The Six: Genesis | A Reverse Harem Novel

Seventy-One

The city unfurls like a quilt.

A patchwork of metalworks hewn into the classical architecture of a millennium-old city. This place is the jewel of the country, a port city stemming back to a time when wars ravaged the planet and we nearly killed ourselves with pollution. Though war has not left, the shift to renewable energies was the best decision.

With no one ripping the land apart for oil, we had time to focus on farming and rebuilding the broken ecosystems for animals, and ultimately, ourselves.

The cement walkway transforms as I leave the shaded privacy of an alley and enter a main street paved with smartly cut and fitted stone tiles. Red, tan, and forest green trimmed in grey groat led me toward an open market. Stalls raised by wood and metal poles occupy either side of the street, wearing worn banners featuring their country's flag.

Sellers stand behind their boxes, armed with charismatic smiles and friendly words calling to passersby. A young family, man, woman and son, stop at a fruit stand as the boy grabs a brightly colored peach and shows it to his mother. She offers the seller a bill, grinning widely as her son chomps down on the fruit.

Behind them, more come. A couple strolling together with their hands clasped, a dog tugging them forward. An old woman with grey hair and a pastel pink dress nurses a swirling ice cream cone. Three teenagers wearing hoodies laugh and play at the end, tossing a ball back and forth toward a hoop affixed to the restaurant to my left.

Spices catch on the breeze. Cinnamon, sugar, cardamom and the wonderful winding scent of fresh bread make my head spin. Laughter echoes, breaching the loneliness in my heart, and for a time, I'm not a lonely woman in wet clothes heading for a bed-and-breakfast on the city's limit.

I haven't been to Opal for at least three years, but the atmosphere is the same.

There's a simplicity to life and an appreciation for a life well-lived. When I was younger, Ryker would bring me to Opal to see the Red Lanterns. Every year, they host a remembrance for the dead.

You buy as many red lanterns as you can afford and light. Then, at the edge of the Caravel Waterfalls at the northernmost part of the city, you float them out to the sea. I thought they were extremely wasteful, but they're made of biodegradable paper that is completely edible for humans and animals.

The fish receive a bounty of food each year and so does everything else. Dolphins and whales have been spotted off the coasts during the celebration, returning year after year. This time, I hoped I'd have an opportunity to share this holiday with more than Ryker, but I wouldn't even get to do it with him.

I can't trust him—not anymore.

Despite the cooling temperatures, my clothes dry out the further I push into the city's center. I move along the wide sidewalks, head down in hopes of making it to the train stations before the man from before shows his face. The crowd thins and the two-story bricked buildings melt into towering steel skyscrapers suspending above a bustling skyrail system cleverly winding through the sky.

The sun's reflections wink on the rail cars as they climb the ascent to meet the thickening clouds. Lights twinkle in the windows of the skyscrapers. Families sit around dining room tables, friends play in a snooker room, and a woman lunges forward on exercise equipment while another does crunches.

Their lives are on full display from here, but I doubt anyone other than me can see them.

As the sky bleeds dark from rain clouds, I step into the bustling halls of the train station. Two men breeze past men wearing three piece blue suits, briefcases dangling at the sides. A man holding a little boy's hand stands near the doors, a cell phone pushed to his ear.