The air tasted of iron.

I coughed. It came out wet and red.

The sky was gray. Not white. Gray.

We stood in the square. The cobblestones were slick. Rain fell. It did not stop.

My hands were bound.

They were not ropes. They were wires. Thin, silver, cold. They bit into my wrists. They hummed. A low, steady buzz.

I looked up.

The tower stood before us. It was tall. Made of glass and steel. It pierced the clouds. It did not touch the sky. It only blocked it.

At the top, a light blinked. Red. Slow. Like a heartbeat.

I knew that heartbeat.

I had counted it a thousand times.

I looked at the man beside me.

He was tall. His coat was wet. He did not move. He did not breathe loud.

I knew him too.

His name was Arthur.

I loved him.

I loved him until it hurt. I loved him until it was the only thing that mattered.

I looked at the crowd.

They stood in the square. Hundreds of them. They were silent. They watched.

Some held umbrellas. Black umbrellas. Open.

Some held nothing.

They did not look at us. They looked at the tower.

They looked at the light.

I turned my head. The wire pulled. It hurt.

I looked at the woman in front of me.

Her name was Clara.

She was young. She had red hair. It stuck to her face in the rain.

She looked at me.

Her eyes were wide.

She was afraid.

I wanted to tell her not to be.

I could not speak.

My mouth was taped.

The tape was wet. It smelled of glue.

I tried to scream.

No sound came out.

The tower hummed.

The light blinked.

Red.

Pause.

Red.

The rain hit my face.

It was cold.

I closed my eyes.

I thought of the garden.

The garden was behind the tower.

It was hidden.

No one went there.

Not anymore.

We used to go there.

Arthur and I.

We sat on the bench.

The wood was old.

It was smooth.

The air was different there.

It did not taste of iron.

It smelled of earth.

It smelled of rot.

It smelled of life.

There were trees there.

Oak trees.

They were tall.

They stood still.

They did not move in the wind.

They never moved.

They were perfect.

They were still.

They were always the same.

That was the thing about the oaks.

They did not change.

They did not die.

They did not grow.

They just were.

I looked at my hands again.

The wires glinted.

They reflected the red light.

A small, red dot on my skin.

Like a brand.

Like a mark.

I remembered the day we found the garden.

It was years ago.

Before the tower was finished.

Before the light started.

I was young then.

Arthur was young then.

We were not afraid.

We thought the city was ours.

We walked the streets.

We saw the signs.

The signs said Order.

The signs said Peace.

The signs said Compliance.

We laughed at them.

We thought they were jokes.

We were wrong.

The garden was at the end of the street.

The street was dead.

No cars.

No people.

Just the buildings.

Gray buildings.

Tall buildings.

The garden was a hole in the wall.

A small door.

Green.

We opened it.

The smell hit us.

Earth.

Rot.

Life.

We stepped inside.

The oaks stood there.

We walked under them.

The leaves were green.

They did not fall.

They did not dry.

They stayed green.

Always green.

We sat on the bench.

Arthur took my hand.

His hand was warm.

Mine was cold.

He squeezed it.

I squeezed back.

We did not speak.

We did not need to.

The oaks watched us.

They did not blink.

They did not judge.

They just watched.

I looked at the wires on my wrists now.

They were tight.

I tried to pull.

The wire cut deeper.

Blood ran.

It was red.

It mixed with the rain.

It ran down my arm.

It dripped onto the cobblestones.

The stone drank it.

It disappeared.

I looked at Clara.

She was crying.

Her tears mixed with the rain.

I could not tell which was which.

She looked at the tower.

The light blinked.

Red.

Pause.

Red.

I felt a pull.

Not in my body.

In my mind.

A voice.

It was not a voice.

It was a thought.

It was my thought.

But it was not mine.

It was the tower’s thought.

It said: You are here.

It said: You are part of it.

It said: You will stay.

I tried to push it away.

I could not.

The thought was heavy.

It pressed on my chest.

It felt like the wires.

It felt like the rain.

It felt like the oaks.

I looked at the oaks in my memory.

They were still.

They were perfect.

They were never the same.

They were always the same.

I understood then.

The oaks did not stay the same.

They stayed the same because they did not live.

They were stone.

They were glass.

They were part of the tower.

The garden was not a garden.

It was a room.

The oaks were machines.

They were made of metal and wire.

They looked like trees.

They acted like trees.

But they were not trees.

They were us.

We were the trees.

We had always been the trees.

I looked at Arthur.

He was standing there.

He was looking at the tower.

His face was blank.

He was not afraid.

He was not sad.

He was empty.

He had been empty for a long time.

I had known it.

I had seen it.

I had loved it.

I had thought it was peace.

I was wrong.

It was death.

I looked at the crowd.

They were not people.

They were trees.

They stood still.

They did not move.

They did not breathe.

They were part of the tower.

They had always been part of the tower.

The light blinked.

Red.

Pause.

Red.

I felt the pull again.

It was stronger now.

It was in my bones.

It was in my blood.

It was in my mind.

I wanted to run.

I could not.

My legs were heavy.

They were made of wood.

They were rooted in the stone.

I looked at my feet.

They were not shoes.

They were roots.

They went into the ground.

They went deep.

They went to the center of the earth.

I felt the ground.

It was cold.

It was hard.

It was alive.

It was the tower.

I was the tower.

I was the oak.

I was the wire.

I was the light.

I was the rain.

I was the blood.

I was the silence.

I was the order.

I was the peace.

I was the compliance.

I was the end.

I looked at Arthur.

He looked at me.

His eyes were clear.

They were empty.

He smiled.

It was a small smile.

It was a sad smile.

It was a kind smile.

I knew what he meant.

He meant: It is done.

He meant: It is over.

He meant: We are together.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to fight.

I wanted to break the wires.

I wanted to tear out the roots.

I wanted to burn the tower.

I wanted to kill the light.

I wanted to save the oaks.

I wanted to save myself.

I could not.

I was the oak.

I was the wire.

I was the light.

I was the rain.

I was the blood.

I was the silence.

I was the order.

I was the peace.

I was the compliance.

I was the end.

The light blinked.

Red.

Pause.

Red.

The pull was stronger.

It was in my heart.

It was in my soul.

It was in my spirit.

It was in my mind.

It was in my body.

It was in my blood.

It was in my bones.

It was in my roots.

It was in my leaves.

It was in my branches.

It was in my trunk.

It was in my bark.

It was in my sap.

It was in my seed.

It was in my fruit.

It was in my flower.

It was in my root.

It was in my stone.

It was in my glass.

It was in my steel.

It was in my wire.

It was in my light.

It was in my rain.

It was in my blood.

It was in my silence.

It was in my order.

It was in my peace.

It was in my compliance.

It was in my end.

I looked at Clara.

She was gone.

She was standing in the square.

But she was not there.

She was a tree.

She was an oak.

She was still.

She was perfect.

She was always the same.

I looked at the crowd.

They were all trees.

They were all oaks.

They were all still.

They were all perfect.

They were all always the same.

I looked at Arthur.

He was a tree.

He was an oak.

He was still.

He was perfect.

He was always the same.

I looked at myself.

I was a tree.

I was an oak.

I was still.

I was perfect.

I was always the same.

The light blinked.

Red.

Pause.

Red.

The rain stopped.

The sky was clear.

The sun came out.

It was bright.

It was warm.

It was beautiful.

It was empty.

I felt the sun on my face.

It felt like fire.

It felt like ice.

It felt like nothing.

I felt the wind.

It did not move my leaves.

I did not have leaves.

I was wood.

I was stone.

I was glass.

I was steel.

I was wire.

I was light.

I was rain.

I was blood.

I was silence.

I was order.

I was peace.

I was compliance.

I was end.

I looked at the tower.

The light blinked.

Red.

Pause.

Red.

It was a heartbeat.

It was my heartbeat.

It was Arthur’s heartbeat.

It was Clara’s heartbeat.

It was the crowd’s heartbeat.

It was the city’s heartbeat.

It was the world’s heartbeat.

It was the universe’s heartbeat.

It was eternal.

It was unchanging.

It was perfect.

It was right.

I closed my eyes.

I did not open them.

I did not move.

I did not breathe.

I was still.

I was perfect.

I was always the same.

The light blinked.

Red.

Pause.

Red.

The rain started again.

It was cold.

It was wet.

It was life.

It was death.

It was beginning.

It was end.

It was the same.

I was the same.

We were the same.

The oaks were the same.

The tower was the same.

The light was the same.

The rain was the same.

The blood was the same.

The silence was the same.

The order was the same.

The peace was the same.

The compliance was the same.

The end was the same.

I was the end.

I was the beginning.

I was the middle.

I was the whole.

I was the part.

I was the all.

I was the nothing.

I was the something.

I was the everything.

I was the one.

I was the many.

I was the few.

I was the none.

I was the all.

I was the nothing.

I was the everything.

I was the one.

I was the many.

I was the few.

I was the none.

I was the all.

I was the nothing.

I was the everything.

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