Always Down, Never Across

The first time he saw the locket he was struck by how out of place it was. It was in a box of jewellery, and while it appeared to be far and away the most tarnished item in there, that wasn't the only reason it stood out. All the other pieces had the look of unwanted gifts, pawned for a hit, but the locket looked like it had stories. He didn't have any need for a locket though, and he was already late. So for six weeks, that was the last he thought of it at all.

For six weeks he continued about his daily routine, oblivious to what he had seen, and the significance it would soon begin having in his life. He went to work, switched off his brain for eight hours, went home, and wondered at the point of it all. He worked to earn money, to allow him to eat, and rent this sorry hovel he called home, and at the weekend to pay for any substance which would give him an escape from this relentless, sisyphean ennui, so that ultimately on Monday he could start the whole soul-destroying cycle again.

Juno had made several attempts to have friends, or even just a shallow social life with vague acquaintances, but they all stopped calling eventually. It wasn’t that he offended them, he was just devoid of social skills, from spending the first fifteen years of his life on the family farm.

=_=-=_=-=_=

He was ten before he even knew other people existed, besides himself and his parents. Neither of them spoke much, and although they did teach Juno to speak, he never really got the opportunity to converse. When the suited man from the government arrived, speaking so quickly that it sounded like another language, Juno had no idea what to think. He looked more like the Coxcombs than like any of the beasts of the field, so that suggested he was similar to them. He was about to ask the man to repeat himself, when his parents appeared, urgently shambling towards him. One to accost the man, and the other to drag Juno away to his room.

“What were that, father?”

“What were what, lad?”

“That thing in’t dark clothes”.

“Nowt for you to be werryin’ yer ‘ead about”.

“It looked like us!”

“T’int nuthin’ like us, lad. Yer mother’ll see t’it”.

For weeks he’d asked his parents about the man in the black suit, but they always deflected. They’d pretend they hadn’t heard, or couldn’t remember anything about it. But the more they hid the truth, the more desperate Juno became to find it. He’d walked miles every day, since he was old enough to do it. Partly because his parents told him he had to, but mostly because it gave him a brief respite from them. He started walking farther afield, broadening the extent of his world. They’d told him there was nothing out there, but he knew he’d seen something, and he had to know more.

The Coxcomb farm was isolated though. High up on the moors, with nothing for miles around but mist and sheep. Juno took to running, rather than walking, so that he could cover more distance and still be back home soon enough not to arouse suspicion. After two months he simply couldn't do it any more. He became resigned to the fact that if there really were life beyond the boundaries of the farm, it was beyond his reach. His parents had told him time and again that he had imagined the whole thing, and he wondered if maybe it really had all just been a fantasy.

=_=-=_=-=_=

He hadn't know that what he felt was loneliness. There had been no word for the feeling, nor any basis for comparison as to what the company of other humans would be like. Now he'd spent time with people, seen how complex and beautiful and confusing they could be, he knew that what he felt was their absence. While the only others in his universe had been his parents, now he was burdened with the knowledge that he was one of seven billion, a number so large he couldn't understand or contextualise it, and none of them wanted to spend time with him.

Life in the world outside, soon brought back the feelings he'd had after his failure at the farm, but on a much grander scale. On the farm, he was lonely, but didn't know it. The man from the government gave him hope that there was something outside the farm. He used that hope, like adrenaline, finding new strength to run faster and farther than he thought himself capable of. Out in the world, he discovered hope again. So many new possibilities. He threw himself into every new opportunity, even though he found it left him exhausted but still completely alert, late into the night.

He had started with such curiosity, and excitement, and ''hope. ''