Sea of Stars

By Farhan Arfeen

            Chapter-01: A Snuggly Bed

KNOCK-KNOCK

"....feen..."

KNOCK-KNOCK

"..ir? Sir?"

"Em, yeah," my vocals vibrated while it all still was black.

"Wake up, Master Arfeen. I understand your desire to lay there but its nearly past ten. To dispatch any confusion, its morning."

After a pause, "Fine, I'll come down...a few minutes."

"Very well, sir."

The footsteps behind the room door receded and slowly faded away. All the black I could see, also began to pass out as my eyelids opened. The ceiling above appeared far, initially, but that vision adjusted. It felt remarkably comfortable and relaxing, the surface I laid upon. Still, I had to postpone my analysation and proceed with my day.

SPLASH!

The reflection in the wash-basin mirror displayed a young face, compact yet sharply lined. The eyebrows, like a black streak, having clear spacing between themselves along with the space separating them and the eyelids as well. As for the eyelids, they guarded a set of blood-red pupils, with a dim glow inside. It was a face covered with innocence yet signs of mysteries underneath.

The water force of the tab gradually went on declining and halted. Twisting my right wrist, I closed the water tap of the wash-basin, and a few minutes later, of the kitchen sink as well (downstairs). The house I stayed in was two-storeyed, classic English design and plated with fine wood from the outside.

"Your water is fine. Guess only my room is facing the issue," I turned to Ms.Abigale who was peeling some onions. The kitchen was "unnecessarily" large in my opinion, slab covered with shiny glass marble, and floor with tiles.

"It appears so dear. Why'd you turn off the water? I was going to soak these," tears rolled down Ms.Alfred's cheeks as she tried wiping them off with her shoulder. This was the same voice from earlier, which came from outside the bedroom door.

"You can turn it back on, why waste it in between. And please, you can ask me to do the onions if you can't handle their smell."

"Oh shut up," she was sobbing, "These are just a few drops, my eyes are fine. No need for you to act so modestly, might just go along with the various procedures of our Master-Servant relation."

My jaws tensed up though my expression remained intact on its general trend, "Why so? Is cooperation not allowed in such procedures...why?"

She gave away a smile and resumed her task, "We, live in a society."

Having my breakfast, I traversed across the headlines from one page to another. Economy across the globe was in turmoil and made all attempts to stabilize itself back. During such immense changes, my butler and I eating on the same table, across each other, was just another peculiarity. It was half-past eleven in the morning now. I took the opportunity to dress into a more formal attire and arrange my mid-long hair. As I slid the watch onto my wrist, my gaze went towards the bed. The bed on which I passed my nights for the past year and a half, since I moved in here: Dalton Street. Soon enough, I left this comforting and luxurious house to take a cab to the Headquarters of the United Nations. As per usual traffic, it would take half an hour or more to reach my destination which happened to be my workplace, where I worked as an intern for the past year. Today is when it ends and my role as a full time member shall be commencing.

The Headquarters was a massive structure of concrete and glass. It was still under construction, near complete, as the United Nations(UN) was formed two years back only. It was a new organization trying to spread the idea of ​​"peace" and "cooperation" in this war-torn world. Several Nations signed themselves as its members and soon enough, a kind of world council was taking shape.

"Are you going to just stand there or get inside young man?" The watchman at the entrance reminded me. I stood there staring up on the higher floors.

"Oh, yeah! Sorry," I felt embarrassed at this, usually getting lost in my train of thoughts these days.

The interior of the Headquarters was renowned for being grand. The reception itself resembled a large hall, decorated with admired pieces of art on its cream golden walls, and fountain-like chandeliers hanging from its snowy white ceiling. The reception desks were made of shiny black wood and were labeled with our refined emblem. The ladies at the receptions appeared of noble status, sparkling their elegance over the visitors. Carrying my black jacket in hand, I went to the middle-one of those four desks and gave my greetings to the lovely woman there,

"Good morning Ms. Amalee."

"Master Farhan! Or should I call you Mr. Farhan now?" Ms. Amalee responded in her graceful manner.

"Ah, whatever you wish. Just don't misspell."

"Very well Farhan. Anyway, Mr. Philip is waiting for you in his office. Go there first and......Happy Birthday."

"Thank you."

Sir Philip's office was on the ninth floor of this architectural giant. It would take me a minute to travel there by elevator but I decided to take the stairs instead, substituting it with my morning walk (not to forget the risk of under-construction buildings). After taking 225 flights of stairs, I reached the required floor. From there, only a long corridor separated me from Sir's office. People were busy in their daily tasks, everyone wearing the same formal suits. The monotonous nature of these "modern" civilizational cultures really came to surface in these cubicles and chambers. Only several minor details brought out the individualism in the people where everyone struggled to retain their identity.

"Good morning Sir. You were expecting me?" I said, entering Sir Philip's room, a classical place as you would expect from a gentleman's taste. A gramophone played the slow rhythm of a tune which was familiar to both him and me. A former companion of both of us used to hum this. A glass surfaced table stood between his seat, a specific medical chair to support back issues, and the two visitor seats. Things were neatly arranged in order, throughout the office, and each arrangement seemed to present a meaning.

"Ah! Mr. Farhan!" Sir exclaimed on seeing me. "Yes, yes. I asked Ms. Amalee to send you at once if you showed up." Sir replied, removing his hickory-colored Robusto(cigar) and pointing his hand towards a chair to his front. "Congratulations by the way, on turning nineteen today. I wish you a happy and prosperous life ahead young man."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate it very much."

"I know you do Farhan. You're always politely accepting things and now that you are growing up, I say you should look out for yourself more."

"Understood sir."

"You could actually try to act a bit more like your age, you know..." He chuckled a little. "Anyway, as I had said before," he opened a drawer and brought about a card, "From today onwards, you're an official member of the United Nations. Just check if these idiots printed everything right."

Sir presented me with the card which was an identity pass for the individuals of this organization. A black piece of leather-covered hard paper, with my details and a small-sized picture(black&white), imprinted on it. While I was examining, a lady knocked and entered the office.

"Ah...excuse me sir, your wife is one the line," she said in a tone with slight nervousness. From time to time, she would glance at me.

"My wife...which one?" I ignored Sir's sudden burst of laughter being hurled towards my place. "I'm just joking. What is she saying?"

The lady's face expressed her mood of 'being done with this world', "She was asking for you and said that you made some promise of taking your son to the Memorial."

"Oh..." sir glanced at me, "Well...tell her I'll come early today and fulfill the promise." The lady left the office as soundless as she had first entered. "Ahh! Family stuff. At first, it was heavenly but now it feels irritable at times. Still, it's nice to see how things turned out. I can finally let go...and sleep peacefully," he heaved a sigh.

I still stared at the card in my hand, but my vision was not bound till there, as it surfed far ahead. My ears were not catching the sounds around, my eyes did not comprehend what was in front...I was sitting as if inside a void.

"farhan...farhan...Farhan?!" I raised my head and looked at the upper middle-aged man with a small white beard along the lines of his jaw, and the hawk-sharp evergreen eyes gazing at me. "Are you alright son?" The wrinkles trembled.

"Y-Yeah. I was just...amazed how clear my picture is..in this."

"Okay. You can go now, I've taken enough of your time." I started rising from my seat. "You should get yourself a woman. You're a man now and you'll need someone by your side."

"I had never put my thoughts on this matter. I'll do reflect on it as you have said--"

"This isn't an order! It's an advice, which I'm giving in your concern. All of what you saw...is over now."

"Oh...is it, really?"

Sir sat in silence as I took my leave. My chest felt a bit heavy, stirred up probably by our conversation. While I slipped my ID into the pocket, a hand pressed down my left shoulder. Beside me was a tall figure accompanying the looks of around mid twenties, no less than that surely. The strict dressing sense of his told of a disciplined character, yet the wrapper of chocolate projecting halfway out of his chest pocket indicated otherwise.

"Well happy birthday junior. Thought I'll forget my old friend?" A flat voice touched my eardrums.

I turned to give a look at the blonde (dark), slicked back hair as well as the clean shaved face glancing at me with those royal blue eyes. "Why would I?"

"Question for a question, always a keen trick of yours." He put up a cunning smile. "Want a present?"

I had a questioning stare. He put down his hand and pointed towards the elevator. I hesitated for once but seeing his perseverant pointing, I followed. We both got in the elevator and pressed for ground level.

"Hope this ain't a play Thomas," I stared forward, at the door.

"Of course no, pal. Even though Philip sent you away as per your 'leave', I still have something to pass you on with," Thomas stated.

"Is it so? Very well."

Doors of the elevator went apart and we were on the ground floor. Reception hall was towards the left, whereas we took to a room labeled "staffs only" towards the right, from the elevator. It was locked, and in it, several documents on shelves were placed in this artificially lighted place. Thomas took his time in going through one of the shelves, moving his fingers and hand briskly along the papers. I, myself, used this opportunity to explore around; Thomas was not someone to spoof about official matters. The various shelves were labeled. Those in front had a freshness to them while the ones at the back of the room were coated with dust, showing their non-utilization. I was interested in them more, as they hosted content which was usually just glanced by, or not even that.

"Found it!" Thomas exclaimed, if scored a 'home run'. I returned my piece of attention to him as he extended me with a file. "This is, what I'm supposed to be giving you as a present."

The file was relatively new, compared to other documents here, my thoughts flashed. I eyed it carefully, classic string-tied version with dual folds of opening panels. An ink pen was used to write cursively on its surface, near the string knot. It read "Ambassador's Summit". I raised my eyeballs towards Thomas, who appeared to be expecting me for inquiring,

"Go on, ask all you want."

"This...work?" I looked into his eyes.

"You really can't guess anything out of work scope, huh?" Thomas had a disappointed expression. "Yeah, its WORK. Though its your day off, and Philip asked to hand this over tomorrow, I just want to get this off my chest sooner." He pointed to the title which was written. "Guess you can already grasp what this is all about?"

I held on to my words for a moment then replied, "A little, I believe. Is this referring to National Ambassadors?"

"Ahh, quick to catch up...as always. Yes, this is not 'bout those beauty ones. It's your next task. You must be feeling loafed as there're no 'missions' any more, isn't it?"

"I would be lying if I said I'm not. It's just, 'will take time to adjust in the new settings."

"Yeah yeah, time heals. Look at Philip. Can you...Can you sleep? Properly?"

"Can you?..."

"Fu--! Don't question me back! Where'd you learn this?"

"I've never taken orders from You. As for your question, maybe. The bed is unlike any I had."

"Deluxe edition matrices, they sure are heaven's nimbus."

"And your thoughts upon this?" I flicked the file in hand.

"You've got a whole day off, I believe its enough to go through it yourself."

"I, thought you might relay some supplementary details. Leave it, I'll look into this."

"Yeah! Anyway, I've heard something. Word around's that the beautiful receptionist is kind of into you." Thomas's eyes told of curiosity.

"Referring to Ms.Amalee? Though I still don't understand what you mean by such," I responded to those eyes.

"Don't play dumb. Your observations are remarkable, I'll accept that. Tell me, are the rumors true?"

"I tried reading those romantic novels and yet I can't get enough hold upon the concept. That said, if your question centers around this, then I don't know. My capabilities in knowing if someone is romantically interested are...pretty low."

"Dare I call you an innocent soul, or a retarded spy..." Thomas put his left hand on my right shoulder and raised his brows. "It's my duty, as an elder, to look after my younger brother. We may not share blood but we've shed blood together. It'll be me! Who will guide you upon this path!" Raising his right arm up in the air, making a fist. One seeing it might interpret it as some play practice.

"Isn't this like old times?" I gave away a faint smile. Thomas chuckled as well.

Around ten minutes, that was the time Thomas asked for convincing me into giving the matter of "dating" a thought. He punched all of the points and hints for getting along with a girl, and not to forget, describing its benefits. Halfheartedly, I listened until a certain sentence rang through my head. You could actually try to act a bit more like your age, you know. It was Sir's words, to remind me that I was still a teenager in the end, and that in these times of peace, teenagers study, visit places with friends and family, have a romantic partner for the feeling of self-completion. These concepts were as the rain drops pouring outside of my closed glass window.

The sun was yet to set and evening was dry as well as pleasant in this eastern port city of the New World, the city of high-rise buildings. I was at the entrance of the Central Park, a large open space of nature located near the center of the city. The transition from the staffroom with Thomas at UNHQ to this, had a few hours in between. Summarized, I had (boldly in my eyes) politely asked Ms.Amalee on a date, for the next day. The spirit it took was unpredicted as a certain uneasiness took over me during that moment. Currently, my task was to wander around and look up places which shall be preferable for the set occasion. Enough time I had spent and decided to call the search off, the information collected was sufficient. I took a cab back to Dalton street, glancing at people of different outlooks, color, and attitude, striding towards different directions within the same city. There was sound all around, not much from the crowd but the traffic.

"I'm back," I put my jacket on the outer hanger and proceeded inside with the file from earlier in my hand.

"Master Arfeen, welcome back," a voice came from towards the staircase. "I thought you would be returning home a little earlier."

"Yes Ms.Abigail, just got a little detracked on my way back."

"Well at least you arrived," the voice got clearer as footsteps approached, "That's what matters in the end." Ms.Abigail politely smiled while holding a box containing mechanical tools.

I smiled back and gave a look towards the box. Carrying the file, I began walking to the stairs and tip-toed upwards. "Hopefully the water's fixed now."

"Yes of course, warmed as well. Would you be having the due lunch?"

For Ms.Alfred, my sentences echoed from upstairs, "Yeah. Amaze me now with your skills, like always."

"Surely, sir."

With that, I was once again in the place from where I had started my day, my bedroom. The same cream green walls around me, sunlight casting the shadows of some sets of articles and furniture like my desk, bookshelf and so on. Windows provided glimpses of the world outside, and a soft, snuggly bed appeared to be waiting in one corner. Raising the file in my hand, I began peering at it for a minute yet clearly the thoughts inside me were not just about it. I placed it into the desk and tilted my head back to look at the bed, a thing so common for some yet so precious for others. My steps moved towards it and I felt drained off of my energy. My consciousness might have passed-by the concept of washing up in wake of returning to one's house, as I just let go of myself upon those fluffy cushions and matrice. My only thoughts for the moment being:

This...it's comfortable this way, as well.

           Chapter-02: World of Glass

PHSSH...PHSSH

The radio attempting to catch the signal was placed on the upper shelf on the wall behind the service desk.

"--nations hav--," voice from the speaker alternatively initiated and cut off before stabilizing at last, "--eeing the dire circumstances of the economy, States is in talks over offering a plan for the revival of the Old Continent."

The door leading to the kitchen of this lavish family restaurant lay beside the service desk. Several waiters were moving in and out of it. One such, with a tray in hand, moved out towards the dining area, passing through several tables, stepping up the stairs to reach the first floor of the restaurant, and arriving at the table near the glass-framed window to the south, which provided a view of Central Park in the distance. At the table were seated a pair of individuals, one a young lady, dressed in a royal blue backless maxi, a silver ring in her left hand, and a pair of pearl earpieces. Her makeup seemed of careful placement but not too light. The other individual was a young boy in a slightly informal, single-buttoned, matte black blazer, with a grey high-neck full-sleeve t-shirt underneath, complemented by black chinos for legs.

"As I told you, the steak is worth an order here," the boy placed his knife upon the steak, slicing the tender fibers of the meat followed by the fork in his right hand lifting the piece up before being engulfed in his mouth. It melted on his tongue, emanating juice and a seasoned flavor.

"You sure are right Mr.Arfeen," the lady as well took a bite from her plate. Meanwhile, the waiter poured water from the slim long glass jar he was carrying into the two stemless white wine glasses on the table. "Haven't you chosen quite a fancy venue for our date?"

"Um...maybe."

I shifted my eyes from one corner, of the first floor, to another. The whole place was lit with cubic glass lights set on the ceiling at wee distances. Apart from this, the corners of the floor were lit with standing glass lamps. Justifying the overutilization of glass for several kinds of use, the restaurant was named 'Glass Garden'. As my eyes and hands kept themselves busy, my hearing could not help but potter through the discussions at the present tables. The variations of the topics were scarce since most civilized families have identical upbringings in such societies. One table held the debate on Roosevelt's term, and another was speaking of the share crisis of the Old Continent's corporations. Other few were regarding golf, sugaring family bonds, immigration, and so on. Though everyone seemed to have ordered plenty, rarely did one put themselves into the meal from the heart, as if being here was just for the sake of being here.

"You seem to be enjoying, almost done with your order. Shall I call for more?" I glanced back at Ms.Amalee.

"Ye-- No!" Her insistence brought in the attention of the guests at the next table as well. She smiled in a gesture of apology to them. "There's no need. My appetite allows me to have this much only. Plus, the cocktail is awaiting to fill the rest of the space in me."

Quite tense she appears today. She even sweated a lil' when we arrived despite the room being cool enough, I pondered while proceeding with my meal. Soon both of us finished our dinner as well as the complimentary drinks. Ms.Amalee then hesitantly asked if we could take a stroll outside for fresh air, on the way home.

RING

The doorbell of the restaurant sounded as Ms.Amalee and I moved outdoors. The sky was dark as the twilight had faded away around two hours ago and now the stars were partially curtained with light nimbuses. The breeze dancing past us two was cool, I felt that Ms.Amalee might need more than just her backless dress. She had requested for it to be better if we walked instead of taking a cab, and so we did, ambling down the pedestrian towards the west. The crowd around was not anymore of employed personnel returning home but enjoyers of the night. I had handed over my blazer to Ms.Amalee which she reluctantly put on upon my insistence.

"You wanna get one?" She smiled through her wavy brunette hair bouncing on her shoulders, standing next to an ice cream vendor.

We got ourselves a pair of vanilla and butterscotch cones. They were nothing out of ordinary sets yet she seemed to be fond of them and the manner in which her tongue enwrapped the cream showcased her joy. She paddled a little in front while I followed from a little behind, crossed the road on the red light with the wheels static, moved to the twenty-second bloc, and from there again resumed our journey along the lane to the west.

"If you don't mind, may I ask something?" Ms.Amalee kept glancing back at my face.

"Sure," I replied.

"Ah, your eyes. They--"

"Peculiar? I guess."

"No. I didn't mean that. What I meant...is that they...yeah. Peculiar."

I curled my lips upward, it was a little humorous. I could understand her curiosity, after all, you don't find many people walking around with reddish pupils, do you?

"I don't know to be honest. It's been there for all I can remember, maybe genes? Or a curse? God knows."

We stopped walking. Our ice cream was also over, and the breeze had halted in this part of the city. In front, to the southwest, the lane bifurcated perpendicularly into a road to the southeast and a street to the northwest. A sign board in front spelled the name of the regions these two paths took to. Ms.Amalee just gazed at it for a minute before proceeding toward the northwest, I followed. For the first five minutes, we spoke nothing but just walked. I was unfamiliar with the neighborhood but from the setting: bushes growing side the streets, several street lamps flickering or blacked out, piles of garbage thrown together at points, and no building of more than a single storey, I could perceive that this place must not be among the talks of those at the Glass Garden. Such blocs were labeled as the "backstreets" and in general, you will not find the Assistant to the Secretary of the UN Department Head or a part-time receptionist there as well, coming from. Yet there she was, walking in front of me, shattering all those beliefs and ideologies. From time to time she glanced back and kept on advancing.

"Not what you expected?" Ms.Amalee gave a look at all of her surroundings.

"Not quite. I don't expect much, after all...appearances can be deceiving," I followed her closely.

She chuckled faintly. "I know many will make faces when faced with my place. So it's better to not mention it to 'em."

"So why me?"

"Oh, you followed on your own. I didn't do anything, did I?"

She was a sharp woman, carefully placing her words and having a hold on her actions. No wonder she had slid into the elite society smoothly.

"So 'bout your eye, you never got it seen? From a doctor I mean."

"Sir had made me go through checkups yet none reaped satisfying conclusions. They said no issue or abnormalities were found except the color."

"Your case is more strange than mine," she began laughing as we paddled forward. Soon our steps relaxed and stopped at the front of a house on the side of the street. It was of brick, one storey like the others, with a wooden door in the center of the front wall and a fiber window panel a little to the right. Light disseminated from that single window and fell upon Ms.Amalee's face and mine, dandelion. "Well this is me, I didn't realize but it's sharp nine. You actually brought me home early as promised."

She handed over my blazer. I slid my arms in the sleeves and dressed it up. "You only brought us. It's nothing I've done, did I?"

"Yeah." We both sighed, it was a moment of stillness. Even now, the breeze was absent. Ms.Amalee nodded her face a few times slightly while staring here and there, then just as I was setting off backward she raised her brows and vocalized, "Ah, would you like coffee? It's a little cold you know, might help warm you up till your house."

_____________________

The Next Day...

"Just that?!" The voice echoed through the cafeteria. Eyes glanced and stared at its source, voices whispered. "Dinner at a fancy place then bye-bye? Tell me you guys at least held hands."

"No, we didn't," I replied to the person.

He, that person, seemed to have clenched his fist as he conveyed a disappointed look upon me. As for me, I moved forward in line and checked out a butterscotch milkshake from the counter. We then, both him and I, surfed through the scarce crowd around the counter and proceeded towards the elevator of the building: the renowned UN Headquarters. Thomas, the person with me, called in the elevator as I sipped a little from my shake; my soul could die for shakes and smoothies. Two more individuals joined in, their destination being the upper levels whereas Thomas and I had to go down beyond the ground level. As usual, we were going separate ways from the rest of the people. Both of us decided on taking the stairs instead, I insisted because Thomas was not among the ones who would leave their seat for another. When we arrived at the first negative (-1) level, there were not many folks in sight. The level below us was for parking, while the ones below were confidential. This Level '-1' was designated to the various underlining departments that the UN subsequently ran. The corridors ran in a grid-like pattern; cutting each other at right angles. We walked north, then took left, walked a few steps, and took to left again. There was a wooden door with a fiber panel along the corridor wall to the west, that was our den. The place designated to the G.I.D.: Global Inspection Department. We entered and found ourselves in a large hall, "decorated" with various shelves on the walls, several desks with piles of files upon them, a pair of coffee machines, and other "office" articles. There were no cubicles here, nor was the hall well clean and organized, unlike the other offices hosted in the UN building. It truly appeared that this place, underground, was farther from the white-collared sphere than it appeared. Thomas went his way to flirt with a lady beside the coffee machine, her name was Aleena and she was also a member of the G.I.D. like me and Thomas. Not all the members were present, there were around four of them present at the moment. I stepped across the hall, over the documents and pages scattered on the floor, greeting my other fellow co-workers, towards the small personal chamber of mine, the door of which spelled "Farhan Arfeen" as well as "Deputy Chief Investigator". I went inside and closed the door, though still, I could hear the voices from outside. Of course, Thomas had to use me for his advancements on Aleena,

"Amateurs will remain amateurs dear. He went out with Amalee, even stayed together till night, yet couldn't get laid. Can you believe that? If it's me, oh I'll surely let the lady enjoy her night with me." I could feel Thomas' grin through his tone only.

"Not everyone happens to be thinking from their di*ks only Tom, I guess that fact is very hard for you to get by," that reply of Aleena did provide a sort of easement to my ears.

My chamber was small but adequate for my uses. A small desk, a wheeled chair, a rack for files, and other articles such as the standing lamp and so on. Putting the cup of shake on the desk, I bent and pulled out the second drawer of the desk to take out a file, the same file Thomas handed me yesterday. I slid my palm over it, What do I have to do with this upcoming 'Summit'?..

My role in the organization was not of any delegate or representative, nor was it to administer the functioning of the departments. The G.I.D. was an independent organ of the UN which on a surface level was an intel-collecting body that aided in gathering data for the various departments and in turn played a role in several fields. In veracity, our department was more than just a "collector". Ironically to my age, my seniority was third in the hierarchy, but that still was not an ample reason for me to have a role in an upcoming international summit of world leaders to have tea and meal upon the post-war agendas.

KNOCK-KNOCK

"Yeah, come in," I put both my arms over the file and leaned forward.

In came Jabari, a tall-statured man of dark skin tone, with a gritty voice. Although his eyes were not as piercing as sir Philip's, his stare could lure you in; a strange charm he possessed. He gave a slight glance at my hands then rolled back to my eyes, 

"I disturbed?"  Asked in his dark-continent accent. Not many words did he possess in his inventory for usage, yet his skillful portrayal of expressions made up for them.

"Not much. I was just reviewing some files while sipping down my shake," I replied putting on a smile.

Jabari rolled his tongue under his lips, "I see. Well, just needed your sign," he flicked the clipboard with a few pages in his hand, "Some confirmation...or recount of people involved in the Moldovan operations." He gazed directly into my eyes.

I rubbed the thumb of my right hand over the side of my index finger as I looked into his eyes, "Um...sure," I put forward my arm, took hold of the clipboard, and picked up a pen to sign upon it, "Just..it's strange. Almost after two years, this surfaced. Don't you think so?" I gazed back.

"Strange world we live in, strange people."

_____________________

Last Night...

Moments after being invited, I was sitting at her dining table, small, waiting for her to bring the promised cup. A dull bulb lit the room with gold. Not much was in sight, just the table I was seated at with three chairs on its three sides. A door behind me led to the kitchen where I could spot a stove on the slab, and shelves hung on the wall having what was crockery and ingredients. In front of me was the hall-like space. Ms.Amalee returned with a pair of beverages and handed one to me, which I held with one hand and then wrapped my fingers with the other around it.

"Homemade coffees are best," she made a remark while settling down on the chair across from me. Again there was an awkward moment of silence between us, could hear the dog barking in the distance. 

"Decent accommodation you've got," I commented, glancing around.

"Ah haha," she gave a little laugh, "Not like yours though, I've seen your place at times when crossing through the street."

"It's a luxury I'll say, fine with only a single storey."

"You're not from highborn class? It appears you are but your ways are just...contradictory."

"I'm not native. I come from a country in the east. So--," My ears picked up faint coughing from my front, behind Ms.Amalee's back.

Her face tissues tensed minutely as she rose and proceeded to where the sound came from. I took the liberty to follow her, cross the hall, and enter one of the two rooms of her house: poorly lit and cold, with curtains pulled over the single window. There was an old woman, scrambled grey hair, laying on the bed with only a cloth sheet as her blanket. Ms.Amalee sat on her knees beside the bed, pulled the blanket upwards to the woman's chest, and placed her hand on the woman's forehead, whispering something as she caressed her. The old woman's breathing calmed slightly with an expression of relief spreading across her face.  

Ms.Amalee just sat there in the shadow, clenching her fist. Without turning around she got up and walked out of the room, and so did I. Back we were at the table as before, no dogs barking anymore, the breeze flowing in through the ventilation top of the door wall. My cup was emptied more than half, meanwhile, she sipped from hers. As her eyelashes lifted, damp as I could perceive, our eyes met.

"When the men went to fight, we had to go out and fill up the roles, as did my mother 2 decades ago. She worked in a plant that sought to make people's lives comfortable. Now she can't breathe in peace. Being drafted 3 years back, dad never returned. It's just me now." there was a tremble in her voice and her lips. "I'm just one piece of the puzzle that's laid across the whole country."

Silence engulfed the abode.

"We all lost a lot, for a few's gains," I mumbled.

It brought an end to our date as we both stood outside of her house entrance, the breeze swimming across both of our hair. Ms.Amalee was looking at the sky, probably seeking stars, biting her lips. The light from her window once more colored us dandelions.

"Thank you for the homemade coffee."

"Less fancy than your 'glass world' still," she began laughing. "What stories're you gonna convey to your colleagues?" It was obvious for her to be uncertain of a self-reserved new adult like me

"That I took you to a world of glass...and we saw our reflections." I conveyed an assuring smile.

Ms.Amalee just looked into my eyes unhinged, "Who are you?" She smiled damply.

"I...don't know. Finding that myself."

           Chapter-03: Forgotten Past

DRIP-DRIP

Waves formed in a small puddle as a foot enwrapped into a dirty brown leather boot stepped in and moved ahead. The gray ceiling was low that day, and the sky wept modest tears. Across the devastated townscape blew breezes, over the silent corpses and rubbles.

DRIP-DRIP

The pair of boots advanced with caution, each step gripping the broken footpath beside the deserted street. A dome of eerie silence engulfed the whole town, only the boy in a dusty field uniform, crouched, treaded the setting. His hands firmly held a Carcano (rifle) with stock at the shoulder and eyesight stable. As the fingers rubbed the cap around the trigger, the boy moved close to the wall of a demolished building and quietly sat on the ground with all senses open.

DRIP-DRIP

There were murmurs and whispers floating into the boy's ears. He could sense the alternate voice of two individuals involved in a conversation on the adjacent side of the wall, to the north. The boy gazed around the townscape, through the rubbles and destroyed homes, he finally spotted someone on the second storey of a building, to the south, the front of which was torn apart. Both the individuals, the boy and the scout, seemed to be of mutual understanding as the scout, also with a rifle, pointed towards the boy with 2 fingers ahead of him.

Two huh? What 'bout their scouts? The boy pondered.

Subsequently, the scout pointed two fingers again but this time toward the distant buildings in the north. The scout then stabled his own rifle towards those buildings in an aiming posture. The boy took a deep breath as he gripped the stock tightly, turning the rifle upside down (like some hammer). The breeze halted at the moment along with the boy's breathing, the scout pinning the aim towards the north, while the boy lifted the rifle sideways as some hatchet.

BANG!

Just when the scout shot, the boy bolted to the other side of the wall, twisting his feet with the knees bent, and with a full swing of the rifle stroke one of the two faces engaged in the conversation: throwing him to the wall. The next second he revolved the rifle back to how it is conventionally utilized, muzzle in front, and pulled the trigger at the second person, reloaded, then simultaneously blew the head of the former person recovering from head concussion; then avoiding the bullets from the scouts to the north, jumping back to the other side of the building from where he started. Gasping for breath, he looked at where his fellow scout was: he was not there anymore, just like the townspeople. Periodically, shots were heard across the town as bullets landed near the street beside the boy, the broken wall providing him cover. He could not stand up, for the bricks above a foot or two had withered and gave way for a gap; a treat for the enemy scout. Breathing now more stable, he observed his surroundings from one spot to another until his eyes fell on a burned car to his right, a few meters away, and its rearview mirror on the ground. As the scout emptied his barrel upon the boy's spot, he crawled onto the ground and reached for the mirror: spotting his red eyes, dark brunette hair shielded with a helmet, and dust covering his fair skin. There was a gap in the wall, crawled through it the boy, slowly advancing to the north and then leaning onto a pillar; legs clutched and bent. He waited for the shot to land at his former place, and as soon as the echo of the rifle reached his ears: quickly he bent forward and leaned the mirror upon the rubble just ahead of him, giving him a view of the constructions in the rear (north).

Just one sniper...guess the other one was taken down before that Sovietist was shot himself. The boy analyzed through the mirror. He checked his 7.92mm cartridge for the Carcano, then pulled out a Colt 1911 (pistol) that was tucked in his pants (back). He refurnished the magazine and then refilled the rifle as well; all prepared for a last round.

Putting the Colt in his lap, staring at the mirror and the scout through it, he took a deep breath then raised the rifle backward; sitting in his former posture only, and shot towards the scout. Just as he did, a reply shot came from the sniper forcing the boy to pull back his rifle. As he again observed the sniper bowing to reload, he shot again to which the scout replied yet again. This alternate shooting rang across the eerie air of the town, with military aircraft passing high above from time to time. The enemy had an advantage over the kid, so their aim was direct from where he was firing: the right side of the pillar. This exchange went on until the boy was just left with only one bullet in the rifle. He again took a breath, reloaded the Carcano, glanced at the scout set in his position, glaring towards the pillar. The fingers of his left arm were gripping the Colt as his eyes were set upon the sniper, the breeze now again blowing. As the moment of stillness passed away, he quickly put the rifle to his right, away from the pillar's cover. Just when the sniper aimed and shot at it, the boy leaped to his left, both hands on the pistol with his vision squinted, and as his shoulder landed on the ground he emptied three rounds from the magazine at the building to the north.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

There was silence, no more echoes of the barrel, just silence along with the slightly weeping clouds. Inside the building, in the space where the sniper was, there was a flower on the floorboard tinted with fresh blood. The boy desired to lie down where he was but the screeching of an approaching vehicle in the distance did not allow him to. Back to hiding he observed the surrounding from the shadows, as a squadron, the majority being from the Southeast ethnicity, moved into the neighborhood. The boy seemed to recognize them as he came off of his hiding, both hands in the air along with the rifle. The soldiers in the front quickly reacted by pointing guns at the boy.

"Don't move lad! One step and your brain'll kiss the ground!" One of them exclaimed.

The boy just stood there, waiting for the formalities of this greeting to get over.

"Put down your weapons!" An echoing voice thundered, "The lad's one of us, anyone who even scrapes that fine soldier will be thrown into the basement immediately!"

The vanguard responded to their commander at once, and the boy limped steadily toward the commanding officer. They both just gazed into each other's pupils for a minute before the commander broke the silence,

"Be thankful that I'm not arresting you for sneaking out into the enemy line without notice or permission."

"Thank you," the boy replied with a flat face and voice.

"Tch! Work on that attitude of yours I'll say, soon you'll be among those civilized men. Well doesn't concern me, prolly this the last day I'll ever see you Hoshi."

The boy, Hoshi, had a subtle puzzled expression upon him. The soldiers, spread throughout the area, were now finishing with their survey and preparing to turn back.

"Berlin's fallen. He's dead."

That was when the flat face of Hoshi relaxed into a state one could only know when seeing in person: eyelids expanding, lips departing, and the pupils strangely dilating. It was not strange though, for the world had just been put on a fast track towards something that would change it entirely; a new world order was on the horizon.

At last, even the last of the soldiers had retreated from the area with the commander also beginning to retract his footsteps; expecting the same from Hoshi. The sky was still weeping, Hoshi just stood there looking up towards the clouds, raindrops falling on and sliding down his cheeks. His eyes sought something even beyond the clouds. The Commander turned around to call him,

"What're you waitin' for lad? You can bathe how much you want back at the camp."

"Orders from above," still looking above and soaking in the rain, "You move on, I'll join."

The tense emotions of the officer could be seen on his neck. The scenario was clearly something against his plans. "Take some of my men then, they'll escort to whatever you wish of doin' on our land."

"I'm sorry, but...I must see this through myself only."

The drizzle continued to pour down.

_____________________

Present Day...

I halted the alarm of a clock which displayed half past six in the morning, and sat up in my bed, holding my head. Dreams are really a window to fantasy; or maybe the past.

A Couple of Hours Later...

"You plan on sending me to this summit?" I asked Sir Philips, sitting in his office at our headquarters, morning sunlight kissing the window panes.

"Why else would I fill you in all about the event then? More specifically, I want you to escort some dignified personalities to the event," Sir replied, meanwhile going through some papers, blessing me with glances from time to time.

I rolled my eyes from one side to another, with the fingers of my right hand tapping on the table alternatively. "Why me? I don't have specialties in social matters..."

"Then take it as an opportunity, it'll truly aid in your career ahead."

"I don't want my career to be filled with hollow pretentious geysers," I mumbled, still glancing around.

Sir raised his face towards me, with the papers still in hand but not looking at them anymore, "I like it, acting as per your age. You don't seem to have a good impression of our world leaders do ya?"

Half an hour later, I was with Thomas inside my cabin. Apparently, he had been appointed as my associate for this mission. So as per our old traditions, he wanted me to fill him in on all the details for he had the minimum capacity to read task details.

"So the summit's next month. Various world leaders will attend, UN is at the forefront of organizing this but yeah, it ain't the only one," I summarised while Thomas continued to gulp down Skittles. "Our task's to safely escort 'some' of these people to the venue, including our country's vice president."

"So...," Thomas kept chewing, "Why the hell is it us? That can go to any defense or guard crew, right? Why our department?"

"Cuz like always, it just so happens that there's a second layer to this task."

"Here's our part." Thomas leaned forward to distantly look at the documents spread over my table.

"Yeah wel--Don't! Don't..put the wrapper on the desk, put it in the bin," I stopped Tom from his daily unsanitary habits. "Anyway, it's suspected by our intelligence bureau that there might be some uninvited guests...or troubles awaiting this summit. MI6 also issued reports regarding increasing dissatisfaction among the people of regions most affected by the war, efforts to bring cooperation haven't been much help."

"Aren't those the lads who say the first world is responsible for their destruction? I mean, we were at many of these venues so sometimes...their voices seem legit."

There was just the sound of the air conditioner filled within the room and the voices from outside.

"You might be right. Out of all the people, we best know how ugly the world is. Of course, they won't mention those in the documentaries or tales, would they?"

Thomas' eyes just wandered from right to left, I could feel the turmoil within his mind but for what reason I could not tell. He never made eye contact with me during that whole hour we discussed the mission. We then left off to grab ourselves drinks. I did not drink, and despite the fact that my lot used to gulp down a lot to cope with our everyday life, I chose to remain sober. I had my own coping mechanisms.

"No smoking, no drinking, you always annoyed me there brat," Thomas rashed out as he gulped down his second glass of beer; I resumed sipping down my soda. "Go out and lick off the ass of those old timers, hah! We were veterans, heroes in the shadows. I even left my boxing career for the fucking glory, now look at us....no one even remembers, just a bunch of oddballs in the white-collared buildings."

"There was no glory awaiting us Tom, just fighting. That's all we are good at, that's all we got," I spoke.

He gave me a side eye, then drank. Neither of us was wrong, not everyone had joined the war for the "greater purpose", some were just folks seeking validation. But then, we did all end up at the same end. What was left for me now? Where was I supposed to go from here on?

We heard a crashing sound of glass on the floor, and thus turned to see what had occurred. There were three men at one of the many round tables inside of the bar, dressed in suits, glaring at a young boy in a loose shirt who was serving the drinks. One of them was holding a corner of the boy's shirt and spewing words at him in a loud manner.

"You fuckin' incel, you soaked my shirt! Do you treat the customers in your shitland the same way?!" The man probably received uncomforting service at the hands of the boy, giving an opening for racial differences to take over as well. The manager rushed in to cool off the matter, although it seemed the gentlemen were quite drunk and so a peculiar commotion was bound to take off, yet, just when I was turning my eye away, the other man from that table poured his drink over the kid, then throwing the glass on his feet, crashing. "Genociders aren't welcomed here. Go back to your fucking Deutschland!"

I could not hold my nerves back. Seeing the glass pieces stuck in the kid's exposed ankle with blood slipping down yet him still not letting out even a tear or groan was ample for me to get off of my seat at the counter. As I stepped across the space filled with tables of people witnessing another drama unfold for their noon pass time, someone else was swifter than me. Tom was already at the scene, staring down at the settled gentlemen. They glared at each other before Tom picked up the one who poured his drink from his collar.

"The kid didn't bomb the cities," were the only words Tom said at that moment.

The man yelled in retaliation before receiving a direct blow upon his cheek from Tom's knuckles. The crowd erupted into an uproar, it was a drama that had surpassed their expectations. As the man tried to recover from the couple of hits, his companion jumped on, only ending up hitting his friend's backhead as Tom shifted him as a body block towards the second guy. The third person, whose shirt had been stained, just sat on his hair, flabbergasted, as he saw the scene unfold. Slowly he noticed and picked up a piece of broken glass from the floor without anyone catching a glimpse, yet could not pull off whatever mental simulation he had rehearsed in those moments. For there was I, right hand on his shoulder, glaring into his eyes. Deep within them, I saw a spark for violence, but I believe he also perceived what was in mine; as not an inch did he dare act. In around half an hour, the commotion had died with of course us two being made to leave the bar. We were headed back to our residences, not much distance between the two of them. The sun was in the western sky.

"How's your counseling goin'? I really doubt it's havin' much effect on that rashness of yours," I walked, casting a shadow on the lane.

"Bullshit! You're the one he called a red-eyed devil," Thomas burst out.

I began to laugh.

"Now the lad's gone insane as well," he resumed.

We arrived at his neighborhood, on the way from our headquarters it arrived first, then mine. His house was at the other end of it, towards the north. Before parting, we went over some remaining clearances such as when do we leave off? What gear are we supposed to bring? And his favorite question: is Aleena also part of the task too?

"Sucks that she won't be there, man would it have been fun. A long cruise trip with her is all I need," Tom grumbled.

"This ain't a holiday, if the reports of the most paranoid intelligence officer are correct, the voyage could very well turn into a bloodbath. We need to make sure such fantasies don't come alive," I 'consoled' him.

"And I get stuck with a war maniac...hahh, really you're a mood killer."

"Thank you for the praise about being serious with my work? Also, not everyone with these eyes is a devil you know." I tap on his upper left arm.

"Yeah yeah, what 'bout you though? Are you a devil?" His eyes were dead set on mine.

"I'm a human."

By Farhan Arfeen