The Puddle
The chain-linked fence finally gave way to the weight of the crowd. The worshippers at the front fell fowards, trampled by the force of those behind them. The bodies piled up further as those that made it to the top were pulled back down by the grasps of those behind them. On and on this went. The unrelenting and endless crowd desparate to see it with their own eyes.
Alma stood far back from the crowd, breathless from the journey, atop a half-destroyed house on the edge of the crater, looking down on the chaos. Watching and waiting.
Those who had managed to make it over the pile of bodies ran, limped, or crawled their way onwards towards the stairs. Alma looked on through binoculars. The crowd was just a few hundred meters from it now. The scale was hard to comprehend. She traced the stairs as they ascended higher and higher, for what seemed like forever. Finally she saw it. At the top of the staircase, perfectly centered and perfectly circular, a pool of water glistened in the evening sun. The Puddle. Bright and perfect.
The crowd was almost at the base of the stairs. Alma watched the man at the front of the crowd, running as fast as anyone she'd ever seen. He ran half-naked, his robes torn at the waist, the threads dancing in the dust behind him. Blood ran down his leg, gushing from a deep cut in his side. He ran as if he didn't notice, his gaze fixed on the staircase. He was meters from it now. Alma knew what was going to happen next.
As he was about to cross the threshold and place his foot on the first stair, he hit it. A barrier. His foot disintegrated first behind a flash of blue light. Then his leg. Before he could stop, he'd gone. Just a shadow of dust floating in the air. It hung for a moment, before fading into nothing. The full weight of the crowd followed close behind him. It was too late for them to stop. Within a second, blue light flashed everywhere. A few seconds more and Alma could no longer make out the base of the stairs.
The crowd eventually stopped. The dust of countless worshippers hung in the air, casting a soft warm glow over the landscape. They stood, staring up, expecting something to happen. Nothing did. Alma stood up. This was her cue.
She climbed down from the roof and made her way to the edge of the crater. She descended. Pushing her way through the confused crowd, she quietly muttered the words to herself. "Dream today, sleep tomorrow. Forget yesterday, remember the future". She repeated it over and over. Determined and unwavering.
The crowd began to recognise her. Blue-haired with strands of silver, her face was known planet-wide. The intense light of the fading sun caught her chrome-tipped eyeslashes, closed as she recounted the words in her mind, pushing people out of her way with her outstretched arms. She started to notice less people blocking her way. Opening her eyes, she saw the crowd had parted and a path now lay before her, aimed directly at the staircase. She slowed her walk, savoring the moment. Her eyes, deep hazel and glistening from tears, closed again, a gentle smile forming on her face.
Without missing a step, she slid her boots off. She loosed her bracelets and dropped them to the ground. She took the pack from around her back and let it slip from her hands. She then began to undo the knots of her robe. Slowly and deliberately, starting at the bottom and working up to her neck, she untied them. As she untied the last knot, she held one side of the tie, momentarily freezing the robe in place, before she let it go and the robe fell from her body. She unpinned her hair and let it fall, the silver tips dancing in the sunlight. She was naked. Her walk was effortless. She looked as if she was floating over the sand. All around her, the crowd stared in awe.
She stopped at the threshold. A mound of dust had formed on the other side of the invisible barrier. She closed her eyes and stepped through.
Nothing happened, as she knew it wouldn't. She stood at the base of stairs, the crowd wailing behind her. She put a foot on the first step and then drew the other one up. But then, she stopped. Instead she waited. The noise of the crowd grew, impatient and feral.
Suddenly, without a noise, the stairs began to move. An escalator of sorts, slowly ascending the vast staircase. Alma looked up as she drew closer to the top.
Eventually the stairs slowed, again without noise, until they came to rest with Alma now standing on the top of the tower.
At last, she stood before The Puddle. It hung there on top of the tower gentle and still, a perfect reflection of everything there is or ever was. It had taken the hearts of a generation and given nothing in return. Just the promise of salvation when The Day of Paradise finally arrived. The prophecy told us that day was today. Alma knew it was, but it's not what the world had hoped for. She knew the truth. There was no salvation. Not for her, not for the crowd below, or the billions watching from afar. There was no salvation as there was nothing to be saved from. There is only peace. That's all there is and all there ever will be.
Leaning over The Puddle, she peered in. Instead of her reflection, she saw only the wisps of white cloud, glowing hot in the sunlight high above her.
Unfazed, she stood tall once again. She looked up and saw the the first twinkles of starlight from behind the deep indigo sky. She closed her eyes as she took one last deep breath, and stepped off into endless Puddle.