Irises in the Sky
I long to see the stars. They’re so fascinating. Their twinkles pulsating through the sky like tiny fireflies as my mother always says.
We have only seen them on TV. Mother says we can’t go out and play because the air out there wants to take us away from home. That is why we stay indoors all the time. Our window is blank and all we can see are bentonite walls that protect us.
I love the word, “bentonite” — people are always surprised when they hear me say it. It is something only big people say but I like the sound of that so much that I keep repeating it all the time. Mother said that bentonite and brick walls help us survive from the world. I don’t know anyone outside the chambers we live in.
Our TV is the only window to the world. Everything we see, hear, learn, all come out of the large screen. I always have specific times when I am allowed to watch TV other than the learning times. It’s not long, I feel, because there are some very colourful cartoons on there, better and more joyful than the lessons we get.
I love colours. On TV, they show many things which say that the sun used to shine on the earth before. They said it used to get so bright that I wouldn’t need to switch any lights to see. I could just go out and play and see everything without switches.
I wonder why the stars they show on TV don’t give light like they show for the sun. Maybe because it would become so bright that we could never see, like it happens when we watch TV without the lights on. But I still long to see the stars.
These days, everybody in the chambers seems alert. As if they are preparing for a journey. To somewhere far away. Mother doesn’t seem to mind even if we watch more TV than usual. She’s always preoccupied. Her silence sometimes makes me sad. But I am also happy I can watch cartoons for longer.
Cartoons are much shorter these days, I’ve noticed. There used to be full day cartoons but now every half an hour they’re showing some warnings which I don’t know what to do about.
It seems the news is about some falling rocks all over different cities. Some of the people in my chambers are going to see the falling rocks. My best friend of many days has also gone with them. I wish I could too.
Mother says they’re going to be visible from very deep below the ground on which we walk. And also from high above the sky that we often see in the TV. That is so strange. I have seen neither.
The ground shakes occasionally these days. I had kept some books on the table which fell down during the day. Mother says it’s the earth waking up from its slumber. I don’t understand how an entire planet can sleep.
We’re emptying the drawers and clothes. We have been doing it slowly over the last week. There are some things left which we cannot pack because our bags aren’t big enough. My little backpack has my favourite comics in it. I would definitely like to keep them safe. I am quite excited to see outside. I have never seen it, ever. They say the wind really hits us in our faces and makes our bodies wobbly.
The TV occasionally runs flashing messages as if alerting us. I cannot read all the words that come on the screen. It seems they are messages for big people who make decisions. I catch the words “safety”, “shelter”, and “bunker” and “spaceship”. There are some big words I don’t know but I have noted down the spelling.
C-a-t-a-c-l-y-s-m
M-e-t-e-o-r
I-m-m-i-n-e-n-t
It’s so funny. I wonder what they mean. I have not been studying for the last few days. I don’t even remember practicing the spellings of last week. For some reason, mother isn’t saying anything. I want to fall asleep as I feel tired but somehow I am not able to. I am still thinking when I am awake.
Mother comes to me and tells me to pick up my bags quickly and that we’re leaving right away. I don’t understand. It is sleeping time. She says, I can sleep on the way. I want to sleep but I have also never been outside.
I am strangely excited because I have never been outside. But I want to do it after I sleep and drink my milk because then I will have the right energy to run in case the wind blows me off my feet. We take our bags and I am finally ready step out of the chambers for the very first time.
The outside
The outside. The outside! My heart is beating very fast. Mother is almost dragging me faster than I can walk. I sometimes jog a little just to keep up. I am able to breathe but for some reason the breath gets stuck. Mother screeches and puts a face-covering glass and turns on a switch. I am now able to breathe normally. I have only played with these at home when mother wore them to show me monsters when telling stories. I never knew they allowed us to breathe.
The doors of our chambers creak open, a whoosh of air, heavy with an unfamiliar smell, hits me. Mother squeezes my hand. My heart is bouncing in my chest, eagerly taking in the strange surroundings.
To my left, the towering bentonite walls loom, now slightly chipped and cracked. It resembles a large box made of stone but all along are cracks like broken glass. Mother always said the walls show our age. The cracks and chips are like the old people I see on TV. Their rough texture makes shadows dance across the surface as flickering lights from nearby lamps cast an eerie glow. Mother said they have always been an impenetrable barrier but now I stand in the shadow they cast, a silent protector no more.
The ground is nothing like I had imagined. It is uneven and covered in layers and layers of gravel and dust. Small, gnarled shrubs cling to life in the crevices, their swaying a scary dance. I stumble, the pebbles crunching and rolling under my feet, but Mother steadies me.
To the right, there is another row of chambers similar to ours, doors open, and hurried families stepping out. Many sounds surround me — children crying, adults speaking in hushed urgent voices, the distant clanging of metal, and an occasional siren blaring. It is unlike the muted sounds within our chambers; it is raw and so loud!
Above, the sky is an pressing shade of grey. As if the sky is pressing me down. There are thick, swirling clouds moving rapidly, covering the remains of what might have been the tall structures shown on TV from a time long gone. The air is dense, and it clings to my skin like a dusty overcoat. Through the breathing glass, I am trying hard to look at the sky, searching for a glimpse of a star, but none greet me.
Between the rows of chambers, there are stalls with people handing out bags, water bottles, and more face-covering glasses. Some are pointing towards the distance and speaking into radios.
We’re being ushered into a large van. There are so many people here, I never knew so many people could go in. The inside is dark and congested. Mother and I move into a corner and a lot more people are squeezed into the van. Mother says this van will take us to the bunker. Hehehe! Bunker! such a funny word. Like a bunkbed.
After a while, we start moving. There is so much dust here and the tiny window at the bottom shows so much more dust as we are moving. It is almost as if we are underwater and the sea is made up of dust.
The van is moving towards a path that leads to an enormous, domed building, with a big metal door at its front. That must be the bunker.
We get down from the van and more people here in large robotic suits are guiding us towards the dome. As we walk towards it, I can’t help but glance back at the chambers far in the distance, our home this vast, decaying world. A part of me is sad and afraid to leave it behind, but the rest of me is filled with an uncontainable curiosity and excitement for what lay ahead. I don’t know what to feel and am moving automatically, being nudged by my mother.
With every step toward the bunker, a strange feeling comes to me — this was the world that had been hidden from me, a world gasping for breath, just like me. I will never see this place again.
I look ahead with a mixture of fear and sadness. Out there in front of me, stands the bunker.
The Bunker
As Mother and I approach the entrance of the bunker, the imposing metal door swings open, revealing something different to the world outside.
Inside, the bunker is a symphony of lights and sounds. Bright fluorescent lights dangle from the high ceiling, bathing the cave-like space in a clean, white glow. The walls are lined with reinforced steel, similar to our chambers, and a network of pipes runs along the ceiling, disappearing into the distance. It is so long and so far, the entire bunker goes as far as I can see.
No one is wearing the glass masks in here. Mother removes hers and then proceeds to remove mine. The air is much colder in here.
We stand in what seems like a massive hallway, with branching corridors leading in so many directions. To the right, I could see what looked like a room in a hospital shown on TV. A sign, MED BAY, dangles from one of the light fixtures. People in white coats attend to children and the very old, distributing tablets and offering words of comfort to the ones sleeping. A sharp scent of antiseptics mingles with the mustiness of the bunker air.
To the left, there is an area sectioned off with large glass windows. Inside, people with uniforms and headsets are hunched over computer screens, their faces illuminated by the light of maps and data. The screens show images of Earth, clusters of stars, and streams of numbers that make no sense to me.
As we move further down the hallway, I am struck by the almost-cheerful activity of a central area, which seems to be the heart of the bunker. A colossal, dome-shaped room lies ahead, buzzing with activity. I clutch my mother’s hands tightly as I take in the surroundings. The walls are adorned with vast murals depicting the Earth as it once was — lush forests, blue oceans, and creatures I had only seen in my books and TV and cartoons.
The room is filled with people who seemed to be preparing for something big. There are tables lined with food, water, and clothing. Children are being handed toys, and grown ups are being given tools. There is a sense of urgency as if everyone is trying to go somewhere far away right now. But also something else. Somehow everyone seems to be together. I drag mother to get some toys and she relents. I stand in line awaiting my toy, glancing back at mother every few seconds. She seems anxious. I have never seen her forehead so taut.
A really tall man gives me a packet of animals, a teddy bear, and a strange device with just one green button on it. I say thank you and he just smiles. I go back to mother who takes me to another line where another really tall man is handing out a tin box. These are the tools the big people are playing with, I think.
To the right of the entrance is a sprawling space that seems like a cross between a library and a workshop. People of all ages gather around tables cluttered with old books, electronic devices, and building materials. An elderly man is passionately explaining something to a group of children huddled around him. They are constructing miniature models of ecosystems — forests, lakes, and deserts. Nearby, a group of adults solder wired to circuit boards, their eyes fixed on a screen displaying instructions.
A little further down the corridor, a glass-partitioned room is buzzing with voices. Inside, people are speaking into microphones, and others wearing headphones are intensely focused on their screens. Mother says they are trying to establish communication with other survivor colonies across the Earth, sharing information and bidding each other farewell.
Adjacent to this room is a cafeteria, where a medley of enticing aromas fills the air — spices, freshly baked bread, and something sweet. Mother and I stand in a line to to get our food. I get my plate filled and eat it and the food is unlike anything I’ve tasted in ages.
In one corner of the cafeteria, a young woman with an acoustic guitar starts singing. Her voice is deep and haunting. Slowly, others join in the chorus. The song is about Earth, about green fields, thunderstorms, and rainbows, and the hope that never dies. It swells into an anthem that wraps the entire bunker in a feeling that I cannot explain.
Next to the cafeteria, a room is filled with costumes, masks, and props. A sign reads “Heritage Room.” Here, people are trying on traditional dresses, painting their faces, and taking pictures with each other. Within this room, there’s a wall where people are making handprints with colorful paints. Families are leaving their prints together as a symbol of their lineage and bond to Earth. I also make mine.
Another corridor leads to an indoor garden. The scent of damp earth and greenery is very sweet. Here, plants are growing under artificial lights. A woman is tending to the plants, and she explains that they are preserving as many plant species as possible to take with them. Where are they taking them?
In the central area of the bunker, people are in a state of mess. Supplies are being loaded onto the spaceship, scientists and engineers huddle around blueprints, and families double-check their belongings.
My attention is drawn to a corner where children are sitting in a group. A woman shows them images of stars and galaxies.
I ask mother what all this means but I don’t understand mother’s explanation. Mother says that this bunker is a microcosm of human resilience and culture.
As mother and I walk further, we come across the largest portion of the bunker, which is surprisingly empty. A large space with ribbons and guards standing in it. I ask mother why this place is empty. Mother points out to the top of the empty space where the most awe-inspiring thing I have ever seen stands tethered to the rest of the bunker.
A colossal tower over everything. It is sleek, with a silver body that glints under the lights, and large thrusters at the bottom. I can see people boarding through an extended ramp. Mother says that is where we are headed. It is called a Spaceship.
The Spaceship
As we approach the spacecraft, I can feel the hum of its engines vibrating through the ground, tickling my toes. Mother’s voice is barely audible over the thrum as she explains that this spaceship is going to take us to a new home amongst the stars.
We are soon ushered through the ramp and into the belly of the spaceship. The interior is filled with rows of seats that reminded me of bird nests, with soft cushions and shimmering safety belts. Screens line the walls, showing a live feed of the stars outside.
I step into the spaceship, a universe of lights, sounds, and hustle unfolding before me. It’s a jungle of twinkling lights and dials, men and women in shiny suits, talking fast and moving faster. My eyes trace the shiny buttons, flashing screens and the giant levers. Mother squeezes my hand, leading me further in.
We follow a man with a bright smile down a hallway. The walls, smooth and glossy, curve like the inside of a sea-shell, radiating a soft glow. Doors with numbers pass us by, each hiding its own world, until we stop in front of one. Our door.
The room behind it is nothing like home. Beds strapped to the walls look like cocoons. Little windows dot the walls, but they’re covered right now. Mother promises we’ll open them when we start flying. It’s our own little nest in the big ship, and I can already picture us snuggling up in those cocoons.
Leaving our bags, we’re led to a huge room with one large ball made of glass. There are lights emerging from it. People huddle around it, their faces lit up with awe. I join them, my small body leaning against the cold glass. And then I see it. A picture so lifelike.
Earth. So big it almost fills the window, a floating ball of blue and green and white swirls. It’s like our classroom globe, but this one’s alive. Clouds scuttle across oceans, and I think I can see the green fuzz of forests. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
The people around me are silent, their eyes glued to the sight. Some are holding hands, some are hugging, some are whispering their goodbyes. I find mother’s hand, her fingers enveloping mine, warm and comforting.
A voice breaks the silence, echoing around the room. It’s the captain, speaking in a calm, steady voice. We’re about to take off. I feel a flutter in my stomach, like a little bird is trying to fly.
The friendly man who showed us our room guides us back, telling us to get strapped into our beds. The sight of Earth, so magnificent and serene, is replaced with the beige walls of our room. But the image is still fresh in my mind, a reminder of the home we’re leaving behind.
And as the spaceship’s engines roar to life, I hold on to Mother’s hand, and we launche toward the stars. The spaceship starts vibrating intensely, I clasp onto the armrests and look through the window. The bunker that had just moments ago been my refuge, is shrinking as we ascend. The ground below seems to be tearing apart — the bentonite walls, the withered shrubs, and the crumbled remnants of the old world scattered like puzzle pieces.
Then, a blinding light envelops us. I shield my eyes and squint through my fingers. My breath caught as the light receded, giving way to an eruption of colors dancing across the sky. The grey shroud that had been our sky is now alive with mesmerising hues — electric blues, emerald greens, and vibrant purples, rippling like waves across the horizon. It was the fabled auroras, the spirits of the Earth, bellowing their heart-wrenching goodbyes.
The ship then breaks through the final layers of Earth’s atmosphere, and everything becomes still. The fierce shaking has ceased, and the roar of the engines was now a gentle purr. I dare to peek out again, and this time, what I saw takes my breath away.
We were in space.
Before me is a canvas of infinite darkness, dotted with a billion twinkling lights — the stars I had longed to see. I gaze out in wonder as they sparkle and dance. Some clustered in groups, and others streaked across the sky, leaving trails of light behind them. Some so faint that I strain to see them, while others blaze with an fiery intensity.
Amidst the stars, I see clouds of vibrant reds, blues, and greens, swirling into shapes that my imagination eagerly sought to name. A floating castle here, a great cosmic beast there.
I am torn from my reverie as a chorus of gasps erupted through the spaceship. Slowly turning away from the window, I follow the gaze of everyone around me to the large screen in the front of the cabin.
Earth.
Our home is now but a delicate blue orb suspended in the darkness. Clouds swirl across its surface, and the faint outlines of the continents are visible.
I feel a gentle pressure on my hand and look up to see Mother gazing at the screen with tears streaming down her face. Her other hand clutches a small pendant, which she now opened to reveal a picture of us with our home in the chambers.
“We carry Earth with us, always,” she whispered. “In our memories, in our hearts.”
As we continued to move away from Earth, a sense of adventure begins to take hold. The screen now showed a map of the stars, with lines and waypoints depicting our journey.
Suddenly, a brilliant light streaks across the window. A meteor, followed by more — a shower of them racing towards Earth. I realise that this is part of the danger that had been whispered in hushed tones.
As the meteors cascade down, the last sight of Earth is framed not as a quiet goodbye, but as a celestial spectacle — an encore in Earth’s grand opera.
The spaceship turns slowly, and ahead lay the vastness of space, speckled with unknown stars, nebulae, and galaxies. A deep voice resonates throughout the cabin, describing the distant worlds that were to be our new home. They describe of vast oceans, towering forests, and skies that were clear as crystal.
As we venture further into the stars, my eyes once more fixed on the window beside me. Reflected in the glass, I see my face, of a little girl whose dreams had turned into reality. I wanted to see the stars, now I was in the midst of them.
There, amongst the constellations and distant galaxies, the spaceship was both an echo of what was and a harbinger of what could be.
Epilogue
Days turn into weeks as we travel through space. Mother explains that we are headed towards a new home, another planet where we can live safely.
The night an eternal sight, and as I look up, I see stars shining brilliantly. I see constellations and even a shooting star. The air is gentle, and I feel alive.
Mother comes beside me, with tears in her eyes. She whispers, “We’ll find our new home, my love. Among the stars.”
I hug her as I think of the Earth and how it protected us for so long. But now, here on this spaceship, I will finally live my dream – surrounded by the irises in the sky.
