Western Sunrise

The thick, humid air boiled the depths of Dylan’s lungs. Depths that haven’t been reached since his most recent failed attempt at getting into better shape. That valiant effort met its demise a little over five years ago the day Joey came into the world. There was something different about this particular brand of summer mountain air that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. The familiar earthy, electric taste of the recent rain shower was still radiating from the wet Georgia clay. On this specific evening it was paired with something that could only be described as a presence. Every breath seemed to take up residence in Dylan’s mind as a feeling of both nostalgia and a foreboding sense of the unknown.

“Buddy. I think it’s time you start breaking in them new hiking boots,” he said as he lowered the precious cargo off of his shoulders. “You’re ol dad’s not the same spry twenty year old he was when he hiked this mountain fifteen years ago.”

He eased Joey onto a small boulder. Joey promptly leapt from the boulder and threw himself into a superhero landing pose that would rival any box office star’s performance. That is, if it wasn’t for his wayward daypack continuing on with the motion and thumping the clumsy five year old in the back of his head. As Joey brushed the dark brown strands of hair from his equally brown eyes, Dylan decided to take advantage of the newly vacant boulder and sat down to catch his breath. He ignored the damp heat of the granite as he wiped the sweat from where his own brown hair used to reside. A sweat earned from a father’s never ending effort to be the greatest father to ever live. As Joey bounced his attention from one of nature’s small treasures to the next, Dylan sat present in the moment and reflected on just how lucky he was to finally be able to start sharing his passions in life with his maturing son. His curious young mind was at that age where he could fully appreciate new experiences and his body was mostly coordinated enough to participate.

Throughout Joey’s entire existence, Dylan was wedged somewhere between his role as the hard-working breadwinner of the family and a stay at home dad. The booming advancements in artificial technology over the last decade had made his expertise in machine learning immensely lucrative. As an independent contractor, he worked from his home office and had the luxury of choosing his hours. With the amount of money each job brought in, he found himself working fewer hours each day and maximizing his time with his loving wife and prized son. 

Dylan was fortunate. His career allowed him to never miss a moment of his son’s life. He got to witness the first time Joey lifted his head as an infant, the first time he rolled over, his first steps. Every milestone that most fathers usually only hear about through an excited call to the office from the wife, Dylan got to experience first hand. These experiences helped forge an ironclad bond between them he may have missed out on if he was stuck working a traditional nine-to-five. 

Every break he took from work, he would walk down the long, open hall from his office to the living room to get in a few memories with his son between meetings. He would pay no attention to the expensive paintings on the walls or the rare sports memorabilia on display in the curio cabinet. He never once stopped to reminisce on the photograph of the president shaking his hand congratulating him for a job-well-done on the cyber identity and biometrics project from a few years ago. The real treasure in Dylan’s life was at the end of the hall. It was the quick patter of nearing footsteps, and the ear to ear smile on Joey’s face that only broke to shout “Daddy!” once his hero was spotted. No father had ever loved their son more than Dylan loved Joey. Of this, he was absolutely certain.

“Alright, Pal. I think I’m ready to get movin again,” he said to the energetic boy who was now hopping from stone to log to tree stump.

“Watch how high I can jump over this log, Dad”.

“That’s incredible! But be careful. The ground is still slippery from the rain. We only got about fifteen minutes til the sun starts to set. I’ve wanted to show you my secret spot on this old mountain since before you were a thought in your mother’s mind. It’s a perfect spot to watch the sun go down.”

As Dylan got up, he took one final glance through the forest as the distant trunks began to darken to shadows. He closed his eyes, supplied his lungs with one last deep breath of this strange, baleful mountain air, and began the last leg of their journey. As he advanced up the trail, Joey circled him like an energetic dog off-leash, exploring every puddle he could find, kicking unsuspecting rocks, and jumping to smack any low hanging branch unfortunate enough to be within his reach.

They reached the clearing with no more than five minutes to spare before the Blue Ridge mountain sunset really began its show. The quaint, flat clearing was perched a quarter mile down trail from the mountain’s peak as if it were a landing on a grand staircase. It was just large enough for a small group of campers to escape together in solitude. To the East, the tree line shielded the sanctuary from the trail. Wild grasses blanketed the rust colored clay from the tree line to the sheer rocky western face of the mountain. A large granite outcrop protruded vertically from the edge just enough to act as the perfect viewing bench for those brave enough to take a front row seat to God’s handy work. Dylan and Joey were brave enough.

“Take a look Joe,” Dylan said as he looked vacantly out to the sky. 

As they stood on the outcrop, he held tightly to Joe to protect his enthusiastic child from the dangers of their damp footing. In the distance, the lingering clouds from the morning’s rain had turned to miraculous shades of amber, pink, and yellow. The colors hung vividly above the hazy blue and purple folds of the far off Blue Ridge foothills. The scattered buildings in the valley played an important role in reflecting the cosmic palette. A single burst of amber light beamed from the metal roof of a chapel as if it were God’s signature reminding all who marveled who created this masterpiece.

As they both gaped in amazement, Dylan realized this wonderment of color would soon give way to darkness. He forced himself to shift his focus to preparing their headlamps. He retrieved the tangled mess from his pocket and, looking down, began to work the elastic headbands free from each other's grasp. Preoccupied with his task he asked, “What do you think, Buddy?” There was no answer. An instant sensation of panic and dread rolled through his body. It was as if the entire supply of emotions from the day’s malefic air materialized into a tangible moment in time. Dylan’s eyes shot from his task in a bolt of panic and dread. He safely laid eyes on Joey who was no longer facing the sunset and was peering straight into his father’s eyes with the same astonished stare he offered the sky. The boy’s youthful curiosity had brought him closer to the mountain’s edge for a better look at the final moments of artwork reflecting over the valley lakes. Dylan’s heart began to beat again. As he pulled Joey back, they stepped down from the outcrop and retreated to the safety of the grass.

”This was so beautiful. I love you, Dad,” Joey said.

As he sighed in relief Dylan said, “Come on Joe. It’ll be dark in a minute or so. Get your headlamp on so we can be ready to head out.” As they stood arm in arm waiting for nightfall, Dylan couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. He felt something foreign. Something new. Along with the joy and happiness he expected to feel, he couldn’t ignore the weight of emotions the recent scare had burdened upon him. Joey was just fine. Why did he feel like something sinister happened? 

Eventually, nightfall came. A darkness reserved for a secluded countryside fell upon them. They turned and started back to the trail under the guidance of their flashlights. But then, over the same mountain peaks which it had just retreated, the amber glow of the sun began to creep back over the valley, rose up the mountain side, rolled across the grassy clearing, and washed over their backs. Dylan froze.

Confused and terrified, Dylan looked over his shoulder to confirm what he couldn’t believe. Surely, he must have just misjudged the timing of their exit and didn’t realize the sun had a few more moments of serenity to offer. But it had been dark. He was sure of it. They turned to study the solar curtain call. As the minutes passed, the sun rose higher in the west, offering a second wash of color over the still landscape. A second day was born.

As they somberly made their way back down the trail, Dylan felt peculiar. A side effect of the queer celestial behavior no doubt. A few years ago, he had a lucid dream after a night cap of the perfect amount of two dollar Cabernet Sauvignon. In the dream he sat up, walked around the room for a bit and looked back down at his sleeping body. As he explored this dream, he could simultaneously feel sensation yet felt nothing at all. Just as in that dream, everything on the mountain now felt real yet intangible. The curious air that had pestered his mind all day had changed. The humidity dropped to zero. It tasted sterile and felt alarmingly cool for a Georgia summer.

By the time they reached the trail head, Joey was asleep on Dylan’s back. Though it was now as bright as day, it was still well past the youngster’s usual bedtime. After he carefully strapped the sleeping cherub into his car seat, Dylan climbed into the old, but reliable, crew cab pickup truck. He sent a text to his wife, fully aware that it wouldn’t send until they got further into a nearby town and found cell service.

“Headed back from our trip. Joe’s asleep. Had a wonderful time but can’t comprehend what is happening in the sky. I think something big is happening. Hope you’re ok. Love you Janey. See you in a couple hours.”

He started the truck and frantically searched for a radio broadcast covering the phenomenon they just witnessed. All he could find was static. They were still too deep in the mountains to get a good signal. As a courtesy to his sleeping son, he decided to leave the static on at low volume to drown out the chomp of worn tires eating away at the gravel road as they started their journey home.

Once they got to the main road Dylan finally heard some faint voices amongst the static. He couldn’t make out much but what he could piece together seemed to be a lecture on a topic with which he was very familiar. Artificial intelligence. He turned the volume dial up a few clicks.

“…some speculation on how the technology works but with the assistance of advanced machine learning, research shows that we can pinpoint and recreate, or even alter, recent memories tied to individual emotions. Combined with some breakthroughs in the medical field…” the staticky voice explained before falling victim to a flood of pure white noise.

“…ventilator and other life support systems allow him to remain in a suspended state of animation, reliving a select memory that evokes our desired emotion,” the voice continued. “It’s almost like a lab controlled lucid dream. This is all still very experimental. Initial tests show that sustained levels of dopamine and oxytocin provided by the memory coupled with the incorporation of AI assisted neuroengineering technologies will rewire the patient’s brain to better cope with traumatic events. The only drawback is that evidence shows that if the patient were to die within their altered memory, they die in the physical world as well. It seems to be a physiological response to what the mind experiences. We wouldn’t have even considered treatment if it wasn’t for his work on Project 972. It was from his theories and neural networks that we derived this advancement in telepathic communications when we applied them to our own research. We owe him.”

Project 972? That was the project Dylan worked on that earned him the presidential handshake commemorated in his hallway. He was struggling to put the pieces together on what this broadcast was about. What treatment? Were they talking about his work? He knew the reports were declassified but he had no idea his work was being applied to neuroscience. He put on his sunglasses as the rising western sun crept into his pupils.

“Doctor!” a young woman’s voice chirped through the radio. “The environment team just identified a problem with the time cycle. It seems that rather than looping between day and night, the cycle actually sort of…just started to rewind. We’ve been reporting an elevated heart rate and a volatile imbalance of neurotransmitters. We suspect this is a reaction to witnessing the glitch in the time cycle. So far the numbers reported suggest he’s dealing with the phenomenon pretty well but he’s been showing signs of increased stress over the last few minutes.”

Dylan’s curiosity was starting to boil over. A wave of anxiety and fear took hold of him.

“What’s going to happen? How much longer will he need to be like this?” a familiar, yet broken female voice asked as the quality of the radio signal began to improve. 

He could swear this voice sounded just like the voice that recited vows to him on his wedding day. But that was impossible. What exactly did he stumble upon? Utter confusion rushed over Dylan. He could not even speculate what he might be listening to. His heart began to race. He was pulling in the cool, sterile air with short, rapid breaths.

“I’m sorry, Janey. I know this is hard on you. Especially at a time like this. We simply don’t know yet. We expected to see evidence of long term improvement around week three but the markers have not changed at all and we’re approaching week six. What we do know is how devastated he was when the rangers found him. By the time they got to him, he had been sitting on that mountain for three days in a catatonic state. You know how much your son meant to him.”

“I know,” he heard his wife cry over the airwaves. “And I know you explain all this to me every week. I just need him back. There’s got to be something more you can do. I need him with me. He’s all I have left.”

All at once, the pieces fell into place for Dylan. The foreboding summer air that tortured his emotions finally made sense. It was the recycled air he had been breathing day after day as he relived the beautiful, though altered, final memory with his beloved son. The surreal western sunrise had inched him back towards reality as his mind rejected the miracle and he subconsciously started to realize that he was in an altered state. The way he could feel sensation but simultaneously felt nothing at all was his body remembering the familiar experience of a lucid dream. The voices he heard on the radio weren’t being broadcasted at all. It was his mind fitting reality into this illusion. To confirm his suspicion that he was, in fact, experiencing an altered reality he held his breath. Without breathing, he could still feel the sterile hospital oxygen being pumped into his lungs. It was the ventilator.

“Doctor!” exclaimed the young woman, whom Dylan now suspected to be a lab tech. “The environment team tells me that they have corrected the time cycle issue. Dylan’s sun has reversed course and is expected to set again properly. Things will seem pretty weird for him until we can wipe the incident from his memory but we need to stabilize his vitals first. His heart rate is off the charts. Neurotransmitters are all over the place.”

Overwhelming grief and remorse took hold of Dylan as he realized what actually happened that fateful day. Why did he take the risk of bringing his cherished son onto that damp granite outcrop? His own incessant need to pass on his life’s experiences and passions had blinded him to the fact that Joey wasn’t ready for some dangers at his age. How could he take his eyes off such an energetic boy in such a precarious location? He could not bear the burden of the consequences. He turned the truck around.

By the time they reached the clearing again the sun had sunk back to its position just above the western ridge line. They both turned to watch the sunset again together arm in arm. The brilliant amber sky started to turn to a soft gray as the sun began to part ways with its final moments of glory. Dylan stepped up onto the granite outcrop to catch one last glimpse of the same reflection over the valley lakes that enticed Joey to the edge. He turned and peered deeply into Joey’s innocent eyes from behind a wall of tears.

“I love you, Joe. I’ll see you soon.” he managed to croak intermittently between the sobs. Dylan turned and stepped. 

The sun finally set. And darkness remained.