Mirror Sky. Part 1 - Blissful Nemesis

26 - Substitute Teacher

Alexander Litt, the last orphan in the city, was fast asleep, haunted by disturbing dreams of times past: fragmented, jumbled, confusing, blurry – a never-ending kaleidoscope of strange, dark, funny, warm, happy, and scary.

Today's stream of consciousness started with recent memories. Alexander was in the alley. The ground just stopped shaking, bringing back calmness and serenity. He climbed from under the big warm pipe to see what had happened. The smell of blood and burnt flesh hit his nostrils — a horrific, nostalgic smell.

He reached the exit out of the alley and peeked out. He saw a dark, intimidating street. Colossal buildings with dead windows went up endlessly while the ground was covered with disfigured bodies, smoldering machines, and other strange indistinguishable remains. Everything was still. There was not a single soul alive. He was alone.

Before anxiety could settle in, he saw a movement on the sidewalk not far from him. He looked closer and saw a person twitching violently. Someone was in great pain. Without hesitation, Alexander rushed to help, slipping awkwardly in puddles of blood. He reached the person, and his heart dropped – the man on the ground was missing both arms and legs. Alexander could not hear, but he knew the man was screaming. His face was distorted in agony, and his mouth opened wide, expelling steam jets.

The boy went into the man's front pocket and extracted a syringe that he dropped right away. The man did not even acknowledge his presence. Alexander bent over and picked the syringe up, grabbed it with both hands, and stabbed him in the neck.

The man's convulsions stopped. His mouth closed, and his deep blue eyes gained clarity. With great effort, he lifted his head and looked down at his broken body, at each stump in turn. His lip quivered. Alexander felt sorry for the man. He wanted to help more, to find his missing arms and legs, although he was unsure what good it would do.

Alexander gained the man's attention and signed:

"What should I do?"

The man's eyes widened. He mouthed something in a panic. He mouthed it over and over again. Alexander got closer and read his lips. It was one word:

"Hide! Hide! Hide! Hide!.."

He ran to the alley, stumbling and slipping on the carnage of war. When he reached safety, he glanced back. He could see the man's eyes watching him in the dark. He did not look back again.

Alexander was now in a room full of children a few days after the invasion. Toys were scattered on the floor, and screens on the wall showed cartoons, yet all children were happy. All of them were crying. All were restless. The adults looming over them tried to talk to the kids and calm them down, but to no avail. As soon as one child settled, another one began crying.

Alexander could now hear, but he covered his years a lot. Crying of other children made him feel desperate himself. He was yet to learn how to interpret hearing and how to talk. He could not communicate with anyone as no one signed. However, he deduced what was happening – all of these kids, like him, had lost their parents and wanted to reunite with them. For some, parents came, elating one child, giving hope to some, or sinking others into deeper despair.

He wished nothing more but for his mother to come into the room and take him home.

Mother... Because of the surgery, he had trouble picturing her face. He remembered how she made him feel: the warmth from her embrace, the happiness from her smile, the frustration from her scolding, the untamed curiosity from her lessons. And yet, he could not remember any features of her face. It was hidden by fog, and no matter how hard he tried to peer through, he could not see her.

He tried to think of his father instead and found it even harder to do so. If he recalled the feeling his mother gave him, his father was just a faint shadow. He could not bring anything back from his memory, aside from the fact that he had a father.