The Precipice

The lights reflected in the wet pavement, leaving me with a feeling that I was walking on glass. They were beautiful, magical hues like candy of every color and shape, creating my playground of light. I walked down the narrow streets with the neon glaring all around me, looking in the windows of stores as I passed. Anything you could ever want could be bought here, from the ordinary to the exotic, the mundane to the extraordinary. I love this city, with its old world charm and its new age techno-glaze, where history collides with the iceberg of technology and slides beneath the surface. This is my city, my reality, and I know every nook and cranny and secret it contains. I should, of course, because I created it.
I continued down the street, observing the people and wondering about their lives. Where did they all come from, how did they get here, to my city? I didn’t create all of them; there wasn’t nearly enough time for that. The people were all ordinary, drab faces and drab dress. So unlike me now, but similar to how I used to be. They all walked on, perhaps a destination in mind, or not. I couldn’t tell and honestly I didn’t care. I had a destination, and it was the liquor store. Bourbon, not whiskey, but bourbon, is good for the soul, I say. It’s treated me well over the years anyways.
I found the liquor store, my usual haunt, tucked deep within a recess off the street. I hadn’t uncovered the store at this location before, and was surprised when it led me there. I got my usual 12 year bourbon and paid the man behind the counter. Like usual, the clerk said nothing and hardly moved except to place the bottle in a bag. I exited and walked a little ways down the alley before turning around to look at the store once more. Just like always, when I looked back, the store had vanished, surely to move on to a new location close to wherever I would be when I got the itch for a drink again. How did it always know, it was remarkable.
The night was as deep as ever and the rain stung my face, forcing my head down into my collar, as I made my way towards the corner to hail a taxi. There were none in sight, typical, so I reached into my pocket for tobacco to roll a cigarette. As I smoked, I looked around and took in the sights of the city. Again, I found myself drifting into the playground of light and I could have sworn my feet left the ground. It was beautiful and calming and made me feel at home, right there on the corner. The colors of the lights contrasted maliciously with the drab grays and dark blues that almost everyone seemed to be wearing. The people were expressionless and boring to look at, but against the light play all around them, they stuck out like a red rose in a field of white. Of course, my own wardrobe was not so boring, my body swimming in a cream tuxedo of the finest quality. As if I would ever be seen in such a state as to get lost in the crowd. I am too important here for that. This is my world after all.
Finally I sighted a taxi and hailed the driver. Another emotionless life form, just as forgettable as all the others. My world was populated with the clean canvas of humanity, except there was no one to paint the picture. I got in the back, leaned against the seat and pushed my foot against the no smoking sign. Cracking the window just enough to ash out of, I gave the driver my destination and he crept out into traffic. He drove well and quickly, threading his way through the rush hour traffic, the sea seeming to part for me.
Without warning, the driver pulled over to the side still fifteen blocks from my destination. I looked out the windows searching for a reason but all I could see was a cloaked figure leaning towards the driver’s window. I couldn’t hear what was being said but the driver had animated slightly and was engaged unflinchingly. The back door opened opposite where I sat and the woman stepped in.
“Wow, it’s really coming down tonight, and cold.” She said as she turned and looked at me. “You don’t mind sharing this cab with me, do you? We’re going the same direction. I just couldn’t manage in this weather, it was too cold.” Her eyes, the first I noticed, were a vibrant blue, and they glowed not unlike the neon smearing across the rain stricken windows. They were alive, an entity on their own, not entirely hers.
“You couldn’t have taken one of the other thousand cabs in this city? I like my privacy sometimes, you know?” I said. “Why should I be inconvenienced because you were cold?”
“Well holy shit. You really are a bundle of joy. You scared of a beautiful woman?” She really was, beautiful, that is, and to the highest degree. She exuded elegance and she was different. She was alive, really alive, in a city full of facsimiles of life. Maybe it was her glowing blond hair, or the tight flaming red dress she wore, under which her snow-white skin attempted to shine through.
“I am not scared, just annoyed.” I said. This woman was pushing on my boundaries, interfering with my life. I leaned into my corner and gazed out the window, trying to push her out of my mind, she was still looking at me, I could feel it. Blocks went by and I tried to press further into my corner away from her. Why was I so tense with her starring at me, she had no power. But she did somehow, she was affecting me, the world wasn’t so crystal clear and mine anymore. She had invaded. Finally, I broke.
“What do you want? You haven’t stopped starring at me since you got in. Who are you?”
“What do you care? All you have done since I got in here was be an asshole and try to pretend I wasn’t here. Very chivalrous of you. What if I was the woman of your dreams? You just going to let me slip out the door without ever trying to see what I am like? I can tell by the way you have treated so far that you don’t have a woman at home, nobody to love. So, I ask, what the hell is your problem?” Speechless, I tried to utter a response, but all that came got lost in my throat somewhere. All I could do was choke. I was weak, and scared, and felt like I had just been born, brutally, sans finesse, into a terrible world. She leaned in closer, across the middle seat and I could feel her breath on my cheeks; still, I couldn’t look at her.
“Am I the wrench in your spokes?” Her voice was soft now, airy, like fluffy cotton clouds. “What about me is setting you off?” There, she had said it, the same thing I had been asking myself, and then the cascading lightness of discovery set in upon me and loosed me back upon reality, clear minded and wide eyed.

She was completely unlike anyone I had ever met in the city. All of the other inhabitants were impersonal shells; no real life behind their eyes. Where had she come from? I couldn’t remember creating her; I seriously doubted I had. But yet, here she was, in my cab, running her mouth and getting ever closer to my face. She exuded this energy and the closer she got, the more it permeated my world. Looking out the window, the smear of neon grew dim and the city seemed to ripple, and I figured out what she was. She was an outsider, someone from somewhere that was not my reality, and she had somehow snuck in.
“Oh.” She said. “What is it? Did you realize something? Is something not right?”
“You. How did you get here? You shouldn’t be here, I didn’t let you in.”
“You couldn’t have stopped me, honey.”
“Yes I could have. I own this place. It’s mine, not for public consumption.”
“You don’t own this place, you merely inhabit it. The world wasn’t good enough for you, so you checked out. Fabricated this world on top of the real one.”
“There is no real world anymore. This place is the only world there is. Besides this is so much better than what else there is.”
“True, this place is beautiful, in a way. But it’s missing something crucial. It’s missing people, a sense of life, the unknown. This place is your ghost town playground. You can’t escape your life forever. While you exist in here, the world continues on the outside, passing you bye, losing you more each day to this prison you have created yourself.”
“So? The world wasn’t good enough for me. Here, I am God, and nobody can take that from me.”
“The world wasn’t good enough for you? You weren’t good enough for the world, and nothing has changed here. You aren’t even good enough for the world you created. Look around you, nobody notices you, says anything to you. This world is exactly the same to you as the real world, except, there isn’t the opportunity for you to be proven wrong. In here, you are nothing more than the warden for soulless husks of life, a game keeper.” She was right, but all I wanted was to throw her out of the cab, run over her body as we sped away. She was upsetting the balance, and again the world rippled, this time with greater force than before. Edges of buildings became seams and some began to bulge and split, and daylight shone through.
Daylight. When was the last time I had seen daylight? I couldn’t remember. As far as I knew, daylight had never been an important part of my life. I always found that the night held so much more for me. The night was old, and it held thousands of years of history’s cries. Daylight was fresh, and it was like forgetting the past every time the sun rose. The sun was the world’s eraser, allowing us to almost erase our transgressions of yesterday, and to write a new chapter into our lives, ignorant of consequences and reality. Also, in the night, nothing is ever quite what it seems, including me, which is why I was so drawn to it. And that was why I had neglected to give my world a sun.

The taxi rocketed along the streets, dodging cars and pedestrians, and still the woman leaned ever closer to me.
“I came here tonight to find you,” she said. “I want to show you something. It’s not far, I promise.” She leaned away from me and towards the driver. I could see her lips moving but whatever she said was inaudible to me. The driver nodded his head and made an abrupt right turn on to a street I had never seen before. The street was skinny and there were no neon lights here, tiled buildings and cobblestone had replaced them. It was skinny, barely wide enough for the cab to make its way without catching the mirrors on the walls of the building. Ahead of us, the street seemed to be constructing itself in a haphazard manner on the fly, seemingly pointless curves and hills forming in front of my eyes. The driver navigated his way through with the effortless nature of someone driving home just as they had a thousand times before.
We began to climb, the buildings giving way to cliff sides cut out of stone towering over the road. The rain had stopped and the stars shone brightly. The woman leaned in her corner, her legs crossed and her head lightly resting on the palm of her hand. She was still staring at me, not as if she was intrigued by me, but more like she was just merely taking it all in, giving me no thought. We exited the cliffs and entered into a beautiful white field of hay, long strands rising gracefully from unseen dirt, each one dancing a slow solo to the beat of the breeze. The air was cool and crisp, it felt light in my lungs, such a stark contrast to the city air. I found myself floating slowly into a state of bliss, of unbeknownst comfort and peace. I too leaned into my corner, gazing out the window and allowing myself to steal short peeks at the woman.
“Where are we going?” I asked, after we had traveled for nearly an hour into realms unknown to me. I had never created spaces like this; I was a city person, my world expanded only to the edges of the city, where one could find themselves wandering endlessly through a sea of the same two blocks. I was leaving the sanctity of my filth-ridden city into something of a higher power. It was immensely beautiful.
“We are going somewhere so I can show you something. Don’t worry about it.” She said.
“No, why don’t you just tell me where we are going.”
“That’s not going to happen. Just relax, nothing bad will befall you.” I detected a fleeting sniff of sarcasm, riding the last tiny bit of air as she finished speaking. Maybe it wasn’t quite sarcasm, maybe, just maybe, it was a bit of mischief. I glared at her for minute, willing her to give a hint of some kind as to where we were going.
Further still we climbed until we were skirting the edge of a beastly white cliff, shining bright as day in the moonlight. Against the rocks below I could see foam alight bobbing turbulently and splashing into the air. It was cold here and I could taste salt on the wind. We began to slow down as we made our way around a shallow turn, and I could see we were heading for a precipice of rock jutting out towards the sky.
“Do you see?” The woman asked.
“I do, but what’s so special, it’s just a rock.”
“It’s not the rock, it’s what you can see from the rock.”
“I don’t get it.”
“You will.”
Our taxi pulled up next to the rock and slowed to a stop. The woman pulled some money from somewhere in her dress and paid the man. He drove immediately, screeching the tires across the cobblestone pavement.
“But…” I said.
“Don’t worry, we won’t be needing him anymore. Look.” The woman led me up the rock, gracefully traversing the rough surface with her stilettos. The wind and salt stung my face more as I got closer to the edge and I could see the ocean stretching out far beneath me. Fighting the sky for space on the horizon, a bright orange glow could be seen. It was mesmerizing with fingers of light reaching up from the ocean to pet the sky.
“That’s the real world. Not your world, but the actual world.” She said.
“Who are you?” It was all I could get out.
“You don’t recognize me?” I turned to look at her and I could see tears in her eyes. I looked deep into her eyes and something clicked in my memory. I buckled to my knees as the memories came flooding back into my head. There she was, with me in New York, running amongst the trees in central park. Again, standing on the banks of the Seine, watching the sunrise over Notre Dame. Dancing in circles in a field in each other’s arms, each memory more vivid than the last. I did recognize her; she was Sam, my lost love, my savior.
“You do.” She said as she took me in her arms. The world rippled again, the sound of the waves and wind replaced by the rush of the city, of car horns blaring. Drab sunlight rained down upon us.
“You know I have always loved you.” She said. I understand why you came here after I was gone; it was just easier. But now it’s time to go home, back to the real world, where you have no control, but you have a life.”
“There is nothing for me there, not without you.”
“Yes there is, you just need to open your eyes to the world around you. There is plenty for you.” I stood up and backed away from her, just trying to put distance between us.
“How can there be, you’re dead.” I screamed. She stood as I took one more step and teetered on the edge of the precipice.
“Come down here to me, and let me take you home, so you can wake up from this horrible nightmare you have been living so long.” Another memory rocked through my head, my last memory of her. She was standing on the railing of the pedestrian walkway of the Manhattan Bridge. I was running across the lanes of traffic towards her as she stretched her arms out. I screamed but made no sound and then she was gone. I made it to the edge only to see the tales of her red dress billowing behind her as she crashed into the water far below.
Back on the precipice, she was running towards me, and my world buckled and strained against its seams. My foot slipped over the edge and the world shattered around me, the noise of the city deafening in comparison to the peacefully din of the cliffs. I looked down at my feet as the fence of the observation deck on top of the Empire State Building rose behind me. I was falling and as I turned over I saw that she was not there, nor were the cliffs. I was back, out of my world back into the real. The warmth of the city wrapped me up nicely and as I fell I looked at the city. It was beautiful and refreshing, the vibe of the city seeping in through my pores. I could see people, real people, everywhere on the sidewalks below and the traffic hypnotized me. It was good to be back. As the street came up to greet me, I smiled and closed my eyes as the city and real life embraced me, once more, for the last time.