I've been promised a life-changing experience, and today is the day. It's apparently early morning as I'm talking with Layla, in front of a large cup of coffee, sorting out all the last minute details. We met online some months ago, discovered that we both lived in the same city, and soon turned that virtual connection into a real, face-to-face friendship.
I can't help but offload all of my worries and concerns to her as she savors her drink. Layla, however, seems much more interested in her coffee than what I have to say and shrugs off my ramblings as nothing important. I pout and sigh, but all she tells me is "Don't worry, you'll be fine!"
I asked for more than a simple, meaningless reply such as this one, but of course I should've known better. Layla can be so stubborn… I drown my disappointment in coffee as the girl makes sure I'm wearing the right clothes - long-sleeved shirt, jeans, high top shoes. Basic and unassuming, these are not items that match my style, but merely that match Layla's guidelines.
She smiles and hands me a pair of fingerless gloves, a light yet large scarf and a baseball cap, so that nearly all of my skin is covered. Oh, and the icing on the cake: a pair of glasses with unusually dark lenses. I run my fingers along the metal frame and try to put them on, but all I see is darkness. I ask Layla what they're for. She turns around and giggles: "You'll find out soon enough!"
I decide to try and figure out why on my own. I know VR technology has improved quite a lot over the past few decades, but I don't see any hidden screen, projector or anything similar. Yet somehow, these visors are so sleek!
"Hahaha, they're not visors, just a pair of shades. Keep them on when we're up there!" Layla laughs as I fiddle with the glasses.
If the only purpose of these "shades" is to make things look darker, then they really have no place here, where lights are never brighter than they need to be. This means, the sunlight must be very strong when there's no filter blocking it… right?
Soon enough, I get my answer. Yes.
I follow Layla through a large, unusually fast lift, then through a guarded checkpoint, then through a series of doors. Once I'm out, the light is blinding and the heat overwhelming. Even with these glasses on, everything is much brighter than underground, and I'm just not used to it.
I try to walk away from the door into what looks like a black road, and immediately get stopped by my friend - soon after, something large and metallic quickly passes right where I was standing, making a rather unpleasant noise and leaving behind some smoke.
"Oh, that's a car, what most people here use to get around." Layla explains, as I can't help but wonder why one single person would need such a big thing to get around. Back at home there are many smaller and quieter alternatives.
Once I'm taught where it's safe and where it is not, we're ready to explore. The buildings around me - which I guess is how my house would look like if it was built here - keep getting taller, but also older and slightly neglected, or at least that is my impression. The road continues, still perfectly straight, and never seems to end: it all feels so huge, so out of reach. The old-fashioned electric scooters Layla has rented for the both of us (and which I remember seeing a couple of, near home) are nothing more than a small consolation.
After what feels like hours, we get to a waterfront. I timidly ask if it's possible to swim in this lake, but I'm hastily told no. When I ask for reasons why, she points at the silhouettes of some factories and power plants in the distance:
"No one seems to care anymore. Nuclear power plants, factories, landfills… new ones keep being built and this makes me very afraid of what this place will become."
According to an unusually serious Layla, this was a very nice place to swim or even sail, but the pollution has made it nearly impossible in the last decade.
After that emotional moment we get back inside that maze of roads and towering buildings, trying to find a nice place to have lunch. I still can't wrap my head around everything I'm seeing and feeling, it's such a strange experience for someone like me. She really didn't exaggerate when she said "life-changing experience", and the whole reason why this is happening, well, she explains once we get inside the restaurant she has chosen.
We grab a sandwich, some fries, a drink - the usual stuff - and continue our conversation indoor, in a place that feels a bit closer to home. Now it's Layla's turn to offload her thoughts on me, as she tells me all about her childhood: so I learn that she was born and lived up here, and only very recently started to look for more opportunities down below.
"The surface has turned more and more hostile, with heat, storms and pollution. It was better before…" the girl points out. She then strikes a chord by showing me some old pictures of how this place used to look like.
I am about to finish my lunch, but I suddenly feel like not eating anymore. I feel a dreadful sense of guilt deep in my stomach. My family, which of course has always been quite wealthy, was one of the first to establish the Underground. Then, that underground city kept growing and growing despite all of the problems that came with it, and it turned into a whole new planet. People didn't care about the surface anymore, they felt safe and also… free to do whatever they pleased.
From the other side of the table, Layla just reassures me. She tries her hardest to convince me none of this is my fault. The places where we were born and grown have made us who we are today, that's her explanation. She shows me a photo of her little single house, somewhere in the suburbs, where her parents still live, and then a photo of the house she lives in currently - which from the outside alleyway is nothing but a little door and a window, opening up on the walls of a glorified corridor.
I don't talk much for the rest of our exploration, my own enthusiasm sullied a little. We just keep walking or riding our rented scooters through different areas of this city, as Layla acts as some sort of tour guide. I'm fascinated by the few trees who still do their best to grow, and by the animals that - just like they've done for millions of years keep living on this planet. However I can't help but feel that there would be so many more trees, so many more animals, if there was no underground.
By tugging at my heartstrings with her enthusiasm and nostalgia, Layla eventually dissolves this melancholy, having no issues keeping me on the surface until sunset.
Before we get back underground, she can't help but ask me one very serious question. The words fall out of her mouth like grains of sand in her hands:
"Would you live up here?"
This is where I start to crumble. I bite my lip, mumble some interjections, but I can't really give a proper answer. After all the things I've learned, going back underground really feels like I'm running away from responsibilities, even when I keep being told to this day that underground cities are the future, and are better for everyone involved. Plus, there's the unquestionable truth that… I was also born down there. The surface will never be the right place for me, because I don't feel ready for it.
Luckily, Layla understands. She can be childish, I've said that to her face already, but this time seems totally fine with whatever words I can get out of my own mouth. One hug later, and everything looks fine again. We get right back up on our scooters, going as fast as we can so that we can get to the checkpoint before it closes off for the night, laughing as we dodge other people or animals. But I can't shake that thought out of my head - I probably never will, in fact.
We're all happy as we ride towards the door of a Lunar base on Earth.
I can't help but offload all of my worries and concerns to her as she savors her drink. Layla, however, seems much more interested in her coffee than what I have to say and shrugs off my ramblings as nothing important. I pout and sigh, but all she tells me is "Don't worry, you'll be fine!"
I asked for more than a simple, meaningless reply such as this one, but of course I should've known better. Layla can be so stubborn… I drown my disappointment in coffee as the girl makes sure I'm wearing the right clothes - long-sleeved shirt, jeans, high top shoes. Basic and unassuming, these are not items that match my style, but merely that match Layla's guidelines.
She smiles and hands me a pair of fingerless gloves, a light yet large scarf and a baseball cap, so that nearly all of my skin is covered. Oh, and the icing on the cake: a pair of glasses with unusually dark lenses. I run my fingers along the metal frame and try to put them on, but all I see is darkness. I ask Layla what they're for. She turns around and giggles: "You'll find out soon enough!"
I decide to try and figure out why on my own. I know VR technology has improved quite a lot over the past few decades, but I don't see any hidden screen, projector or anything similar. Yet somehow, these visors are so sleek!
"Hahaha, they're not visors, just a pair of shades. Keep them on when we're up there!" Layla laughs as I fiddle with the glasses.
If the only purpose of these "shades" is to make things look darker, then they really have no place here, where lights are never brighter than they need to be. This means, the sunlight must be very strong when there's no filter blocking it… right?
Soon enough, I get my answer. Yes.
I follow Layla through a large, unusually fast lift, then through a guarded checkpoint, then through a series of doors. Once I'm out, the light is blinding and the heat overwhelming. Even with these glasses on, everything is much brighter than underground, and I'm just not used to it.
I try to walk away from the door into what looks like a black road, and immediately get stopped by my friend - soon after, something large and metallic quickly passes right where I was standing, making a rather unpleasant noise and leaving behind some smoke.
"Oh, that's a car, what most people here use to get around." Layla explains, as I can't help but wonder why one single person would need such a big thing to get around. Back at home there are many smaller and quieter alternatives.
Once I'm taught where it's safe and where it is not, we're ready to explore. The buildings around me - which I guess is how my house would look like if it was built here - keep getting taller, but also older and slightly neglected, or at least that is my impression. The road continues, still perfectly straight, and never seems to end: it all feels so huge, so out of reach. The old-fashioned electric scooters Layla has rented for the both of us (and which I remember seeing a couple of, near home) are nothing more than a small consolation.
After what feels like hours, we get to a waterfront. I timidly ask if it's possible to swim in this lake, but I'm hastily told no. When I ask for reasons why, she points at the silhouettes of some factories and power plants in the distance:
"No one seems to care anymore. Nuclear power plants, factories, landfills… new ones keep being built and this makes me very afraid of what this place will become."
According to an unusually serious Layla, this was a very nice place to swim or even sail, but the pollution has made it nearly impossible in the last decade.
After that emotional moment we get back inside that maze of roads and towering buildings, trying to find a nice place to have lunch. I still can't wrap my head around everything I'm seeing and feeling, it's such a strange experience for someone like me. She really didn't exaggerate when she said "life-changing experience", and the whole reason why this is happening, well, she explains once we get inside the restaurant she has chosen.
We grab a sandwich, some fries, a drink - the usual stuff - and continue our conversation indoor, in a place that feels a bit closer to home. Now it's Layla's turn to offload her thoughts on me, as she tells me all about her childhood: so I learn that she was born and lived up here, and only very recently started to look for more opportunities down below.
"The surface has turned more and more hostile, with heat, storms and pollution. It was better before…" the girl points out. She then strikes a chord by showing me some old pictures of how this place used to look like.
I am about to finish my lunch, but I suddenly feel like not eating anymore. I feel a dreadful sense of guilt deep in my stomach. My family, which of course has always been quite wealthy, was one of the first to establish the Underground. Then, that underground city kept growing and growing despite all of the problems that came with it, and it turned into a whole new planet. People didn't care about the surface anymore, they felt safe and also… free to do whatever they pleased.
From the other side of the table, Layla just reassures me. She tries her hardest to convince me none of this is my fault. The places where we were born and grown have made us who we are today, that's her explanation. She shows me a photo of her little single house, somewhere in the suburbs, where her parents still live, and then a photo of the house she lives in currently - which from the outside alleyway is nothing but a little door and a window, opening up on the walls of a glorified corridor.
I don't talk much for the rest of our exploration, my own enthusiasm sullied a little. We just keep walking or riding our rented scooters through different areas of this city, as Layla acts as some sort of tour guide. I'm fascinated by the few trees who still do their best to grow, and by the animals that - just like they've done for millions of years keep living on this planet. However I can't help but feel that there would be so many more trees, so many more animals, if there was no underground.
By tugging at my heartstrings with her enthusiasm and nostalgia, Layla eventually dissolves this melancholy, having no issues keeping me on the surface until sunset.
Before we get back underground, she can't help but ask me one very serious question. The words fall out of her mouth like grains of sand in her hands:
"Would you live up here?"
This is where I start to crumble. I bite my lip, mumble some interjections, but I can't really give a proper answer. After all the things I've learned, going back underground really feels like I'm running away from responsibilities, even when I keep being told to this day that underground cities are the future, and are better for everyone involved. Plus, there's the unquestionable truth that… I was also born down there. The surface will never be the right place for me, because I don't feel ready for it.
Luckily, Layla understands. She can be childish, I've said that to her face already, but this time seems totally fine with whatever words I can get out of my own mouth. One hug later, and everything looks fine again. We get right back up on our scooters, going as fast as we can so that we can get to the checkpoint before it closes off for the night, laughing as we dodge other people or animals. But I can't shake that thought out of my head - I probably never will, in fact.
We're all happy as we ride towards the door of a Lunar base on Earth.
