Neverending

21

There are people EVERYWHERE.

My mind re-adjusts, tussling temporarily with the cognitive dissonance between the image I have of Terrafirme in my mind – a mellow, calming haven scattered of Zeros, agriculturists and maybe a botanist or two – and what's currently in front of me: a writhing, chaotic swarm of people, none of whom look like they'd know how to grow food.

I wasn't expecting this and I feel doubt tugging somewhere inside my mind. Are they letting everyone in?

The thought comes from a less generous part of my psyche, one that I assume has something to do with survival instinct: more people = less resource. But I push it to one side. I barely have the right to be here and I'm damn lucky Jim made that happen. I've hit the jackpot and I am under no illusions about my good fortune. Sure, it may not be exclusively the Agapé-clad farmers I was anticipating but these people are safe, for now. I should be – I am – grateful for as many people's safety as possible.

It's so noisy and disorganised, it's not immediately clear what I should do next. My car was directed underground about 500 metres past the Clearing so I've been on foot for the last five minutes, being jostled around by what seems like thousands of other people also unsure of procedure. If I can liken the ambiance to anything, it's like those markets you see in Marrakesh – all bright scarves, spices and people shouting about who-knows-what. There's that same unnamed stress running a current through this crowd – in Marrakesh, because people's livelihoods rely on preventing their customers moving onto the next stall. Here, because, well... people's lives may be reliant on being able to stay here. 

I think we're all feeling an underlying suspicion that there are just way too many of us for this to be ok. I think we're all wondering how this is going to work.

I remind myself: I'm here, and I'm lucky.

I make my way towards what looks like a dip in some nearby olive trees. It takes a few minutes of negotiating the crowd but the respite from the busyness is worth the effort. I push myself as far into the recess as is comfortable and take a few long breaths. I close my eyes and try to find some sense of centre. At my periphery, I'm aware that I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS. But experience has taught me that these are the very times when clarity of thought is exactly what I do need.

Donna, Sebastian, Jim.

Jim's who got me in. I think I need to find him first.