The Last Crosser
September 5, 2015 § 1 Comment
There is a gate at the end of our world. On the other end of that gate lies, well, no one really knows. According to the Prophetics, it is a land of unimaginable wonders beyond the comprehension of simple men. I imagine a kaleidoscope of colors, far from the endless gray that characterizes our atmosphere. As every school child knows, our realm was once a part of this godly land. Every citizen was allowed to pass through the gate on the eve of his or her 200th birthday. On that night, at precisely 2100 hours, each of us was free to journey into the unknown and explore the promised splendor of this other, pristine world. However, once one passed through to the other side, they could never return. My generation was the last to be offered such an opportunity.
In my 150th year, I stood and watched as my brother proudly strode towards the passage platform. Great steel claws descended upon him, and I listened to thousands of tiny gears rearranging as the claws slowly pulled back the imposing metal doors. Despite the chorus of cheers and applause emanating from the small crowd assembled to bid him farewell, I only felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. You see, in my world, there were two types of people. Those that yearned for their chance to go through the gate, the crossers, and those that dreaded it, the lubbers. I belonged to the latter camp. From the first moment I learned of the realm beyond the gate, I knew I did not belong there. So on the day of my brother’s choosing, I felt no happiness. My brother and I were extremely close, but I had never shared his desire to cross over. After his day of passage, I knew that I would never see him again.
In the final moments of his passage, something unheard of occurred. Millions of hopeful crossers had been transported through without incident, but on this day, as my brother stepped across the threshold, a great explosion shook the platform. The great claws splintered, disintegrating into thousands of fragmented metal chunks. I watched helplessly as a cloud of metal scraps spiraled towards me. I can still recall the stunned silence, overbearing in the moments following what we all know as the great collapse. That was back in the year 6907. To this day, no one can explain the events of that day. The brightest minds from across the land were assembled, but no one has been able to repair the claws, and the gateway remains closed to this day. My brother was the last to enter through those gates, the final crosser.