The sun peered above like the watchful eye of a careful yet loving father. The world seemed to be incredibly saturated with a grain-like filter.
That's because this was a memory.
Below the sky was a medium, semi-detached, white, suburban house. The property surrounding it had a rather modest garden with a wide range of fruits and vegetables.
Inside the house was a family of four. Two parents, two children. One taller, older boy and one shorter, younger one. The kids looked to be no older than 7, and one of them seemed to be stumbling all over the place. The mother was holding a book with a cross on it, and she was recounting various passages to the two boys. Both boys were listening with a sense of alacrity as the stories overwhelmed and interested them.
The taller child wore an orange hoodie with black sweatpants, whereas the smaller one opted for a white shirt and shorts.
"That is what makes God good," said the Mother, clapping her hands together. After finishing her story, she scanned the excited faces of the two boys.
Grinning, she said, "Alright, I guess I should be off to help my husband with the dinner. I wonder why he wanted me to teach you two about God."
Probably because you can'tcook, the taller boy thought. Immediately, another more provoking thought struck him.
"But… what is God?" the taller boy asked brusquely, with his eyebrow raised. He had heard so much about a being beyond his understanding. The arcane nature of God was something that eluded him to no end.
"God is our creator, he is a being with infinite wisdom, infinite strength and an unconditional love for us all," the Mother began, "No matter what happens, he'll always be there."
She shifted slightly in her chair, and her face glimmered in the sunlight thanks to the slightly ajar window of the room. The evening glare seemed to cloak her in the golden hue of harvest as she proclaimed her beliefs. Because of this, the two boys were enraptured even more.
But the taller boy's contours shifted slightly. The idea that the 'creator' knew all didn't sit well with him. His stomach churned as his expression grew awry. Finally, he ran out of patience and, with lustre, spoke again. "But, Mother… If God knows all, does that mean he knows our futures? And what will we do? Does that mean everything we do is laid out before us?"
She bristled under the unexpected pressure; she had almost forgotten the inquisitive nature of her young son. However, she regained her composure and answered. "Well, it's fine because God has given us free will. It is inevitably our choice whether or not we choose to do good or bad."
"Still… If God knows all, then what is the point of free will…?" He reasoned, "If everything we'll ever do is known by God, then are we truly free?"
"Anyasu," her tone became deeper and more stoic. Yet, she wasn't angry. The glassy texture of her eyes, reflecting a flowing emotion, peered back at the boy. In fact, tears seemed to be building up at the sides of her eyes, "I'm trying…! We are free and we can pursue what we want. God isn't actively preventing us from being free, so we should consider ourselves free."
The taller boy, Anyasu, sighed.
"Either everything is pre-determined and God has knowledge of that, or we are not free, Mom. To be free is to be free of anyone or anything, knowing your next move," he continued.
It was clear to the shorter boy that he had begun to go off on a tangent. Recently, he'd always prattle on and on about the ideals of freedom and how God contradicts them.
"It's unfair that God gets to know it all. If I suddenly choose to be a doctor, does that mean God knows? But my choice was influenced by the knowledge that God knows my future already and that… and… and…!" He gripped his temple in frustration. Being a kid meant that the small, mushy, pink clump of cells called his brain lacked the experiences required to build up a proper understanding. No matter how hard he tried, there was a void where his constructive experiences should have been. It was frustrating.
"Now, now, Anyasu. Relax. You're just a child; you're thinking too much about these things. How about you and Inuwa go outside while I help sort out dinner? Alright?"
The shorter boy, Inuwa, tugged at Anyasu's shoulder with a mopey face. Looking at his large, round eyes, Anyasu couldn't help but exhale. A small, unrelenting smile crept its way up his features.
"Alright," he replied. Then, he motioned over to his younger sibling, who seemed to be staring at him in a blithe daze. Without a wasted movement, he held his sibling's hand and guided him outside.
There, in the deep expanses of garden and shrubbery, the boys explored and surveyed anything of slight interest. This happened till their little hearts gave out and their tiny legs slackened.
At that point, both the boys decided to rest on the ground together, staring up at the summer sun. The said summer sun appeared to be blinking at them thanks to the constant passage of the clouds.
"Look, brother! Is it trying to tell us something?" Inuwa asked with a childlike glee in his voice. In response to the rather silly question, Anyasu failed to suppress his chuckle. "No, Inuwa, it's just that the clouds are in the way and when they're not in the way, the sun comes back up."
"Oh. So it isn't telling us anything…?" he trailed, the hint of disappointment in his voice becoming palpable. Seeing this, Anyasu smiled softly, and his eyes went kind. Patting his brother on the head, he responded.
"Maybe it is. We'll never know because the sun is super far."
At this, Inuwa held out his palm to the sun. By doing so, he blocked it out of his view. Then, facing towards Anyasu, he asked the question that plagued him at that moment.
"If it's really far, then why can I see it?"
"That's easy. It's very bright."
"It's so bright that we can see it. Is that why there's nighttime?"
Anyasu became intrigued. His brother always had something a little wise and intuitive about him. Seeing his brother discover and come up with correct conclusions about the world itself always amused him.
"Explain," he grinned.
"Well, the sun rises over there, right?" Inuwa started, pointing towards a north-east direction. "Then, it comes back down over there at the end of the day," he continued, pointing this time towards the south-west. "So what if nighttime is just the sun not facing us anymore because it's moving away?"
Anyasu's eyes bugged out for a second. The boy had almost gotten it completely right! 'What intelligence! Did he read this in a book somewhere? Anyasu wondered.
"You're almost right. Night time is actually us not facing the sun anymore."
Inuwa's eyes went wide like saucers as his mind raced, looking for an answer–no explanation that would satisfy that fact.
But there was nothing. In frustration, he did the only thing he considered himself good at– he begged his brother for an answer.
"Whaaaat?! Tell me more, please, Anya!"
"Well, you see… we live on a big sphere. Imagine a football, it spins right?" Inuwa nodded. With the confirmation that the boy could keep up, Anyasu continued. "Well, apply that to the land we are on right now."
Inuwa's eyebrows furrowed, and he stared off into the side as he tried to understand the process. It was hard to think that the world was a sphere since, looking outwards towards the expanse of land going all the way to the horizon, only seemed to reveal… flat land. But maybe that was because the world was that big?
"We live on a big sphere," he said with a newfound clarity.
"Do you know what that sphere is called?" he asked.
Inuwa strained his mind, scanning all memories for some sort of clue. He remembered that country day when people came into school with different clothes. He also remembered that all those countries were part of something.
That something was–
"Earth! Earth! Earth!" Inuwa shouted in with an unrestrained abundance of bliss.
At this, Anyasu could only nod and grin with satisfaction.
Seeing his brother's grin, Inuwa realised he was right, and then he excitedly nodded.
"So now, like a football, it spins. If you're kicking the ball, you'll only kick one side of it, so only one side of it gets the force. Just like, if you're the sun and giving your light to Earth, only one side of Earth will receive the light."
"One side of it gets the fo– force?" Inuwa asked, trying his best to recount what Anyasu said. Terms like 'force' resembled pure gibberish. It wasn't his fault; he had never paid attention to those terms before.
"Yes– force."
"–and so then, that means that the–the–"
"Earth."
"Earth! Will only receive light sometimes during the day. So, night is when we aren't getting light!" he exclaimed. After coming to this conclusion, his glassy, void-like eyes stared into Anyasu's own golden eyes with a contentment unmatched by those who've been worn by the world. Seeing that, Anyasu smiled and patted Inuwa's head.
Soon, the boys settled into a comfortable silence, waiting for their parents to finish prepping their meals. In the meantime, with their heads held up in the stars, they basked in the warmth and glory of the pumpkin sky.
"Hey, Anya?" Inuwa called out. He had taken to calling his brother the nickname: 'Anya' because he struggled to properly pronounce Anyasu's given name, but over time, he had stopped struggling. However, this didn't stop him since he had long since grown incredibly fond of the nickname.
"Yeah?" Anyasu responded.
"I wish I could be up there– with the sun," Inuwa said rather solemnly. His palm was outstretched towards the glowing orb radiating light.
"Why do you want to be there?" Anyasu asked, genuinely curious. His words always emanated warmth to Inuwa, whether or not they were supportive. Just the fact that his brother was listening gave him enough courage to reveal what was on his mind at any time.
At that, Inuwa bristled a little. Then, he replied.
"I bet there's a whole world out there. So much to discover and see. That's why I want to go up there!" he exclaimed. He had begun to pant. Whether or not that was out of adrenaline, fear, ecstasy or frustration was unknown to the boy. Yet, that feeling seemed to cause a rush within him like no other.
A volcano was beginning to erupt within the boy, and he was none the wiser.
However, Anyasu could tell that was happening. He knew.
"Before you can say that you want to see what's out there, why don't you see all of what's down here?" he asked.
"But people have already discovered all of what's down here– there's no point." Inuwa pouted with his brows furrowed.
"You have a point, Inu," Anyasu said blankly with his thumb poised at his chin. With that addition, he seemed to be staring down at the floor thoughtfully.
"But Inu, don't you want to at least see it? There's got to be something you've always wanted to see with your own two eyes– something that would make you go: 'wow!'. Isn't there?" Anyasu started. He had adopted a more neutral expression and was staring at Inuwa now.
When Anyasu had an expression like this, Inuwa knew that he would gain insight into things about himself that he'd never have thought of– ever.
"Something that would make me go: 'Wow!'…" Inuwa said aloud. Then, as if a lightbulb magically appeared above his head, he replied.
"This sky! And whenever you can see the moon, but it isn't fully nighttime yet!" Inuwa replied giddily. His eyes flickered across the sky for a brief moment; there, he took note of the object he had just spoken of. It was the moon.
At that moment, time seemed to still. Inuwa was lost in the arcane luminescence of the moon's radiance. There was a primal peace within that gaze of the moon, and yet, there was also something lurching. It seemed to beckon him and beckon him. Further and further till–
"Inuwa?"
Snapped out of his daze, Inuwa's face recoiled towards Anyasu, who was staring at the boy with an indecipherable expression.
"Sorry, Anya," he apologised. As a rather sheltered young boy, Inuwa hated getting on his family's nerves more than anything.
"It's okay, you don't have to apologise."
"Ok."
The boys settled into another silence. This time, it was clear there was something they both wanted to speak about. However, being the older sibling by a magnitude of 2 years, Anyasu believed it was his duty to ensure his younger sibling got a chance to express themselves.
With that notion in mind, he sat right up and motioned for Inuwa to speak.
Seeing this, the boy copied his brother's sitting position while tucking in slightly. With a faint alacrity, he asked his brother a question. One question related to the topic.
"Anyasu… what do you wish for?" He asked with a slight smile.
Anyasu stared at him in shock. It was like his little brother had completely and utterly seen through his mind like he was a one-dimensional character! Yet, he couldn't help but feel a little ecstatic. Donning a blithe smile, he told his brother his most immediate dream.
"I wish that no one would be able to decide what I want to do," He said with a charmed expression, "I would rather everything was random and messy than predictable and organised."
Inuwa didn't understand what Anyasu was alluding to. All that he could piece together was the idea of 'freedom' and 'organisation'. So, curiously, he asked his brother a question.
"What's so wrong with 'prediccable' and organised?" Inuwa said.
"Predic-t-able," Anyasu emphasised with a smile.
"Predic-t-able," Inuwa replied, corrected.
"Don't you think it'd get boring after a while? If you knew everything before it could happen?" The boy with golden irises extrapolated.
"That does sound boring– mmm… yeah." Inuwa hummed, "But wouldn't it help solve everything? If we knew it was going to happen before it happened?"
"But can you solve everything? There's going to be knowledge you won't be able to explain because you're far too young or not well-versed in the topic."
Inuwa considered that statement. If he knew everything, sure, he'd know, but he probably wouldn't be able to apply it well.
"Huh," he said thoughtfully in agreement, then another bubbling question prompted him to turn towards his brother.
"You just want things to be un-predic-t-able?" Inuwa said.
"Not only that, but I guess you could say I want to no longer feel weighed down! I want to live a life that I can say only belongs to me!" He chuckled out, his smile broadening with every word.
"That sounds nice," Inuwa replied, his eyes glimmering with admiration and wonder.
"Yeah! I'm gonna be eating what I want when I want! I'll never study and I'll–"
"INUWA! ANYASU! Dinners ready!~" bellowed out a sweet voice, humming like the soft, enchanted notes of a harp. With that, the conversation between the two boys died down slowly as they both realised they hadn't eaten in hours. The realisation hit at the exact moment that Inuwa's stomach made the observation palpable.
"Looks like someone's hungry. Inu, let's head inside," Anyasu said, beckoning Inuwa to follow him.
Inuwa did so– but not before taking one long, forlorn look at the celestial body that overhung like a stage light in a theatre, the audience being the millions of milky-white speckled masses gathering per minute to view the spectacle between brothers.
"Gee. I hope the food isn't burnt again. But, since she spent hours and I mean HOURS, cooking it, I don't have high hopes…," Anyasu trailed off as he walked back into the house.
"Hey, I heard that, Young man! You need to learn how to respect your mother's cooking! Hubby… isn't it true that we didn't burn the food this time?" The voice of Inuwa's mother rang out. Anyasu groaned at the mention of 'Hubby'.
"Well–"
Before the exhausted man could give his input, his maverick of a son beat him to the punch, to his chagrin.
"Notice how you had to use 'this time,'" Anyasu said.
"Son! That was the one thing you shouldn't say! You idiot!"
Anyasu took a moment to register the backhanded comment he had just made. He was already on thin ice after insulting his mother's cooking. Now, he was likely a drowned man swimming. His skin went from dark to morning-blue as his mouth trembled.
From behind him, a swirling vortex of rage and motherly instincts gathered like an unstable mass. The temperature in the room dropped to a freezing point as the boy observed that the brightness of the area dropped a few notches. A single strand of sweat glided down his face as he gulped.
That would presumably be his last gulp of air.
"ANYASU!" The voice bellowed.
It was now or never. He needed to escape the slipper-wielding psychopath.
"Get back here, you!"
With that, chaos broke out amongst the Shantarra family.
In the back, a short boy smiled thoughtfully.
"Even though I want to explore… I never want to leave this place."
That bubbling thought remained with that boy. It rooted itself deep within the nooks and crannies of his unconscious mind.
Years passed, but his affection for his home never changed in any way. The sterilised walls of the house slowly wore and were blanched in grey, and the skies and land seemed to desaturate into a dull background. But the boy, Inuwa, was still happy. Whether it was hanging out with his friends, Clarissa and Edgar or speaking with his brother, Anyasu. The ideas rooted in blithe ignorance experienced in his childhood remained as a centrepiece within his mind. That was why it came as a shock to the boy when–
"Inuwa. I'm sorry this is the way you found out, but… I'll be leaving home forever soon and I won't be coming back."
With that, the tinted, bulletproof, invincible foggy glass shattered, revealing a crusty crevice that sank far beneath the maximum distance the eye could see. Inuwa's brain had refused to even register it.
Why?