The Department of Optimism

By Ashwin Kronwald

It was at a time of great content and prosperity when Kate turned thirteen years old. By then, August leaves had been shed, and the sun, with its yellow rays of elation which shone over her isolated community, was becoming increasingly covered by dreary October clouds.

On her walk to school, Kate passed a usual observer, Arthur, who couldn't have been much older than her own father. Something was causing him deep unrest. When Kate gave a friendly wave to him in passing, as was her usual daily custom, the normally contented face which returned these sentiments had a look of extreme weariness. It was as though Arthur knew something – something terrible that caused an internal rot; that caused the developing wrinkles on his face to claim victory over his otherwise unaged skin. When their interaction had come to a close, Kate was left with the sense that Arthur had made some terrible discovery – one that had now rendered his consciousness into a state of irreparability.

Besides this inconsistency, Kate's day was the same as the last; one of eternal content and learning – learning of victories, successes and revelations of those who trod this earth long before Kate came into existence.

The day continued, as every other, so uneventfully such that when Kate sat in her bed that night, observing the ceiling and the oddities that marred its cream-coloured surface, she had to make a conscious effort to produce any recollections of the hours before.

The following day; however, felt more out of place, for when Kate walked to school, her joyous smile and friendly wave were completely unreceived by Arthur’s face. His house, which now stood silent, remained unchanged – save for the door handle which seemed a wreck of mangled metal. Kate now found this structure deeply disturbing, for it may have very well been the only thing with an intimate understanding of this absence.

Perhaps Kate found this event particularly unsettling considering it followed another inexplicable happening that occurred the previous night. In the early morning hours, at a time when songbirds hadn't yet risen, she was abruptly awoken by a pair of loud pops, piercing their way through the air, sounds which to the ears of Kate, went unidentified.

At her place of education, Kate uncovered yet another item of peculiarity: Arthur's son, Charles, was also absent. At first break, Kate felt a strong sense that, almost by divine intervention, curiosity and its many burdens had fallen upon her – these feelings of unrest now creating a lust for knowledge, for comprehension. She decided to leave school – the concept of truancy and the resulting consequences were well known; however, this was overruled by the need to be in a place of comfort.

Kate soon heard the soothing babble of the creek running adjacent to her, in such a way where the water itself seemed to desire reliance as a source of calm motivation to those who could hear it. Kate had been here before – often seeking what the water conveyed. She began to approach the creek; first traversing down the steep hill which led to its resting place. At some point, her shoelace became caught on a stone, or something else entirely, causing her to take a long agonizing tumble down the rest of the incline; the texture of soft soil and hard stones in constant, painful juxtaposition. When she came to a stop, Kate's eyes fell upon a most beautiful sight: from this angle close to the ground, the creek looked like an ever-warping mirror, reflecting the natural world above it – trees mere husks of their former selves, yet still hauntingly captivating – in a way that managed to double its beauty.

As Kate gathered herself, she noticed that this water was peculiar in that the current had been stained with bleached pulp. The source was a rusty pipe, tarnished by years of corrosion, whose origin was a joyous grey box in the distance, Kate knew to be the Department of Optimism. This structure and what it produced was her community's single source of knowledge, so important that without it, the whole population would become immensely uneducated and uninformed; an inoperable society.

Although most of this watery slush contained mere letters forming empty concepts, some paper remained intact. By the looks of these small mounds of pulpous debris, these had at one point, before some inexplicable holocaust, been newspapers. When a particularly large piece of such debris floated by, Kate knelt down to seize it. The ink had been distorted to the point of illegibility, preventing what would have been the evolution of Kate's knowledge.

Without warning, the voice of a woman broke the silence of nature.

"Are you lost sweetie?"

This woman, perched at the top of the hill, was wearing what appeared to be some monotonous uniform that Kate could only assume was for the Department of Optimism. This woman was low to the ground, as though Kate were some otherworldly spectacle which had to be seen at such an angle.

"No. I just needed somewhere to clear my thoughts."

"Well, I don't believe this is the place. You should be at school, after all, this place can be dangerous."

As Kate turned to leave, she felt the back of her head burning – the product of a stare which seemed far more sinister than it should have been.

"Bye now Kate. Enjoy your day."

Kate returned home then, her previously bestowed curiosity left unfed – both by a lack of understanding and by this unknown figure with whom she crossed paths.

As Kate emptied her backpack of all its internal contents that evening, she felt a large envelope which, to her knowledge, wasn't there this morning. It was brown; hastily closed, and hastily vandalized with the text: "The word must get out. It is now your duty, as I anticipate they will come any day now. Now before you read the contents of this envelope, you must ask yourself: 'why do bad things never happen around here?' -Arthur"

Kate's face suddenly became one of moderate perplexion, for she knew the positive life that surrounded her should be the only cognitive reflection of her world, yet deep-down she felt this was somehow flawed – that her life should have been subject to bad, even terrible things.

Intrigued, Kate opened the envelope. There were several documents – newspapers – whose titles she now leafed through. The first article heading read: 'Protests in the Capital: 9 Dead After Police Brutality.' Kate was confused. Wouldn't they have been made aware of something as important as this, and furthermore, how could such an event even occur?

Page after page, story after story, Kate read about the atrocities that were occurring all around the country, by the hand of their central government – atrocities, which to many, were completely unheard of.

She was left with several questions after reading this dossier, yet somewhere, deep within her mind, where only the most developed, well-supported of thoughts come to realization, Kate found a sense of understanding – a resolve to the tension that had been building within her for some unknown duration of time.

Later that night, after her family had fallen asleep, Kate heard the faint creek of floorboards – sound indicating that not all kin, or merely those in this structure, were resting as she had previously thought. As Kate continued to listen for even the faintest of sounds, she heard the ancient tones of their grandfather clock, sound which resonated in such a way where one might even think it was wise and had seen all events ever to occur in their home – though the true observer may have been the home itself. These echoes of creaking floorboards, sound Kate perceived to be growing louder, could scarcely be heard over the wind that danced in eddies beyond Kate's window, yet she could still discern that something was going to happen – good or bad, it was unknown – but its waking presence was indisputable.

***

It was at a time of great content and prosperity when George found himself turning thirteen years old. By then, the sun was mostly concealed each day by grey November clouds, bearing little more than a dry, cold atmosphere. With each day, George felt himself enveloped by an overwhelming sense of optimism, one that was sure to suffocate its beholder.

This day, however, felt out of place, for when George arrived at school, he noticed the absence of a student named Kate.