Bucolic Animus [EN]

John felt his empty stomach aching. Everything was flashing and smoking, vanishing in front of him, a heavy, sweet scent in the air. Distant muffled sounds hammered his head. He felt his back being pushed by sturdy black walls. For some strange reason he couldn't feel the floor. Perhaps he was levitating. The next thing he saw was an asphalt surface. Deep silence. There was a black smiling cat standing in front of him, green lit from the back. He turned his head around, and he could feel the whole world lagging behind. The cat disappeared. There was a humming sound in the air, yellow light constantly flickering, phantasmagoric sounds snapping in the distance. Looking up, the next thing in the street was a silhouette of a couple walking under a street light and disappearing in another dark field.

Suddenly he was standing, and at some point he began to walk. His shoulders and forearms were numb, and he couldn't feel most of his legs. However he could feel something humming and vibrating in his pocket. While slowly walking across the empty space, he dragged his left hand to reach inside his right pocket. He saw red and white lights flashing, and dark blurs turned to black bold words screaming LOW BATTERY in his hands. John tripped and dropped his phone. The black cell immediately broke into three pieces, the hungry battery, its blanket and bed, they were now all lying on the cold concrete of the sidewalk. He picked up the parts and assembled them together. As John pressed the ON button he saw what he had tripped on. He was horrified to see a bare foot immersed in a confusion of hair and a filthy blanket. He immediately turned away and started to walk quickly down the street.

There was a very long way in front of him. He couldn't read any of the signs or tell anything about where he was. Every street corner he passed had something strangely familiar, but never familiar enough for him to tell where he was. John felt his stomach aching again. He kept walking down the main street, turning his head from left to right over the intersecting streets, trying to get the slightest idea of where he could be. He kept walking and recognizing less and less of the area. A strange feeling. Every dim and flickering light, graffiti chaos on the walls, strange signs and banners in the streets he passed by, they all made him feel lost and helpless. There was no one around.

That feeling remained until he saw a bright white wall at the end of a steep slope descending to his right. A strange mix of hope and fear invaded his soul. He hesitated before he started walking slowly down the street. A smell of fish and an ochre scent of rotting vegetables was in the air. The sidewalk was full of trash and piles of smelly fruits and vegetables, some pieces of wood, and to his horror, a naked hand on the floor next to a dirty metal trash can. He heard sounds coming from some black plastic bags. John ran all the way down the street, avoiding looking around, until he reached the white wall. A dead end, he thought. He looked up and saw barbed wire in spirals protecting the top of the wall. Looking from side to side, he realized there was a very narrow path that followed the wall for miles back and a half mile ahead. John looked back to the slope and saw strange silhouettes standing on both sides of the street. He turned around again, and kept walking in the same direction he had been going on the main street.

He sped up his pace as he once again had a strange feeling about those streets. A scent of things rotting in the air. He felt his mobile vibrating in his pocket again, but he wouldn't dare to pick it up now. The weak street lights came in and out of his view, revealing strange marks on the ground. All of a sudden he heard the sound of a train approaching. His heart started to beat faster. John started running next to the white wall, sometimes looking to his left, observing the main street where he came from. The train sound was louder, it was getting closer. John finally saw the end of the white wall. He felt his heart pounding in his chest. A wired fence followed up the wall, and John immediately spotted a hole. He ran faster and crawled through the fence, scratching his hands and arms on cut wire. He felt a sharp end piercing his back, cutting deep into his skin. He grunted in pain while rushing through fence. He patted his wound and felt the warm blood spreading on his shirt. He looked back and saw the train in the distance behind him. Then he looked to his front and saw what looked like a platform, about another half mile away. John started to run again, looking back often, seeing the train approaching. He was almost halfway to the platform when he saw the train passing. However, instead of slowing down to stop, the train seemed to speed up. John thought of jumping in or reaching it through the back car, but he changed his mind when he heard the loud whistle the train cried out to the silent night, leaving John stupefied. He followed the train with his eyes, passing straight through the platform and fading away in the horizon.

He began walking toward the platform again. As he approached it, he saw a single person sitting on a bench. It was an old man wearing a dark green sweater and grey linen pants, quietly staring at the ceiling. John found a metal ladder at the end of the platform. It was filthy, like it had been sitting there for a very long time, untouched. The old man saw John but seemed indifferent to his presence and got back to his business of watching the platform's old steel beams and their still behavior. John said:

– Excuse me, do you know where we are?

The old man kept quiet, he seemed very concentrated in his activity. John looked around trying to find any maps or signs, but with no success. The platform was very small, and had a stairs that lead to a higher level where a bridge connected it to the the street on the other side. It was like an island on a sea of darkness. The station was dirty and seemed like it had been abandoned for years. John looked back the way he had come from, it was pitch black. All he could see were lights in the far distance, probably the edgy streets that he had come from. He looked around trying to find any clues of where he was, but saw no panels or maps, no signs, nothing that could possibly help. He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket again, this time he immediately picked it up. He saw the same message as before, the bold letters LOW BATTERY flashing on the screen. He saw the time in the upper corner, it was 04:24. He thought about calling his mother. He thought about it again, and decided not to. He thought about calling one of his girlfriends, one of the friends who went out with him that night. Something inside him told him not to do that either. Then Marcus, he thought, his best friend who had gone clubbing with them that night. In spite of the time, John called. The phone rang. The wind lifted the dust up in the air. John had some debris going into his eyes. He covered his face with his shirt sleeve and tried to clear them. Marcus answered the phone with a quiet mumble:

– 'llo?

John said:

– Hey Marcus, I got lost, I have no idea where I'm at, are you anywhere around?

Marcus said:

– Hey, I'm home, I'mma bed ryh' now. Wha'

The next thing John heard was his phone buzzing in his hand. He looked at the screen announcing BATTERY EXHAUSTED. John felt his stomach crumbling once more. He went back to the old man, who was all this time completely still. John thought of him as a dead tilapia hanging on a hook at the fish market, but with its mouth closed. John said:

– Excuse me sir, could you please tell me where are we?

The old man stared at him with the same fixed eyes he had staring at the ceiling. John looked at him for a few seconds before feeling extremely uncomfortable with the silence between them. But finally he saw behind the old man that now the sky had a deep blue tone added to the penumbra it was previously. A warm feeling took over John's aura as soon as he heard the sound of another train approaching. It was a familiar one, unlike the previous train that had looked like a ghost carriage. This one was common, squared in the front with a backlit sign that he couldn't read from that distance, but seemed like one of those you could use to connect with the metro system. John observed the train's operator with a smile on his face, but the operator didn't even deviate his look. He had a seriously bored expression. The train stopped, and only the front doors opened. John entered the train, leaving the dead tilapia behind.

The train was entirely empty except for a lonely soul sitting at the back of the car. An old lady, she was immersed in her book. John found a seat in the front of the car, opposite the lady. She raised her head slightly from her book, saw John and smiled at him before returning to her reading. John felt a sharp pain in his back when he sat down. He groaned discretely and tried to reach his wound, which he had forgotten about. The blood on the shirt had dried out, and the torn bit of the shirt hardened with the dried blood on it. The train closed its doors and began moving forward. John moved to sit by the window and watched the sky take on a dark blue tone, fading into the black sky behind him. He looked around inside the train for an itinerary or anything of its sort, trying to find out where he was. John found some old posters hanging from panels. There was one at least five-year-old army campaign flier and an incredibly old mobile advertisement. It had a good looking woman holding a device that looked almost funny for it's size in relation to the size of her head. However, no maps or itineraries around. John felt annoyed and frustrated that he couldn't find out anything about where he was or where he was going. He decided to ask the old lady. He retuned to her and asked:</span>

– Excuse me Ma'am. The old lady smiled at him:

– Yes?

– Hi, do you know where this train is going?

– Yes, it's on its way to ... right now.

– ...?! Oh boy. Do you know how far off that is from ...?

– Oh, I'm not sure, probably an hour or so.

– Are there any stops in between?

– No, I don't think so.

– Urgh, I'm doomed.

– It's okay, you can always take the same train back, it comes every half hour.

– Oh, really? Even this time of the day?

– I'm not sure about that, but I'd say so, yes.

All of a sudden the lady seemed to have entered some sort of trance, looking out the window. The sky was lighter blue now, somewhat saturnine. John was also contemplating the sky. The lady's voice brought him back:

– Sorry, do you mind if I go back to my reading?

– Oh, not at all, I'm sorry. Thank you for the information.

He went back to his seat and looked out the window. The city was gone. All he could see were crop fields, trees, and a few houses spaced across the horizon. John was surprised by the sudden change of cityscape to the countryside. The sky was overcast and cloudy, it looked like it was about to rain. John felt pain in his stomach once again. He tried to remember the last thing he had that night, but couldn't think of anything other than the couple of drinks on the dance floor. Absinthe was now legal. He realized he was hungry.

Suddenly the train slowed down and stopped. John looked out the window, there was nothing around but a little platform. It was small and uncovered, nothing like a train station. There was no street connecting it to something else, just crop fields all around. He had a strange feeling about the unexpected stop. The lady on the back of the car said:

– I guess there was a stop in between. She smiled at him.

The doors opened again and John got off the train. The doors closed immediately after he stepped out. The platform seemed even smaller than the previous one. All it had was a concrete bench and a public phone in a small plastic cabin. There was an infinite crop field of something that looked like sugar cane on one side, bright green, and a golden infinite crop of what looked like wheat on the other. He watched the train moving along its trail, disappearing into the horizon. John felt some sort of emptiness, as if he had nothing inside. He certainly didn't have anything outside either. The wind was blowing the wheat crops softly in the far distance. He could see mountains in the far horizon, but nothing more.

He still didn't have any idea where he was, and he was hungry still. The old lady in the train as well as his tilapia friend were still in his head. He tried to make any sense of what had happened that night. He only remember having a couple of drinks before realizing his friends were gone. He had no idea how he ended up in the street, he was meant to get a ride home with Marcus. He couldn't remember anything going wrong, not even at point when he separated from his friends. He kept trying to imagine what could have happened that night... Perhaps someone put something on his drink or he fainted for some reason. The image of the smiling black cat came back to his mind. John felt extremely confused.

It took him a few deep breaths to calm down. John closed his eyes and sat on the lonely concrete bench. He realized how tired he was after all the running around. John took another deep breath and opened his eyes. He contemplated the beautiful golden fields of wheat in contrast with the faded purple sky. A warm wind came to caressed his hair and all the plants around him. He heard thunder muffled by heavy clouds above him. Then it rained. John closed his eyes again. He felt the cold drops on his face and shoulders. He felt the wound on his back again, the dried blood on his shirt merging with his skin as it got wet from the rain.

John finally heard the sound of a train approaching. He saw its lights shining in the mist rising from the soil. John smiled weakly at the train operator as he got closer to the platform and gently stopped. The driver gazed at him and moved a couple of muscles on his left cheek in response to John's smile. The doors opened and John walked in. To his surprise, the train was relatively crowded with people. He looked around, smiling at every person he saw. Most people deviated their looks from the spooky wet person who had just crept in. John didn't pay attention to any of that. He realized he forgot to check on the destination of the train on the front sign, but for some reason that didn't bother him. After a whole night having no idea where he was, it wouldn't make any difference to know now. He was standing in the middle of the car, holding the bars coming out of the ceiling, looking at the landscape outside. He saw the reverse change of fields turning into cities all of a sudden again. He saw scribbles on dirty walls, abandoned houses and decaying construction, all things that seemed incredibly new to him, nothing that belonged to the city he used to know.

The train passed but didn't stop at the platform John on earlier. There was no one there either, his fish friend was gone. The train passed quickly by the fence with the hole cut into it, and the wall he ran by in the dawn. Now they all seemed more familiar to him. The walls, the sky and the streets were all grey and filthy, made him feel at home again. The train went inside tunnels as it approached downtown. John got off the train to make the connection with the metro. People around him were making discontent faces. John looked like an old street dog, wet and smelly, wounded. He walked to the main lobby at the station and stood still. He watched all the people walking around and bumping into him as they rushed across the station. The light came in from the high glassy ceiling, clouds were clearing out from the sky. John decided not to take the metro. Instead, he walked out and sat on a concrete bench by a trash bin. He watched the vast white space in front of him. A man walking his dog, a couple riding bikes, an old lady in a flowered dress carrying shopping bags. At last, though exhausted, John had a comforting feeling, a warmth inside.