Never had I seen the country and never did I want to leave it.
I was lost and then suddenly it felt as if I was found, as if I was where I was meant to be all along. I grew up in the city in big sky-rise apartments with views that stretched for miles, but which were blocked by the thick smog that covered the city. Life in the apartments was boring. There were other kids who lived in the apartment block and many of them I knew very well. They were good kids and I liked them, but I never hung out with them much. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t have the time or I could never be bothered. It was more that I didn’t fit in with them.
I was a constant at my neighbour Tim’s place when I was younger, always going across to talk and play with him. But even by the age of eight, he was hooked, his face glued to his computer screen and it was as if it were stuck there for eternity not once moving. Shouting at the screen as he became frustrated with the game he was playing, and the other people he was playing it with. I would sit and watch for a couple of minutes, but I was never tempted to play it. I would often find myself perched up against the window, staring out, wondering what was out there.
The apartments were too convenient for on the ground floor there was a whole shopping centre and just one block away was the school which I attended. As much as I was not like the kids in the apartment, I was even further misaligned from them at school. They all roamed the school with their Avengers backpacks and merchandise from their favourite games such as Call of Duty. They would play make-believe scenes from these games during lunch break and I would watch on from the safety of the lockers. One would often call out to me, “Hey Matt, come and play; this is fun.” And then they would all chime in, “Come on Matt!” and I felt as if I had no other choice but to join them. They could see that I was never having much fun sitting by myself but when playing with them it was another whole level of boredom with mindless games. I was not boring, but truth be said, I had no sense of fiction. I was a realist, and at a young age, I seemed to be the only one.
After school and on weekends, I would sit in my room, staring out the window as I read my books, most of which were scientific, or at least all were non-fiction. I would wonder what was out there, beyond the thick smog, which limited my vision to only a few hundred metres, all of which was covered in buildings, not an ounce of greenery to be seen.
But it was early 2020 when I turned 17 that things began to change. A coronavirus had hit the world, which hadn’t affected me much as I spent most of my time indoors anyway, but for others it was having crippling effects. People were losing their jobs, there was little food to be found, and there was great hysteria. Not only had there been less people on the streets, but there had been fewer people at work, and less production from the large factories in my area. I had noticed that the smog had been clearing, but it was still thick enough that I could see very little, maybe only allowing me to see a hundred metres farther.
But it was on that Saturday of March 28, a week after the country had been brought to a complete standstill, as movement throughout had all but been banned, that I woke up from my deep sleep, and looked across at my alarm clock, which was awkwardly positioned on my bedside table. The rays of the sun beamed into my room, warming it to a comfortable temperature. But it was odd as this had never happened before. I had never had any morning sunshine invade the privacy of my east facing bedroom on the 42nd floor of the Skyren apartment block. The red numbers of my alarm clock gleamed at me. It was only 6.45. I had never woken before 7.30, and it was always my alarm clock that woke me. I ripped the sheets off my bed, and jumped out with a spring in my step. I ran over to the window and looked out, my face planted on the glass screen.
It tasted quite salty, the tear that had run down my cheek and into my mouth. My eyes had begun to water, as I stared out into the abyss which I had never before so much as laid eyes on. It was not an abyss though; it was beautiful. Luscious green filled the horizon like I had never seen before. The smog had disappeared and for the first time in my life I could see what lay beyond it. It felt as if my heart was beating out of my chest. This was never a feeling I had experienced before, even when I laid eyes on the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. This was different. It was a sense of euphoria, of something new. I ran out of my room, to the kitchen, where my sister was making breakfast as she listened to deathly tunes of gothic music. She paused when she saw me. “What is with you? I have never seen so much as a glimmer of excitement in your eye since we moved here and now your smile extends from ear to ear.” She was most definitely shocked that I was smiling, for not one moment of my existence in this apartment building had I been happy. I rarely got to go outdoors, and I was not a kid to play video games.
“I have seen it, my calling,” I replied.
She looked confused; rightfully so. I was acting like a kid who had just consumed a whole packet of lollies. I was energetic, almost bouncing off the walls with excitement. “What is it?”
I continued, “Beyond the buildings, the greenery that lies further out.” She was like a stunned mullet. She had no idea what I was talking about.
She had always managed to find her own sense of adventure in this concrete jungle, but she was five years older than me and could drive a car, which always gave her an advantage. I ran back to my room and pointed out the window, her gaze following my finger and she too saw it. Almost as stunned as I had been, I watched as her jaw dropped in disbelief. Neither had she seen anything so beautiful in her life. “Pack your stuff,” she said, barely able to say the words, filled with complete joy and amazement, her mouth remaining open in awe like one of those festival clowns. I did not hesitate. I threw as much as I could into the biggest bag I had, and zipped it shut, just about busting the zips with the amount of items that were in my bag.
I ran out of my room, knocking my bag clumsily on the door as I left. My sister forced her last mouthfuls of cereal down her throat and grabbed her car keys. I had seldom seen her in the past months and I knew even less about her car. But that did not matter as we rushed towards the lift and went down to the basement where her car resided. The elevator ride was long, and silent, but it was not an awkward silence, it was more one which was in awe of what we had just witnessed. The lift, after what seemed like an eternity, finally opened its doors and my sister rushed out of them towards her car. I followed suit. She snatched my bag from me as I approached the car and threw it into the boot. I opened the passenger door to the car and just about as soon as I hopped in, I fell asleep. The excitement had taken the energy out of me, and I was out like a lightbulb.
I felt something touching my shoulder and then it was shaking at me and then it was shouting. I jumped back in my seat, suddenly woken by my sister. I looked at her and then followed her pointing finger out the front window of the car. We were parked in a field on what seemed to be a farm, something which I had only as much read about. There were four legged animals walking around eating the grass. They were white and fluffy.
There may have been a complete lockdown because of the coronavirus, but that had not stopped us from driving out here. Where there is a want, there is a will and my sister had seen the look on my face when I had first looked out from my window into what I now knew was the countryside, where I now stood.
It seems unfathomable, but I had a real sense of déjà vu in this place, for what reason I do not know. But it felt like I belonged here, even though I had only been here for a matter of minutes. I had never been satisfied by my existence in the city. Nothing there had seemed to interest me.
My train of thought was derailed as I heard a voice behind me and I jumped back startled. I turned around slowly, nervously. Standing in front of me was a tall man, wearing denim jeans and a flannelette shirt. He looked at me. “You must be Matt. I was told about you when you were born. Didn’t think it would take you this long to make your way out here. Anyway, follow me. I’m sure it feels good to be home?”
I was confused. Was this where I belonged? I followed along, eager to find out what was in store for me.