The Town With No Name That Once Had One

Clouds shot by as Eleanor’s wings let out powerful beat after beat, bringing her higher and higher through the atmosphere of dull gray clouds. The sky grew darker as she flew higher, the clouds angrier as she persisted, turning a roiling black that thundered threateningly at her from far off. She paid it no mind, flying ever higher even as rain began to spatter her face. She closed her eyes; she’d seen rainclouds before, there was nothing new to see.

As she broke into the stratosphere, the storm around her acquiesced slowly, timidly falling away to reveal, for the first time in ages, a bright, blue sky stretching out before her into true infinity. The air here was so calm, so clean, that at first she worried something was wrong; but as she looked down at the swirling clouds that had tormented her for so long, above all of it and free from their grasp on her life, it became clear that for the first time in a very long time, nothing was wrong at all.

She laughed. Laughed! How long had it been since she’d done that? The sound seemed almost alien coming from her, but at the same time it was the natural thing to do. She laughed again, giggling as she spun in the air, sending little tufts of cloud flying around her. She felt the moisture against her wings, tingling the tips of her feathers and sending a shiver through her. She could taste the water droplets in the air, the purity of the water unlike anything she’d experienced before.

The gray clouds below spiraled slowly, centered around some point far in the distance. She had to look, didn’t she? She had to know what was at the center of it all. It had all seemed endless from the ground, but from up here it seemed entirely reachable.

She took off towards the center, her flying feeling effortless and even lazy as she gracefully pushed herself through the air. As she got closer she noticed at the center was a hole in the clouds, a deep circular pit that all the clouds revolved around. She flew closer still, the clouds below her growing faster until she sat at the very edge of her former prison, peering down into the only hole in the cloud cover she’d ever seen since arriving.

In the center, a dozen meters down and encased in a wall of swirling cloud yet itself perfectly calm and still, sat a garden. Real trees sat smattered haphazardly along the ground seemingly at random. Flower bushes sat in neat formations circling the center, interrupting their pattern every now and then to highlight one of what seemed like a collection of sculptures. A small stone path lazily snaked its way through the garden, hastily aligning itself once it reached the carefully organized flowers and abruptly cutting off along with everything else upon reaching the circling wall of cloud.

She bolted down to reach the strange garden, reaching out to stop herself and grasping the grass in her hands. It was so green and lush, and there was even a bit of dew along the soft blades of grass, and her hands got a little wet as she grabbed it. She breathed deeply, the air seemingly fresher here than she’d ever breathed before. It was disorienting at first, but she quickly adjusted. She smelled the dew on the grass, wet and fresh, mixing with the smell of flowers wafting over, the sweet smell of roses and a myriad of flowers she couldn’t quite place. It all mixed together into a beautifully sweet symphony of the nose, begging for her to just lie down and appreciate it for a moment.

Her eyes wandered the garden around her, still adjusting to seeing real colors again. Life burst from every corner, filled with a vivid energy that she had forgotten was possible down in the town. The garden invited her to enjoy it at her own pace, the breeze gently blowing through her hair to remind her that there wasn't any rush to explore; the garden would be here no matter how long she took. It was an inviting invitation, one she couldn't just pass up. She sat down in the grass and breathed deeply, letting the clear, pure scent fill her body. Even trying to sit up seemed silly. Why was she putting in all that effort to stay upright? It did seem very silly indeed. She lay down, the grass reaching up to tickle her back and her wings, and the dew softly blanketing her back to cool down all the tension she'd been building up since—well, since longer than she could remember. The temperature was just cool enough to keep her from sweating, but just warm enough that the sun against her felt like a blanket draped across her body.

The sun! How long had it been since she'd seen the sun? After such a long time deep below the clouds, living off the scant light that made it through the thick, roiling fog, it was a bit odd that the sun didn't feel strange at all. She'd barely even noticed the light against her, but it was clear that its presence had made itself known ever since she'd broken through the clouds. The sun had been protecting her all along, and she closed her eyes to bask in its shining glory.

The sunlight wrapped around her, the grass against her back, and the soothing scent of lavender filling her nose unthreaded her thoughts bit by bit from the chaotic mess that had tangled her consciousness. She considered just staying here with the garden forever, fading into tranquility. She certainly wasn't ruling it out, softly humming as she let everything but the smell of grass and flowers fall away, her hardships now just a distant memory.

Eleanor opened her eyes slowly, letting herself wake at her own pace. The grass beneath her was still soft and inviting, but the dew was gone, dried up in the sun that had sent her to sleep in the first place. It almost seemed criminal to leave a place so inviting, but she sat up anyway, stretching her arms and her wings to meet the day. As she breathed in, it took her a few moments to realize that something was off.

For the first time, maybe ever, none of her muscles were sore. Nothing hurt. There weren’t any nagging kinks in her joints that she’d have to resolve to just deal with. There was no pain to ignore. It was exactly as she imagined a massage might feel like; her body was completely functional, instead of a burden on her mind. And her mind! Her mind was refreshed, completely clear, like all this time, all her life, she’d been wading through muddy water in a thick fog. Her thoughts were free to just exist now, without all the baggage that came with existing in her head specifically.

She stood up, breathing deeply and savoring the unforgettable blend of floral scents that made up the garden. She was starting to pick out certain scents she recognized; there was the classic rose smell, the sweet vanilla of heliotropes, and the deep smell of gardenias coming from the entrance to the path. There were many layers mixed in with the ones she recognized, adding to the exotic pleasure of the place.

If there was one thing Eleanor deserved, it was a walk in a park. She made her way to the stone path, savoring the soft breeze and sunshine as she did. The stone was smooth and uncomplicated against her shoe, lazily doing its job as she walked along. She came to be flanked on both sides by walls of neatly manicured flowers that blocked her view and made it much easier to ignore the much larger wall of clouds around the entire area. She ran a hand along the hedge, letting soft flower petals linger on her fingers each time she came to one.

The faint buzz of a bee flloated along the other side of the path, the creature diligently doing its part to keep the garden in order. A place like this was surely a haven for them, surrounded by flowers and high above earthly concerns. The breeze picked up a little, and she heard the soft shiver of leaves shifting as she passed under the shade of a tree, a lone branch reaching out to cover a little portion of the path.

She came to a gap in the hedge across from her, leaving the path to find herself in a tiny circular clearing. The flowers around the clearing were distinct from the noisy, random collection of colors she found along the path, and were instead made up exclusively of light blue flowers of all shapes and sizes, coming together to blanket the walls in a mirror of the sky above. In the center of the clearing sat a circular pillar made of stone, reaching just above her waist and topped with a collection of tiny grass and plants.

As she moved closer to examine the pillar, she quickly recognized it as a tiny model of a park. There was a stone path winding through, much like the one she’d followed; there were tiny wooden benches placed along the path; there was even a little wooden gazebo, the structure held up with beams the size of matchsticks that had been carefully painted a pristine white. Even the trees in the model seemed to be alive, with miniscule leaves that swayed in the breeze made by her breath. She couldn’t help but stare at the meticulously crafted model; something about it made her linger, taking in the detailed work that had gone into every centimeter. It even seemed a bit familiar, but not in a way she could meaningfully place.

She took her time getting up from the model, stretching as she stood up once again. She left the little blue clearing, a bit regretfully, and returned to the lazy stone path she’d come from. It curved gently as she walked, eventually leading to another clearing as she trailed a wing along the gentle leaves of the hedge, letting them tickle her feathers softly.

In contrast to the cool blue of the last clearing, this one was surrounded by a pattern of blazing reds, all fighting for her attention. It was a bit disorienting at first, but she soon got used to it and moved her attention to the pillar in the center of the clearing. This pillar held a little model building made out of miniature bricks, topped by a slanted roof with gray shingles. Windows jutted out from the roof, inviting her to take a look into the interior.

There was a collection of several plush armchairs facing back out through the window, surely arranged to give a view of the garden outside. The floor had a pristine blue carpet laid out, leading to a circular brown table surrounded by prim wooden chairs. Leaning in closer, Eleanor saw that the sides of the room were filled with rows and rows of bookshelves, with tiny, unreadable writing neatly labeling each shelf. It was then that she stepped back, letting out a gasp as a wave of recognition washed over her.

She reached into her pocket to pull out the old, crumpled brochure that still sat there. The corner where the name would have been written had fallen off entirely, not that it had been of much use to begin with. She unfolded it with a loud crinkle, trying to make out the image on the paper that had clearly been soaked and dried multiple times. It was faded and crusty, but the picture was clear enough to confirm that the building was the same: the same roof, the same chairs, the same everything. Below it, a large stain covering one side, was the park she’d just seen, set at an angle that made it look like more than a tiny model. Or maybe the pictures were taken at a real version, somewhere in the town. It hardly mattered, and it hardly seemed likely that the town she’d been to held anything so… nice.

There were two more pictures in the brochure: a larger, more colorful version of the endless gray prison cells she’d found herself in, and a crumbled dark splotch that she remembered to be a picture of a school, with windows and sleek metal walls that had reminded her of the skyscrapers she’d seen earlier at the time. For some reason the school had made her more comfortable moving into the town, even though she had no real use for it. If she wanted to see it again, she was sure she could just keep walking along the garden path until she found the model.

She continued along the path, but as she came to the next gap in the hedge, instead of a small clearing she found herself looking into a much larger clearing surrounding an imposing metal doorway set into a concrete box no bigger than a closet. It was jarring to see such an industrial structure in a setting that had clearly been curated to give a very natural air. The doorway’s presence seemed to interrupt the garden, placed awkwardly between two trees that, without the doorway, would have made for a nicely shaded place to rest. The door and the concrete around it were gray, but not quite the gray of the town; it was pristine, dominating the soft greens around it, and held no hint of wear upon it.

Eleanor reached out a hand cautiously, as if the door might lash out at her if she approached it carelessly. She grabbed the handle, finding it a bit slippery even though it wasn’t particularly wet. The door let out no noise as she opened it, revealing a metal staircase leading a few meters down painted with a dark blue, a shade that seemed thoroughly unimpressive compared to the dazzling array of colors she’d just seen. She took a look back at the garden, with its inviting colors and soothing scents, breathed deeply, and stepped down onto the stairs.

Her footsteps came as soft, metallic clangs as she made her way down. The smell of pollen made its way down here, but as the door closed behind her it was quickly overpowered by the smell of floor polish and metal. The stairs weren’t particularly long, and as she reached the bottom she found herself at the entrance to a softly humming room, filled with lights and gauges presenting themselves in a circle to a black chair in the center of it all. The chair was set upon several wheels, and as Eleanor reached out a hand she found that it spun easily.

She sat down, surprised at how comfortable and soft the leather felt against her back, not putting too much pressure on her wings. She gave an experimental push with her feet, spinning gently to the side and having a brief moment of panic before figuring out how to stop (it turned out to also involve her feet). Having figured out the basic function of the chair, she turned her attention to the overwhelming array of flashing lights, dials, and gauges before her.

The labels were hardly any help. Everything seemed to be written in some sort of code. A grid of switches helpfully clarified themselves as “LCPWR1”, “LCPWR2”, “LCPWR3”, and so on until eventually ending on “LCPWR423”. A gauge with blocky red letters announced itself as “MS Air”. A large dial set above her reach showed a scale of 2.2 to 9.5, with the dial set somewhere around 3. And a thin tube labeled “Rain Gauge” was entirely filled with water. How the rain got here, in the middle of a distinct gap in the clouds, was a mystery.

Eleanor scanned the panels in front of her, looking for anything she could even begin to understand. Her eyes lingered over a set of bright red buttons, lights blinking angrily at her from within, before moving on. The buttons weren’t labeled, and it didn’t seem wise to mess with them. There was a set of gauges labeled as a thermometer, barometer, hygrometer, transmissometer, disdrometer, until eventually she just stopped reading. Finally, in the corner of the console, she found an unassuming gray lever simply labelled “Emergency Escape”.

It was certainly intriguing. Definitely important. And besides, it was the only thing in this entire room she could understand. Even the chair was still a bit confusing. Her eyes darted to the sides, trying to find anything else to press. She could almost smell the flowers she’d left behind, calling her back. Really, was that the only thing she could make out?

She reached out a hand to a random switch in the center of the console, finding it labeled “MNLT”. As she switched it on, the entire room began to shake, slowly at first but becoming violent, rattling the wheels under her chair until she quickly switched it off again. She waved her hand around, landing a finger on a button labeled “CTLLGHT”. As she pressed it, the overhead lights above her turned off, leaving only the blinking lights on the panels to light the room. She pressed it again and the lights came back on.

Her focus returned to the escape lever. She couldn’t stay here forever, after all. There was still more of the garden to explore. Then again, she wasn’t quite sure she’d ever leave if she went back. Plus, she already knew what would be in the other two clearings.

She hesitantly reached out a hand towards the lever. It was surprisingly rough in her palm, and she noticed a few scratches in the paint on the handle. She could always fly back up if she wanted. It could be her own little secret, known only to her. Well, besides whoever maintained the garden. She suddenly realized how odd the garden really was, perfectly maintained without any sign of other people. Then again, it wasn’t the strangest thing she’d seen. She had to know. Wherever it sent her might give some answers.

She slowly pulled back the lever.