Ground had been lost, again. The border had moved closer. It was an opaque, hideous green. It blotted out the sky, the stars, and the horizon beyond as far as any eye or instrument could see. This time it had taken six years. The time before that it had been 48 hours. Next time, who knew? It had become fatiguing to put too much weight on the wall. If you considered it in any decisions then you couldn’t rightfully live a normal life. It was best to forget the wall until it became necessary to act.
Avery lived in the shadow of the wall. His family had lived here all his life, inching back in an appropriate measure whenever it started to feel claustrophobic. It was colder in the shadow, sometimes bitterly so. But there were fewer people here. A dim suburbia of those bold enough to saddle up next to their undoing, like a village at the bottom of an active volcano. After all, what could you do? The wall would move or it wouldn’t, and this time it did by twelve miles. Last time it did so by 1,103, if you measured from the equator.
A painter’s brush stroke sweep and the final shred of New York had been consumed, erased, or whatever it was that the wall did. From New York back West to Japan had been overcome. North to South as far as both poles, green. Nobody knew what was on the other side. It went up beyond the atmosphere, not that there were any reliable ways off of the orb any longer. Satellites had vanished as their rotations sent them rocketing into the wall. Nothing could go over or under without going through.
Avery was packing, gathering up his things as best he could. They’d made the all-too-common mistake of getting too comfortable. They acquired furniture that would be too much of a pain to move, so they’d have to leave it behind. With the wall just 50 miles away now, he and his family had decided to move another fifty back, at least. It was arbitrary. Number theories had been tested. Holy dates were speculated at. Fibonacci sequences. Prime numbers. Mayan calendars. Astrological readings. Nothing stuck, and people cared less and less over the generations that had passed.
Nobody knew how or when it would move. It could sweep them all up in one fell swoop in the next minute, but for some reason it didn’t feel likely. He had to push those feelings under, keep them at bay. In all likelihood, they’d move back and it would be fine. Still in the shadow, but just a little bit further away. It was a comfort thing.
Death was certain, but he could still have a good day. Life goes on, even in the shadow of the wall.
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