Dimensions

Chapter 4: The Human That Doesn't Fit In

Written by FuturePresentPast

I sit in father's lab, clutching the rose in both hands. The clay pot s worn smooth by many rough hands, but the soil is dry and the petals limp and weak. There is no water to feed it with- us humans drink some disgusting multi-vitamin concoction, the last of out water having been poisoned by our many factories years ago. I run my fingers gently up the stem, letting my fingernails just skim the fragile petals.

"Your Majesty, Lord Tavrell has called a meeting, and requests your presence," my guard, Jonas, stands in the doorway. He, like every other person I know, is completely spotless; not a speck of dirt, a scuff on his shoes or a fleck of ash in his hair. Just once, just once in my short life, I want to meet someone, a normal person. Someone from down below. And I want to chat about things and sing and play and get ash in my hair. I want to be free of responsibility, duty. I don't want to be royal any more.

I want to save Earth, save humans and plants and animals. I want to meet a Deviann. Jonas looks impatient, so I nod, rising slowly from the floor and brush the creases from my red silk dress.

"Jonas," he looks at me expectantly, "Go home. Spend what time we have left with Alise," his wife is just over eight months pregnant with their first child. He looks shocked for a moment, then bows his head low in thanks.

"Y-Your Majesty..."

"Go she needs you more than I. Tell the other guards and staff they are free to leave at any time."

"Th-Thank you... I-I..." He looks on the verge of tears, and I smile gently.

"The baby is much more important. And call me Clara, please," I take his hand.

"Your M- Clara. I can't thank you enough," and he leaves hurriedly with a bow. I head off in the other direction, to the meeting room.

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"Your Majesty," Lord Tavrell stands red-faced and rat-like at one end of the table, I am at the other, "I have called you here today to discuss the matter of Earth. Your speech yesterday, as good as it was, I think gave out the wrong message. We need optimism, comfort, something inspirational. And I don't believe dismissing everyone from their jobs was a wise move."

"Tell me, Lord Tavrell, do you think filling out people with a false sense of hope is the right way to go about this? Do you remember when you were a child, and adults told you it was all going to be okay when it clearly wasn't? We have months left, maybe even weeks, and I think people need to spend that time with their families and friends, playing and having fun, so that when they die, they die happy. Is that not important to you- happiness?"

"No, but there are more important..."

"More important? What could be more important than happiness? I lost everything, me and my family, we sacrificed everything to try and save Earth, and now I'm the only one left. I have nothing, and I don't want my people to feel alone like I do."

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, I will change the subject. We have more important matters to press on with," I breathe out quietly, and take a sip of wine. Wine is reserved only for the royal family, as it is extremely rare and hard to produce. I don't know why they waste it on me- it's disgusting, but my father taught me to tolerate it.

"We must move on to the more pressing issue of our Earth's safety," Lord Tavrell clutches his own wine glass in a white-fingered hand.

"Earth's safety? I thought we'd established this. Earth. Is. Dying. There's nothing we can do. If it weren't for the Big Bang we'd all be okay and the Deviann-"

"The Deviann- my darling Clara? That is a myth," Lady Tavrell places an elegant hand over my own clenched fist. She smiles one of those smiles that adults smile at children to say 'oh sweetie, you really don't understand' when you very clearly do. I think it's just that Lady Tavrell is a) defending her husband and his point of view, and b) knows I have a stronger voice in the government and that if I want something I get it.

"The Deviann, my darling Francesca," I say scathingly, deliberately using her first name, "are most definitely real . We misunderstood them- thought they were works of the devil, but they weren't," I pause, looking assertively at the whole gathering of lords, ladies, dukes and duchesses, "they could have been our friends. And we ruined that a long time ago."

With that, I stand up, brushing the creases from my dress and turn on my heal to leave. As soon as the meeting room door closes behind me, I speed up. I need to get out of this place- I hate it. I head to my chamber, my hands balled up into fists and clenching handfuls of my silk dress. I stare at the marble floor, and avoid the worried gazes of the guards I pass. I wonder why they haven't left yet. Maybe they haven't heard yet or Jonas hasn't told everyone. I dismiss them, telling them pretty much what I told Jonas. To go and not to come back. They thank me as respectfully and gratefully as Jonas had too, and leave with a bow.

My chamber is quite large, painted white with a deep fluffy carpet and a four poster bed. My windows are open, only a crack. Just enough to let my lace curtains flutter in the breeze, but not enough for my room to be overcome with polluted air.. I push them open wide, knowing full well that Lord Tavrell will kill me for it later, and crawl out of my dress, leaving it crumpled on the floor. I stand in only my white cotton petticoat, which just about reaches my knees and has simple vest sleeves. I kick my heels off, pull my hair out of its bun letting it hang loose down my back, and walk- finally feeling free- into my ensuite.

When I see myself int he mirror, I am completely stunned. I look like a completely different person without my fancy dress and hair. I wash the makeup off my face, splashing it with cold water, pull my hair into a simple braid, and put on the plainest shoes I can find. Plain white pumps with tiny bows in the front. I look... normal.

Normal- it's a weirs word, especially for me. I grew up watching my father do what I do now, then found him dead and bloody in his bed. Ever since my coronation, I've been a grieving girl alone. Now I'm Clara. Just Clara. Clara Alice Daisy Fitzgerald. I laugh to myself, and stand in front of the window. The warm wind blows through my hair and hot ash tingles on my skin.

Taking a deep breath, I step out onto the edge of the window, holding tight to the sides. Underneath me is a flat square of rooftop, then the city. The last city on Earth. Everywhere else it wasteland. I hop onto the rooftop, and use the guttering to swing down onto the banquet hall fire escape. I find I have a natural balance, and make it down to the ground with ease.

A group of children run past, screaming with laughter and covered head to foot in mud and ash. I tag along behind them, letting my dress get as dirty as possible. I am going to fit in. For once- for once in my miserable life, I am going to fit in.

A pale boy, about my age, maybe a bit younger, slows a bit to my pace. He has what looks like black hair, but it is covered with greyish flecks of ash which also catch in his eyelashes, perfectly framing a pair of dark blue eyes. He is... Handsome? Beautiful? I have been so deprived of human company my whole life, I don't know what it it that I'm feeling right now. It can't be love- can it?

"I haven't seen you round here before," he speaks in a quiet, croaky voice, like he has a sore throat or something, "you new?" I smile- he doesn't recognise me- and nod politely with a smile. He holds his hand out as we run, and I shake it wi a firm grip.

"I'm Dylan Jacobs."

"Daisy George," I reply, taking my middle name and my mother's maiden name, "Nice to meet you Dylan."

I smile sweetly. I'm not used to proper introductions like this- usually everyone already knows who I am- and you know what? It feels great. Great to not be recognised, bowed at, treated like the queen I am, and most of all?

Most of all, it's great to have a friend.