Our First Goodbye

I hugged my mother tightly while she uttered some words with tears in her eyes trying not to make them fall down her rosy cheeks. “And remember, don’t trust anyone. Don’t go near anyone. No one can take care of you now. Even I’m a danger to you.”

I snuck a peak at my mom before she closed the capsule. She pressed her hands to the glass and mouthed the words, “Don’t forget about me. I won’t forget about you, honey. I will always love you. Goodbye.”

Without me realizing, my throat started aching. I swallowed and watched her disappear as my capsule slid away to a distant place. I realized that I may never see my mother again, so quickly I shouted, “Mom, I love you! Please, please, don’t leave me. I love you.”

Her eyes changed. Softened. Her beautiful and peaceful smile returned for just one second. I could tell that she heard me. That’s all I needed. The warmth of my mother with me. I remembered all the sweet memories I had with my family as I drifted down and down with the capsule into the ocean. My father told both of us that we wouldn’t remember anything. Anything… before he was taken. I choked back tears. Falling into a deep sleep, I whispered, “Goodbye.”

2 years later…

Gasping for breath. Fighting for my life. I opened my eyes trying to breathe. I couldn’t

breathe. I fought the black straps that held me back into the capsule. Calm down. Calm down. I looked around the gray capsule. There was a timer and a button. The timer was at zero. What does that mean? I ignored it and tried to find any other item, but the only thing left was the red button.

Might as well press it. I’m suffocating in here. And so I did. Automatically the capsule opened up and the tight feel of the bands disappeared leaving just a mark on my arms and legs, and the breeze filled the capsule. Excited for some air, I jolted upwards, but I automatically regretted it. It was dirty. The air wasn’t clean; It didn’t feel good: It was too dry and thick.

“There’s a person there! Get her!” I heard shouting and a huge engine. I remembered some words warning me not to trust anyone. I looked around and to my horror, there were yellow waves everywhere. No crispy blue water. Dirty, disgusting water took up the world around me as I tried to find something similar. Something that was pure, comprehensible, and something that I soon realized was false. It wasn’t real anymore. The green luscious leaves, the beautiful creatures galloping gracefully, the crisp wind that I once remembered blowing across my dark purple hair was no longer so. They would no longer meet me. The air suffocated my physical body while my thoughts filled my mental state. I couldn’t breathe. Was this the final goodbye?

White lights filled my sight. A heavy metal sat on my right arm while some straps held down my legs. I could breathe, but what was the point when my mental state was so very confused. I didn’t know what was happening. “Don’t I have a right! Don’t I have a right to know what is happening to me? Let me go!” I screamed hysterically, thrashing my left arm around. I then heard yelling. Yells to get medication. Yells to get me to sleep. Yells to tie back my hair. And again I fell into a numb state.

“It’s alright, honey. We’re going to help and fix you. We’ll explain all that we know.” I opened my eyes to this sweet nostalgic voice. It was so ethereal. She smiled at me warmly, putting her hand on mine. “Goodbye. We’ll see you soon.”

“Honey, wake up. It’s time,” a soft voice whispered into my ears. I opened my eyes carefully, afraid of the lights. The light of the bombs that I now remembered leaving me behind with just that to see before I fell asleep. For how long? I gasped when I saw the woman though. It was as if all of my worries melted away; her aura was so comforting.

“You have beautiful eyes, my dear.”

“Um,” I started to say, having a gentle urge telling me not to remember and not to welcome others or trust them. Her soft smile fell just a bit to sympathize for me, so I continued with, “Thank you. I like your smile.”

She laughed a beautiful and sweet laugh. “I can tell we are going to get along just fine.” Stopping her gentle speech just enough to grab a hot tray of food behind her, my stomach quickly protested and screamed as I did just a… while ago.

She smiled even harder this time, and she passed the steaming hot tray of food onto my lap. I looked at her one more time confused and apprehensive, but something about her rosy cheeks and her ambience felt so familiar and so safe. I picked up a fork, which I was surprised I still knew how to use, and dove it into one of the bowls.

“Oh, that’s not the right utensil. That’s chicken noodle soup, and I feel as if a spoon would serve much more purpose than the fork in this case.”

I nodded and picked up the spoon and put the… chicken noodle soup into my parched mouth. Suddenly I could feel. The warmth filled me powerfully, and my numb and cold body felt again. The comforters were cozy, the one painting held a surprising amount of color, and I felt as if everything was going to be okay.

“This is really good.”

“I’m really glad you like it. It’s my own recipe, and you were the first one to receive it. Everyone else has been eating bread from the wheat we happened to find and harvest.”

I arched my eyebrows taking this into account. “Even you didn’t have it yet? And why only bread?” I looked around at her and then at my food. “Here give this to some other people or you eat it. I’ll take the bread.”

She looked as if she was going to cry. “Oh, no! Others are getting to eat, and I am fine for now.” Looking at my anxious face, she followed it with, “I promise. I’m also assuming you want answers. You seemed to really want it when we brought you in from the ocean.”

“The ocean? How did I end up there?” Thinking about what I was saying, I quickly replied with, “I’m sorry. Yes, I want to know. I remember the trees and the birds and the squirrels. Those pesky squirrels. I even miss them.”

She laughed once more. She laughs and smiles a lot. I should try that. “That is very funny! And of course, I should tell you what you deserve to know.”

“There was a huge pandemic. It was a disease that seems surreal. From a breed that we never even heard of. There was no way we could cure it, and we don’t even know if it is airborne or not. People got infected and we didn’t know how to cure it or whether or not we should have been in hiding or another state to slow the spread. Some people decided to bomb parts of the world thinking that the source was from there, and if the source was destroyed, then we will all get better, for there would be no sustainer. It was very strange.”

“The alive, sane, and healthy people decided to craft some capsules for those who were able to be kept alive and healthy for 2 years. After 2 years, the people who crafted them, for they never went into a deep sleep themselves, would reach those people who would reach a specific far away region of the ocean, and gather them. The whole idea of the capsules were for those scientists to analyze and try to find a cure in a far and distant place while they were sure no more were going to get impacted and infected. It doesn’t even have a name. That’s how quickly it all happened.”

We sat in silence: me taking the information in and the woman respecting my state. But I had a question. “Why don’t we remember anything? I don’t remember anything from before I went to sleep, and if I do, they are small details of the beautiful or perilous few seconds of my life.

“That is because they didn’t want us to have nightmares. That is why we are trying to identify others now to help them learn of their past without them having terrible dreams and reenactments of the disease if we never erased the trauma.”

“I like that, actually. It’s very clever,” I muttered, solemnly. I went back to scoop another spoonful of the dish, but I realized it was empty. She looked at me, and I sensed that she was asking me if I wanted more. I lightly shook my head while we sat there now awkward.

But then I had another question. “Um, I want to know why I don’t remember my name. I thought it was only trauma that was being erased?”

“Oh, yes, thank you. I completely forgot about that. If someone got a hold of you or anyone, we don’t want someone to take your identity. If you don’t know your name and a bit of your other personal information, then no one, if it were ever to happen, could break in and find this ship or take control over you. There aren’t a lot of us left, so we have to ensure that we are all safe and protected.”

“Thank you once again. That is very helpful, and I apologize if I am being annoying.”

She looked at me in astonishment and helped me remove the food tray from my lap. “Oh, please! That is ridiculous. I am happy to help, and please you can be more comfortable. The identification will be held soon, and I want you to be happy in order to find your family.”

I smiled and just then a long siren commenced. I sensed that it was the identification calling, and the woman noticed that I noticed, so we set off together. Hand in hand.

The boat was huge. There were no windows, but there were so many stairs that it made up for it. Grand stairs and a huge rotunda just past them. We exited through a door, and the disgusting air of the external ways swarmed my nose like honey bees around their hive. The woman quickly directed me into another corridor, and we took a flight of stairs until we reached a door.

I was out of breath at this point, but if I thought my breath was gone at this point, I was completely wrong, for when the woman opened the door, my breath was taken away. It was ginormous. It was as if it was a ballroom. It was beautiful with screens on the walls, and they read numbers I only hoped to understand one day.

I then remembered something. Something from back before I was taken into the capsule. I was in a class. Math class, for it had an array of numbers, and letters, and we were learning Algebra 1. I was in 8th grade at that time. Only one year before this all happened. I must be 17. 14 and then the next year which brought peril and then the 2 years afterwards.

 I’m old.

Excusing my ridiculous thoughts, I strained myself to remember the few things I could by myself. I was sitting next to my best friend… a boy with black hair and dark brown eyes. He passed me a paper with lessons that we were going to learn that day in which he had discovered from his friends that had that class before we did. I scanned over the few topics and sighed.

“I already learned all of this,” I uttered, slouching down towards my desk.

“I already did as well. That’s a bummer. Well, whatever, we’ll pass the pop quiz anyways,” he said with a smirk, looking slightly at me without tilting his head.

I was exasperated. “What?! He would seriously give us a pop quiz the day we learn the stuff? That is so messed up!”

“So what? At least we’ll pass it.”

“That is not what I am worried about. What about the other students?” I looked around at the other students around us. Some were on their phones probably texting the same person right next to each other, and one was even picking their nose. I hated to break it to myself, but these people were idiots. They would not survive this class nor this day.

As I continued to look at the numbskulls that were really trying (sweet, innocent people), around the room, my friend was already at the front of the classroom clapping his hands.

“What are you doing?” I hissed, going up to him.

“Oh, please, our teacher takes ages to even come to his class, and even if he mysteriously decided to surprise us by starting at the required class time, we still have a couple of minutes until the bell for class rings.” He then muttered off to the side so that only I could hear. “It’s a surprise he isn’t fired, yet.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. Truly laugh. Just 5 minutes later we had given just enough information on some of the lessons and topics that they would have a pretty good understanding enough to pass the “pop” quiz. At the end, our slouchy teacher taught us in the last 8 minutes of class and had us take the online quiz at the last 3 minutes. After our grades were generated automatically, it was a relief that everyone made a 70 or above. Though my friend and I were the only ones to get 100’s, we high-fived everyone and congratulated ourselves.

And that was that. I was back in the present. The woman led me to the identification stations, and within minutes, we found my identity. Chloe Andino. Everything was in front of me. No siblings. Father was unfortunately killed in the bombing when he told us of the system. The violent moments of that replayed in my mind for minutes before I realized, my mother was still alive. Where was she? The name wasn’t specified.

Just then when I was trying to organize and comprehend my thoughts and all of my previous actions, I felt a slight tap on my shoulder. “Chloe!” a strong, familiar voice called out to me.

I turned around surprised, and I nearly cried out of joy. My best friend, who I now know as Noah Regio was there looking as eager as ever. “Oh, it’s been so long. I was so scared that I wouldn’t see you again!” he cried, as we embraced.

“I know. This all happened too soon! How’s your mother and father?” I asked, checking to see if he was hurt.

“I found both of them. I even found you, so I’m all set now. I heard about your father, Chloe. I’m so sorry. I really want to help you. And your mother-”

“Please, stop. It’s all fine really. It hurts. It really does, but he’s in a better place now,” I replied, trying to stop my tears from saying goodbye to my face. “My mother. I can’t find her. I don’t have her name in my book, and her picture isn’t engraved in my mind. There’s no way I can identify her and reunite with her.”

He pleaded to let him help me, but at that moment I wasn’t listening to him anymore. I noticed the kind woman leave the room as she wiped her eyes. She wasn’t happy, and for some reason, I felt as if she deserved to be happy. I didn’t want her to cry.

“Noah, I have to go somewhere. I promise we’ll talk later. I’m so very happy to see you. I hope you stay safe! You’re my best friend, and I hope you’ll stay that way,” I said. He looked at me and nodded sweetly, but his eyes twinkled even more. Darn it. I hope we stay that way. I need to rephrase that. But, at that moment, I knew not to do that. I needed to do something else first.

I raced to the door, leaving my records with Noah. Opening the doors, I then heard sniffling from outside the door that led to the filthy and polluted air. But something urged me to move forward more than my nostrils stopped me from doing so. I raced outside and saw her standing near the balcony. Ignoring my body’s childish complaints, I walked up to her.

“Hi.”

She looked at me and she became slightly happier. “Hi, honey. I hope the identification went well for you.”

“It did,” I replied, smiling back at her. I then looked out towards the vast areas of the yellow waters. If you could call it water. Facing that way, I continued, “Why are you crying?”

She sighed as if she wanted to tell someone and was holding it in for too long. “I can’t find my daughter.” And without me realizing it, she embraced me. She tried to stop her tears falling down her rosy… cheeks. That was the moment I realized.

It was her. She was my mom.

My throat started aching just like it did that night. The woman, Kalliope Andiono, looked at me scared and apprehensive. I was afraid. What if she didn’t recognize or remember me? But she then said, realizing, “You are my daughter.”

And without any more words said, the air became cleaner and so did the water, and my mother and I were reunited staring out into the ocean where we said our first goodbye.