I was late for work.
But that was okay; my dad was going to be annoyed, but that wasn't new.
My friend from the big city, Aaron, was stopping by today. He did deliveries to the general store, which didn't even have a name - our village was so small. When we said 'the store', it meant this place. If we meant the library, it was the schoolhouse. If someone said we would meet at the eatery, there was only one.
And I've never left this tiny birdcage.
For now, I was sitting outside with my notepad and pencil, sketching a story I was working on.
I didn't have a phone. In our village, those were for business, and the families had a house phone for emergencies. Apparently, that was a big deal a few generations ago when the elders made it okay for cell phones to be a thing. But I wasn't a business owner, and this wasn't an emergency. So, all I could do was wait. I glanced at my watch and sighed. I was for sure gonna get an earful when I made it to my daily assignments...
Looking towards the edge of the village, I watched the tractors begin their work. That meant I had to hoof it to where I needed to be when I finally did get around to working. As I sat there, lost in my thoughts, I felt a sense of longing for something more than the routine life I led.
The familiar hum of Aaron's electric truck pierced the calm of the village. Unlike our community's methane-powered vehicles, his truck had a unique sound—somehow louder and yet quieter at the same time. I watched him pull up to the delivery doors with a whine.
Aaron hopped out with a slight unevenness in his step, his prosthetic leg subtly altering his gait. His right hand, also prosthetic and usually concealed by a glove when in public, moved with surprising fluidity. That was a massive contrast to the rudimentary prosthetics used by some in our village.
As he smiled and waved at me, I was amazed by the seamless movement, almost indistinguishable from a natural limb. Pushing my notebook aside and tucking the pencil into its cover, I got up from the picnic table and made my way over to him.
Aaron was already at the back of his truck, flipping open the doors with his usual grin. "Sup, Eli. How's your day going?" he asked cheerfully.
I sighed, a mixture of envy and resignation in my voice. "It's not. Nothing ever changes here. We always do the same thing every day."
He chuckled lightly, pulling out a hand truck, which he skillfully maneuvered to the edge of the dock. It descended smoothly to the ground. "That predictability could be nice, you know. I face something different every day." He jumped down from the truck, his prosthetic leg absorbing the impact effortlessly.
I didn't respond. Just shrugged and sighed.
"And your story?" he inquired, glancing at me with genuine interest. "How's it coming along?"
I frowned, my gaze dropping. "It's not. But then again, I don't really know why I'm writing anyway."
As we walked towards the back of the store, Aaron threw me a sympathetic look. "It's about doing something creative with your life, man. Trust me, it's worth it."
I chuckled, a note of skepticism in my voice. "Creativity isn't exactly a common pursuit out here. I can't remember a day in this village that wasn't routine. Even our festivals are routine."
Aaron's expression softened, and he placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, the artificial fingers harder than I expected. "Eli, maybe that's exactly why you should write. To break the monotony, to bring something new into your world."
I pouted, "Well, what do you do for creating art for this world? It's easy for you to say it. Are you doing anything at all?"
As Aaron heaved a box from the pallet, I marveled at the ease with which his prosthetic hand gripped and maneuvered the heavy package, which dampened my annoyance. He scanned the box with a pocket device, its name still foreign to me, and glanced at me with a big, bright smile. "Yes, actually. My friends and I are participating in an arts competition this weekend. We have a display. If we get ranked, we might actually be able to sell it."
"Ranked?" I asked, puzzled, not expecting an actual response. "I'm not sure what that means or who you would sell it to, but that sounds awesome." There was no denying the hint of envy in my voice.
Aaron finished unloading the last box and looked at me with a mix of sadness and pity. "You should come."
"How would I do that?" I fought down the bitterness as we walked back toward his truck.
"Where there's a will, there's a way," Aaron replied, hopping into the driver's seat. "I'll be back here next week. Want me to get you another book or something?"
I glanced around nervously, not wanting my dad to hear about outside books. "No, I'm still working through the last batch you gave me. I don't have a lot of time to read, unfortunately."
He chuckled. "Yeah, I know. Well, take care." And with that, he drove off, leaving me feeling both inspired and trapped at the same time.
My heart raced as I made my way to where I was supposed to be, mentally preparing for the verbal lashing I expected from Dad about my lazy nature and need for greater attention to discipline. But when I arrived at the office, I found it empty. Dad was nowhere in sight. Lucky me.
I looked at the board to see my assignment and sprinted out of the office shack towards the fields.
The sun was already high above the horizon when I joined my brother and cousins for today's task: winter prepping the fields. It was a routine job, but necessary. Our work mostly involved riding tractors, pulling tankers filled with liquid "fertilizer," and swapping them whenever the empty alarm blared its urgent tone.
My uncle called it dangerous monkey work.
I had to sprint to catch up with the tractor. I was headed towards the one with one occupant.
Spotting me, my brother feigned a burst of speed, but the tractor's strength was in its power, not its pace. Huffing, I managed to catch up and leaped onto the landing, ignoring the echo of my dad's and uncle's warnings in my head: "Don't do that if you value your legs and life."
The door swung open, and my brother greeted me with a mock stern look. "You're late," he stated, mimicking our father's tone and voice, trying to keep a straight face.
Breathless, I replied, "I know."
He offered a deal with a smirk. "If you jump out and swap the tanks, letting me drive all day, I won't tell Dad."
I punched him lightly on the shoulder, feigning annoyance. "Fine," I grumbled, but we both knew I didn't mind the arrangement. He was the better driver to my annoyance and to my father's and uncle's praise.
On the other hand, I could wrestle the trailer in place in seconds, whereas it had taken him minutes.
We worked steadily until the town bell signaled lunchtime. I had been jumping in and out of the tractor, handling the tank swaps efficiently. As the bell echoed through the field, my brother glanced at me. "Do you want to finish this row then eat?" he asked.
I nodded, wiping sweat from my forehead with my cleanish forearm. "Yeah, less work for later. And your dumb ass won't have to remember where we stopped mid-field."
He just smirked in response, continuing to drive down the row. As we reached the end, right on cue, the empty tank alarm went off. With practiced skill, my brother steered towards the spare tanks where our cousins were already taking their lunch break, lounging against the dirty tires.
"Looks like perfect timing," I commented as I hopped off the tractor, preparing to swap the tanks. My cousins greeted us with nods and muffled hellos, their mouths full of sandwiches. I quickly swapped the tanks, eager for my own lunch break, and joined them.
I sat on the tractor's footstep, my legs dangling an inch off the ground as I bit into the sandwich Mom had packed for me. My brother and cousin were doing the same, trying to scarf down their food quickly so we could get back to work.
"Did you hear the Smith's middle girl got engaged?" my cousin asked between mouthfuls.
"Damn! I had a crush on her. Who's the lucky bastard?" my brother replied, clearly disappointed he hadn't gotten the chance to make a move.
"No idea," my cousin shrugged. "She's moving to the village south of us."
"Ugh, I hope more people move to our village soon," I grumbled under my breath.
"Or we can go get brides," my cousin suggested, earning a playful elbow in his side from my brother.
"Speaking of entertainment," my brother changed the subject, "any idea when they're gonna get new movies in? Feels like they've had the same ten for the past year!"
My cousin snorted. "For real!"
Finishing my food, my thoughts fell out of my mouth. "Does anyone ever think about moving out of this village?"
My cousin looked at me, clearly surprised by my question. "Well, I'm sure we are going to have to. At least the ones that don't marry in this town or get brides to move here, arranged by the village council. You know, inbreeding and all that."
"Didn't help you much," I teased, rolling my eyes. "And not what I was talking about." Everyone laughed.
"You mean like out to the bigger town?" my brother asked, his expression serious now. He's the only one who knew about the book Aaron gave me. He also kept it a secret.
"Yeah, even for a while," I replied, my heart beating faster as I admitted my secret desire.
We all looked at each other, but it was clear that I was the only one entertaining such thoughts. My cousin shook his head. "Nope, not really. What's the point?"
"Guess I don't know," I shrugged, trying to play it off as a random thought. But inside, I couldn't help but feel that nagging sense of longing for something more.
The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the fields as I worked alongside my brother. My mind kept drifting back to Aaron's words about leaving – at least for the art competition. Was it really possible?
"Hey, watch it!" my brother snapped, pulling me out of my thoughts. In my distraction, I'd nearly jumped out of the tractor into a pile of rocks.
"Sorry," I muttered, adjusting my jump. I was an airhead sometimes. The fact was that he could take care of things with Dad just fine without me. Even our younger siblings were strong and independent now – they didn't need me to pull extra weight for them. So why was I still here?
As the day wore on, I pushed myself harder, determined to finish my assigned work faster than usual. By some miracle, we managed it, and with a few precious hours of daylight left, I stole away to my secret hideout by the pond, climbing up the sturdy branches of my favorite tree as I had done countless times since childhood.
Perched high above the water, I could see the edge of our village and the rolling hills beyond. Life here wasn't bad – I had food, clothing, and an education like everyone else in the village. But ever since I realized there was more to the world than just our little community, I couldn't shake the desire to explore it all.
And yet, I'd never been farther than the village boundaries.
My dad never had any reason to take me to the neighboring villages, and I could only imagine what Aaron's city was like. He said there were thousands of people living there, and even larger cities existed beyond that. Our village was home to 2162 people – or was it 2163 now, with the recent birth in the Newman family?
In my mind, I couldn't imagine more than maybe 5000 people.
"Where there's a will, there's a way." Aaron's words echoed in my mind as I jumped off my perch in the tree, landing softly on the grass below. The evening bell rang out, signaling the end of the workday. Around the village, people were returning from the fields or from the workshops, their faces flushed with hard-earned sweat and satisfaction. The shop opened up for the evening rush after being on the honor system all day.
My friends from school chatted animatedly, their voices bright and happy. The school kids were headed home after finishing all the after-class projects they had. The usual escape artist chickens and goats roamed free, being ignored by everyone. Some dogs tried to hear these menaces to minimal results of keeping them off the roads.
What was my problem?
I sighed and headed towards my family home, my feet tracing the familiar path worn into the earth. This house had been passed down through generations, the same sturdy walls and creaking floorboards bearing witness to the lives of my ancestors. We'd been here since the founding of this village, before the last great war.
Was I willing to see the wider world? To leave it all behind?
"Hey Eli," a voice called out as I approached the walkway into the house. It was Old Man Jenkins, our neighbor who'd seen more of life than anyone else in the village. He even served on the council of elders when he was younger. "You look troubled, son."
"Hey, Mr. Jenkins," I greeted him, suddenly struck by inspiration. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course," he said, leaning against his fence, his eyes crinkling with curiosity.
"Have you ever wanted to…leave this place?" I asked hesitantly. "Go somewhere else and see the world?"
"Ah," he mused, nodding slowly. "That's a heavy question. Can't say I haven't thought about it when I was your age, but this village is my home. My roots are here. Besides leaving to some of the neighboring villages and an occasional trip to the big city for supplies when I was on the village elder council, I just lived here."
"Did you ever regret not leaving?" My heart pounded in my chest, awaiting his response.
"Sometimes," he admitted, looking off into the distance. "But ultimately, I realized that happiness is what you make of it, no matter where you are. And I've made a good life here." He turned to me, his gaze piercing. "But that doesn't mean it's the same for everyone, Eli. You've got to find your own path."
I turned my face away from his piercing gaze. Could he read minds in his old age? When I looked back, he was already disappearing into his house.