by EmiliaRamos21

Once upon a time...

There was a girl who knew not of this planet's guilty tales.

Of miners buried under their own fuel.

Of captains drowned by the ice their engines melted.

Of greed. Of guilt. Of pain.

Of a burning world.

This is her tale.

Year: 2296

 Wait, that can't be right, can it? White lilies, yellow daisies, blue tulips... those are all fine, but orange roses? Uh, all wrong! My garden house is supposed to have rich forest green vines with bright flowers and red roses. All the millennial-aged fairytales say red roses: Beauty and the Beast, you know, the old classics.

And that's how I programmed the garden house world, so why am I biking through a reality with orange roses?

Beep. Beep.

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM PRINCECHARMING08: Hi 

Huh, a message. And probably what interfered with my reality programming too. My eyes dart around the screen as I bite my lip. Is this real? Or just another one of Mother's tests to ensure no rules get broken? As I take off my VR glasses, a swarm of scenarios play out: a ruthless hacker, a dangerous scammer, and (of course) the usual handsome boy. The imaginary one that my brain has endless hours to construct while in my little tower. Mother says my heart won't get broken on her watch, but sometimes I wonder whether a bruised heart is better than none at all.

"Zel!" Mother's voice calls out from the computer on the other side of the room. "That's enough time in your reality for one day. Aren't you planning to make breakfast before you starve?"

I'd rather live on the sight of flowers. I think.

"Yes, Mother,"

My chamber had fallen into disarray, but a quick neatness filter on Mother's viewing camera fixes that. From her perspective, the dirty laundry bags, wrinkled dresses, and jumbled programming gear don't exist. That still doesn't stop her from fumbling about the decor, though. Bright lavender walls decorate my little room, some painted with rainbows, others with flowers. Chalk sketches of faces lay scattered across the room, too many for any filter to hide. Mother says it's childish, the way I paint every square inch of my tower with blinding color; the way I create faces to keep me company... but it's all just a distraction.

From how utterly alone I am.

Breakfast (aka nitrogen ice cream) is delicious as always, with the slight aftertaste of a sugary headache. For a solid hour, I just lay there on my bed, brushing my golden locks and thinking of the message I'd received. Of course, I know I'm wasting time, but after fifteen years locked in a tiny tower, wasting time has become a skill of mine.

Anyone who got through Mother's digital firewalls must be intelligent. Ooh, smart and handsome! (I mean, his name was PrinceCharming08). Why would he want to talk to me anyway? Oh, what would await me if I did accept the message? Which I couldn't, I know. But what if... Those are my three favorite words right there.

But: the answer to anything Mother says.

What: a creative catalyst.

If: the child of my runaway imagination.

And just as my brain fully delves into a world of prince charmings, Mother's computer clicks on.

"Zel, I'm back,"

"Hello, Mother!" I yell back from my loft bed. It's 8 am sharp. Just the hour she turns on.

"Read any of the ebooks I found for you?" Mother asks.

"All of them actually," It's easy for someone to underestimate how much time a teenager has when they aren't locked in a tower.

"Oh, good. How are you on rations?" Mother asks.

"I'm alright. More icecream would be nice, though,"

"Alright, I'll add it to the list for the drone. It should be at the tower in about three weeks."

I toss around in my bed. Shoot, I shouldn't have eaten all the ice cream.

"Three weeks?" I whined.

"Zel, the rules are clear."

"I know, Mother, You made a whole book about them." I stare across the room at the leatherback rulebook on my desk. It's older than this whole tower.

"Good," she states.

Mother's favorite word.

"But rules don't keep you happy," I call out.

"No, rules keep you safe,"

"From what?" I reply, jumping out of bed.

"The world is dangerous. Beyond what you can understand."

"Well, it's no wonder I don't understand it cause you never tell me!"

"That's enough, Zel."

Enough. Enough. How could anything ever be enough? When I'm locked up in this tower, not knowing, not feeling.

As Mother logs off her computer, I glare at the rulebook and imagine it in flames. The golden-edged parchment crippling in the whispy fire, my fears burning with the scent of melting leather.

I'm done with rules.

So, I open up my laptop and stare at my one and only message. My fingers quiver as I type two keys: Hi.

SEND.

***

April 25, 2296: Text History

PrinceCharming08: Sorry, is this the wrong connection?

Zel24: Don't worry. I'm pretty bored anyway. What's your name?

PrinceCharming08: Lucca.

Zel24: Tell me something, Lucca.

PrinceCharming08: About what?

Zel24: You, the world, anything.

PrinceCharming08: It takes twenty-six less muscles to smile than frown.

Zel24: And what should I get from that?

PrinceCharming08: Frown more. You're doing exercise.

Zel24: Well, you're not helping with that.

PrinceCharming08: Glad to be of disservice.

My messaging history is like the puppy I never had: sweet, funny, and probably infested with rabies.

Boys are a virus, Mother says. They get into your body and destroy you from the inside out. One could say the same thing about fear. I've read enough psychology novels to understand it. Fear is a reflex. Fear protects us; it keeps us safe. But for the first time in my life, reading through my messages, I'm not afraid.

And that's more dangerous than anything.

My ice cream came today, right through the window like it always does. I love that window with all my heart and soul; it's my glimpse into the outside world. Barren trees lay on the cracked ground, withered and twisted into a witchy figure. Ripples appear in the air sometimes, as if the outside world was cursed with potent heat. I stretch my neck to see the sky above. It's magical, that washed-out gray color, some days grayer than others. Most books I read speak of crystal blue skies and shimmering stars, but I've never seen a star. They're always covered by this numinous dust. I wonder which of the two is more beautiful.

And then... my computer dings.

I leap from the window and hurry to my desk to read its most recent gift. For three weeks, I've been texting Lucca, and every day I learn something new. About the world, about people, about everything! Every witty joke sends me giggling to the floor like an idiot. I wonder if my jokes make him smile... that cocky, Lucca grin I've visualized the last few weeks.

PrinceCharming08: Good morning.

I grin. A good morning indeed.

Zel21: Hello. How's your day going?

PrinceCharming08: Better now that I'm talking to you.

Zel21: I wanted to ask: how'd you find me?

PrinceCharming08: It'll sound ridiculous.

Zel24: I love ridiculous.

PrinceCharming08: My friends and I were fooling around with one of the virtual realities you posted. When I checked who made it, your photo popped up. My friends dared me to talk to you, so I did.

Zel24: How'd you get past my mother's firewalls?

PrinceCharming08: Same as you did when you posted the VR. I'm a hacker. I design too.

Zel24: Really? What kind of landscapes?

PrinceCharming08: Mostly fighter simulations. But I've been working on some beautiful VRs more recently: beaches, mountains, forests...

Zel24: Sounds charming.

PrinceCharming08: Care to go somewhere?

Zel24: Anywhere. Everywhere.

PrinceCharming08: Meet you in ten.

I slip on a flowery dress with ruffles that flow just above my knees. It's lavender, complimented with embroidered tulips and sleeves that dangle off the shoulders. I stand in front of the VR as it scans me. It's incredible how a little machine can memorize every spot on my skin, every flower on my dress. Heck, even every golden hair on my head. Before I know it, I'm shoving on my headset, already five minutes late.

PrinceCharming08: Ready?

Zel24: Yes.

Woah... Giant trees surround me, their auburn trunks stretching to the heavens.

Slivers of golden light peak through the canopy of greenery above, creating a sunset of shadows. A straw-trimmed blanket sits below me, marked with beautiful designs. I take a moment to admire the world Lucca made. The water trickling down slick river rocks, the birds chirping from a distance.

"Guacamayas," I turn around to face the best sight of everything. Lucca's dimples as he grins, lighting up his caramel complexion like a bonfire. "The birds, they're called guacayamas."

He has a slight accent, just noticeable enough to see that English isn't his first language.

"This place is beautiful. Is this home for you?" I ask.

"It used to be. Before, you know...,"

Ah, if only my stupid mouth could keep itself shut. But not me; my mouth can't shut up for a second.

"Before what?"

"The heat, the floods. Do you really not know?"

"I... I've never felt the heat,"

"Have you never gone outside?" Lucca replies with a chuckle.

I would say yes, but what about the window? The heat. Is that why everything looks so barren? But then, why would it feel so fine?

"I've been outside, I've just never felt hot. What happened? What floods, what heat?"

Lucca's almond eyes glare into mine, brimming with sorrow I can't understand.

"About fifteen years ago, the world... it burned. Billions died. Most were wiped out by the melting ice, the floods. Others withered away in the endless heat waves. And the rest of us, those who could afford to import air and trap ourselves inside... we just survived. Barely alive."

I shut my eyes, breathing heavily. Is this real? That beautiful world I'd read about, I'd dreamed about... How could it just be gone? And why couldn't I understand it? Why is it that the heat that killed millions, that crippled the trees outside my window... had no effect on me?

"I have to go,"

I click off my computer and throw my headset off as I rush to the window. The ripples... they're back. I recall my science textbooks... heat, those ripples, temperature, and density.

"Heat ripples are caused by air density variations created by temperature changes."

Heat waves. Ripples. Rules. Tower. Mother. Me.

All strokes of a painting everyone else can see... but I can't.

"Zel?" Shoot... Mother! Her computer turns on from across the room. "Did you get your icecream today?"

"Yes, right on time,"

"Why are you staring at the window, sweetie?"

"Oh no reason," I reply. "I'd just never noticed how barren everything looks. How dead."

"Zel, you can't expect everything to look like those books you read, can you?"

She's avoiding.

"What's your name, Mother?"

"I've already told you that my name isn't going to be a topic in this household," Mother responds, as even and unflustered as her usual tone.

Pft. Household. As if a tower and a computer screen make a home. So many questions swirl around my head, but none have answers.

"Of course, it's in the rules,"

"Rapunzel, the rules–"

"Keep you safe, I know,"

"What are you going to make for dinner?" Mother asks. She's smart, too smart. Every topic change is swift, and every turn of phrase is perfectly planned. Maybe I'm just overreacting. Perhaps Mother is correct, and Lucca is just corrupting my brain like a virus.

A handsome virus, my brain quickly responds.

No, I need to focus! I need evidence. Of the heat, of the floods, of my... condition. And that means digging through the back brain of Mother's computer. That also means seeing Lucca again... without gazing at his dimples like an idiot.

"Casserole,"

"Are you sure, Zel? You hate using the oven." Mother replies in her most innocent voice. "You can never tell the temperature right,"

"I'd like to try it," I reply.

Casserole in an oven. I think. The perfect experiment to test the human body's resistance to heat.

Three hours later, I sit by the oven, thinking and thinking and thinking. There has to be something in Mother's back brain that will help me figure out why I'm in this tower. Emails, records... something!

My hand dangles inside the oven as the heat turns up. 50, 100, 150, 200... And I feel nothing. So I start to dig.

For hours I scour through Mother's back brain, past the library of ebooks she collected for me, the drone directions, the meal plans. I hack my way into the very core of my mother. And then, I uncover a Drive folder labeled:

Subject #8509 of the Accra Dia Project

Domestic Name: Rapunzel

August 1, 2281: DOB

Blonde hair, pale skin

Heat tolerance: 120 Fahrenheit

September 12, 2282: Speech

First word: Mother

August 1, 2282

Heat tolerance: 128 Fahrenheit

Development of abnormal hair pigmentation

What the heck? These records write about me like a guinea pig, a test subject. And what in the world is the Accra Dia Project?

I need to find Lucca. Because whoever has been running my life for fifteen years... will be chasing after it in an hour.

Zel24: Lucca?

Zel24: Lucca, please! It's important.

PrinceCharming08: I'm in class.

Zel24: Well, get out of it.

PrinceCharming08: Okay, okay, I logged off. What's up?

Zel24: Mother can read my messaging history. We need to go somewhere.

PrinceCharming08: Why?

Zel24: I'll explain everything once we get there. I promise.

I throw on my VR glasses and take Lucca into the garden house world. The neon orange roses glare at me from the vines of the house, still irritating.

"Zel, are you okay?" Lucca asks from the mahogany bench behind me. I sit down next to him, and the questions pour out.

"What do you know about the Accra Dia project?"

"It was a study that recorded kids with a gene mutation for heat resistance. Never talked about much. Always held in the shadows,"

"I don't know what to do. Lucca, I'm so afraid!"

For a minute, it's dead silent. Lucca glares into my eyes, pondering what to say next. I can see every crease on his forehead, every tear barely held back.

"You're one of them." He pauses, and it's quiet again. "You're so goddamn lucky, Zel,"

"Lucky? I've been trapped my whole life, Lucca! How could you say I'm lucky?"

"There was another wave today. Wiped out half my town. We live like this: waiting for the next disaster. You don't get it... what it's like to be fifteen and not have a future."

"Lucca–"

"No!" Tears crash down his face, but he makes no effort to stop them. "You have no idea how it feels for the world you love more than anything to be torn apart piece by piece. To tear you apart."

"I don't know what to do,"

"Well then let me tell you. You've got a whole world waiting for you, Zel. A world that you can live 'in. So jump. And run. Bathe in the sun. Fly around the world chasing stars. Live the seconds of your dream before it burns. And don't think of me... Wasting away on my computer screen. Creating worlds because this one didn't want me."

"Lucca, please–"

"Promise me something?"

"Anything,"

"Live,"

Lucca disappears. His dimples, his cocky smile... gone. I'm all alone now, hiding away in my little reality. Staring at those freaking orange roses, dreaming of the world I'll get to see. And weeping for the one he never would.

A minute later, I deactivate my VR.

It's quiet. Dead quiet. No Mother on the computer. No Lucca on the VR set. Nothing. I'm curled up in a little ball, looking at everything I've ever known. My whole life... confined within these lavender-painted walls. Afraid.

Yes, fear protects you. But from what? From hope? From love? From life? Is a life lived in fear, trapped inside, really a life in the first place?

I pick up Mother's computer.

"Thank you, whatever you are. For protecting me,"

And then I smash it against the wall.

Someone out there wanted me to live. But this doesn't classify as living, not even close. So I stare out the window and notice it for the first time. I'm only about twelve feet above the ground. A dangerous leap, but not a fatal one.

I never needed Lucca to save me. The only thing between me and everything I'd ever wanted was a computer screen and a twelve-foot jump. Oh, the world... Shimmering with sun and stars, bursting with light, ready to disappear at any second. I won't miss it. I'll snorkel with whales in Iceland, hike mountain tops in the Himalayas, and visit every theater in New York City. This is it: my life. I'll only ever get one. So I close my eyes...

And jump. 

If you enjoyed this story, you might be interested in checking out EmiliaRamos21's profile! There you can find the prologue of her book "A Crown of Scales and Wonder"!