The Cello
Chapter 11

E7 Ran.

He ran because his past -- the one of dullness and lifelessness -- was behind him like a dark grey cloud he was still afraid of. He ran because there was a huge something boiling in his chest, pushing him forward as fast as his legs could carry him. He ran because the back of his eyelid was now a sea of glorious color. He ran because it pained him -- pained him in a way he’d never felt until now -- to think that she still only saw blackness when she closed her eyes. He saw her in him mind’s eye like a lifeless body floating facedown in the darkness -- where he himself had been just a day ago. There was a fire within him now! He wanted -- more than he had ever wanted anything -- to ignite her soul as his had been ignited.

The music played in his head -- fast and empowering.

“Run!” it sang.

So he ran.

He burst from the trees, and leapt down between two cactus rows. He turned his attention to the small screen in the corner of his vision, looking for her familiar red light on the radar. Nothing yet.

As he ducked beneath an overgrown limb, he thought about what would have happened last night when he hadn’t returned to his unit. There was no hiding his deviation from the order of the system now. Alarms would have gone off. The enforcers would be out looking for him.

Fear.

It clenched it’s icy hand around his chest. They had the power to make him -- and all he’d become -- disappear in a matter of minutes. He’d simply be labeled broken and taken to the mothership to be deactivated. Almost immediately, his thoughts turned back to A9, and the warmth flooded back into him. Nothing mattered but bringing her mind to life. He scarcely thought of what may happen afterward. It didn’t matter.

He forced his legs to move faster. He had to find her and take her to hear the music before he was found. He knew they could track whomever they pleased, and he imagined they did so much in the same way his own radar worked. How had they not already found him? He could hardly guess-- In fact he struggled to think of anything while his mind danced endlessly around A9.

Some moments he felt as though he were being pushed along with the sea of emotion, his legs hardly necessary for how close he was to floating -- but then he would suddenly be weighed down, as if with a thousand bags of cactus bulbs, at the thought of perhaps not making it to her on time.

He had come to the end of the outermost field, and was forced to pull to a stop for half a second to check up and down the road for enforcers.

Nothing.

He barreled across the dirt road and down into the next cactus field. He began to see lights spark to life in his radar. This must be one of the assigned fields today.. He slipped between two cactus plants into the row next to him and was met abruptly by the dark face of an older man. His knife paused for almost an imperceptible moment in which E7 met his eye. Something broke within him as he searched fruitlessly for something in that eye. There was nothing. No fire. No life. The man began slicing cactus bulbs again, and E7 had to clench his jaw to keep from taking the man by the shoulders and shaking him in desperation. How had he lived like that? What had these people become?

The man moved around him to continue down his row, bulging sack slung around him. The boy had to remind himself to breathe.

Find her.

Save her.

He shook his head to try and clear it, and urged his legs forward again. As he ran through the field, new lights flashed into the screen at the corner of his vision, and name codes appeared below . The closer he got to the looming mother ship the more the fear threatened to cripple his driving force. But no, he would find her! He had to! He would find her before they found him.

Just as he crossed the next break in the fields, her light flickered on in his radar. The fire in him blazed to new heights, and he began crossing the rows in mad race to get to her. One, two, three rows he crossed, and then pulled abruptly to a stop as his searching gaze found her. The walls of cactus made her look small with her calculated knife strokes and empty downward gaze. In the same moment that he felt relief he felt a pang of sadness. She was so different in his eyes, and yet her eyes told the exact same empty story. It was more kin to a blank page. He thought of the pages in the red and yellow book full of music and he longed with new vigor to help her fill her blank pages with life! Fill them with whoever she really was.

Still breathing hard, E7 trotted up to the girl.

“A9!” He exclaimed. She looked up sharply, and fixed him with a stony blank stare before immediately returning to her work.

“A9,” He said taking her by her shoulders, “Look at me.”

She seemed somewhat puzzled, but more disinterested as she finally looked up at him.

“Are you feeling dizzy or stiff?” She asked.

A short laugh found it’s way up E7’s Throat.

“A little of both,” He said, feeling the color pink flow generously through his veins, and enjoying the sudden warmth in his chest. She was beautiful. How had he never seen the vividness of the cobalt in her iris? Suddenly her lips and her little frame were everything he had ever wanted. Beautiful enough to never need to see a sunset again. Perfect enough to never need to keep a rule or follow a schedule again. How had even his dead mind been so blind? More than that it was that way she was looking at him -- however empty. It was the memories of every time their eyes had ever met. It was the camaraderie he remembered feeling but multiplied by thousands. So much that he knew that if he were ever to have to live a day without her company he’d spend all of it wishing only for her.

“You have metal sickness, E7, you must go to the medic unit.” She said matter-of-factly.

“I have a very different kind of sickness,” The boy said shaking his head and smiling. “Come with me A9, I must show you something.”

“I have work to do.” She responded, and moved to go back to the cactus bulbs, but he tightened his grip on her shoulders.

“Yes, you must cut cactus bulbs all day, and then you must go back to your unit and sleep, and then tomorrow it will be the same -- and the next day will be the same -- and the next day and the next week and the next year and the next decade will all be the exact same. Don’t you see what a prison we have been living in?” But even as he plead with her, he knew she could not possibly see. He remembered well the flood of numbness and the vice-like grip of that sense of duty. The empty, mindless duty.

Her gaze didn’t waver.

“Every seventh day is my cultivation day. “ She said. The boy shook his head in frustration.

“No, no you can’t understand unless you come with me! Please!” He begged.

“The enforcers will think I am sick too.” She said. This time, however, she didn’t try to go back to the cactus bulbs.

E7 watched her eyes carefully as he slowly released her shoulders. She only continued to watch him with mild curiosity. He took hold of the strap of her sack and lifted it slowly off of her. With a thud, the bag hit the dirt and he grabbed her hand.

“Follow me,” He whispered, his grip on her flesh hand more urgent than ever, “Hurry.”

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