City on the Hill
Once peace finally returned to the world after the Third Great War, the people who survived (only a tiny fraction of the pre-war population) put aside more than two hundred thousand years of human shortcomings and sought a simple life, valuing tranquility over financial gain, harmony over the quest for power and simplicity over technological advancement. There was no more greed, hatred or bigotry. It was as though when the final bomb was dropped, it sent mankind's sins back into Pandora's box.
During these Halcyon days, Callum was born. Like his father and grandfather before him, he lived in the shadow of the Great Hill. All men who lived in the low-lying land farmed the fertile fields and fished the clean, blue waters. Theirs was an idyllic life, and those who lived beneath the Great Hill were content with their existence. It was as though Adam and Eve's sins were forgiven and their children were allowed to return to the Garden of Eden.
The first few years of Callum's life were no different from the lives of other children his age. His time was divided between learning, playing, working and sleeping. In the absence of television, cell phones, video games, computers and even basic toys such as model cars and bicycles, youngsters had to rely on their imaginations to provide fun pastimes. The offspring of the future developed activities that resembled earlier games like hide and seek, tag and blind man's bluff.
Callum's imagination, however, did not run to games. At an age when his peers were beginning to learn the skills that would allow them to take their place beside the adults in the field, he wanted to learn more of the world around him. His eyes were not looking down on the ground but, instead, were raised toward the sky. Specifically, he looked to the top of the Great Hill.
"What's up there?" the inquisitive child asked his father.
"That's an acropolis," the patient parent replied, used to his son's many questions.
"What's an acropolis?"
"It's a word left over from a long-dead language. It means 'city on a hill.'"
"What's a city?"
"It's a place with many buildings and people."
"How did they get up there?"
"That's where they lived before the war. Then the bombs came and leveled most of the mountains, leaving only the Great Hill and the acropolis on top of it."
"Have you ever gone up there and seen the city?"
"No. Nor do I ever plan on doing so. My feet will remain here on the ground until my eyes close for the last time."
"But don't you want to know what the city is like?"
"Why should I care what goes on up there when my life is down here?"
"There might be a better life in the acropolis."
"Even if there is, this is my home. You, your mother and baby sister are here. That's what matters to me."
"But ...."
"That's enough questions for today," the father declared, tired and hungry from working in the field all day. "Let's go see what your mother has prepared for us to eat."
After one last, longing look at the towering mountain, its peak obscured by low-lying clouds, as more often than not it was, Callum turned and followed his father home.
* * *
When the thoughts of boys his age turned to more mature subjects, Callum's mind remained concentrated on the acropolis at the top of the hill. If only he knew for certain what was up there, he would be content to marry, build a dwelling and raise a family on the ground and live out his days in the shadow of the Great Hill. But curiosity had him in its grip and would not let go.
One clear day, when he should have been helping his father tend the field, he entered the forest, searched for the tallest tree and climbed to the topmost branch. Balanced precariously on a narrow limb, he strained his neck for a better view of the cloudless mountaintop. The sun reflected on gold roofs of white buildings, making them appear as though they were on fire.
"What are you doing up there?" his father's voice called angrily. "Come down here at once!"
"You should have seen what I saw!" the boy cried excitedly. "What I could see of the acropolis was beautiful!"
"Enough of this nonsense! You might have fallen out of the tree and gotten killed or, at the very least, broken a bone."
"I'm not afraid of falling. I've climbed hundreds of trees. Although none were as tall as this one."
"I want you to make me a promise," his father declared, looking the boy straight in the eye.
"What promise?"
"That you'll forget all about this city on the hill nonsense."
"But I ...."
"I've told you repeatedly that what goes on up there is of no concern to us down here. Now, give me your word."
Callum was torn between his love for his father, and the desire to please him, and his yearning to discover what life in the acropolis was like."
The contrite son gazed at his father's face. The most prominent emotion he read in those soft blue eyes was fear. But of what? That Callum could be killed or seriously hurt falling from a tree? Or was it that the boy might discover that life in the acropolis was so much better than the one that awaited him on the ground?
Is my father afraid that I'll find a way to get to the top of the hill and never come back?
Casting his eyes on the ground, Callum reluctantly nodded his head.
"I promise," he said in a barely audible voice.
"Good. No more climbing trees and no more talk about what's on the top of the Great Hill."
His son continued to nod his head, despite feeling as though his heart were breaking.
* * *
Seasons came and went, and Callum slowly grew from a boy to a man. A dutiful son, he kept his word to his father. He never climbed the tall tree or mentioned the city on the hill again. But no promise could keep his head from occasionally tilting back and his eyes hungrily seeking a glimpse of the gold-roof buildings of the acropolis. He was every bit as curious about the city as he had been when he was a child, but he managed to keep that curiosity well-hidden.
Seven years passed during which nearly all of his peers took mates and some became fathers. Callum, with the encouragement of his parents, built his own dwelling and invited Pippa to share it with him. The girl readily accepted. Over the next five years, the couple had two children, a boy and a girl. Yet despite the happiness his family brought him, there was still an aching in his heart when the low-hanging clouds gathered above the mountaintop. It was as though they were taunting him.
"You'll never know what's here," they appeared to tell him. "The acropolis will always be shrouded in mystery."
"What are you looking at?" Pippa asked one day when she saw her mate standing in the field, his head raised toward the sky.
"At the clouds above the hill."
"Why are you so interested in them? They're not rainclouds."
"I was just wondering what secrets they're hiding."
"Secrets? What are you talking about? They're clouds. They don't have secrets."
Unlike Callum, Pippa had no imagination. She was like his parents: she had both feet firmly planted on the ground and eyes pointed down.
"Haven't you ever wondered about the city on the hill?" he asked, deciding the question would not be breaking his promise since he had not asked it of his father.
"No. Have you?"
"All the time," he admitted.
"And do you also wonder about the sun in the sky, the leaves on the trees or the fish in the streams?"
"No. I can see them. I know what they are. I can feel the heat of the sun on my face, hold the leaves in my hand and taste the fish after it is caught and cooked. But the city, although it is right there on top of the Great Hill, remains a complete mystery."
"Life is full of mysteries," Pippa contended. "When I was a little girl, I saw a branch being carried downriver by the water's current. I asked my father where the river would take it. He told me not to ask such questions. He believed too much knowledge was dangerous, that it would destroy the lives we hold dear."
"My father feels the same way. I don't see how knowledge can harm us."
"Maybe it can't. But what good will it do us? If you knew what was on top of that mountain, would it put food on our table or clothes on our backs?"
"No, but it would put my mind to rest. If I knew once and for all what was up there, I would be content."
"Maybe, maybe not. Perhaps your mind would only seek to discover the answer to other mysteries. You might then want to know what is at the end of the river or what land lies beyond the western horizon."
"That's not true," he cried defensively. "I paid attention when my parents told me of the Great War that nearly destroyed our world. I know there are probably other pockets of people out there and that it's best to keep our distance from them. I imagine they are much like us, concerned only with survival. But I once caught a glimpse of the acropolis from the top of the tallest tree. I saw white buildings with gold roofs that gleamed in the sun. Those buildings were built before the war and managed not to be destroyed by bombs. I can't help wondering what else might have survived up there."
"Well, while you're wondering," Pippa teased him, "get back to work. Winter will be here before you know it, and we have four mouths that need feeding."
* * *
Another autumn and winter came and went. When spring arrived and the ground thawed enough for planting to commence, Callum's father fell sick and died.
"But he was still a fairly young man," the grieving son cried.
"Life gives some of us fewer years than others," his mother said, coming to terms with her widowhood.
Thoughts of his own mortality began to haunt Callum.
How many more years will life give me?
Dying did not frighten him. In a world without religion, there was no threat of hell or eternal damnation. Death was a natural thing. There was no day of reckoning waiting for him. What did scare him, however, was that he might leave this world, never having seen the city at the top of the hill.
In the wake of his father's passing, Callum became a changed man. Caring for his mother became his responsibility. With five mouths to feed, he would have to spend more time than before providing for his family.
No doubt I will die here in the fields, he thought glumly, and they will find my body lying in the dirt.
Then it suddenly occurred to him that his father's death meant he was no longer bound by the promise he made. He abruptly stopped tending his field and walked off in the direction of the forest.
"Where are you going?" called Pippa, who was working beside him.
"To get a good view of the acropolis."
Not only his mate but several of the men working in nearby fields followed him.
"Are you sure it's safe?" Pippa asked, anxiously eying the towering tree.
"I climbed it before."
However, while the upper branches could support a child, they bent under the weight of an adult. Still, he managed to make it high enough to see the glimmering reflection of the sun on the gold roofs of the outermost buildings.
"It's incredible!" he told the people gathered around who were looking up at him with expectant faces. "It is the most wondrous sight I have ever seen."
When he was safely on the ground again, another young man, eager to see the city for himself, ascended the network of branches.
"Callum is right," he cried when he reached the top. "It is beautiful."
Each of the men present took a turn climbing the tree, some making it higher than others. That should have been the end of it. The incident ought to have remained an adventure they would recall when they sat beside their fires during the winter months. However, Callum—free at last to discuss the subject forbidden by his promise—urged other young men to see the acropolis for themselves. Most were content to merely glimpse it from the tree, but some soon came to share Callum's dream of discovering what was at the top of the mountain.
Throughout the harvest season and during the long months of winter, a small group of young men discussed the pros and cons of actually making such a trip. That they would satisfy their curiosity was the only pro, whereas the cons were many. One, both the ascent and the descent would be dangerous. Two, the journey would no doubt take many days, if not weeks, of valuable time that should be spent in the fields. Three, what if the inhabitants of the city were hostile rather than friendly?
By the time spring arrived again, however, Callum had managed to convince five others to join him in a journey of discovery.
"We will leave once the seeds are in the soil," he announced one morning to the men who had gathered around him in the field. "The women can water the ground if there is no rain."
Said women naturally tried to dissuade them from their proposed foolhardy course of action, but like the man who had originally inspired them and assumed leadership of the group, they refused to listen.
"Do you think we will find food along the way?" one man asked as the group prepared for the climb.
"We might," Callum replied, "but to be safe, we ought to bring enough for several days. I'm sure once we get to the city, there will plenty to eat."
There were tearful goodbyes on the morning that the six young men tied bundles of food and canteens of water on their backs and met at the foot of the mountain.
"Are you sure that's enough water?" Pippa asked, clutching her younger child to her breast.
"I'm sure it is. If not, the mountain streams ought to be overflowing from the spring thaw."
One last time the women tried to change their mates' minds, but Callum spurred them on before their resolve could falter.
"Let's get going," he cried. "We want to get as high up as we can before we lose daylight."
The women and children watched their progress until the men were out of view. Then, crying and sobbing, they returned to their dwellings to await the travelers' return.
* * *
Despite two days of climbing, the men made little progress on their trek up the hill. With no paths to follow, they navigated by instinct, which all too often proved to be wrong. Midmorning of the third day they were traveling through a heavily wooded area. Leaves from the previous autumn littered the ground, making it difficult to see obstacles in their way.
"I'm getting hungry," one of the explorers announced. "When are we going to stop to eat?"
"It's early yet," Callum replied. "We'll stop when the sun is directly overhead."
"How can we see the sun with all these trees in the way?"
"I'm sure we'll come to a clearing ...."
A loud snapping sound like that of a breaking branch was heard, followed by a scream of pain.
"Help me," the youngest of the five men cried. "I tripped and hurt my leg."
"I'm afraid it's broken," Callum solemnly declared after a quick examination.
"He can't climb with a broken leg," the injured man's brother said. "We're going to have to carry him."
"We can't carry him. It might be days yet before we reach the city, and the terrain is too rugged. I think it's best we leave him here and then fetch him on our way back down."
"We can't leave him! If any danger should befall him, he'd be defenseless."
"Then you stay with him until we return. Either that or you can help him back down the hill."
The other three men did not want to leave their companions behind, but they had little choice in the matter. None of them had the strength to carry a full-grown man up a mountain.
"Let's go," Callum called, urging them on.
"Here," the injured man's boyhood friend said, "take my food. You may need it."
"What will you do?" the brother asked.
"I'll live off the land. We've passed trees with fruit and berries. I'm sure there'll be more up ahead."
By evening, the generous man had come to regret his kindness. He had walked all afternoon and developed quite an appetite. His fellow travelers' supplies were also low, and no one was willing to share what little they had left.
"You should have held on to your food," Callum told him. "You'll need it. This journey is going to take longer than we realized."
Early the following morning, the group passed a bush laden with red, ripe berries.
"Food!" the famished climber cried and began pulling the crimson fruit from its branches and stuffing it into his mouth.
"What's it taste like?" his friend asked.
"It's tart, but not too bad."
Once he had eaten enough to ease the hunger pains in his stomach, he was ready to resume his journey. After walking less than an hour, his stomach began to hurt again—but not from hunger this time. Still, he trudged on for more than four hours. Finally, he could no longer continue. His face contorted with pain, he doubled over and fell to the ground.
"I ... I ...."
He was unable to talk. Within moments of his attempt at speech, he died.
"I say we give up this foolish quest and go back home," one of the remaining climbers suggested.
"No," Callum insisted. "We've come this far; we can't stop now."
Although his two remaining companions had lost the desire to see what was on top of the hill, neither one was eager to return home and tell the dead man's mate what had befallen the father of her children. Thus, they bid farewell to their late friend and followed their leader up the mountainside.
* * *
Less than a day later, the climbers discovered their water supply was dangerously low.
"We can go a day or so without food, but we can't get far without water," the oldest and supposedly wisest of the three men said.
"We'll have to keep our ears open for the sound of a stream so that we can refill our canteens," their determined leader advised. "Until then, try to conserve as much as possible."
Thankfully, by early evening, they heard the distinctive sound of rushing water.
"Look! It's a river," the oldest climber cried.
Canteen in hand, he raced for the bank, unmindful of the slippery rocks that lined the edge of the water.
"Be careful!" Callum cautioned.
Sadly, his warning went unheeded. A loud splash signaled that his companion had lost his footing on the wet rocks and tumbled into the water. Never having learned to swim, he was quickly carried away by the strong current. His head went underwater and resurfaced twice, but the third time he went down he never came back up.
"Two men are dead, and one is seriously injured," Callum's sole fellow traveler said. "This city on the hill had better be worth it!"
"It will be," the leader contended, never once doubting his decision to undertake the perilous expedition.
After carefully refilling their canteens from the river, they continued on their way. Stopping only to forage for food and to sleep when the sun went down, the two men travelled for five more days. Their legs sore, their skin burned by the sun and their feet dotted with blisters, they at last saw the summit of the mountain in the distance.
"There it is!" Callum exclaimed.
"Where's this city you spoke of?"
"We'll see it as we get closer."
It was half a day's walk before gold roofs came into view.
"Look! Didn't I tell you it was magnificent?" the leader cried.
"It certainly is," the other explorer agreed.
"If we hurry, we might get there before nightfall."
"I don't think I have the strength to go any faster."
"Well, I do," Callum said and began to run over the rocky surface of the mountain.
"Wait for me."
Although he tried to keep up, the climber was not in as good a shape as his companion. Consequently, he fell further behind. In trying to close the distance between them, he became careless. While climbing a steep precipice, he grabbed onto a rock for support, unaware that it was not secure. When the rock was dislodged, it caused those around it to shift. The rockslide occurred so fast that the exhausted man had no opportunity to scream. He plummeted silently down the steep cliff to his death.
It's just me now, Callum thought. I'm the only one left.
His conclusion was more accurate than he knew, for both the young climber with the broken leg and his brother had died of thirst the previous day.
* * *
Darkness forced him to stop. Although physically tired, he was unable to sleep. He was far too excited, anticipating the wonders he would see the following day when he traversed the last few miles and entered the acropolis. At sunrise, he finished the last of his food and water and summoned the strength to continue.
When he at last crested the hill, he stared in amazement at the sight before his eyes. There were hundreds of columned marble buildings, many of which were topped with gold roofs. Everywhere he looked there were signs of extreme wealth. What surprised the young traveler, however, was not what he saw but what he did not see.
Where are all the people?
He had never been to a city, but his father had told him they contained many inhabitants. Perhaps they were hiding.
Are they afraid of me? But why? I am only one man. What harm can I do?
"Hello?" he called out. "Is anyone here? I've come as a friend. I won't hurt you."
When no one answered, he searched the nearest buildings. All were elaborately furnished and lavishly decorated with works of art. Yet there was no sign of recent human habitation.
Where has everyone gone?
By midmorning he had solved the mystery. On a side road, not visible from the center of the acropolis was a cemetery. Huge piles of bones littered the once-well-manicured landscape. Apparently, at some point in the city's history, they had ceased to bury the dead.
"I wonder what happened to them," he said aloud.
"They died."
Callum was startled by the sudden appearance of an old man.
"This city was where the richest of the rich once lived," he explained.
"Were they killed in the war?"
"Not exactly. They didn't die in battle, but when the bombs destroyed most of this mountain, they were cut off from the world below. That's where all the fertile farmland was. Once the food supply was exhausted, people took drastic measures. They ate their pets first, and then they turned on each other."
"Are you saying they ate human flesh?"
"They had no choice. It was a matter of survival. Some had to die so that others would live. People became so desperate they ate their own family members. Husbands ate wives, brothers devoured their brothers and mothers consumed their own children."
"How many are there left alive?" Callum asked, noticing that the old man looked healthy enough.
"Just me."
"And how is it you survived and they didn't?"
"I was blessed with a stronger constitution. After the last of the people died, I lived on rats, insects and the few decorative houseplants I could find."
"Well, you can come down the mountain with me. It'll no doubt be a difficult journey for one of your years, but when you get to the bottom, you'll find more than enough food."
"I'm not sure I can make it," the old man said, "but it's worth a try. It's been so long since I've had a decent meal."
"Good. Let me get some rest, and we'll leave first thing in the morning."
Callum then turned and headed in the direction of the nearest building, intending to have a long sleep in the comfort of one of its beds. He was halfway there when the old man struck him over the head with a human leg bone.
* * *
Intense pain brought Callum back to consciousness. He tried to move, but he was secured to a table with thick straps.
"What's ... going ... on?" he managed to utter between jaws clenched in agony.
"I'm preparing my dinner," the old man replied, as he deftly removed the climber's right leg with the ease of a skilled butcher.
Callum's screams rent the air as he endured the torture of being dismembered.
"I'm sorry for your discomfort," the old man apologized, "but it can't be helped. It's a question of survival. Besides, the pain will pass soon. Mercifully, they always pass out before they bleed to death."
The young man who had been born and raised in the shadow of the Great Hill closed his eyes, not wanting to see his raw flesh being consumed by the sole survivor of the acropolis. As he felt his strength slowly slip away, he recalled the promise he had made to his father. His last conscious thought was that he regretted not keeping that promise.
Speaking of promises, Salem once promised me he would stay away from my computer. As you can see, he soon broke it (the promise, not the computer).
