Avenir

By the time I step outside, the leaves are on fire. I curse under my breath, before rushing down the stairs to my left. Plan B is still free of burning. I stamp out a maple leaf in my way and bound on the balls of my feet through the blaze. 

After seven hops, I pause, breathless, where a shipment truck tore up grass and left muddy puddles in its wake. The area is entirely free of burning. I lose my footing on slick grass and curse my fortune again. So much for acting like a tourist. Mud Covered in such an elaborate costume, is asking for questions. An awful smell reaches my nose—more sinister than the fire. 

Flaming leaves are reminiscent of potpourri thrown in a fire during the holidays. But this. This putrid smell is worse than burnt popcorn, I recoil. Only then, I notice my charred hair. I groan, fishing for a knife in my bag of borrowed goods.

Before I can cut the locks, the museum door slams open. I shrink, tucking the blade against my chest, and immediately more grateful for the dewy grass.

Up on the loading bay, my mother and the rest of the museum staff lean out the side door staring at the burning leaves.

“Should we go after her?” Asks Avenir, one of the more pretentious interns, with a talent for running in uncomfortable heels. As far as I can tell, they haven’t spotted me. I watch Avenir’s feet as she launches herself off the platform. Then, as Futura drags her back. Only my mother’s feet are still, she’s on the hunt: for her lost prisoner.

Abruptly, my mother crouches the text over her head visible to me, even through the hat. I skim the words, while staying as still as a model. 

“Isadora, come back, this isn’t worth it.” I consider her words, but as she starts to rotate her head slowly, intentionally, in all directions, I realize she doesn’t know where I am. I feel an delightful laugh at my lips. I may escape the premise yet.

//She stands, facing Avenir and Futura, I catch a glimpse of the new words above her head.

“The stairs, then the truck tracks, she won’t make it past the…”

I move to my feet, and get ready to sprint. She probably meant leaves. Most of the leaves are completely charred, but enchanted ones still burn flashing red then yellow, like a string of holiday lights. I don’t know if these flames will be scalding, afterall they were meant to be a unique fall decoration to kick off the halloween party, not ward off escapees.

I hear the clang of footsteps on the metal stairs, and make my decision.

I cover my face and dash towards the east wall. If I make it that far, I can roll into the runoff water. Visitors always complain about the runoff. 

The flames do, in fact burn, and the dress quickly catches fire, despite this I force myself forward. Make it over the wall and everything will be worth it.

I find myself faltering, exhausted from the heat. But all at once, a force rams into my back. It propels me forward into a painful run. The wall comes closer and closer. I throw my arms out to climb over it. With one leg swung over the side, I glance at the massive drop on the other side.

Something grabs my forearm and I’m flung back onto the pavement. My heart pounding, I sink to my knees. Avenir pants next to me, before spitting a lump of black goo at my feet.

“Learned that…” She raises a finger, pausing. “From Amit.” She gulps air, too out of breath to speak. Wordlessly, she throws back her head, knocking her hat off.

Words appear over her head, in her structured avenir font. “Why did you set the leaves on fire— you could’ve been burned.” Her eyes widen, as she weakly hits my shoulder.

“I had planned for the leaves to start burning after I had left.” I answer out loud and give her a pointed glare. “You were the one that started an impromptu investigation And started whispering in Latin to Amit.”

“Ha, thanks for calling it an investigation, you’re not a very good liar by the way. Mind reading is wasted on you.” She thinks back with a smile.

“If I told you the truth, you’d just have reported me.”

“Now why would I do that? I want to come with you. Skipping work seems fun.” Avenir reaches for my bag and asks out loud, “Now where’s that healing salve?” With another wink she thinks “But, Can’t incriminate myself now can I?” 

I sigh and unfasten the front pocket, passing her the salve. She refuses it, giving a meaningful look up and down my burnt body. Instead she confiscates the bag, nestling it in the middle of crossed legs.

“So, what else did you pack?”

“Give that back” I say, lunging forward. In response Avenir tosses a paper pouch of seeds across the wall. I change direction, but it’s too late—the seeds are long gone. When I turn back, Avenir has a ceramic cone painted with a goldfish held above her head. I cross my arms. “You wouldn’t?”

She drops it. I flinch, reaching out. She catches it with her other hand and smiles. “Quod erat demonstrandum.” 

“You know I don’t speak Latin.”

I watch the words above her head as I apply the healing salve. Avenir has this way of talking to herself, whether it’s a result of my friendship, or simply her nature, I can’t tell. She inventories every item in the bag, as if narrating some sort of documentary.

“Jar of newt eyes—small, the jar not the eyes; a book about sailing—a fine paperweight, Hazel branch that looks like Amit’s haircut, and finally one shabby bag.” She wafts the air towards her nose like the bag is some dangerous chemical. 

She shudders, and sets the bag against the wall. “Put your stuff back. ” I raise my eyes from my calf, confused. Avenir is busy pumping her arms up and down while staring at the otherside of the wall. I clench the jar of salve tightly.

“No, You got it all out, you put it back.” 

“Suit yourself, it won’t be worth much money anyway.” Avenir says, now flapping her arms, ready for a take-off.

“What’s the point of being an intern if you won’t even clean up your own messes.” I mutter, hoping she hears. However, Avenir is humming loud enough for it to be called buzzing. I set the jar down, and settle onto the path. The flames give a cozy warmth, maybe if I look injured enough they’ll make Avenir carry me back to the museum, and I can spend the night in bed before facing my mother’s wrath. I hit the wall, I know it’s more likely to be my mother’s worry. Even now, if I focus hard enough, I can hear her calling my name.

Avenir looks back, stomping her feet near my head. “Oh, c’mon, our ride’s nearly here. Are you really crying right now?” She waits a second then throws her arms out. “You’re hopeless.”

Avenir stoops, rushing to collect all the artifacts and stuff them into the bag. The bag strains against the ruthless packing, but everything fits except the goldfish cone and a pack of tissues—but that might be intentional. The cone she throws to me. I catch it. The tissues she stuffs down her turtleneck. Then she’s hauling me to my feet and over the wall.

There, a massive plant creeps upwards, making barely a whisper, but completely audible when staring at the plant’s growth. The sound must have been smothered by the crackling flames on the other side of the wall. 

“The sound’s called Psithurism, beautiful isn’t it.” Avenir smiles at the sprout, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Now, jump.” She shoves me forward, and I push off hurriedly with my left foot.

Then I’m falling. I recall something about gravity and motion. Not enough to know when I’ll hit the ground, but enough to know I’ll never make the trunk with that jump. Except, then I hit something. Something relatively smooth, but hairy. My eyes fly back open just as the surface begins to tilt and I start rolling. My surroundings are jumbled, but I can see a lot of green: I made it to the plant. With my arms reaching out for a bear hug, I grab hold of the tree. The world keeps spinning and it takes several deep breaths to overcome the nausea. I comfort myself, with the knowledge I don’t have a weak stomach.

A few seconds later, Avenir lands feet first. Gratefully, she stumbles too and I pull her back. “This bag totally set me off balance, we could’ve...” I don’t need to read her mind to know she’s shaken. “Well...you know.” She scrunches up her eyes in what I assume is a smile. “At least, you managed to hold onto that with all your rolling.” She points to the cone still clutched in my hand.

I look at the cone, colored with rolls of green residue. In fact, all my clothes are stained by the crushed plant cuticle. I laugh at my unintentional break of dress code. “So much for no green clothing.”

Avenir snorts and takes the cone from me. “With that outfit the president would've let you out willingly.”

The leaf we’re cupped in approaches the wall. “I imagine this is what it feels like to ride a ferris wheel?” Avenir says.

“You haven’t been on one?” I frown, there are plenty of rides in Iwagn.

“Have you?” 

“No.”

“My point, the museum is just one attraction in a city of attractions, but at the end of the day I’d rather visit my bed than some traveling park. Plus there are plenty of brochures to look at in the lobby.”

“Won’t it be strange to go back home without having seen any of Iwagn?”

“I came here for the artifacts, not the city. Ah.” She takes out the pack of tissues, and starts to spin the goldfish around her finger. “Although it involves babysitting a living artifact a lot more than one would think.”

I turn away, I have always suspected it, but the news still cuts me. The reason I am a prisoner in my own home.

The museum encircled by fire rises as we pass the wall. By the time I stand, my chance to jump off is below me.

“Do you think the flames will ever go out?” I ask. I secretly hope the whole place burns down, but I do wonder if I went too far by setting them off— people could get hurt.

“The clouds are scheduled to rain this evening, That’s why it’s so cloudy.” A sudden sob escapes her lips and I turn around. Avenir is blinking furiously as tears pour down her face, and wet strands of hair are plastered to her cheeks.

 “What happened?”

“This is a water cone. Notice the goldfish's open mouth.” She holds her eyes open wide and I grimace at the grotesque inflammation. Avenir wipes the tears away. “I hate living artifacts. There’s no need for magic in our age.” 

“Maybe?”

“Do you count your reading as magic?” I don’t answer. Avenir quickly adds, “You’re not old enough to be an artifact though, to be honest you’re more of an ...intern.”

The tree comes to a halting stop, just as a set of stairs made of clouds unfurls from the fog. I feel a bit appeased by her words, and she did allow me to get this far from the museum. 

Above the clouds, hover booths similar to those on circus themed cookie tins, except these ones are filled with something that keeps them afloat. Avenir runs, without much avail as she sinks herself lower into the clouds. I pull her up, and she pats my hand with a “thank you” above her head.

“Ordinarily this place is packed with people, I’d dare say the lion’s share of the museum visitors come here first.”

“Supposedly.”

“Then how do you explain the face paint? Amit trying to earn an extra penny?”

 I nod. “He’s pretty artistic.”

We round the corner as Avenir peppers me about the other interns' secrets. In front of us the floating stoplight, with what looks like stars trapped inside, is a carbon-copy of the brochures in the museum’s lobby. Well, except bigger, and the opposite way round.

”So where is everyone?” I say, glancing around what appears to be the main square.

“The rain’s scheduled tonight, remember.” Avenir grabs hold of an umbrella off an information booth. “These clouds are brimming with rain, even a few more drops could set them off.” 

“You know if it does rain this will be the first time I’ve been out in it.”

“Surely, you’ve opened a window before?” Avenir says, jabbing the umbrella like a sword. 

I drop the cone, grabbing an umbrella of my own. “And let some landscapes experience the weather.”

“Some of them are awfully idyllic.” She says with a laugh, advancing with quick jabs of the umbrella.

All of a sudden, the ground rumbles, and the clouds begin to spiral. Avenir is sucked down with her umbrella and she struggles chin deep in the clouds. 

“Lodie” I screech, diving towards her. I reach down grabbing her armpits and fighting the pull. “Kick.” I command, but no matter how hard we both try she keeps sliding back. I look around frantically, until I realize with horror the horizon is rising. I’m sinking too, I open the umbrella, hoping that seven years of bad luck curse is fake.

I grab Avenir, she leans back to look at me, there is the same look of fear when she almost fell off the plant. “Hey, you know that’s the first time you’ve said my name.”

I pause in confusion,”Shut up, we’re buried in clouds”. 

“Seven months at the museum and it takes being entombed for you to say my name

The sinking gets faster and faster, the air becoming stickier and wet. All around me is light and I have to squint at the vague shapes of shadow. Despite this I can feel the strain against the umbrella, it’s doing its job.

“Well, Lodie. Do you think we’re going to fall?”

She stays silent, and I can’t read her answer.

“I…” She starts, but is cut off by the sound of sirens.

We’re back in the museum after being scolded by the cloud park security, the museum gardener and even Futura. He escorts me and Avenir to my mother’s office.

Once there, Avenir stands tall and proper and I instead fix my gaze on the clock on the wall. My escape from home— for it was home not a prison— was barely two hours long. My mother faces the back window, tapping her chin with a fountain pen.

“I ran after her ma’am, checked for weapons and dealt with her burn wounds. But right after she leap off the wall onto a massive plant of some sort. I had no choice, but to follow her.” Avenir clears her throat, but my mother doesn’t turn. 

Avenir continues in latin, but I notice she translates what she said between statements. All about how the fire went out because of the rain and how we kicked our legs until security picked us up in a floating wangon. She finishes with “Ma’am you taught us interns how to deal with this situation. ”

My mother chuckles, a massive hat on her head, concealing her thoughts. “What about the fall decorations?”

“You can put Isadora in charge of it as a punishment.” She strikes a pose, smiling at me. “Afterall she did already puke on the escort over here.”

My mother mulls it over for a bit before nodding. “You’re both good girls, so consider this a warning. And Isadora— ” She pauses and nods. “Clean yourself up, I want you to find yourself a chaperon tonight.” I place the bag of artifacts on her desk and thank my mother. She’s still facing the window—with a section of the massive sprout visible— as I close the door softly.

Avenir leans on the other side. I narrow my eyes at her. “Et tu, Lodie? You didn’t have to tell her I threw up.”

She laughs, slinging an arm around me. “So you do know some latin?”

“No.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” She pulls out a set of keys, with a grin. “So where are we going next? I mean after you fix the tree.”