The Solution

Revised 4/24/2024. Originally written 10/24/2015.

I don’t know how he obtained it, but I knew I never would forget. The strange liquid filled out its container in a way that seemed to defy the laws of physics. This effervescent concoction of sorts had gaps and tunnels traveling through it, and no map would have helped for the roads changed constantly, the bubbles nonstop and ferocious in their travels. I didn’t know exactly what this mixture was. All I knew was that it was now mine.

The journey to the apothecary’s hut was not a difficult one. I had nothing to hide, nothing to lose on the way. The soldiers at the check point glanced at me with disinterest and waved me forward. Not a pat nor a microglass of my being to ensure I took nothing out, whether item or virus be it. They swatted at the air with their ‘move forward lest your presence bother us further’ signal. Certainly, I was one of the more boring passerby in their daily operations. Not even the bandits wasted their time on me. One look and they knew they could seize more from an unexpected sojourner elsewhere. Yet, I felt the journey back to Foggwicke would not be as easy.

I left the hut, the metal doors sliding to a close behind me. Though it may have been all in my head, the air seemed to be thicker outside than it was earlier. The apothecarist did have many synthetic plants, and a strange whirring machine that spit clouds into the air intermittently. Perhaps I had quickly grown accustomed to his abode and the fresh air within it. I fought with my memories to remember my journey once on the ground on my way to the hut. Perhaps it had been misty… but not like so. Now, I could almost reach out my hands and feel the condensed particles’ vibration in the space they occupied. But, I was prevented from doing so as both of my hands were being used at that moment. They held the container which was filled with what could be the most important substance of all time.

Looking ahead I saw the way I came. I knew taking that same path may now be more hazardous than helpful.

I tapped my foot, trying my hardest to recall the places where this land connected with my hometown, the floating city, Foggwicke. Constructed a few hundred years ago, Foggwicke was the first city of its kind. It stays afloat using the laws of magnetism, which is what all modern conveniences use as their central power. After its creation, other flying cities were created all over the world, for the earth was not a home for many.

The crust of Earth was a wretched place. Years of extreme warfare and potent acid rain killed most of the natural life of the land. Those who survived were those who were the fittest, the ones who could adapt, namely humans. There were only a few places where the features elevated, and a bridge could be constructed between the two realms of sky and earth. I had traveled down on one of those bridges, and now I had to return using either the same bridge or by finding a different route.

If I was going to get anywhere, I knew I should begin by taking steps forward. Glass container in my hands and fear in my veins, I stepped forward again and again. I told myself the steps would add up, and eventually I would be home.

My fear was unnecessary in this land. No signs of life were present. The apothecary seemed to know he would be safer down on the earth. I never doubted his intelligence, but I did ponder why he separated himself from the floating cities and chose to live on the deserted ground. It was perfectly safe down here. No more acid rain. No more wars on the land. No more beasts of brutality. Maybe some radioactive substances left over in some areas. Maybe the random junk that fell from the sky at times. But otherwise, nothing to fear.

My theory of steps adding up seemed to be proving effective, I was almost to the bridge. The bridges are very wide. They have different routes you can take to get to different parts of the city. There are even routes to get from one floating city to another. Before you can enter the floating cities, there are check points you must pass. They check you for unauthorized weapons or stolen goods. Though, the real criminals don’t live in the cities. They live in small villages on the bridges between two checkpoints. Officers are restricted to their assigned cities, so whatever the bandits and criminals do go without consequence.

The titanium bridge stood in front of me, wide and inclining towards the heaven. But I would not meet angels nor saints on that bridge. It was merely the first obstacle in returning to Foggwicke.

My legs began to ache. The weight of the glass jar pushed against my hands, the sloshing liquid to and fro working against my forward momentum. I had not stopped walking since leaving the apothecary’s hut, which had disappeared in the distance. I pushed myself to keep stepping forward, for at this point, I had nowhere else to go.

The bridge started to level out. Ahead I saw small figures moving about, but I knew when I got to where they were they wouldn’t seem so small anymore. I guessed correctly. As I got closer, stepping ever forward, I realized they had seen me coming as well. They seemed less interested in me and more so with the container. No, not the container itself but the liquid inside it.

I brought myself to look up from the path and at their faces. They stood a few yards away from me and had not attacked me, yet. Maybe this was a good sign. Maybe they decided to leave behind their thieving ways and help those who journeyed through their village. I thought, not likely.

“What have you got there?” The big brute was addressing me. He was tall and stocky with his long greasy hair hanging over his eyes. His friends had the same confused and curious look on their faces as they stared at the ever-bubbling liquid inside the container.

He asked me a question, and I knew I had to answer. I couldn’t answer the truth, for then I may never have escaped. So, I answered as vaguely as possible, “It’s a liquid.”

His friends chuckled, but the brute was not satisfied with that answer. He shot them all a look that commanded their silence. All their attention was on me now. “What’s it for?” the brute asked.

If I make him believe it’s something valuable, he will steal it. If I get him to think it is something dangerous, he may feel threatened and pummel me. I need to make him believe that this liquid is worthless and of no benefit to anyone. Or maybe just the opposite.

“It is a water sample from the crust of the earth. I’m taking it to the scientists so they can begin their testing. It’s a matter of life and death they say.” I knew these thugs must be dumb, but with my answer, I figured they might get suspicious. They must know I’m lying.

To my surprise, the brute looked stunned. “You’re in cahoots with the scientists? You been down to Earth?”

Thinking back to my response, I would have called it very far-fetched. With the way I looked, there was no way one should believe I worked for anyone as prestigious as a scientist. They were held on a golden pedestal that everyone looked up to. And going down to the crust? Even though that part was true I had not traveled very far from the bridge. People from the floating cities, even bandits, dared not to go down to the crust. The thought of the earth terrified many, what with the lessons of wars, radiation, and acid rain they had reason to be scared. The apothecary knew better than to believe those myths though, and now, so did I.

“Yes. And if you do not let me through, they will come searching for me. They have a map of the routes I would take on the way there and back. Back away now, for I may still be radioactive.”

With that line they backed away almost, if not, immediately. I walked through the gap they left, stepping with confidence. I didn’t show it, but I was shaking in my boots.

I didn’t dare look back until I knew I was well away from them. The fear settled again into a simmer, but I knew it would return to a boil very soon. The soldiers at the check point would never fall for such a dimwitted answer. (I still can’t believe the bandits fell for it.) Left step, right step. The number of steps until I retire into the safety of my home continually counting down.

The bridge narrowed, and I saw the faded outline of the check point station in the distance. I tried to think of responses, lies, to avoid any further confrontation and interrogation. Should I tell the truth? No. I couldn’t possibly get away by telling the truth.

Left step, right step. Should I stop? If I keep stepping forward, I’ll be there in no time. I can’t stop, not now. I’ve come too far for this.

I arrived at the check point. Two uniformed soldiers stood in their stations, waiting for travelers, merchants, and missionaries to check. Days were long as a check point soldier. Hours could go by, and no one would even come into view. Other times, traffic would be backed up for hours. This was one of those barren days. The soldiers were irritable and starving for something interesting. Anything interesting. The odd liquid was just that.

I stopped at the line. The soldiers whispered to each other, taking occasional looks at the container. One soldier nodded as their conversation finished. He walked over to me.

“Excuse me, what have you got there?” He was obviously referring to the concoction. He eyed it ever so curiously. I look blankly at him not having figured out a lie to tell. He didn’t seem to rush my answer. It could have taken all day to get a response from me, and he would have been satisfied. The company of someone new was all he had wanted at that moment. That and his curiosity had caught hold of him, for he couldn’t take his eyes off the liquid.

I figured I would try the vague approach again. “It’s a liquid.”

He looked up at me, offended. “No funny business. Answer me. What is it?” He was serious and I was seriously scared. Searching for words I found some, though they might not have been convincing, I hoped they would be.

“It’s medicine for my dying spouse. I had to travel to Middlestocke to get it. I need to get home quickly.” I hoped this tale was enough to strike a sympathetic chord in his heart.

His face possessed shock. He seemed to sense the fake urgency in my voice. It worked. He nodded, returned to the station, and opened the gates. I walked through. You think I would get used to handling my fear, but I could feel myself shaking.

Left step, right step. They all added up and soon I was home. I put my eye up to the scanner and pressed the button. The door to my house slid open. I walked inside, the door slid behind, and I placed the glass container on my table. The same glass container that has caused me mischief on my journey home.

The liquid in the container was still bubbling, though not as much as before. I had never seen anything like it. The concoction had a deep caramel color and had an unexplainable, sweet smell.

I went to the cupboard to get myself a cup. I opened the container and poured some in, a rush of bubbly gas escaping from the depths and popping with little sprinkles on my steadying hand and tabletop. The loud sizzling calmed to a steady stream of occasional bubbles. The fizzy cloud that formed atop the darker liquid had disappeared, my reflection looking back at me as I observed the spectacle. I hesitated to drink it, but the apothecarist told me it was harmless. So, I did as any curious man would do, I drank the liquid. The bubbles joyously popped in their small explosions in my mouth and raced down my throat with a similar dance. I clasped my jaw tight and wished to savor the taste and sensation longer. Sweet, but not overbearing, like something I had never tasted before. Almost instantly I felt the surge of energy through my body. I wouldn’t sleep for hours. This one drink made the journey completely worth it, any nerves I held previously nonexistent as I found myself contemplating when my next trip would be. I’m so glad I found this solution.