All around me are the discarded machines of the world. The landfill extends to at least a mile ahead, and all of it is metal. Sunlight glints off the silver, illuminating the cracks in between.
I make sure to walk only in the middle of the area, where the landfill is split in two by a dirt path. Dad leads the way as I follow close behind, taking short glances to my right and to my left.
Then dad stops walking. He takes a metal hunk from the Pile, which is a boring silver color like all the others. The thing almost looks like a gun, but it has a monitor attached to the end. The handle has a long and flexible wire sticking out of it, a cord that you’re supposed to stick into an electrical outlet, from what I’ve heard.
Dad examines it, turning it around and pressing the buttons. Then he coils the cord around the machine.
“What’s that?” I ask. “How could a gun-looking thing like that help Owen heal?”
As dad turns around and starts walking again, this time back to the entrance and still holding the machine, he explains, “It’s a handheld x-ray. Lets you see bones and stuff. Great for helping fractures grow back.”
“Can I see it?”
Dad hands me the x-ray, and I curl my fingers around the handle. It feels weird to touch such an odd substance. I recall it as plastic, but it’s still new to me.
I look at the x-ray some more. It’s so fascinating to see that this tiny little device saves lives. “If it’s so great at helping people, then why was that law passed?”
“People thought that technology makes people lazy and unproductive. It ruins the environment. So they banned it and keep it all locked up here. It’s a shame to see that something so world-changing is being put away. One day, they’ll blow it all up so we can’t ever get it back.”
“That’s stupid. This technology stuff’s like magic.”
“Yeah, but that law happened years ago. No chance trying to change it now.” Now we’re at the entrance to the landfill, an intricate gate with swirls and designs etched into the surface. Dad opens the gate for me. The hinges make an eerie creaking noise that make me cringe.
I step through, but dad didn’t. He has to stay behind to work; he’s in charge of guarding the gate and letting people pass by to drop things off. Of course, he doesn’t support the law, but he does his job anyway.
I wave at him with the x-ray still in my hand and follow the faint dirt path back to the suburbs.
***
I hide the machine in my coat, but people still stare at me when I passe by. Lots of people walk on the sidewalk, and on the asphalt road which are an ashen gray, people ride bikes. A few sit in horse carriages.
When dad is here, he always complains about how there used to be much quicker travel in cars. But those were struck down when the law was passed in favor of helping the environment and getting people to be more active.
I arrive at my house and take out a set of keys from my pocket. Then I unlock the door and go inside.
Now in the privacy of my home, I take out the x-ray from under my coat and hold it by the handle. I walk in the hallway, taking in the bizarre scent of brews still boiling when I pass by the kitchen. I turn at the corner then head up the stairs, into the hallway where I proceed to go into another room.
In this room is a bed in the corner where Owen rests, and in the various desks and shelves along the walls are herbs and teas mom had made to help Owen feel better.
When I come in, Owen sits up in the white bed, his eyes still half-closed in drowsiness.
“Where’d your mom go?” he asks.
