Hillside Memorial was deep down San Timoteo Canyon Road and petrichor lingered in the atmosphere.
If you wanna get there... the man paused as if conflicted. He spat sunflower seeds on the ground and continued
Take that road down there...
He spoke with a heavy Polish accent and wore a distressed white tee with equally distressed, grass-stained denim. He pointed straight ahead towards a windy road with black clouds hovering above it. He spat again.
Now take that all the way down until you hit Redlands, then make a left. If youâre lucky, youâll beat the train.
Iâd just park and get cozy âcause youâll be there a while if ya donât beat it.
Now when you see the schoolhouse - its gonna be on your left, okay?
He said this with great emphasis. You're gonna keep going down that road until it turns into dirt - okay? And then... He paused, spit, then said: you should write this down.Â
Keep on that road and eventually, youâre gonna find yourself, well basically in the middle of an orchard - now donât worry he said immediately. That's city property - the city donât want to pave that road â now weâre fightinâ that at the city council meeting next week believe me. Now just continue on that road between the orchards until it turns to asphalt again. ThenâŚ
You keep going down the paved road until you see the black gates. Theyâre tall and on your left. Youâll see 'em.
Ellis thanked the mechanic, and the man sighed. My date will be here soon. You know how they donât let ya forget, he laughed as he tapped a blurry, blackish green number on his forearm. The man, noticing Ellisâ visible discomfort, patted him on the shoulder - the manâs hand was heavy and the resignation in his life was palpable through his touch.Â
Ellis drove in silence. The black gates were massive and ornate. Ill-fitting and outdated from the days in which these ceremonies were mournful rather than festive. Although now it was still mournful under the guise of festive. People celebrated but deep down the underlying gloom lingered and fear was especially palpable during The Ceremony.
Ellis drove through the iron gates of Hillside, which lied on the foothills of the rich folk. An owl perched atop a headstone marked SMITH gave a quiet hoot. Ellis wondered what made Smithâs grave so special and his explanations ranged from the most logical â that Smith was beneath the right tree at the right angle in which any old owl could target its prey to as symbolic of an explanation as to say that the owl was a representation of Smithâs forgotten yet infinite wisdom and nocturnal lifestyle. He stood and pondered Smithâs Ceremony, and in his thought figured anything could have been said about Smith but few things were. Smithâs funeral was probably brief and relatively empty. Immediate family wept but there were so few of them in attendance. If Smith had been alive to see it, his or her ego would have taken a blow. Smithâs mother would have wept the most had she been alive. Ellis imagined Smithâs eulogy read by the youngest mortuary employee, who gathered random particles of information to fill in the blanks on the standard eulogy template. Nonetheless, people paid their respects simply and drove home to forget Smith.Â
The mark came at birth. By twelve it became blurred and the pigmentation faded and turned a greenish hue on the skin. With time they blurred together so tightly into a solid block of greenish black pigmentation that the mark became an abstraction rather than a legible date. The numbering was bold, condensed and ran together with no separation, although the newer markings had more space, so they remained visible throughout your life. The numbers ran together very matter of factly and unlike any formal date; 11013046, for example. People covered it in the beginning, although that was a crime. Others tried to amputate. Those who did simply faced an early death sentence, either from lacking a proper tourniquet or as a result of the law enacted that no medic shall assist amputators, for this was the Age of Reason and those who were unreasonable were executed or left to die at their own hand. The unreasonable were the sinners of old - of the age of unreason, the age of greed, the Age of Self which was often referenced in culture and politics in the new order as exemplary of what not to do. The Age of Self was what caused the near demise of man and what lead us to the Age of Reason. Man must control mankind if we are to succeed.