Underneath

Underneath

The little girl is falling through the cracks of the city. The city is clean and pristine and shining and glittering above her. But the girl cannot see any of that. All she can see is the darkness that envelops her as she falls, falls, falls.

She hits the rough, filthy pavement of the downworld and it knocks the breath from her lungs. She lies there, lies there, trying to catch her breath, trying to get up from all the soreness and the pain, trying to collect her scattered thoughts.

"You don't look like you're from here," a voice calls to her. Soon, a body is hovering over her, dressed in rags that are dirty and falling apart. The cheeks are sunken in and the eyes are haunted. Haunted, but unmistakably kind. Unbearably kind.

The girl cannot speak, can only gawk.

"Here, let's get you up." The person holding the voice stoops down and pushes her into a sitting position with one of his arms. She looks down at herself in muteness, down at her colourful, frilly, softly-shining clothes, and down at her clean legs and new shoes.

"Do you want to come back to my place? We can talk there." The man's words are soft. And there is something weary in his voice. Something incredibly weary. The girl nods, and lets his filthy hand hold her clean one as he leads her through the streets.

The downworld is dark, it's eerily dark. But not only that, it's gray, with the sun of white streetlights shedding just enough light to keep everything from being truly black. The streets are filthy, with layers of dust and grime coating them. There are rows and rows of looming brick buildings scattered all about, crumbling and dilapidated, the roofs caved in and the windows broken.

She's never been in the downworld before. She's never been anywhere remotely like this. The city has always been beautiful, with its glittering buildings stretching towards the sky and its wide, clean streets and its quaint, colourful houses and its green lawns and shining cars.

She is scared, and grips the man tight.

"Don't be scared, little one," he coos to her, as if he can read her thoughts, "it's not as bad as it looks here. Not as scary as you think it is."

The girl still says nothing, but her grip on his hand loosens. Along the sides of the streets, there are people sleeping. Right there, on the street, with piles of cardboard under their heads and ratty blankets around their bodies. The girl thinks that these streets are too cold to sleep in. But she says nothing.

Every once in a while a streetlight is broken and they pass through a darker patch than the darkness around them. The girl always shifts closer to the man during those times. He does not seem to mind it, letting her cling to him as they walk.

Soon they get to a dilapidated building, squat and stout against the darkness around it. The man opens the door with a hard shove, the door not wanting to open, and he takes her up, up, up over the flights of metal stairs. The inside of the building smells queer. Stuffy and sour. And there is the muffled drone of chatter coming from the walls around them.

"Watch your step," he softly warns her. She looks down to see two steps missing, forming a large hole in the staircase that one could easily fall through. She stretches her step over the gap and pushes herself up to the next step. She is impressed with herself for being able to do that.

Soon they reach a landing, and the man takes her through darkened hallways where almost nothing is visible. They reach a rotting door with the paint peeled off of it and he knocks.

"Who is it?" A woman's voice asks, with a hint of fear in the warmth of her words.

"It's me, Jack," the man replies. "I've got this little girl with me. I don't know where she came from but it seems she has nowhere to go,"

The door opens up to reveal a small room, smaller than anything that the girl has seen before, crowded with only people sitting on the floor. There is a smoky fire flickering dimly in a small fireplace. And there is the scent of dust in the air, despite the fact that the room is clean.

"Who might you be?" A young woman sing-songs in her direction.

"My name is Maybell," she replies.

"Oh, Maybell, what a wonderful name," an older woman coos. "I love the month of May. Though I've only heard stories about it."

"I'm Nora," the young woman tells the girl, "and this is my stepmother, Auburnee. And this is my stepmom's friend, Aunt June. And I think you've already met dad."

"Not formally, unfortunately," the man tells her. "I'm Jack," he says, turning to the girl.

"It's amazing to meet all of you," the girl says in a calm tone, though she isn't feeling calm at all right now.

"Come, sit down by the fire, where it's nice and warm," Aunt June says to her. She obliges.

"Where are you from?" Auburnee asks, looking at her strange clothes.

"I'm from the city," she responds, soaking up the warmth of the fire.

"Well how did you ever end up here?" Nora asks, voice tinged with confusion and concern.

"I don't know. I kind of just fell."

"Oh that sounds like such a long fall." Auburnee's voice flows with soft sympathy.

"I assume you're hoping to get back up there," Jack says with a hint of curiosity.

"Of course I am. I miss my family."

"That's understandable," Aunt June coos, "anyone would miss their family. Especially someone so young. How old are you anyways? Twelve?"

"I'm fourteen," she replies, slightly embarrassed.

"Well that's still very young," Nora asserts, "you should get back home where you belong.

"Thank you," Maybell responds. "But how can I get out of here?"

"Well, there is one way," Auburnee replies. "You could go up the trash tunnels, where all the trash from the city falls on its way to the dump. It's horrible there, but it's a way up."

"I ... I guess I could do that."

"Do you want to go up now? Or do you want to wait until the morning?" Nora asks.

"I think I'll wait. It's getting pretty late."

"It is. We should get you some food and get you to bed," Jack agrees.

They bring out a large bowl from atop the fireplace mantle and fill it with a box of something. They pour water over it and leave it over the fire to cook. Whatever it is, it doesn't look very appetizing.

"So tell me a bit about yourselves," Maybell asks her companions.

"Oh I've been travelling all over the downworld," Nora replies. "Jobs are hard to come by, especially ones that pay enough to get by. I wouldn't say all the jobs I had did that but I take what I can get. It's sad, having to leave all your friends and your family and the place you grew up in, the community that you're close to. But everywhere you go, the people are so great. They welcome you and take care of you and soon you have a new community, filled with new friends to call your own. Of course that doesn't stop the grief. But it helps. It really helps.

"I like looking at how each different part of the downworld is a little bit different, with different people occupying it who all put their own spin on the cultures that we all share. It makes me feel like, you know, all the downworld peoples are different, but we're also all the same. We're all parts of the same whole. And however the city tries to keep us down - no offence, and pun intended - we will always have each other.

"I like the sense of adventure I get from life in general. I'm always trying to find the beauty in things, to find the beauty even in all the ugliness around us. And I think it's possible. It's possible to see the world as a beautiful place, as a magical place, even amidst all the suffering and the horror in it."

"Wow, that's really cool," Maybell replies.

"Always leave it to Nora to be a poet," Aunt June jokes mirthfully.

"So how about you, Aunt June?" The girl asks, "what are your thoughts on life?"

"Life is hard. Life is weary. Life is always going to be hard and weary. But we can make it as soft as we can. We can make it as kind as we can. And we do that by being kind to each other. Because if we don't stick up for each other then no-one will stick up for us. If we don't help each other then no-one will help us. So we have to stay together, we have to stay united, and we have to make life as livable as we can for all of each other. For the sake of ourselves as well as for the sake of everyone else."

"That's very wise," the girl replies.

"Well, I don't know about that. But it's what I believe. I try as best as I can to be a good neighbour, to be a good friend, to be a good mother and aunt and everything else that I am. I think it's very important to be responsible, and it's very important to be aware of the way that everything you do, everything you say, everything you don't do, everything you don't say, I think it's very important to be aware of the effects that all that stuff will have on other people. After all, all people are deserving of kindness."

"That's so true," the girl replies.

"I've been living in my room for how long is it? Five years. That's a long time. A long time to be anywhere in the downworld. I try to look after everyone in the whole building, I try to look after everyone in the buildings surrounding us. I try to look after the whole block. It's worth it, seeing the way all the little kids look up to me, hearing them call me Aunt June."

"That does sound very beautiful," the girl states, awed.

"Community is very important," Auburnee agrees, "but what's the most important is building a good relationship with the gods. The gods teach you everything important after all. They teach you how to treat other people, how to treat yourself. So one must have faith in them. And they must have hope that they can affect our lives, affect our communities, make our worlds better."

"What gods do you believe in?" The girl asks.

"There is the great god, Ameela, the creator of all that is alive and all that is good and all that is true. There is the the spirit of the eagle, the spirit of the sparrow, the spirit of the deer and the spirit of the bear. And so many other spirits. Of course, we are physically distanced from the spirits, just as we are physically distanced from the sun and the moon and the air of the outside world. The world that's up there. But I believe, no, I know that the spirits are still with us. It might be harder for some to see them, but they're still with us. And they are still protecting us.

"I take very great care to remember all the stories, stories that my parents and aunts and uncles passed onto me when I was younger. Stories from back before there was a city, back before there was a downworld. And I tell all the stories to all the children that are around, and all the adults, anyone willing to listen really. The stories give them inspiration, give them hope. And it's so beautiful being able to share hope with someone. We must make sure the stories never die."

"That sounds very important," the girl agrees. "What about you, Jack? What's the most important to you?"

"Oh a lot of things are important to me," he replies. "My family. My community. All the people I've met over the course of my life. My goal in life is to make people realize that the stories are not just a thing of the past. I'm trying to make them realize that what we do now, what we do with our lives, they help us form new stories that are also powerful, just as the old stories were. I'm trying to make my life a story. I'm trying to make all of our lives stories."

"Wow, that's beautiful."

"Thank you. I think that, no offence, I think that the city needs to be changed. That their perspectives need to be changed. I think that we need to make the city people see. We need to make them see that they cannot keep doing what they are doing, that it's all not right. I think we can change things, somehow, if we all try."

"And how are you making your life a story?"

"Oh, you know the works. I try to be a good husband, a good father, a good friend, a good neighbour, a good stranger. I try to give my kindness to all who need it. And I try to keep learning. Everywhere I go, everything I do, I try to keep learning. And I try to keep teaching people as well. I try to teach them to look out for each other, to stand up tall, to have confidence in themselves and in each other and in the future and in the gods."

"That sounds really important."

"Everyone's life is really important. Everyone's mission is really important. We were all sent here on this earth to fulfill a destiny and by following our hearts we can follow that destiny."

"The food is ready now," Nora remarks.

Auburnee takes the bowl off of the fireplace and sets it on the brick ground.

"Let's all dig in," Aunt June exclaims.

"We have to thank the gods first," Auburnee reminds her.

"Absolutely," she agrees.

Everyone lifts their head up towards a sky that they are miles and miles away from, and Maybell follows their lead, doing the same.

"Dear gods," Nora begins reverently, "thank you or your gift of food. Please bless all the people in the world with an abundance of good, nutritious food and please bless all the people in the world with an abundance of good, humble love. Thank you for bringing us all together and please bless our paths so that we may do the right thing in our lives and in our futures. All hail."

"All hail," every person echoes, Maybell joining in.

They then begin taking portions of the gruel out of the bowl with their hands and scooping it into their mouths. Maybell is taken aback, unsure of how to eat in such a strange way.

"What are you waiting for?" Auburnee asks her, "dig in."

And so she does. The gruel is tasteless and there isn't enough of it but she eats her portion anyways and, strangely enough, it's the best meal that she has ever had in her life. She can't explain it. Something about it just feels ... so beautiful. Sitting there, surrounded by kind strangers, all eating from the same bowl in the same cold, crowded room. It's beautiful.

Maybell sleeps between Aunt June and Auburnee on the rough brick floor of the room. They softly bid each other goodnight and tell each other that they hope the others have sweet dreams. The blanket on top of them is ratty. But the bodies around her are soft and she can snuggle into them as they all huddle for warmth on that floor.

———

The next morning there is breakfast, eaten sitting in a circle around the bowl. There is quiet conversation, but it isn't as animated as the night before. Everyone is in a rush. They have to get to work, except for Nora.

"I can take you closer to the garbage chute," Nora tells Maybell. "I can't take you there all the way. It's a few days journey away. But I can get you closer. Then you can spend the night at someone else's place."

"Will I ever see you guys again?" Maybell asks.

"I doubt it," Nora replies. "But we'll always remember you. And you'll always remember us."

"And who knows," Aunt June adds, "maybe we will see each other again. In the next life."

"Yes, it's good to always have hope," Jack agrees. "Hope can get you through the darkest of situations."

"No matter what, we love you," Auburnee tells the little girl.

"Aww, thanks so much. So ... anyways, what are your jobs?"

"I work in an electric power plant," Auburnee replies. "It's terrible, so hot and heavy and suffocating. I have to keep the fires going."

"That does sound very hard," Maybell realizes.

"It is," Auburnee agrees. "It's absolutely mind-numbing."

"I used to work there myself," Jack adds. "But now I work in a factory. It's so achingly repetitive. You have to do the same thing over and over and over and over again. But it's okay. You do what you gotta do for your people."

"I'm so sorry," Maybell states with a haunted voice. "You deserve better. You all deserve better."

"My job's not so bad,"Aunt June starts, "It's still bad, but it's not as bad as it could be. I deliver food to all the households, and to the people living in the streets."

"That sounds very important," Maybell remarks solemnly.

"Oh, it is. And it's so rewarding. But it just breaks my heart that there isn't enough food to go around."

"It's not fair," Nora cries out. "There isn't enough food to go around. There isn't enough water. There isn't enough firewood. There isn't enough housing. There isn't enough of anything to go around."

"Wow. That's horrible." Maybell's words are thoughtful.

"But anyways," Auburnee starts, "I'm sure there's enough in the city. I'm sure there's more than enough."

"Oh there is," Maybell answers. "But it's not fair. Not fair at all."

"You're very right," Jack tells her, "it isn't."

"But we have each other," June states, "that takes the edge off the harshest of the harshness. It makes everything bearable."

"Bearable, yeah right," Nora comments.

"I heard that there are going to be some fruits coming soon," Auburnee pipes up."

"Ooh fruits. I love fruits." Jack smiles.

"Who doesn't?" Nora remarks.

Maybell thinks about how she much prefers chocolate and ice cream and other sweet things over fruits, but she decides to keep that little tidbit of an opinion to herself. She doesn't think it would be respectful to say.

After breakfast everyone hugs each other and they hug Maybell.

"We'll remember you," Auburnee whispers to her solemnly. "We'll remember you always. And we'll love you."

"Yes," Jack echoes, "we won't forget you. You'll always be in our hearts."

"Don't worry little one," Aunt June speaks, "we'll get you back home."

"I'm going to miss you guys so much," Maybell tells them through tears.

"Oh we'll miss you too," Aunt June tells her.

Eventually it is time to go to work and everyone sets off.

"Come on." Nora takes her hand and leads her through the dark streets.

She walks quickly, and Maybell struggles to keep up. But she understands why this is. They need to cover as much ground as they can in this short day, so that Maybell can be closer to getting home.

"Do you not have a job?" Maybell asks Nora.

"I don't have one right now. But I'm looking."

"Why are you looking?"

"Because everyone has to work."

"Why does everyone have to work?"

"Because it's the only way to get by. It's the only way to get food and water and other things that we need. Not having a job means death."

"That's horrible."

"It really is."

"What kind of a job are you hoping to get?" Her voice is lightly hopeful.

"I'll have to pick the first job that accepts me. I need money fast."

"Oh that's sad. Hopefully it's a good job."

"I don't think good jobs exist in the downworld."

"The people who sleep on the streets, do they have jobs?"

"They do, most of them."

"Then how come they have to sleep on the streets?"

"Because there aren't enough rooms to hold everyone, young one. And some people get the short end of the stick. And they can't find anywhere to live. We take turns though, letting people from the streets live and sleep in our rooms while we sleep outside."

"Even for the people without jobs?"

"Of course even for them. Everyone deserves to have a roof over their head and protection from the elements and somewhere to be and to rest their bodies. It doesn't matter whether they have a job or not. And anyways, it's not anyone's fault that they can't get a job. No-one wants to have no money."

"That's very wise."

"It's the type of wisdom all the downworlders have."

"You guys are really nice people."

"We have to be. If we don't stick up for each other no-one will stick up for us."

"Isn't it hard though, sticking up for each other?"

"It is hard. But the rewards are more than worth it."

"What would you wish for, if you could have one wish?"

"I'd wish for my people to go back to the surface. I'd wish for my people to go back to the world we left behind, which was wild and connected and good."

"How do you know about the world before?"

"I've heard the stories, and the stories do not lie."

"How do you know they don't lie?"

"Because I know it in my heart. We all do."

Each of the two young women take long pauses before speaking, gathering their thoughts and thinking about their next words very carefully. They continue talking as they walk through the greatness and the grit and the grime of the world. Maybell thinks about how ugly it all is, but she also thinks about how even amidst all this ugliness, there is a strange beauty that cannot be put into words, a strange beauty that is completely intangible.

"This is as far as I can take you," Nora speaks after a while. "Let's get you to another household."

"Thank you so much, Nora."

"You're welcome, Maybell, good luck on your journey."

Nora knocks on random doors in a worn-down apartment building. There, in the darkness, she explains their situation to the people inside. People are surprised, to see a young girl in pretty clothes and nice shoes. But they wish her luck on her journey to get home nonetheless.

The first three doors open to groups of people who are already at full capacity, who do not have room for another person, no matter how small. But the fourth room lets her in.

Here, Nora and Maybell exchange tearful hugs, and bid each other farewell.

"Don't forget us," Nora beseeches.

"I won't," Maybell promises.

"So what's your name?" A man in a worn brown shirt asks.

"Maybell," she replies."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Desmond. And this is Ali, Arrow, Hope, and August."

They sit down in the tiny room and talk about their lives.

———

So Maybell goes from house to house to house to house. And each day she meets new people, people she wishes she could spend more time with, people she knows she cannot spend more time with, people who teach her more than she ever thought it was possible to learn. People who transform her into something haunted, something haunting, something beautiful and unholy and otherworldly and real. More real than she ever thought herself capable of being.

She almost wishes she could stay. She wishes she could stay in this cold world of ugliness and brokenness and strange streetlights and even stranger people. She feels more at home here than she has ever been anywhere in her life. But it's a strange sort of at-homensss, both perfectly soothing and deeply painful all at once.

She stays in the downworld for two weeks, meeting more people than she has ever met before in her lifetime, forming more connections than she knew herself capable of forming. Creating more space in her increasingly red, increasingly bleeding heart.

But eventually she comes upon the trash chute, and the mountains of garbage that are piled before it.

"I can't come with you to the chute," her companion Cloud says, "because downworlders are not allowed up into the city. But I can come up with you to the top of the trash mountain."

Maybell thanks them but says that it's okay, she can climb the mountain herself.

"Are you sure?" Cloud asks.

"I am," Maybell responds, "don't worry about me."

"I guess this is goodbye then."

"I guess it is. Thank you for everything. I hope that fortune favours you. You deserve happinesses."

"Hey, I hope fortune favours you too. Good luck in your future endeavours."

"You too."

The two of people share a long, sweet, warm and desperate hug, before parting on their separate ways.

Maybell climbs over the reeking piles of plastic and paper and rotting food and tossed out ends of vegetables. She climbs over apple cores and orange peels and Saran Wrap and torn-up cardboard. It's horrifically disgusting, but she forces herself onwards. It's the only way to get home after all.

Though she's not even sure that she wants to go home.

Finally, after what seems like a lifetime, she reaches the top of the trash pile. She pauses for a moment to catch her breath, looking up at the long, steep, cavernous tube that slants its way down from the ceiling of the downworld.

She turns back one more time, taking in the piles of trash and taking in all the darkened streets and buildings behind it. She pauses for a long time, just simply looking out at it all. She thinks of all the people, living their lives and loving their loved ones there down in the streets and buildings of the downworld. She thinks of all the people who she met, who she's leaving behind, and all the people who she didn't meet who she's leaving behind as well. Sadness settles in her heart.

Finally, she turns back around and hoists herself up with her arms into the empty trash chute. It's empty right now, it's smooth and slippery and hard to hold onto. So she grabs the walls with her hands. She uses her hands and feet to climb her way up through the darkness, with only touch to guide her.

As she climbs up further and further away from where she came from, she thinks. She thinks about all the people she has met and everything she has learned. She thinks that there must be a way to help the downworld, that there must be a way to decrease the sorrow the people there are put through. She vows to do something, to somehow decrease the inequality between the city and the downworld, to somehow help people get to the surface.

She hears a rushing sound almost like rain falling, and gets hit with a deluge of garbage up to her knees. She presses her hands tighter against the sides of the tube, and holds herself there with all of her strength as the garbage hits her and slides down around her. She has a chance now, she supposes, to go tumbling back. But she holds herself there nonetheless.

Afterwards she starts climbing again, amid the strange, rancid smell and the darkness. She is terrified that there may be something coming after her, some monster hidden in the shadows, some creature set out to harm her. But she knows that she has to go on, past the fear. She knows that she's alone, climbing up here. And so she continues.

Eventually she comes to the opening of the tunnel, closed in by a large iron plate. She walks up to the small bit of flatness and takes another moment to catch her breath. She then pushes the large lid with all her might, until it creaks open.

Harsh, bright daylight floods in and assaults her eyes. She squeezes herself through the crack she made and emerges, all alone, out into the bright, shining world of the city. She stands there in agony for the few minutes it takes for her eyes to adjust. And then she looks around, at the world she has been born into.

Everything is so eerily familiar yet so achingly foreign. This is where she spent her whole life but absolutely everything seems foreign, seems strange, seems unrecognizable. It's as if she's stepped into an alien world.

The beauty of her surroundings is sharp, harsh, apathetic. It cuts into her and leaves her bleeding. She feels as though the pretty buildings and trees and bushes and flowers she used to love so much now hate her. She doesn't feel at home at all. She feels lost, and isolated, and unwanted.

She walks in the direction that she knows the nearest police station is, hoping that they can return her to her parents.

———

Her parents cry when they see her. They hug her hard, so hard that she feels as though she cannot breathe. Her older sister does the same.

"We were worried about you!" Her mother exclaims in a voice that is too bright and too joyful and too strong.

"I was alright," she replies.

"Alright? In the downworld? It's a wonder that you didn't die." Her father's voice feels hard like gravel.

"Come on, let's get you home." Her sister pulls at her arm.

Inside her house everything feels strange and foreign. It feels too big, too full, too cluttered.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" Her sister asks.

She shakes her head.

"What about going to the amusement park?" Her mother suggests.

She shakes her head again.

They sit at the large, polished table to have a dinner filled with meat and vegetables.

"The downworlders deserve to come to the surface to live with us," Maybell states at dinner, her solemn voice ringing clear.

"The downworlders? What a preposterous idea!" Her father scoffs at her words.

"Why not? They're people just like the rest of us."

"Everyone knows that the downworlders are lazy and violent and dangerous," her mother exclaims haughtily.

"They're not, Mama. They're just people. And they're suffering."

"Do not say such preposterous things," her father tells her. "And do not assume you know more than us. We're older. We have more experience."

"But Papa, they helped me. Without their help I would never have been able to go back home."

"They probably only helped you because they thought there was something in it for them," her sister states surely.

Maybell eats the rest of the meal in silence, as her family chatters on happily, chatters on obliviously, around her.

That night, after everyone's gone to sleep, she steps out into the darkness of the city streets and she starts walking. She walks away.

———

If you like this piece check out my Mastodon my account is FSairuv@mas.to and I post about human rights, social justice, and the environment.