Terra Linda

An army of urbanites march up the platform, and an intrusion of cosmopolites scuttle along side them; all passengers pour onto the train. The doors are about to close and a straggler comes running up the platform. No one seems to see or hear her. People are consumed by their devices and thoughts, and preoccupied with protecting their personal space. The red light flashes above the doors. She might not make it. The last train of the day. A flash of royal blue and a streak of red hair sprint through the closing doors. Being left behind would’ve meant taking the bus or walking five miles in the rain. It always seems to rain these days, gray skies in a gray city, against the backdrop of gray lives. 

A few faces look up at April, some with expressions of annoyance and amusement, but no one is looking at her with empathy. She hangs on to the back of a seat trying to catch her breath. The beady eyed occupant of the seat grimaces. Sorry. She moves down the aisle, towing her bag behind her, which hits passengers in their arms and shoulders. The train is packed. She mumbles something, but no one listens; they dive deeper into their busy isolation. In a crowded city of 20 million, civility is necessary, but no one wants to bother with kindness.

April finds a window seat a few cars down. She’s been working double shifts at the Accountability, Action and Access Organization for the past three days. She’s thinking about the weekend and what she’ll do with her two days off. She’ll probably order pizza and watch a movie, tend to the vegetable garden on the terrace, maybe she’ll slip out in the afternoon and see the art exhibit that Desmond has been raving about, or maybe she’ll sleep for those two days. This is what her body and mind really crave, a recharge. The rhythm of the train and the loop of her thoughts put her to sleep. 

When she wakes up the train is nearly empty. She looks out the window and sees a green and blue landscape, the kind of pastoral scene that would be on a screensaver. On a screen it looks benign, but up close, it is imbued with terrifying stillness. The only time April has been outside the city was when she was eight, staying with her grandparents. At that time there’d been more people living in the countryside. These days only the provincials, also known as hicks, hillbillies, yokels, and bumpkins live in these parts, people who are as wild and unpredictable as the landscape they live in. 

 April realizes her mistake. She got on the wrong train, the only train that went out of bounds. She’d seen these rural towns represented on the map at the station, but they were just blue dots on the periphery. Now, here she was on the periphery, out of her comfort zone, lost. April doesn’t have anything against nature. She loves the city parks and tree lined streets and her little garden on the terrace. In the city, nature is under control, but in these parts, nature’s guided by its own laws and instincts. Years ago, when April was just a baby, the Great Earth Reset brought back these wild habitats, and put people in cities, most people anyways. April approaches a young man staring out the window and asks him what the next stop is. The scenery doesn’t unsettle him, he enjoys the view. 

“Terra Linda. It’s the last stop.”

April has never heard of it. “Might you know when the next train leaves for the city?”

Jeremy laughs; it isn’t the first time that a city slicker got on the wrong train.  “The next one leaves on Monday.” His manner of speaking pins him as a provincial. Some provincials commute into the city for seasonal work and a small minority go to the university. “There’s a bus that leaves for the city in about two hours.”

Two hours? Bumpkin bus? What would she do for two hours all alone, out of bounds? She doesn’t even have permission to be out of bounds. “Well, I guess I have no choice except to wait for the bus.” Private cars and cabs were banned years ago. 

The train stops and exhales as the heavy doors slide open. The last of the passengers get off the train and file out of the safety gate. April looks despondently for directions to the bus station.  “It’s that way,” Jeremy pointed down the platform, “but if you want to kill some time I could show you around town?” To put her mind at ease, he tells her he’s a university student, and comes home every month to visit his parents. 

“I don’t have an out of bounds pass.” Having a pass isn’t her main concern though.

“That’s not a problem. My uncle is the station manager. He won’t ask you about it if you’re with me. He’ll assume you’re a friend of mine.”

It enters April’s mind that this guy and his uncle lure women into town and then attack them. 

“I have no intention of hurting you. I just thought you might be bored waiting at the bus station.” 

“Or you religious or something?” The words leave April’s mouth before she has a chance to retract her thoughts. 

Jeremy has a forgiving smile. “Nope, during the Great Earth Reset my parents were with the Living Off the Grid movement, well, I guess we kinda still are. We can go to the coffee shop if you want? You want a coffee or something?”

“You guys actually still have a coffee shop here? Wow, this is an old fashion town. The last time I saw a coffee shop was ten years ago, at the corner of my street. It was one of the last to go. Such a shame, really.” April pauses in the past for a moment. “I’d love a cup of coffee.”

They walk together, past a cubicle that is the station manager’s office. Uncle Bill isn’t in his office; he’s on the other side of the road, where the sun is shining. “Hey kid, welcome home,” Uncle Bill calls out and waves. 

Jeremy waves back and introduces him to April, “This is my friend, uh...”

“Hi, I’m April, nice to meet you.” 

Uncle Bill stands up, and walks across the street to shake April’s hand. She indulges in this antiquated gesture, even if it’s a little invasive. He reminds April of her grandfather.

April and Jeremy walk out of the safety gates into the wide open countryside. April squints at the brightness of the scene she’s immersed in. There are no tall buildings to shelter her, there’s no fog, and no dreary dampness hanging from everything. Breathing feels different here too. There are unfamiliar aromatic smells in the air, that come and go with the wind. Everything around her is green and vibrante, alive and loud, except for the big blue expanse above their heads. She has to adjust her perception to this new space. April stares at the ground as they walk down the street, each has their own half of the sidewalk; a respectable space between them is maintained.

They don’t talk much until they get to the center of town. Jeremy opens the door for April, another old fashion gesture, and she steps into the coffee shop. A tall man with long dark hair stands behind the counter and stares at April. Jeremy and the man exchange small greetings, a handshake and knowing looks that only two people who know each other well share. The man holds out his hand to April. She shakes his hand politely. April then scans the room. People sit close together at small tables, touching shoulders, engaged in intimate and animated conversation. Most of them are older. There’s nostalgic art on the walls, landscapes painted by hand. The town and its surroundings seem to exist on a different time continuum, a parallel universe.

April and Jeremy sit outside on a public bench, and sip their coffees. Jeremy talks about his three brothers and what it’s like living on a farm. He tells her about how he was offered a scholarship at the university to study maths and programming. April tells Jeremy about her circumscribed city life, and the death of her parents and how she was raised by her grandparents until they died too during the great pandemic. She sees sympathy on Jeremy ‘s face and changes the subject to happier things, the things she loves about the city like the art shows and the parks. 

It’s almost time for April to catch the bus to the city. “Let me show you something before you go. You see that hill over there?” Jeremy points in the direction of the station. “The view is breathtaking.”

The hill is topped by an old oak tree. There are oaks all around Terra Linda, oaks line the streets and populate the hills. April looks across the hilly landscape. Her eyes swim along with the yellow, green and brown hills, all the way to the ocean. The wind blows and the ground shifts, the colors change with the passing clouds. It is uninterrupted natural beauty. Terra Linda.