Forward Re-Write: The Last Sunset

4. The Last Sunset

     Warm air gave the scene a deceptive blanket of calm. Dom’s heart pounded like a jackhammer in his chest, and sweat trickled down his brow. Overcome by grief and elation, he felt paralyzed. The body he inhabited felt bliss. It was no longer his emotion, but the shadow of something long gone. He felt as though he were experiencing merely an echo, despite the visceral sensation that it was happening at that very moment.

     This was real at one point, it isn’t anymore, he thought, and slowed his breathing. If I had known they were going to take me here, I would have written something else. It had always been one of his most pleasant memories, but being strapped into the moment, to experience it once more felt unnatural. He knew what it all meant, and he knew how it would play out. This wasn’t like the birthday, it had weight to it, and viewing it again threatened to cheapen it.

Atop a squat apartment complex, they looked over a city that had barely begun to sprout. Off in the distance there were the skeletons of what would become Midway’s first skyscrapers. The construction crews had all gone home for the day, leaving the shadowed ribs of the concrete giants empty. Dom watched as a plastic sheet fluttered, hanging off the fiftieth story, lazy in the wind.

     “That’s the future right there,” said his dad through puffs of acrid smoke. He had always rolled his own cigarettes, and god only knew what was in them. The smell brought Dom reeling back to the moment. That smoke was the indicator of his childhood, and caused his head to spin. He never thought that he would smell it again. Looking up at his father’s sun-stained face brought back images of a time when he had been able to see the sky.

     “You alright in there Dom? I’m getting an extremely elevated pulse reading.” It was the bearded man again.

     “I’m fine.” Dom’s affect was flat, and he found himself flinching, afraid that his father would hear. It’s not real, it’s just a simulation. Even that Dom wasn’t so sure of. The concrete beneath his feet felt warm, and very much real. The burning in his lungs as the smoke blew inside them made him want to convulse.

     “Just need a minute to adjust to all this,” he said to the bearded man, watching as both he and his father ignored the words.

     “Alright, if it becomes too much, let me know and we can try another memory. Shouldn’t need much longer here to calibrate.”

     Dom was once again thankful that the bearded man could not see what his memories looked like. It was a very private moment, and one he never wanted to share.

“Do you think I’ll work in one of them someday?” His voice was small, like a mouse. He had loved his father, but always been intimidated.

     This response brought about a hearty laugh with just a hint of a rasp to it. Likely it was the beginning of what would eventually reduce the legend to nothing more than a hospital bed, tangled by wires and tubes. The thought brought about a bitter sensation in the back of Dom’s mouth. Time felt as though it were passing very slowly. Is that something they can do? He thought, but his father spoke again before he could ponder it too long.

     “If you work at it, you could go anywhere.” The words that had inspired him to move beyond the ordinary. They had pushed him through school, even when he felt deficient in comparison to his classmates, and they had taken him out of the slums, and to the top of the building that in this memory was nothing more than a sketch in someone’s office. “That’s the beauty of this city son. The taller those buildings grow; the more chances you’re going to have.”

     If only you knew how right you were, he thought, wondering if opportunity was better than the chance to see the sun. The buildings had all gone up with record speed, and before anyone had a chance to complain about it, they were all living in the shade. Dom made excellent money, but it was precious few who still got to see light within the city limits, and no one wanted to go outside of Midway, fearing the desert that had grown to surround them.

     Dom’s father put out his cigarette and clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on now, it’s about time to be heading in.” The red light had sunk low over the horizon, leaving the distant shadows to fade into the background. Dom wanted to stay, wanted his father to know that this would be the last time they would stand there together, but it was no use. Dom followed, full well expecting that they would come out the next night, and the next, as they always had, and always would.

     The stamp of his father’s work boots on the crumbling concrete roof had a tone of finality to it. Staring at his tall back against the fading light reminded Dom of what he had always admired. His father turned around to look at him. “What’s the matter son?” Dom wondered for a minute if his emotions had somehow been able to seep into the memory.

     “Nothing, just tired dad,” he said through a yawn. It must have been true, because Dom watched eerily as his eyelids fluttered downward, blocking his vision. It was a strange thing to watch one’s own eyes move on someone else’s accord. Dom knew that he would not be able to stay long, but he savored every last moment of it, casting off the uncanny feeling, and trying to remember what he could.

     His father put an arm around his shoulder and began to lead him inside. Everything was safe and secure in a way that Dom had not felt since. Financial stability and a decent job could do nothing to emulate the feeling of being so protected.

     “Alright Dom, I think we’ve got what we need from here. Are you ready to move on?”

     Dom was beginning to sense that bearded man was waiting for him to become comfortable and then purposefully shifting. As with the last memory, he did not want it to stop, but knew that it had to. Living in the past, while tantalizing, left the future to rot. “Yes, I am.”

     “Alright we’re going to pull you out slowly. I’ve got a good read on your mind, but there’s a few things we have to discuss before we move on to the next step.”

     “What’s the next step? More memories?”

     “No, we’re all done with that.” The skyline faded to black and Dom’s vision narrowed to a pinpoint. There were a few brief flashes of other past moments, but none long enough to catch their content. The grey room began to fizzle slowly into view. Dom blinked and noticed that the bearded man was standing at the side of the chair.  

     “The next step Dom, is to lay down some ground rules. After that, we can move on to the future.”