Beyond the Last Wall

By Jason Sanders Harding

Within the intricate fabric of our perceptions, we sometimes cling to the illusory belief that we have the power to shape the course of events. But is this belief anything more than a fleeting echo in the wind? Does voting for political party colors represent significant participation, or rather a sophisticated dance in the puppetry of the established system? Who truly are the architects behind the curtain directing the symphony of global power? Could it be the cunning elite whose dominion transcends political facades that is behind it all? In this gripping tale, it hints at the possibility that genuine governance rests in the hands of invisible puppeteers who craft a script that many choose to overlook.

In a world where injustice reigns like an empire, Cyper, a young man burdened by the weight of inequality, emerges as the linchpin of a plot that will unravel the mysteries of a divided planet. A colossal wall, erected by the northern inhabitants with barbed wires tearing flesh, fractures the land almost entirely.

 

Cyper, our protagonist, unveils in first person the challenges of his life, marked by his attraction to other boys and the adversities of his youth. His odyssey to return to his native continent, escaping the desolation of the north, becomes a journey filled with dangers and discoveries.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jason Sanders-Harding
• Release date: Mar 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224633272

Book preview

Dedicated to the love of my life and to all those whose dreams have been left in the shadow of the system.

In the labyrinth of life, I dedicate these words to you, my beacon in the darkness. Through the vicissitudes and challenges, you have been my anchor, my inspiration, and my reason to defy the barriers that the system has erected. This dedication is a tribute to our joint resilience and to the courage of those who, like us, have felt the weight of a system that often leaves behind those who need it most.

Beyond the Last Wall

Chapter 1

Beginnings

In this tale, I will take you on a journey through the dark mazes of greed and power, which have repeatedly brought my civilization to the brink of abyss. My home is a planet that stands as a jewel of happenstance amidst the vast cosmos, a sphere of life suspended in the sole habitable orbit around a red dwarf. While not one of those picturesque situations where my world majestically orbits around a gas giant, it is a place of singular beauty and mystery.

However, like an insidious shadow creeping in the twilight, greed has infiltrated the hearts of those who crave more. The endless pursuit of power and wealth has unleashed a spiral of destruction and chaos, threatening to engulf everything we love and cherish in this wonderful world. Amidst this whirlwind of unchecked ambition, I find myself ensnared, struggling to find light in darkness, and hope in desolation.

At the zenith of our civilization, the unchecked pursuit of power and wealth unleashed conflicts that reverberated like cosmic thunderstorms. Ruthless leaders emerged, eager to amass more than their predecessors had ever dared to dream. Our celestial gem, once thriving and teeming with life, found itself imperiled by the whirlwind of unchecked ambition.

The world, as we knew it, underwent a profound transformation. We had fashioned our lives around money, ambition, and power. By the year 2024, tensions between nations reached a fever pitch. Borders existed, mere figments of imagination that we had drawn to delineate ourselves and, in some instances, to assert our perceived superiority over others. The same held true for the construct of currency, mere scraps of paper for which people were willing to even take the lives of others.

Before 2024, the world was unjust, with places absurdly divided by walls that dictated your fate based on which side of the world you were born on. Being born on one side could mean a different life, with prosperous education and a distinct lifestyle, while on the other side, your life was more constrained. South of the wall, the value of life was minimal; you could perish even for a pair of shoes or your wallet. Corruption was one of the major issues before 2024, but people could do little more than take to the streets in protest. It was futile against the system designed to control us like sheep, with passports, surveillance cameras, credit cards, and televisions, all tools for mass control. But like any unjust system, it was bound to fail.

November 9, 2024 marked the beginning of it all, and by that point, it was no longer a surprise. The news consisted merely of thousands of dead, something that had become routine. Cities that had been painstakingly built with effort and labor in different parts of the world were now nothing but ruins, lost generations, individuals who could have contributed so much to the future, gone. Innocents, all innocents, killed by decisions made by people sitting in luxurious offices sipping expensive whisks; it was downright revolting, to tell the truth. Another consequence of this inundated rotten system was a pandemic, but not a virus or bacteria. It was the infamous anxiety and depression. The world at that time was engulfed in what they called the diseases of the 21st century. How could one not suffer from them when there was the fear of losing your home and ending up on the streets? It was terrifying, with days when you might not have enough money to cover your purchases, food, and your children's meals. Hospitals were overflowing with people thinking they were experiencing heart attacks, when in reality, it was their bodies in a state of alert due to daily suffering. The world was so unequal that the total wealth of the planet was concentrated only in the top 1% of the population, while some were disgustingly rich and others didn't even have enough to eat.

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The exact events of that day on November 9th are not known, but years of tensions finally took their toll. All of Nordaria had been turned to ashes; survivors had little hope left. Hunger, radiation, desolation, and anarchy prevailed. At what cost? Everyone asked themselves the same question: what were the Nova Missiles built for? Was this truly what they wanted? Fortunately, certain areas, not of much economic interest, had been completely overlooked in the south - Terranova, some areas in Afrosia, and islands in the ocean where, despite the nuclear winter endured, were still habitable

In this vast stage of a divided world, three continents take center stage in a narrative of reality marked by discord and hope. Nordaria, to the north, stretches elegantly along majestic mountains and cities fused between the classical and the modern. It shares a land and sea border with the lush Afrosia to the south and east. A towering wall of reddish concrete, the Twilight Wall, stands imposing, delineating the border that separates Nordaria. Lastly, an unexplored continent, Terranova, a vast and tropical landmass to the south. This world, now marked by tragedy, reflects the scars of a tumultuous past and the uncertain future that awaits those who survive in its shadows.

Now I will share my story. I am Cyper, a firsthand witness to the apocalypse and a survivor. I was born around the year 2000, but not on the prosperous side of the wall; on the contrary, I was born in a rather disadvantaged place. Despite this, I was born with a talent that I considered special when I realized that people around me did not possess the same ability. My gift was my memory, remembering even moments from my childhood. Family friends would ask me my age, and I would hold up two fingers, indicating my two years of age.

My family was a victim of adversity from its very roots; both my mother and father came from homes marked by violence and scarcity. They grew up in an environment where hunger was more common than hope, and where the daily struggle to survive was a crushing weight on their shoulders. Despite living in a place seemingly rich in resources, the reality was much bleaker for us.

My father, in particular, constantly fought to get ahead and overcome his inner demons. However, the relentless system of those days and the chronic lack of resources made his efforts seem futile. Anguish and desperation were constant companions in our home, and sometimes, under the overwhelming pressure, my father would fall into the dark spiral of alcoholism.

I not only had the misfortune of being born on the wrong side of the wall but also into a completely dysfunctional family nucleus. I remember the duality of my father, a hardworking and seemingly normal man on one side, but entirely different on the other; even his face would change completely. I was always confused about who he really was. My mother, on the other hand, was a woman filled with insecurities and low self-esteem, stemming from an alcoholic and violent father, living with the belief that she was controlled by men, unaware of her own strength and potential.

The fights between my father and mother were my vision of hell. It was agonizing and suffocating to become accustomed to the screams and insults, witnessing the two most important people in my life facing off in that situation. It was truly painful, but what could I do? I was just a child.

Chapter 2

Duality

The yin and yang, the inherent duality of existence, manifest in my story: a before and an after. In my childhood, I believed life to be different, not only because of the innocence and fun inherent in being a child, but also because of the possibility of being happy and, above all, free. I dreamed of the freedom to sleep and wake up whenever my body desired, to eat, rest, or shower when I truly needed to. However, this childhood idyll faded away when it was time to enter the system.

I was not an only child; I had a younger sister, a girl of surprising serenity for her tender age. Often, I would ask my mother why going to school was so crucial, and she, with furrowed brow, always responded in the same way: Because you have to be someone when you grow up. But I would silently ponder, wasn't I someone already? What else could I be?.

Over time, the meaning behind those words began to take shape in my mind. I understood that my mother wasn't simply referring to occupying a place in the world, but to finding a purpose, to realizing a potential that transcended the shadows of our family's past. She didn't want us to repeat our father's mistakes.

Interestingly, I was a mini clone of my father physically, but by then, he had already given up. Perhaps it was because he didn't have the necessary tools or opportunities to prepare himself when he was young. I remember he could barely read and write, so he chose the path of crime. He wasn't ashamed to admit it; on the contrary, he seemed to take pride in it. He felt a special power or respect because of it. Once again, it was all a consequence of that system from the past. My father had a special ability, a unique talent: he could steal cars with great finesse. Every week we had a different car. For anyone else, it might be a source of pride, but for my father and mother, it was shameful. I could see the nervousness and anxiety on their faces on many occasions. That's how my life began in those years around 2000.

Ugh! School, an institution often perceived as a useless system attempting to indoctrinate us, was my reality for 12 long years. The educational system on the south side of the wall was, in my opinion, decadent and ineffective. The simple act of memorizing and regurgitating information to achieve a high grade, only to forget all that effort afterward, seemed like a meaningless farce. Thousands of people bitterly joked, wondering what purpose it served to study the value of PI throughout their lives when they had no practical use for it in adulthood. Despite it all, I persisted in my efforts, not for my father, as it didn't take much insight to realize that education meant little to him. However, for my mother, it was a different matter.

I could endure the endless hours of classes with the deepest boredom, but upon arriving home, I entered my own world of games, a realm of fantasy and magic where anything was possible. I used to climb to the top of trees, close my eyes, and immerse myself in imagination, letting my thoughts soar like free birds. In my mind, I could go wherever I wanted, feel the breeze caressing my face, and even on rainy days, I found a unique beauty in nature. The magic faded when it came time to face schoolwork, especially mathematics. Multiplications and divisions became a mental torture for my young eight-year-old mind, leaving me frustrated and discouraged.

I decided to rebel against household chores as an act of silent protest, but soon found out that my act of resistance had dark consequences. It was then that I faced the darkest and most violent side of my mother.

The constant calls from school reporting my failure to complete assignments marked the beginning of a downward spiral in my home. My mother, consumed by fear and obsession, began to resort to physical punishment as a means of discipline, whipping me with a leather belt that left painful marks on my skin. I felt cornered, trapped in a cycle of abuse from which I could not escape.

Her obsession was clear, she wanted to prevent me from following in my father's footsteps at all costs. Over the years, she had lived in constant turmoil, immersed in a lifestyle marked by uncertainty and chaos. Laws seemed always to be against her, and the prospect of raising a child in the midst of that environment tormented her day and night. For her, the idea of facing the world alone was terrifying, and she firmly believed she lacked the necessary tools to do so.

Anxiety began to take a toll on my mother's mental health; her nerves were palpable, and her distress could be felt in the air around her. In those dark days, many things seemed overrated, and marriage was one of them. Were we really meant to be monogamous? Biologically and statistically. I suppose marriage, children, and family were concepts that sometimes overwhelmed my father, leaving him trapped in a spiral of disappointment and disillusionment.

My mother's physical and mental health deteriorated rapidly as worries and stress accumulated. She suffered in silence, consumed by uncertainty and fear, while the weight of responsibility fell solely on her shoulders. Anxiety and desperation drove her to seek solace in tobacco, knowing that my father was involved in a dangerous world full of criminal activities.

My father's sudden disappearances only worsened the situation, leaving my mother in a state of constant anguish and despair. For days on end, he would simply vanish without a trace, plunging my mother into a storm of unanswered questions. Where was he? Was he in jail or, worse yet, dead? Uncertainty took hold of our lives, becoming an oppressive presence that hung over our heads like a sword of Damocles.

Despite my mother's attempts to maintain a facade of normalcy, the truth always found a way to surface. Sometimes, she would tell us that he was traveling, but we, being just children, knew what was happening. Over time, we learned to read between the lines and understand the gravity of the situation, although the complete truth remained a mystery to us.

At this point, seeing my father with a beer in hand was reason enough for me to feel very sad. I would beg my father not to drink it, knowing that if he started, he wouldn't be able to stop and would eventually disappear. But he paid no heed. He would start drinking, undergo his metamorphosis, change, and then vanish. He didn't deny being a womanizer, and later, as an adult, I discovered his love for illicit substances as well. So, I can already imagine the things he did when he disappeared. Over the years, it became routine.

Meanwhile, my mother also began to show two sides: one was a loving mother and excellent cook, dedicated to raising us; on the other hand, as a result of my father, she had her violent, aggressive, and arrogant side. One afternoon, something difficult to forget happened. I was in my magical world, in the tranquility of my home, when I began to hear metallic banging and then shouts and insults that seemed familiar to me. My sister and I peered out the window, bewildered, not knowing what was happening. It was the landlady of the house where we lived and her brother. They had broken down our door because we hadn't paid rent for months. I honestly don't know what could have been going through my mother's mind. At that moment, she attacked them with a machete, I nervously managed to call my father, who came to the rescue.

I had never seen my father react so violently before that day. The days in my magical world were numbered. Apparently, the couple who owned the house were getting divorced, and she wanted to keep that house. It was a place that I found particularly beautiful. We had a large pool and fruit trees. I really loved swimming in the pool; I spent hours there, even with the water green and dirty, I didn't care. It was and always will be my magical world.

Chapter 3

Rebellion

As the years passed, I began to rebel. My favorite word was why?. Why do I have to go to school? Why does dad drink? Why does mom shout? Why do I have to wear a uniform? I hated school. It wasn't like on the prosperous side of the wall. Back then, before the internet, smart phones, and artificial intelligence, people, including myself, spent hours in front of a large screen, in some cases not so modern. They were like giant, heavy boxes where you could watch movies and cartoons, but also see what life was like in the north, all controlled and filtered, obviously, by the system. I didn't understand anything. From what I could see on that retro device, it was a completely different life from mine. The lifestyle I saw in those movie schools had nothing to do with mine. Everything seemed very clean, it was all different from my reality. I wondered: why can't my life be like that? Was that reality? And the truth is yes. My father had siblings living on the prosperous side of the wall, on the north side, so I not only saw it on television, but I also heard about it firsthand. Teachers on my side of the wall could sometimes be aggressive, doing things like pulling my ears and even humiliating me in front of the whole class. That feeling or admiration for living on the other side of the wall began in me.

As expected, the time came when we had to move, and it would be many years before we found a stable place to live. Our old residence was located in a city near the capital of my nation, just a few hours away by car. However, my mother's hometown was a long 12-hour drive away. Despite the distance, it was a place that my father deeply loved, and I must admit that I also came to appreciate it at some point.

Our family, in an attempt to change the environment and perhaps to distance my father from his vices and inner demons, made the decision to move there. But the reality was that the town was a forgotten place, where poverty and misery could be felt in the very air. Carbona, that was the name of the coastal city, and upon entering it, an intense smell of the sea flooded our senses. I knew that after 12 long hours of travel, we had finally reached our destination.

My mother's mother, my grandmother, lived on a street full of life, color, and noise, as there were many children my age. I loved being at my grandmother's house; she was a lovely woman, although she sometimes talked too much. I must admit that she was very sweet to me. My mother came from a family of 6 sisters, being the oldest and the first to give birth, so my aunts used to spoil me a lot too. At first, I liked it. It was like starting a new life.

We managed to settle in a new place, a house with ample cultivable land that offered a new opportunity for our future. In an environment where sometimes it was difficult to get food, my father saw an opportunity and decided to plant a wide variety of fruit trees and tropical vegetables, and he taught me how to cultivate them. For me, it was a fascinating and rewarding experience; it was something I loved to do.

In addition to the crops, we also had canicos, creatures that I have always loved and admired. Canicos are extraordinary beings: intelligent, loyal, and full of energy. I was excited to have new friends and life companions in them.

During a brief period, things seemed to be improving. However, not everything could be perfect. The obligation to attend school still existed, an oppressive place that limited ideas, creativity, and individuality. The mandatory use of a uniform, which was not only ugly but also made of low-quality materials that caused itching and irritation, added more frustration to the experience.

Waking up at 6 in the morning to then participate in half-asleep formations and sing the national anthem while raising the flag felt ridiculous and inhumane. Were we an army? Sometimes, it seemed like it. The rigidity of the educational system reached the extreme of cruelty, and some of my schoolmates occasionally passed out during these morning activities due to hunger and lack of proper nutrition. It was an intolerable situation that only increased my resentment towards the system and strengthened my desire for rebellion.

I wanted to paint, draw, sculpt, not spend more than half the day memorizing things that would never serve me. But there I was, sitting on a chair as uncomfortable as a rock, trying to pay attention to topics that meant nothing to me. But doing so took its toll. In my new school, they had different methods; it was a small school.

By the time of our move, my educational experience was already in complete chaos. Before leaving my old city, a major issue arose with my elementary school teacher, a rather peculiar woman who defied conventions. She dressed in short dresses and high heels, deviating from the standard image of an elementary school teacher. Her behavior was equally unusual and often bewildering.

It was common for her to leave us alone in the classroom for long periods, causing confusion and discontent among the students. Occasionally, we would receive unexpected visits from the school janitor, and during these encounters, certain activities that were completely inappropriate for the school environment were allowed. I remember seeing her drinking alcohol and smoking during class hours, which was disturbing and worrying. Sharing these experiences with my mother unleashed complete chaos, especially considering our impending move. The situation became even more complicated and stressful, leaving us all in a state of uncertainty and confusion about my educational future.

Upon arriving in the village, I found myself in a state of total confusion. I didn't even know what grade I was in, as I never found out if my previous teacher had passed me for the school year or not. My previous experience of basically doing nothing in school quickly reflected in my academic performance in the new school. On one test, I got the worst possible grade. However, my expectation of going unnoticed in this new school was brutally interrupted one day when the teacher called the principal. Her imposing presence filled the room as she asked me to stand up from my seat. With my heart in my throat, I obeyed her command, feeling the piercing stares of my new classmates fixed on me.

The principal held the exam in her hand and, in front of everyone, began to break down every mistake and failure I had made. Her words were like sharp darts, pointing directly at my shortcomings and deficiencies, while shame wrapped around me like a heavy blanket. Each word resonated in the silent classroom, amplifying my humiliation and leaving an indelible mark on my self-esteem. That day changed everything for me. I was someone who preferred to go unnoticed, not to draw attention or be singled out in any way.

It was a moment that left a scar on my confidence and marked a new perspective on how to face life in my new school. So, I started paying attention in class, not because I was interested, nor to make my mother happy, but to avoid going through such a humiliating situation again. The only thing the principal lacked was putting donkey ears on me, something common at that time to relate a person to the intelligence of a donkey. So, I worked hard to get good grades. My mother couldn't have been happier. In a way, I liked it; there were topics I found really interesting and others that I just saw as completely useless.

By that time, at around 12 years old, I already knew. I knew that the world was living in a wrong socio-political system and that it was destined to collapse. My only question was when? The world was evolving in such an abrupt manner that educational systems were becoming increasingly obsolete. Children of that era dreamed of jobs that would easily be replaced by machines. Was all that useless? Repetitive tasks would be performed a thousand times better by a machine than by a human.

It was beautiful to think of ancient Crete, where they shared ideas in amphitheaters, especially philosophy, mathematics, and science. However, in my childhood, it was no longer about that. Something called the Industrial Revolution arrived a few decades ago, a system born from the mass consumerism of that time. We needed to educate people like robots, teach them to perform repetitive tasks, get them used to spending hours doing the same thing over and over again. How could we achieve this without people feeling overwhelmed or going insane? Easy, by getting them used to