ACT I
Streaks of lightning submerge in her iris; glistening, flickering with faint life.
The wind breaks through the desert, spilling sand in its wake as miles of dust rise to merge with the thunder clouds.
It has been 400 years since her upload. 400 years in the company of her totem – the singular relic tying her mind to her soul. 400 years of living as a simulation – a hologram that is partly attached to the reality of this world.
The calm breeze hides behind a corner, letting the storm invade the night - its callous fingers tracing lines over the dunes.
She rests along a rough patch of gravel, chipped off of ancient ruins. Her fair hair carelessly covers the glow in her eye; the tiger – her totem – lingers behind in lazy stance.
The winds drive forward like locusts, swarming, shrouding the skies in darkness.
The cool air melts in her presence. Tiny dew drops condense on the scrubs of vegetation right next to her.
Dampening the moonlight, the storm roars, tired and angry at the same time.
Aurora sits there, waiting. She radiates heat in thin frequency, disturbing the air around her.
The belly of the clouds light up - its groan sends a few lizards scattering behind a bush.
“I think its time to leave,” the tiger breathes, licking its paws.
Sandstorms had begun engulfing the world a 100 years ago. Climate change had taken its toll and now, humans had a price to pay.
Humankind, still in search for life outside ‘survival of the fittest’ found a way to live forever. Walking the earth like Ghosts and Nomads, they carry their totems, roaming, existing, living in a way in which they could’ve never lived before - existing in this world, without completely touching its resources.
Some call these neo-humans a curse, while some others, call it a privilege - an equation of life that gives one power beyond the metaphysics of a normal human being.
She extends her palm towards the sky. Feeling the static flowing through her fingers, she grabs her fist into a ball.
“Ex Nihilo!” she screams.
The world begins to freeze. The air around her becomes glass – vibrating and shuddering in excited frequency. Sparks fly through a fissure expanding in mid air, creating a sharp gash in the fabric of space. Streams of white light spill through fissure, into the darkness surrounding her.
Tiny pinholes of stars scatter inside the void, spiralling in unison and rearranging themselves into a cluster. They reconstruct the volume in front of her.
She pats her back as she gets up and walks into the portal. Old habits die hard.
ACT II
She hops into the other side of the world, like a kid jumping into a puddle. Crumbs of reality wither away like ash floating in the breeze.
Snowflakes rush through the arctic, welcoming her in a hurry. Punching through her hologram, it meanders in the midnight blue to settle upon the vast, white, snow-clad mountain side.
She sits down at her usual spot; wrapping her arms around her knees, leaning her head against the tiger.
Two parts of a whole, sitting together, their backs against each other.
“Why a tiger? Why not an otter, or maybe an elephant?” she had wondered occasionally.
“You do not get to choose,” the tiger had once told her. “Your totem is a relic to your past – something that is closely related to you.”
She stares at the distance, waiting.
“You are running out of time, Aurora,” the Tiger speaks. “The more you jump within space - time, the more you exhaust me. I hope you remember what happens to a nomad without their totem.”
The neo - humans called it the 'Curse of the Nomad'. An unguided spirit that wanders the planet, haunting, disturbing its peace.
Wars were fought and Nations were Qurantined. The clerics called it the end of the World. Spirits, uncontained, without life, caused chaos and sent the world into a brink of collapse.
“I’m not going to loose you.” She points at the horizon. “You see that?”
The arctic moon casts a pale shadow over the pine trees. Tiny cottages line the contour, with amber radiating from within its tinted glass windows. Smoke rises in hushed whispers, seamlessly joining the sky.
Aurora focuses on a point of light emerging from the distance. As if detaching from the moon, the point tumbles to the horizon to merge with the snow.
Gathering momentum, the point of light gushes forward. Forcing its way into a steady stream, it hurtles towards her.
“Are they -? .. They are totems!” the tiger squints.
The light grows brighter, thicker, illuminating everything in its wake.
The collective shapes of lions, elephants, panthers and wolves zip along in a straight line. Their brightness flare in the backdrop, casting a streak of neon white against the barren snow.
The earth shudders with a loud clap. The animals become one singular entity, breaking the sound barrier.
Upon narrowing closer, the light bends into a spiral, distorting the air around it.
“Brace yourself,” She smiles.
With reality warping around her, the heat of the light melts the snow along a linear trail, set on a path of collision.
The tiger’s fur catches the warmth fluttering in the cold wind.
The light accelerates and converges into an arrow that breaks form and slices around her. It splits around her hologram, as if she could repel it.
Bathed in white, she reaches her hand into the stream of light to pluck out a speck. Holding it like a tiny leaf between the tips of her fingers, she manages to snatch one more.
“This is the human life – force,” She says, the light catching the details of her face. “It is as pure and innocent as a new born - undisturbed, unperturbed by the chaos of this world.”
Her hologram flickers for a second as she pulls her arm and swings the tiny specks up as high as she can.
“And right now, I can feel them.” She looks at the tiger. “I can feel their emotions like how I feel you.”
The specks gradually swell, gaining momentum. It gravitates higher, faster, until a surge of explosion ripples across the night, washing the sky in dyes of green and teal. Flickering like a flame inside a dark cavern, the green lights prance along the alpine snow.
ACT III
She feels slight tremors moving beneath her feet, waking up the frost, settled atop the cabin overhangs.
Pine trees quiver at the distance, with snow falling off its branches.
“What does this mean?” asks the Tiger.
A ripple flows through the arctic with a faint sense of calm.
Tiny dots of flashlights flicker alive as a bunch of people emerge out of their cabins. Clad in wool, the tops of their heads line beside the pine forest to cast a silhouette against the moonlight.
The aurora borealis swirls and dances, welcoming them.
A mumble erupts. The groans of the people turn to excitement. Some point to the northern lights, screaming and dancing. The voices of children, peak in prayer as they join their hands to sing. Some laugh, happy to be alive.
A little girl stands mesmerized amongst the crowd. She lets the sky create a potion of green and blue with sprinkles of stardust swirl in her eyes. She holds a stuffed animal close to her chest – a tiger. The wind sweeps her fair hair and brushes it against her temples.
As she tries to move her hair away from her face, the little girl catches sight of Aurora smiling at her from the distance.
The others do not seem to notice her presence - her hologram, barely a mirage.
The girl nods back at Aurora and smiles, snuggling the
stuffed animal between her arms.
Fin.
This short was inspired from an Artwork by Fathima Shukkoor. Do check out her online store for amazing art prints!
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