The City Above the Clouds

The world used to be grounded.

Literally grounded. Structures anchored to the soil of the Earth. Grounded to the truth of it all.

I have always wanted to see the Old World, as what others may call it. I've read books with missing covers illustrating the wonders of before. How the oceans roar at night. How the sand gets in everywhere. How the volcanoes formed like upside down cones. I long for it.

Some people would ask, "why would you want to go there?" And all I could ever reply is a shrug. I don't know why but I have this attachment to it. Like an affinity to what it used to be before I was born.

People would then get angry for my silent reply. "You don't even have the guts to tell me why we shouldn't go there," I snap back to them. Those words I kept on repeating as an answer to those same ol' questions thrown to me.

Sometimes, when I let my legs hang by the sides of our floatee, I look down and try to see way past the clouds but I never get to see past it. All I see below are the sickening sight of those puffy white cottonballs and the ever-blinding rays of the sun that paints the sky with an orange tint. It's beautiful, I know. But it all seemed familiar. Too familiar.

I got up and walked out of our floatee in long strides. I past through the soft bridge that connects every floatee to the Center where a myriad of structures rose higher than I could ever imagine.

In the Center, my gaze fell to the people that wandered in luxurious satin clothings and a smug look painted on their faces—a direct contrast to my pajamas which comprised of an old t-shirt, jogging pants, and some slippers. They don't seem to mind so I dealt with my own business.

I went into a series of maze-like walkways, slowly finding my way onto the orange building that seemed out of place here in the Center with its flat roof and one-floor state. Whereas the most here comprised of roofs that are pointed upwards and up-to ten-floors!

I found myself inside the small orange building. The sign that screamed "Ye Olde World" in neon colors greeted me. On the far corner is a wall filled with colorful liquids and a long counter with stools on the other end—a bar.

At this early, no one on their right mind would engulf some intoxicating spirits.

And that's not why I'm here.

The bartender, which is a young male with golden strands of hair that glinted like glitter, smiled at me as I greeted him. My feet, planted firmly on the wooden floor, got itself onto the door-less frame. Inside was a small room and a desk right on the middle. A man was sleeping soundly with its head rested on top of it—Old Man James.

"Sir," I said, poking the sleeping man on the shoulders lightly. "It's already morning."

He let out a mumble, with hands flying to whatever direction.

"Sir," I repeated but this time, a bit louder. "You're gonna miss them trek to the Old World."

Somewhere in that sentence got him erected into a seating position. "Holy," Old Man said, frantically looking at its watch. "I'mma be late!"

He launched himself up and equipped his aviator glasses that seemed too small for his pudgy, round face. He moved out without another word.

After a few seconds, I silently followed him. I gestured to the bartender to be quiet and he did. In short but rapid strides, I got inside the Box which is a cube made out of wood that is being held by a pulley system. It slowly descended, getting faster as it goes.

"I know you're in there," Old Man said in a heavy English acdent. The dialogue startled me. I surrendered and got up. "I have always been."

"What do you mean?" I rose an eyebrow.

"I have always know you were following me. Ever since you discovered that I got promoted to Oil Extractor in the Old World."

I wasn't able to make a sound, unsure of what to say.

"Don't worry, I never told anyone." He said, winking at me.

I laughed at his gesture and thanked him. Then, silence grew between.

"So?" He asked, breaking the stillness.

"So what?" I asked back.

"What can you say about the Old World?"

"It's amazing! I really don't understand why we won't come back to it!" I continued, mentioning about the leaves that painted the surroundings and the rocks that were stiff, unlike the soft bridge we had in the floatees.

He just mustered a laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, child." His laughing stopped and all was left was his grin that curved so sharp but his eyes spelled something different. Like sadness—for me. "That wasn't the real thing."

"What do you mean?" I raised the question. "I literally can see the Cube halting down to the ground of the Old World. I actually walked the ground!"

"I mean, yes." He replied, reassuringly. "But that wasn't the whole Old World."

"I know." I rolled my eyes from the sheer absurdness of him thinking that I thought that was everything.

"You haven't seen the real reason why we're not grounded on this hellish landscape."

"Hel—" he cut me off.

"I'll show. Just wait." Gone were the eyes that showed sadness for me. This time, it was unfeeling.

As soon as the Cube landed on the ground, Old Man grabbed my arm and brought me into a small white concrete structure planted right through a mountain.

Inside was a collection of gadgetries that seemed too alien to me. I was in awe, letting out some "woahs" and "ohs" despite not knowing about all of it.

Old Man tapped on my right shoulder and I flashed to face his tender features. He pointed onto a grey wall.

I looked at it, unsure of what to look actually. I was about to raise the question until white light blinded me on it. I shielded my eyes with my hands. I tried to squint and look through my spread-out fingers. Until the light stopped.

I let my eyes adjust to the light and saw a sea of people. But they weren't just normal people. They wore shirts that were tattered and had dark red paint. Their faces were heavily mutated.

I looked at Old Man and saw his eyes water up. "That's the Old World."

I noticed that each wall had became transparent and I saw a a towering line of walls outside of this that circled the site of the landing pad for the Cubes.

"How many are there?" I asked, pointing at the monstrosity.

"7 billion." He gulped up a lot of air after saying that number. Like it had caused him to let out much air.

"What happened here? What happened to them?" I asked, unsure of what to feel.

"The Old People fucked up." He looked back at me but with tears running down his cheeks. "I wasn't here for oil. I was here for a cure."

"Why are you entitled to do such task?"

"Because it is my lifelong punishment."

"Punishment?"

He looked away from me and tried to suppress the sobs that are erupting from him. He covered his mouth and tried to muffle the cacophony of sounds from the outside and his cries.

"Because I helped cause this. I made this happen."