Close to the Edge

by SallyMason1

Don't ever get too close to the edge or you'll die.

Those were words of advice Harvard Mincepie had ignored all this life. Breathing too close to the edge was what kept him alive. Like his lucrative assignments, where each and every single one could land him on the execution block within hours. Harvard could only function unless he stared the prospect of death straight in the eye.

To any bystander, he was a phantom that day. It took him two minutes to step out of the bathroom of the crowded airhover station and cross the lobby. He caught up with the straw-blond man in the hand tailored business suit just before platform six. No one saw the bullet pipe hidden under his sleeve. A silencer muffled the precise shot that went straight for the man's heart. By the time the body hit the ground, Harvard had disappeared in the masses of travelers exiting an airhover from Center Earth. He had his right foot on the first rung of the ladder to board a commuter shuttle to the Outer Rim when a bone-chilling scream echoed through the station. From his seat by a window high above the ground, he watched down at the gawkers crowding around the dead body. They slowed down the police guards who tried to push to the front. When they were finally successful, Harvard was pressed into his seat by the force of the departing shuttle.

As the little vessel stabilized somewhere in between the clouds, he held his wristcom to his mouth. "Assignment sixty-five G12 is complete."

With his next breath, a ping signaled that the money had been transferred. Harvard closed his eyes, ready for a short power nap that would restore his energy. The shuttle reached its final stop an hour later; he was the last passenger still on board. Gamstown was five miles from the rim where ocean water rattled off the flat earth into a void humanity was too afraid to explore.

Or at least Harvard thought he was the last passenger.

As he jumped off the last rung of the ladder to get back onto solid ground, he noticed two tourists huddled on the windy cliff. They stared at the horizon.

"What's behind that border, Dad?" A little boy of maybe six held on to his hat as his words were carried straight to Harvard's ears.

Harvard was having a deja-vu moment. About thirty years ago, in this exact same spot, he had stood and had asked his mom the exact same question.

The answer back then had been the same one the boy received. "No one knows, but don't ever get too close to the edge or you'll die."

The little boy turned his head and their gazes met. Harvard smirked. A spark of defiance simmered deep within the boy's dark eyes. Curiosity. And a thirst to discover what it would be like living too close to the edge.

Harvard knew this look too well; it had stared back at him every morning from his bathroom mirror as he was brushing his teeth.

And there was never any doubt.

One day, he would get into his little boat and steer straight for the edge that signaled the end of the world.

Because why the heck not.

He'd fall straight off the rim. And maybe he'd die. Or maybe he'd keep on living somewhere deep in the void.

It could be a better life of greatness and excitement.

He'd never know unless he dared to take a chance.

And after all, what was the point of living if he'd never get too close to the edge.