Forever Now *Reboot*

Prologue

Prologue

I arrived in America in the year 1851 at the tender age of seven. My father, a scientist, had been offered a job in the States by the president himself; or that’s what my mother – a very smart but conceited woman - told everyone back at home. In reality, a sect of the government had recruited him as their ecologist. He was hired to study organisms, and even though my mother denied it, was given asylum. Germany, my mother and father’s homeland, had begun to change. I’d been born amidst a time of revolution in every social structure the homeland had, and people like my father – outspoken and rebellious- were unwelcomed. America was very different from Germany; today even more so. She was vast with land, rich with culture and full of possibilities. And so, after a tearful good-bye, we immigrated to America and begun anew.

We sailed in a giant ship for a few weeks, where among so many tall and burly Americans, we began to adapt to their ways. Sailing for the first time had gotten me on a sort of high; even after throwing up a few times. But finally arriving, setting foot on dry land, felt amazing. I can never describe the feeling I felt as we woke up one day to the screams of “LAND A’HOY!” Nor can I describe what I felt when my parents hugged each other as we got closer and closer to our new home.

But once we set foot, and the initial high had subsided, I found myself feeling terrified. My body shook -not with excitement- but with fright as we were led to the port station. My father explained that we had to be checked for various diseases and security risks. Franciscka, my sister, sat beside me and held my hand as two men in dark suits separated us from our parents. She held my hand as we were led to a room to be searched and prodded by a female doctor. The doctor asked us all sorts of question, none of which we could answer; we spoke German and she spoke English.

When we were led back to our parents, Franciscka ran to mum’s arms and I to fathers, who were in a line that led to serious looking men behind tall, wooden desks. My mother said not to worry, gently rubbing my sister’s head, but I held on to my father just the same. He looked down at me, love radiated from those blue eyes, and bent down to my height.

“Alles wird in Ordnung sein, das verspreche ich,” he said to me. Everything will be all right, I promise. I smiled as he rubbed my arm lightly in a touch that conveyed much more than his words. I believed my father, my wonderful father, with every ounce of my being. “Willst du sehen?”

“Ja!” I replied happily. He turned around and I climbed on his back. Standing up carefully, he put a secure hand over my hands, which were around his neck, and made a small circle. I could see the entire room from this height and all its occupants. The starving, sickly looking deportees who would soon return to their homeland, the new arrivals being escorted to the very rooms we’d departed only moments ago, and the soldiers who saw every little move we took. One particular soldier caught my attention and father finished his small circle, turning to look straight ahead.

Even an immigrant from Germany could see how different he was from the other soldiers. He had beautiful brown eyes that almost glowed a deep red. Long, black hair fell around his face, his hat was tilted to the side of his head, and a pale complexion contrasted his black and blue uniform. He stood behind the desk in another line, his eyes searching the room for something. Our eyes connected, and as a child raised by a stubborn father and a proud mother, I refused to look away. Only my mother’s loud whispers and my father putting me down made our eyes disconnect.

Once again I was back to looking at everyone’s backside, and I sighed with annoyance. I wanted to ask father to put me up on his shoulders again so that I may look into those brown eyes. My mother pulled me to her side, giving my father a now sleeping Franciscka, and told me not to stare at anyone for too long; it was rude. I nodded and was about ready to forget about the strange soldier, when we moved forward in the line and my line of vision cleared. I could now see the soldier again, and stepping to the other side of my mother, I stared at him long and hard. I could see him trying to avoid my look, his jaw tightening; but I didn’t care. I liked his eyes, his hair, and his uniform. I was new to this land and the first new thing I saw had been him. Taking a liking to things had always been my downfall.