June 26, 2014
Dennis gazed out the window at the putrid field of rotting earth. He felt his heart trembling and heard his breath escaping his lips, so he knew he was still breathing, but in the seconds of awe that slipped by, he wasn’t conscious of it. All his mind could fathom were the leagues of steel flowers spreading across the black soil: tiny, fragile creatures that weren’t alive, but somehow living. A small child, shaved of all his hair, waddled outside with a gasmask consuming his face. He held a flower of brushed metal in his hand, and with the help of his mother, proceeded to dig. Dirt flew away in small puffs until a hole just large enough for the boy’s fist stared back at him. The child brushed the dirt off of his creation and slid the steel stem into the void. After he filled the hole, Dennis could no longer detect which flower was the boy’s and which had been there. Angelica caressed his arm and tugged on his sleeve. It was time to go. Dennis moved autonomously, but his eyes never left the boy staring down at his dream until a beam severed his view. Words brewed in his mind, words he wanted to speak but didn’t know how. Angelica looked back as she lead him through the complex, and in her eyes he saw the deepest of understanding. It wasn’t a question of steel or iron. Dennis wanted to know how such a frail child could create something so strong. He didn’t need an answer; he already knew. The child had to or else he wouldn’t have the strength to dream.