THE SUN OF WRATH

End of the Year 2047

***

On a beach of my childhood, dressed in my military uniform...

Nine-year-old Iwona sits on the sand while making a castle with three-year-old Ania. I walk towards them slowly, smiling. I realise that I am now five years-old. As Iwona sees me approaching, she gets up to run towards me. She takes me by the hand and pulls me with her towards Ania who giggles with glee; she gets up also and starts to run towards us. Iwona's hand, firm and warm in mine, reassures me. I was afraid of being alone in the world, but I'm not anymore. Ania clings to my leg, looking up to me with a big smile. I wiggle my toes in the hot sand.

***

Standing by the seashore, my father holds me against him as he points to the horizon in front of us. A gentle wind caresses my face as I squint at the sunrise over the sea ahead of us. The wind talks to me, or maybe it is my father. He whispers something in my ear, my cheek against his, I lean closer against him to feel his warmth better. Soon, a soft, affectionate hand comes to rest on my bare leg. My mother standing next to my father looks at me tenderly, smiling. How quiet she is; her strength resides in the depths of her being. She tells me something too, or maybe it is the sea. She rocks me with her regular rolls and embraces me with her long arms. I let myself go.

***

Standing facing the wind and the setting sun, Chris and I teenagers look at the horizon with a broad smile on our faces, our hearts full of hope for the future, our heads full of dreams, our bodies full of burning desires. We have the certainty and arrogance of the youth. We smell like puberty. So what?!

***

Alegria, my parents, my adult sisters and Chris stand in a line, smartly dressed in their Sunday best. They smile and cheer. They clap and throw confetti over my head and Feliz's head as we pass. She wears a wedding dress and holds a bouquet in her hands which she throws into the sea before jumping on my back to ride me like a horse. I burst out laughing, so does she. That is my Feliz.

****

'How are you feeling?' a female voice next to me asked.

'Better,' I sighed, turning to the voice.

The room was still dark, but the light from outside coming through the window and the closed curtains allowed me to appreciate the surroundings around me. Fatou, sitting on an armchair next to my bed, looked at me tenderly with a smile and sad eyes.

'And you?' I asked, worried.

'I'm okay,' she replied in a barely audible voice.

My gaze scanned my bedroom for a long moment as if I saw it for the first time. The air in the room felt very hot. I would have said suffocating. Two fans blew hot air from every corner of the room with the humming sound of old refrigerators.

'What time is it?' I asked.

'10 o'clock,' Fatou replied.

'You can open the curtains now if you want,' I said confidently.

'Believe me Borys, you don't want to open the curtains,' she said while big tears started to well up in her eyes.

I frowned then propped myself up on one elbow to stare at the window in front of me. I swallowed my saliva, alternating my gaze from Fatou to the window. I got out of bed.

'Whatever you do, Borys, don't touch the window,' she continued, with a weak, but firm voice.

I turned to her, intrigued, and worried then turned back to the closed curtains. I slowly walked towards the window, taking one step at a time. The closer I got, the more intense the heat became. My heart started pounding in my chest as my legs and arms began to shake. Something terrible had happened, and I hadn't been awakened to see it. I grabbed the curtains with each hand, then I pulled hard on them all at once as if to rip my fear apart. I was first dazzled by an intense red light. I closed my eyelids, then blinked several times allowing my eyes to take in the colours of this new sun.

Once my eyes were accustomed to this strange light, I observed like a new-born, mouth and eyes wide open, the world to which I and my species had given birth: uniform, conforming, bland, superficial, poor in colour and variety, dominant, intrusive, destructive, rigid, austere, ruthless, and miserly. The modern-day men had succeeded in reshaping the Earth in their own image. I turned to Fatou who looked pensively at her feet.

'When did this happen?' I asked with a lump in my throat, looking at her as if she was a ghost.

Fatou suddenly raised her head. She turned to me with an evasive look, her face, shiny with sweat, looked thinner than I remembered. She seemed exhausted. I suddenly felt guilty. I hadn't been there for the mother of my son and the woman who had been taking care of me when I was no longer worth anything to society. She had to live through that event without me while playing strong woman despite the fact that she too would have needed support, a soft hand, a broad shoulder, compassionate words.

In that moment, I realised that like everyone else in my species, I had neglected what was most precious around me while dreaming of a different companion, more like the kind of companion I wanted. Everything and everyone always had to submit to our every wish and desire as if the universe owed us all its favours.

Fatou gave me a sigh before answering, 'Gradually a few weeks ago, then things got worse last week.'

'How do people get out?' I asked without moving.

'There are times of the day when it's less bad, but they're thinking of building adequate housing and vehicles.'

'Is there anything they can do to reverse this?' I asked. Fatou's silhouette became all blurry as my gaze blurred.

'They're still looking,' she said as she sketched a fake smile, then she looked back down at her sandals.

Until then, men had always ended up finding everything they looked for because the human species is resilient. Humanity doesn't give up that easily, except that it always gives up on other humans. Forty years later, men still haven't figured out how to undo what they have done. The planet is in equally bad shape and shows no signs of recovering. As for the sun, it is still angry at us and it has been constantly beating on us for about forty years now.