constructed architecture of the staff housing. Now, it was in decline. The company, due to the incompetence of its patent department, was a business with no future and no need for workers. Soon, it would be a community with no need for residents.

As she walked along the quiet river, which would soon flow into the much larger river, a river that others might call a creek, but to her, it was still her river, she pondered why the visible ruins that lay there were so uninteresting to everyone. If they were closer to a larger city, there would have been news articles about them. She often saw in the newsfeed about excavations of similar ruins, usually much more damaged and buried. This one was more intact, more like a structure with rooms and entrances, lookout holes, and remnants of machines that, with a little care and maintenance, could possibly be understood, and those that were halted, perhaps even started. 

The structure resembled the base of a mushroom stalk, where the hat had gone missing, but what exactly happened to it, she didn't know. However, it was evident that something was amiss from the broken and long, curved stalk-like fibers sticking up near the top, circling along its edge. As if they had seized something that had been violently torn away and taken elsewhere. Each sprout looked considerably thicker than a drainage pipe, although it was hard to determine from a distance. The comparison with drainage pipes was the closest in size that she could think of, as she was familiar with the protruding drainage pipes she remembered from her childhood. After the abandoned, never-finished school with its many drainage pipes that had confusingly protruded from the cast concrete floor. One of the few but strong memories of playing with other children who had been left alone by their parents on Sunday mornings, with the admonition to be quiet or make noise somewhere else. The night before, she and the other children in the area had wished that the adults had done the same so they could sleep.

She found the structure by accident when her rabbit disappeared, the one who always loved to stretch out in front of the fireplace. He didn't like the cold. He was a specially bred laboratory rabbit with thin, soft fur, very tame and intelligent, not in an animal way, but in a human way. She received him as a gift suddenly one evening. A distraught woman, tall and thin, wearing a white trench coat, she remembered, stood outside her door and asked her to take care of him, or else terrible things would happen to him. Reluctantly, she accepted the cage with the frightened rabbit that whimpered pitifully. Little did she know that he would become her solace. Suddenly, he was gone. It had been chaotic the day before and during the night. People had come and gone. But his cage wasn't open. Yet he was not there. She went on longer and longer walks from the house, calling his name. He was good at coming when called. He would even go to his cage when she told him to "go home," even though that wasn't something rabbits could do, it was something her rabbit did.

She went into the woods after school.

The forest, a forbidden and dangerous area. Stories among her classmates told of two students, two friends who ventured in to play, one slipped into a pond, or was it a stream? When the friend tried to rescue her, they both ended up in the water. Apparently, the edge towards the water was steep and slippery with the kind of sticky, slippery mud that can be found near water, and they couldn't climb back up. No one came to their rescue, not until it was too late. Still, it was a story she listened to but decided not to dwell on too much. In her experience, other people were more dangerous than nature, and her concern was more about being discovered in the forest by someone who thought she shouldn't be there, rather than encountering something dangerous because of the forest. The forest had never harmed her. The same couldn't be said about people.

When she wandered aimlessly, she felt like she saw something that didn't quite belong, didn't fit in. Something white, could it be? She approached cautiously so as not to scare the odd thing, a rabbit, maybe her scared rabbit. From a distance, it really looked like her white rabbit happily munching on some tender leaves. But when she got just a few meters away, he leaped lazily in front of her. When she called to him, with tears in her voice that she tried to conceal, she could see that he was listening, she could see his ears twitch, clearly listening to her. But not quite willing to give up his freedom just yet. Too many tasty things to sample, too much excitement to discover. When she cautiously approached again, not wanting to scare him or rush him, he looked at her curiously and then hopped away, as if he were showing her the way.

Each time a little farther, a little deeper into the woods. When he leaped into bushes where she couldn't follow, he jumped out a little farther ahead, surprised that she didn't follow him through the dense vegetation. Both irritated and curious, she followed him for what felt like an entire afternoon. Eventually, the forest opened up to a border area with more sandy heath-like terrain.

The structure lay right in front of her, and she was surprised that it was so close, as if it had appeared without warning. A dark towering figure shaped from shadows emerged from the mist, looming majestically above her like a giant, seemingly close, but as she approached the building in her pursuit of her precious reluctant friend, it appeared to grow and become even larger.

Finally, the rabbit, surely it was her rabbit after all, allowed itself to be petted and snuggled. When she gently picked him up and checked him for injuries and parasites, she was luckily to finding none. She saw how he enjoyed her strokes over its ears, how it closed its eyes and became still in her lap. But when she wanted to leave with him in her arms, he resisted, didn't want to go home, wanted to stay, screamed loudly, a unbearable cry like she had never heard before. Confused, she let him go, and saw him hop away, His beloved little tail bobbing up and down, and then he slipped into a newly dug hole.

"Is this his new home now?" She thought sadly. Is this how it is when one you love leaves you?

Many times, she would sneak out to call him, hoping to meet the sweet rabbit she had been so attached to. Gradually, the encounters became shorter, but the holes in the ground multiplied. Wild rabbits with unusual colors started appearing, some as white as he was, others lighter, and one she saw once, completely red. Perhaps he found happiness now, something he would never have with her? A family of equals, where he seemed to be liked and popular.

She remembered, at the edge of the forest, gazing out into the lush trees. A sense that something was different in the air today, as if the forest was breathing. As she called out to her friend, the lost rabbit, with a tone of longing in her voice.

"Come here, my friend!" she called, with a gentleness as if the words carried a wish to relive the old, longer meetings.

After a few moments, she heard the muffled sounds of a soft animal against the vegetation. A figure of light shaped by shadows began to take form among the trees as she headed further. The rabbit came forward as well, with its soft eyes that seemed to reflect her emotions.

"Missed me?" bending down, sitting on the ground to stroke the rabbit's soft fur. His ears folded back in confirmation of their bond.

"You seem to have had a good time here with your new friends," Nina continued, warmly smiling. "I've been so curious about what you've experienced."

The rabbit responded with a soft nibbling sound, sharing his adventures.

"So, what have you been up to?" Nina asked while playing with the rabbit's ears. "Tell me, my friend."

"I explored the hidden corners of the forest today. Found a cozy spot where the sunlight breaks through the leaves just right. Met some other rabbits—different colors, different stories. We shared nibbles and hopped around, feeling the earth breath beneath our paws."

Nina listened attentively, reflecting the joy.

"That sounds wonderful. I'm glad you're making friends and exploring. What else did you discover?"

Nalle twitched his nose and continued, "There's a clearing not too far from here where the flowers bloom in a riot of colors. I hopped around there, feeling the soft petals against my fur. It's like a secret garden, just for us rabbits."

Nina smiled, enchanted by the vivid picture . "I wish I could see that magical clearing. It sounds like a beautiful place. "

Nalle nodded and nuzzled against Nina's hand. "There's one more thing, Nina. the big yellow bird found a patch of wild strawberries and showed me. They were so sweet and juicy. I thought of you and me, and how much we like them."

Nina chuckled, feeling a warmth in her heart. "Thank you for thinking of me. I'm grateful for every moment you share with me."

And when the time come for parting, Nina followed him to the rabbit holes and sat beside the entrance with a feeling of tranquility embracing her.

Not every time could she find this special place in the woods; it was as if it sometimes didn't exist at all. But on the occasions she found the place, she was extra careful to remember the feeling when she got it right and the small details that revealed the direction of the place. Even if it meant climbing up a steep hill once, but not doing it the next time.

It was in her final basics school years that she first discovered some of the peculiar properties of the structure.

After a devastating school evaluation, where her father later demanded an explanation at dinner that she had been unable to provide in a way that satisfied him, he first threw plates and glasses, then, after hitting the mirror in the hallway so that it shattered and fell to the floor, he went on to demolish the furniture. Her mother promptly showed her the front door with her jacket in hand and urged her to come back later. In frustration, anger, and despair, she decided to punish them all in the final way. During the night, she went over to the construction she called Villa Gaudi. She entered its large cavities in search of a way up, a path she had been too cowardly to try before, her fear of heights too great. The darkness of the night gratefully concealed the high heights and large depths she passed, especially a place between two cylindrical cistern-like openings with a bottom far too deep down, with a connection between them, too narrow to crawl on, the only way was to walk and pretend that this was normal. She imagined walking on a narrow path with stinging nettles on both sides, staring at a faintly glowing point directly in front of her, and walked with confident steps straight ahead. Once on the other side, she congratulated herself for doing the impossible.

Afterward, the path was straighter, or at least easier to move on. Through a number of low rooms or alcoves with corridor-like openings, she eventually reached the top of the villa's interrupted peak. A sheltered place with calm and sun-warmed surfaces. Dry grass and the old nests of large birds lay in the nooks. Out of exhaustion, she tried one of the nests, first to sit in, then to curl up in. She woke up at dawn to the sounds of the morning, the rattling from the distant train yard as worn-out freight trains screeched and thudded with their asymmetric wheels. An occasional disturbed rooster persistently crowing to prove something, and her growling stomach.

A large yellow bird landed with a violent flapping on the edge of the window opening. It looked at her in surprise. In its beak, a large branch that the bird was clearly proud of. With meticulously steps the bird bent forward and hopped into the alcove they now both shared. Carefully, slowly in his movements so as not to startle her, but firm enough to show that she was allowed to be here, but it was their place together to share.

Maybe the place wasn't so abandoned after all, just inhabited by a different kind of creatures.

After much fiddling, the big yellow bird decided how to position the branch to fit perfectly and happily admired the handiwork. Without taking his eyes off her, the bird walked towards the window opening, placed itself on its edge and after a silent nod to her, the bird darted out into the dawn. She felt something familiar, something that connected her to the bird, like they were both from the same children's show, the bird the actor and she the audience, the child who would soon embrace the costumed play director.

Outside the window, the edge of the world was close. Here once lay an entire country. A country that, after geopolitical tensions in the earth's crust, loosened and drifted into space. In the old map on the summer resort's outdoor toilet, she saw that the country used to be called Ukrajina. A poetic and slightly funny name.

The atmosphere was thinner here and during the night she had woken several times to the sizzling sounds of the northern lights. Violently, hungrily eating the air sucked out over the border, dancing in a raining movement like curtains of light in colors impossible to describe.

Now she felt empty, abandoned, forgotten, like her teddy bear was gone or that she was the forgotten teddy bear, that she was lying in a corner with an eaten ear and a missing eye, half blind. But still, alive, she consoled herself with, a new day, another attempt at life.

She decided to go down and head straight to school, ignoring home; they can be a little worried, they may wonder where she spent the night.

She chose another way down, a path that involved quite high jumps from various ledges, and she was impressed with herself when she made a jump with a finishing somersault, just as she had practiced in the youth corps parachute team. They really helped to prevent strained feet and legs, despite the somewhat too high jump height. The day at school would have been ordinary if it weren't for the test, a test she had already taken and failed miserably. This time, she avoided it, painfully aware of all the mistakes she had made the last time, so clearly listed and explained why she, who should have been smarter, should have written correctly. Surprised that they had redone the test, she asked one of her classmates about it, not because they were really friends, but at least it was one of the people in the class she talked to, occasionally. The classmate was totally clueless; she hadn't taken the test before, and as far as she knew, neither had anyone else. What did she mean by that? As in a dream, the day continued to be a surreal repetition of something she thought she remembered, a constant wandering déjà vu. The coming week continued in the same way until the test was returned. Not only was it a test with an excellent response rate, but the whole week turned out to have been a scattered triumph. The upcoming parent-teacher conference did not turn out to be the expected catastrophe, as she instead received praise for her sudden and unexpected improvement when she showed presence in class without being disruptive or unfocused. In fact, she had walked around in a constantly bewildered state of shock and answered questions asked, as she remembered teachers expected them to be answered, without further consideration of their content or meaning.

This gave her a revelation about the difference between giving the correct answers and giving the answers that were considered the right way and the right answers to the questions asked. So, if the examiner believed that a rabbit had four stomachs like a cow and wanted that answer to be satisfied, she could answer that way and keep the truth to herself.

The next time she failed miserably was not on an exam, not directly. It was the cute boy two grades above her. It was he who contacted her, she thought later. They were never really at popular places, but often out in nature, which she found romantic, to be honest. Several times she wanted to show him the Villa, the most exciting and beautiful place she knew, but for some reason, he was never interested in going there, in that direction. It didn't seem exciting, even though she tempted him with the idea that they could cuddle and maybe do something more. It was like that part of the forest was extra unattractive.

She was so sure he liked her, that they could trust each other. When he asked to keep some things at her place, she didn't hesitate. It was pure luck that she saw the security police's unmarked cars on the back street when she was on her way home from school. There was something about the confident way the cars were driving, the slightly too wide, too flat tires, that made her alert. When she saw the people who definitely didn't belong in her neighborhood, standing outside her house, she decided to try the Villa one more time. Even before, she had prepared her expedition by taking rope, a flashlight, and supplies. Fairly well hidden in a side room. It was foolish not to make the climb safer if you didn't want to die this time. She also marked the path with chalk. The passage between the cistern shafts was the most challenging, with a rope around her waist, anchored to the wall, and a long pole in her hands for balance; she reached the far wall without major problems. The bigger problem would be falling down. Something she avoided. Unsure whether the time shift was due to the path she took or the time she was on the top platform, she decided to stay for approximately the same time but to time it this time, to control whether this affected the duration of the backward journey for the following experiment.

The following day's dawn woke her up with her alarm, just to be sure to wake up to something if not from the silly roosters. She laboriously chose the same path down in case it had any significance. Satisfied, she checked that the current date was about a week before the departure date. She sneaked into her room, took the box, cleaned it meticulously with ammonia in the garage, packed it in a new plastic bag, and transported it to the dumb, sweet boy's tractor, hiding it poorly under the seat. Then she sent an anonymous message to the hotlines about a name and location with suspected contraband. When she left school that day, she was pleased to see that some police cars were still parked outside his house, his tractor was gone, and the blue and white caution tapes were still there. She could spot people in his house who didn't seem to be him or his parents. Serves him right, the traitor.

The third time when it became absolutely necessary to use the house's ability, it was much more worrisome. Every class had a test in the final year before leaving home. She hadn't thought about it before; it was always talked about as an intelligence test. Every year, a few didn't pass and were taken away for re-education. This year, it was her class's turn. The test was in a sealed envelope, and she couldn't guarantee that everyone received the same question. During the briefing, it was said to be personalized. When she sat in the test booth and opened the envelope by tearing one side, the question form contained only one question.

What is the correct color?

Red

Blue

She chose one randomly and handed in her answer in light confusion.

Her career choice came later in the mail. Chosen to become a liquidator, something selected for her based on her merits and preferences, a job she was deemed capable of to be a valuable part of the societal body. After a brief practical training, her job was to blast spent reactor parts. Their protective gear was expected to shield against contamination, but the dust, the fine carbide dust created upon impact with the machine parts, penetrated everywhere, causing her nose to bleed. During a leave when she wondered if this was really life, the life she was destined to perform, she decided to visit the construction once again.

At the edge of the forest, there was a new tall fence; she had heard about it in the news. African swine fever had been detected in the area. Many dead wild boars had been found in the forests, and several hikers had fallen ill with zoonoses, diseases transmitted from animals. Therefore, large land areas were now in quarantine awaiting further measures. As she approached the fence, two guards approached her. She was quick to climb over, but they were faster. When she was about to jump down from the top of the fence, she was seized by the thought, Now or never. She ducked under the guard's arms, feeling his hand slide over her shirt, but she was quicker. She ran, they ran after her. She never had a chance to outrun them over a longer distance if they used vehicles, or other means. Time was on their side. She had to go where they couldn't move except on foot, like her. She quickly ran through the forest, luckily she knew it better than they did, they relied on being several people surrounding her, and where should she go. Once she reached the Villa, they seemed to lose their determination; they turned away. She hoped to gain an hour's lead using the time loops, but when she was on the platform, she could see them moving aimlessly through the woods.

The next day, she retook the test with the same questions and chose the other option, not any wiser, but with the knowledge that a color could be wrong.

At the university, she was assigned Biology as her subject. Apparently, it was her aptitude; she was destined for this, and the state needed biologists. She started with a casual interest and found that it actually suited her. Long nights of animal experiments, her specialty was conditioned reflexes and auditory control. She often avoided talking about her specialization because the mere mention of 'animal experiments' tended to repel people even before she could explain that it didn't involve LD50 studies or vivisection.

It wasn't until a few years later that she learned her entire childhood area, her hometown, was deserted and abandoned. Most of the residents, including her parents, had died in a chemical release from the industry. In an attempt to hide the decreased demand, production had continued until storage capacity was exhausted. There was no more space for storage. An exothermic reaction in a storage facility caused a fire with a subsequent explosion. The explosion itself wasn't so devastating, except that it left the factory in ruins, but it brought all the deeply buried byproducts to the surface to vaporize in the toxic fire. The smoke from the fire then drifted down towards the community. Since most villagers, following instructions, had taken shelter indoors, mostly in the basement, and the poison gas was heavier than air, most of the villagers also died in the basement. The entire village was declared an official burial site and was not to be entered. The area surrounding it was declared a disaster zone and a nature reserve, fenced with a 4-meter-high wild boar-proof fence with no entry allowed. So, the matter was closed, or at least that's what the relevant authorities thought.

In her memory, she thought she recalled an echo of an event, not as severe, but one where wild boars were also involved. Wasn't it so, she pondered, that the forest had been cordoned off first? Wasn't it so that she climbed into the villa in search of more time? Chased? Stumbled between the two tank openings just to fall down? When she felt her one foot bump against the heel, she knew she would lose her balance. Now it's over, was her feeling as she plunged downward.

Now it's the end of me.

When she landed on her back at the bottom, she wasn't immediately dead, even though the length of the fall, over ten meters, should have assured her of this.

Ten meters? She probably fell ten meters maybe fifteen, most certainly she was now below ground level.

The impact when she landed was noticeable, but after that, nothing special was felt. As she lay still and looked upward as if from the bottom of a well, she could see the stars clearly, even though it had been daytime a moment ago. A scent of decay and stillness surrounded her, not unpleasant, just tranquil, like an old forgotten place no one had ever visited.

After lying still and waiting for pain from broken bones, which never came, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness, she began to whisper to her fingers and then her toes. It truly seemed like she was doing just that. Gently, she stood up with her arms outstretched behind her, sore but whole. Fascinated by her new life, a life like getting an extra, similar to the extra lives you can get in games.

She felt excited and receptive, all other thoughts were blown away and it felt like everything she experienced in this now would forever be a clear and special memory.

She studied the walls of the room with undivided interest from someone who surely expected not to exist anymore. The entire room was covered in ceramic tiles or glass mosaic. The tiles, semi-transparent with a mother-of-pearl shimmer, covered all the walls. Mostly in roughly the same size, as large as a small box of matches or like a slightly enlarged elevator button. Usually, all corners were rounded, but even the sides were curved, giving the tiles the appearance of something that had grown and something that had been created. The tiles were richly decorated. Some with simpler patterns consisting of lines and dots, others with more flowing motifs. Many could, with a bit of imagination, depict creatures in profile. All different, all unique. She felt she loved them already and almost understood the story they told, if there was a story and that these tiles told them.

Amidst all this she lay on an elevation, almost like a bed of hard stone, a platform whose short side was slightly longer than herself and whose long side would accommodate, yes, a party of tired people, she thought as she lay there dimly lit from below.

Among all this, a row of tiles was faintly luminescent with familiar symbols, numbers resembling entirely ordinary numbers except that they were oddly deformed. When she gently touched the tiles, they temporarily lit up, but then slowly faded like a tired glow, leaving light trails behind her hand as she swept over them. She lay there still for what felt like at least a long time, enjoying the soothing waves of light from the substrate underneath her, similar to sea fire, an unexpected experience she'd had on one of the few times she'd been outside the small town and by the sea, in the evening when the sun had gone down down the waves became luminescent and as she waded in the glittering sparkling water, the light streamed behind her and around her like a ghostly light of smoke.

As she lifts her gaze towards the distant light above her, she notices leaves seemingly suspended in the air a bit above her, as if gravity betrays them in that place. Not far from the leaves, she also sees smaller branches hanging there, slowly descending as if they were light feathers.

"Why are they floating?" she wonders aloud.

"Were they always there, cushioning my fall, or were they sent there by my impact?"

"I hit the bottom,," she realizes. "Perhaps that's why my landing wasn't so violent?"

"Something protected me." she muses. "It must be so!"

"Perhaps it's also safeguarding the machinery within which I seem to be confined, preventing items from falling and damaging the equipment."

Both puzzled and oddly comforted her gaze surveys the terrain below. It's not solid ground she meets, but rather a carpet of decay. Rotting leaves form a spongy layer, unevenly spread across the floor. Piles of detritus gather in corners and recesses, hinting at the depth of the mulch. The yielding sensation underfoot suggests a substantial layer of decomposed matter, softening her impact. If stripped bare, the drop from the ledge would likely reveal a significant height differential, testament to the hidden depths of the soil floor.

Astounded, she searched for a simple way up or out, only to find none. Only a hint in the darkness of a cavity, slightly above head level, which turned out to be a not very deep crevice.

With a sigh of disappointment, she realizes that there is no visible path, no clear route to lead her forward. The only thing left was the narrow crevice above her.

As she climbs into the crevice cutting through the stone above her, she tentatively feels the rough surface. Its black veiny sooty surface stretched like a waterfall above her.

Content to now be somewhat above ground level, discontent with the remaining distance.

With a growing sense of determination and courage within her, she begins to climb, fingertips searching for grip on the raw surface. Bracing with her feet and intermittently sliding up with her back against the other wall. Every small movement is an effort, a struggle against gravity and the ever-shrinking space around her.

She presses upward in the crevice, and as the distance gradually becomes tighter, she fights against the intrusive feeling that the walls seemed to want to hold her back. But she exhales deeply, and tries to suppress the discomfort that threatened to overwhelm her as she slowly pushes past this obstacle.

"Every movement is a victory," she convinces herself.

"Every step forward brings me closer to what is now my limitation, to my coming freedom."

With every scraping movement, she feels the pain of the surface's roughness against her skin. What helps her grip with her feet and hands punishes her with the same strength against the skin where it is unprotected, as now the hip bones. But she continues forward,

"Can I do this?" she thinks to herself, and an inner voice answered her.

"I can do this."

Almost there, above an oval opening appears in a lighter grayness than the gloom around her. With a heart pounding with adrenaline, her hands gropes over the edge and she pulls herself up with straight legs. When she finally stood there and looked down over the edge of the abyss and the opening behind her, she was surprised by her achievement, the small opening, it looks so incredibly small.

"Did I really make it up there?"

-- --

It was in her final year that she was contacted.

A man of indeterminate age approached discreetly as she read on the school's wall screen.

She had no inkling when he stood next to her.

"You're from ##, right?"

Surprised, she turned towards him. Was he a classmate? She didn't usually like to talk about her upbringing, not much about herself personally. She didn't like being vulnerable. So how did he know? His steel-gray eyes calmly pierced through her.

'Yes," she replied, unable to argue or refuse.

"I have a summer job for you, simple but well-paid, and confidential too."

"What do I have to do?"

"Just things you already know, animals and nature. You have a partner, but he doesn't know about it."

"Animals and nature?" She thought about the partner aspect. What doesn't he know? They haven't told him, of course not. They don't know if she has accepted yet.

"Exactly. So, your partner, you just need to ensure he stays on the right path, sticks to the trail, and doesn't get lost. It's not difficult."

"Oh, does he have an easy time with that?" she quipped.

"You will be briefed and conditioned in our department. It will look good on your résumé."

"Where exactly are we going?"

"You're heading to your hometown, familiar territory, I hope."