I stare out to
sea. It is what I have always done.
Well. Not always.
For a long time, at least. I do not know how long precisely. Time means nothing
to a being such as I.
Nearly as long as
this town has existed, at least. I arrived here when it was only just emerging
as a maritime trade port. Precious few people knew then that I am no ordinary
statue.
None alive know
today. I am good at staying still. I have had much time to practice.
I watch. The ships
enter and leave the harbor. Ships today are impressive in scale, but ugly and
inelegant.
I had thought my
patience infinite, but it seems even I grow bored when there is nothing of
interest to look at.
For lack of
anything interesting to focus on, I begin to reminisce. I would close my eyes
for it, but someone might notice.
I was created in
Greece. How long ago, I cannot say—time means nothing. Much longer ago than I
have stood at this harbor.
My creator was a
master artisan and inventor. He had loved and lost. His only daughter was dead—taken
and murdered in the night by brigands. So, he made me. It is the Gods’ cruel
sense of humor, one might suppose—to take his daughter away just give him the
spark of inspiration to create a new one using his talents alone.
“You, my child,
shall never perish. Your bronze skin will not rust, your wooden bones will not
rot,” he told me when I first opened my eyes.
He was right. My
body has yet to show signs of decay. He made me that way so that I would never
have to leave him.
When I first
learned that he fashioned me in the likeness of another girl—my elder twin sister?
—I went to a nearby lake to study my reflection. Not to admire it, but to learn
what she must have looked like. I am of slender build, with wiry limbs and firm
shoulders; My sister was evidently no stranger to daily labor. My cheeks appear
soft and smooth, belying the unyielding metal they are fashioned from, yet my pointed
eyebrows give me a naturally austere expression. I wear a tunic and a mantle,
but no sandals or other footwear.
Still, we are not
precisely alike in appearance. My hair is styled in the same side braid as she
had… But whereas my creator had mentioned his daughter as having raven hair,
mine is the same shiny bronze color as my skin—as are my eyes and everything
else. My clothes, also. Since I cannot take them off, they may as well be my
skin.
There is one other
notable difference: I am some seventy-five cubits tall. None would think to
abduct me—and if they did, they would regret it.
We spent our days
together in solitude, in a forested mountainside where none would disturb us.
He would attend to his daily chores; I would sit and watch and attempt to
fathom the world around me. Occasionally I asked him questions and he answered
them to the best of his ability.
“What is
happiness? Are we happy?” I once asked.
“We live without want.
I have you, whom I hold dear. And I am loved by you in turn. Though I still
grieve, I am happy. I hope you are too,” he had said in reply.
He was right. I
was happy—fulfilled. I wanted him to know that, to express my gratitude for having
brought me into such a serene existence, but lacked the words to do so.
Instead, I picked him up one day and hugged him to my cheek. Gently; I was
aware that I could easily crush him. He was surprised, but thankful.
Yet his definition
of happiness did not account for one thing, a fatal flaw in his plan for our
existence together. His own skin and bones grew brittle with age.
I had to leave him
anyway. He went where I cannot follow. I hope his first daughter is with him.
For a time I sat
still. I held his remains in my hands until they were nothing but bones. I was
made to give company to my creator, and now that creator was gone. As was my
purpose, my happiness. For the first time I felt as hollow as my body is.
Then I reminisced,
as I do now. I remembered the conversations we had. Considered them over and
over. Eventually, I concluded that if I had no purpose any longer, I ought to
find a new one.
So I thought it
over again. But no matter how long I thought, I could not decide on an answer
that convinced me.
I changed my
approach. If I cannot find a purpose within me, then perhaps it can be found
somewhere out there. For the first time, I ventured out into the world I had
wondered about all my life.
I have no heart,
no breath, yet I felt trepidation all the same.
I wandered the
land. My footfalls left deep marks in the fields and grasslands I passed
through. I saw many human settlements and thought about trying to speak to
them, to learn about them. But whenever I approached, the humans would hurry
into their homes and not reemerge until I left.
I wondered why, at
first. Once, I lifted the roof off of a human hut. The occupants shrieked in
terror and hid under their table. I understood then that my appearance
frightened humans.
Is it because I am
so tall and strong compared to them, or because they had never seen one such as
I before? But I have never seen one such as myself before either, and yet my
own appearance does not frighten me when I see it on the water’s surface. It
must be the former. I supposed that I might also fear a creature that had the
power to destroy me with an errant movement, had I ever met any.
I decided then to
leave humans alone as much as I could, giving settlements a wide berth and
staying off of roads whenever that was possible. Sometimes my presence
frightened humans despite my best efforts, and that fright became anger, and
they would chase after me.
But I walk with
great strides and never tire, so no human could keep up with me. Not even on
horseback.
My creator had
told me about the world. Bits and pieces. Yet on my journey I saw many things I
did not understand. Was there so much he did not tell me about? Or had the
world changed since he was alive? It is a difficult thing for me to fathom.
Change is alien to me.
I passed mountains,
coasts, forests. I realized I was not in Greece any longer. I kept walking. It
did not matter where to.
Eventually I had
reached a distant land, and I ran into the sea once again. I still had not
found a purpose. I decided to stop and sit down on a hillside and ponder what I
had learned during my journey.
Humans passed by
the place where I sat. Curiously, they were not frightened by me this time.
Some even seemed to pause to admire my beauty. I learned then that I was not
deemed a threat as long as I remained perfectly still.
I knew not where
else to go, so I remained where I was. The locals grew accustomed to my
presence. On a number of occasions human children attempted to scale me. Those
who were successful would sit on my shoulder for a while and then climb down
again. It was strangely exciting: What were their intentions? Would they fall
and get hurt? I hoped not. I tried even harder to remain still so as not to
frighten them. I appreciated their company, however brief.
I do not know
precisely how long I sat there. Time is meaningless to me. Days or years, months
or decades, weeks or centuries. Judging from what I know of human lifespans,
though, it was most likely the latter—I saw many generations grow old.
The humans who lived
in the area and the infrequent traveler would use the shade I provided as a
meeting place, or my toes as a bench to rest upon. It did not bother me. They
would hold conversations there. I learned their unfamiliar language by
listening closely and recognizing context clues. Soon I knew enough to overhear
that I was in a place called Spain, and the sea I looked out over was called
the Atlantic Ocean.
Eventually I began
receiving visits from humans who spoke different languages. These foreign visitors
soon became more and more frequent. Did they come all that way to meet me? But
none spoke to me directly or attempted any other method of communication with
me.
They did still
have conversations in my presence, however, and so I continued to learn. They
were visitors from Portugal, from France, from Morocco, from England. I began
to learn their tongues as well.
Often times, the
first words I could recognize from each language were those meaning ‘beautiful’
or synonyms thereof. I will confess to some vanity: It was flattering to hear
the admiration of so many. If my cheeks could blush, they would have given me
away. Was my purpose to be admired like this? Yet that answer felt too shallow
to be satisfying.
Some wondered aloud
where I had come from, or who had created me. I considered answering their
questions but decided against it. After all, they only dared come near me as
long as I remained still, and I had learned that humans became aggressive when
frightened.
So I sat and
thought and listened. I wondered if this was to be my life from now on. My skin
was frequently besmirched by the elements, the wildlife, and at times unruly humans,
but periodically the locals would clean me, clambering all over me and
polishing me until I looked like new. It felt nice to be appreciated.
One night,
however, a visitor would change that routine. Once again—change is a curious,
alien sensation, but looking back, I am glad for it.
This visitor was
from further away than any whom I had heard before, but he spoke the same
language as those from England. He was a pale, gangly man with a pensive
demeanor. He had come alone, at a time of night when I rarely had any company
besides nocturnal creatures.
He spoke to me, or
rather, spoke at me. A monologue of sorts. Spoke of his worries and why he was
here. He had been born into a wealthy family. Lived an early life free of want,
as I had. Had lost his parents, like I lost my creator. Was now alone in the
world.
“Now my peers have
elected me to lead some newly founded trading port called Mammotham as its second
mayor,” he said, voice wrought with weariness. “I do not know why—because they
believe I am my father, I suppose. But I have nothing of value to contribute in
such a role. I feel as if I have been cajoled into a purpose I am entirely
unsuited for. That is why I am here in Europe… Before my responsibilities come
to tie me down, I wished to make a journey. To run away, perhaps, but mostly to
discover myself. Yet… I cannot run forever.”
I considered that
for a moment. I had been looking for a purpose, and this man was running away
from it, and we both wound up here.
I made a snap
decision, then, to confide in him as he did to me. For the first time since I
had sat down on that hillside, I moved my head to look at him. I smiled gently,
hoping it would reassure him.
It took him a
moment to notice that I had moved. When he did, it startled him, as I imagined
it would.
“Did you just
move?” he asked. “Are you alive?”
I nodded.
“Good Lord! Have I
gone mad? Has imagination claimed my senses?!”
I shook my head.
Once he accepted
that what he saw was real and that I meant him no harm, he spoke again, this
time to me. And for the first time since I was separated from my creator, I
spoke too.
Despite our
considerable differences, we found it easy to find common ground. His way of
thinking differed from mine, but I appreciated that. I told him of my own
journey to find purpose. As the hour grew late, he announced that he had to
leave and rest for the night, but he swore that he would return.
And he did the
very next evening before sunset. He sat at my feet and spoke with me again.
It was hard to see
him very well, and I imagined it was not pleasant for him to look up at me from
all the way down by my toes. I remembered the children who would sit on my
shoulder. So, after some sparse conversation, I asked him.
“Would you like to
come up here and observe the world from my vantage point?”
He looked
hesitant. But then he said, “That would be an unforgettable experience. As long
as it is safe, I would be delighted.”
He climbed onto my
palm once I lowered it down for him. I had not done this since my creator was
alive. For a moment, the deep feeling of loneliness left me.
Once he was
settled on my shoulder, he did not speak. He simply watched as the sun’s last
rays faded and the moon rose. Sat still, looked out to the ocean, and thought,
as I did. For how long, I do not know. Time is meaningless.
Eventually he
sighed with great contentment and said “Thank you.” What happened next, I will
never forget. He stood up straight, balancing on my shoulder, carefully paced
up to the side of my head, and embraced my neck.
It is made of
unyielding bronze. Cold and hard. I have learned that humans prefer to embrace
things that are soft and warm. Yet he pressed himself against my skin as if it
were the finest silk.
It perplexed me. “What
brought you to do that?” I asked him once he let go.
He simply laughed.
“The expression on your face right now is too precious for words,” he told me
instead of answering my question. “For such a tall woman, you are positively
adorable.”
The response
deepened my confusion. Many had called me beautiful, stately, fierce—But none
had ever said THAT to me. For several seconds, I did not realize my mouth was
open. His laugh grew heartier. “Do not mock me,” I warned.
The feeling did
not displease me, however. It defies explanation.
We had more
conversations, and more nights of silent gazing in each other’s company.
One evening he had
an announcement. “It is time I returned home,” he said. “I would like to thank
you. It is because of you that I now feel ready to face the responsibilities
thrust upon my shoulders.”
I did not feel
like I had done much but silently accepted his thanks nonetheless.
That was not all,
however. “I have a proposal,” he continued. “Last night I was struck by an
idea. Perhaps I have a way to answer your yearning for purpose, if you are
interested. For this plan to work, however, you will need to join me on my
return voyage across the ocean.”
But how, I
thought. I could wade through rivers and crest mountains with ease, but to cross
an ocean was an exercise even I dared not attempt. Swimming, I feared, is
simply beyond me. I would surely sink to the ocean floor as a brick would—and I
dared not discover what that would do to me. I voiced these concerns to him.
“I have a solution
for that, too. I would ask that you trust me. If you do, please come to the docks
at the beach tomorrow after midnight.”
Out of curiosity,
I did as he asked. There he presented me with the ship that was to provide his
passage home. A curious vessel, made of metal and lacking sails. Quite
different from what I had understood ships to look like.
“It is the
state-of-the-art in shipbuilding, capable of carrying enormous amounts of cargo
without fear of sinking. I have spoken to the ship’s captain and he has assured
me that carrying a statue of your size with us would not be an issue,” he
explained.
I wished to ponder
this. Would the Spanish locals miss me? Was it truly wise to board this vessel?
But I had to choose then and there. The ship would soon leave. For once, time
was scarce. It was a strange feeling.
So I decided:
Staying in Spain any longer would do me no better than had I remained in Greece
forever. This was a rare opportunity. I had to trust this young man who had
become my only friend. He said he wanted to help me find my purpose, and I
wished to believe in him.
Thus it was that I
knelt on the deck of the ship. The floor groaned under my weight but held firm.
With my permission, my friend secured my body with a plethora of strong ropes
to ensure I would not easily fall over.
A crew of sailors
appeared once the sun rose and set about preparing the ship for departure. I
remained still so that they would not be alarmed. Some stopped to look at me, but
none seemed surprised by my presence. I assume my friend made an arrangement
with them.
The ship cast off.
We were out at open sea. The metal beneath my knees shuddered without cease. I
felt another emotion I had no prior experience with: Fear. None could harm me;
my creator had made sure of that. But I knew that if I fell overboard somehow,
I would never reemerge from the watery depths. I had yet to determine where I
wished to spend the rest of eternity, but it was certainly not at the bottom of
the sea.
Whenever the deck
was vacant, my friend would appear before me. It was as if he could sense my
unease. He spoke reassurances, promised that I would be alright, come what may.
I looked at his small form before my knees, utterly engulfed by my shadow, and
knew that there would be nothing he could do to help me in the event of
disaster befalling the ship. Yet his words still comforted me, somehow.
Eventually the
ship ground to a halt. I cautiously looked up. We had come ashore at
Mammotham—the town I still call home today.
It was but a
modest settlement back then, yet already preparing to expand. I was escorted to
an empty cobblestone square overlooking the harbor under the cover of night and
instructed to strike a pose, facing the sea.
“You shall serve
as a symbol for this town. An inspiration, a guiding light,” my friend said to
me. “In time, the citizens will grow to love you as their pride and joy.”
That did sound nice.
But would I truly help anyone by merely standing here, I wondered? Still, I had
managed to inspire my friend all the same, simply by being there. Perhaps those
were his thoughts when he brought me here.
So I stood there
as instructed. I grew used to my surroundings. For once, time meant something:
Day by day, I would see the harbor before me change, the little human workers
wandering about at my feet.
My friend kept
visiting me regularly for as long as he yet lived. I could not move my head to meet
his eyes down below, lest someone notices, but I would hear his voice. Holding
conversations as we once did was impossible like this, but I enjoyed his
company. It helped me settle into my new environment.
The town continued
to grow, to change, but I could only see the small part of it that lay before
me. I have had to infer what the rest of it behind me looks like. I remember
when they first introduced electricity in the form of street lights. The city
would be bright at all hours from then on. I marveled when I saw them turn on
for the first time.
That was when my
friend gave me a gift, too: A stone torch, outfitted with an electric beacon
made to resemble a flame. Quite ingenious. “So that you may continue to serve
as a guiding light at all hours,” he had said.
Beside the gift of
being created, for which I remain eternally thankful, I had never received a
present before. I felt loved. Truly, I was home at last.
But my happiness
was fleeting. The torch was to be a parting gift. Eventually my friend stopped
visiting. I later overheard from passers-by that he had succumbed from illness.
Time had separated me from those I care about once more. I was surrounded by
humans at all times now, but I felt as lonely as when my creator had perished.
Many years must have
passed since then. I have tried to settle into my role. But it seems today that
I am increasingly forgotten—I am less of a symbol and more of a relic. This
part of town seldom sees visitors anymore, and it is even rarer that they have
anything nice to say about me.
“What’s this thing
here, anyway?” I heard a tourist say the other day.
“Says here on this
sign that she’s meant to represent the Greek goddess Athena,” another read out.
A sign? Now who
put that there? It’s patently false, at any rate—I bear no resemblance to the Goddess.
Oh, how I wish I could correct them. But if I move or speak…
“She reminds me a
little of that statue in New York,” the first tourist remarked.
“Yeah. Only this
one’s smaller and made of bronze.”
Another statue
that looks like me, and even bigger than I am. Is she alive too, I wonder? I
should like to meet her one day if so. Does she also tire of seeing the same
thing day in, day out?
“Seems like this
thing is a poor man’s version they made to attract tourists like us to this
city,” one of them said snidely. “The only thing this one’s got going for it is
that she’s got nice legs, but only kind of. C’mon, let’s go look at something
more interesting.”
How brazenly rude!
They would not dare say such things in my presence if they knew what I was
capable of. I have half a mind to stomp my feet and give them a scare, just
once. Who would believe them? But I think better of it. It takes tremendous
willpower to keep my brow from furrowing as they leave.
I try to forget
the encounter and sink back into reverie as time passes me by. ‘The citizens
will grow to love you as their pride and joy,’ he said… What a fool I was to
believe that. Perhaps this journey I have taken was all a mistake, and I was
better off never having moved from my spot back in Greece.
I snap out of my
thoughts when all of a sudden, everything goes dark. Everything, save the
lights on the passing ships in the distance.
A power outage. I
have seen this happen a few times before. At this hour in the dead of night, it
means the city streets are almost completely dark for once.
I listen. Nobody’s
around.
This is… my
chance. The burning curiosity I have kept repressed as I stood here all these
years can finally be answered. Do I dare turn around and see what’s behind me?
Slowly I move my
head. I confirm that there is nobody at my feet. Then I turn around.
When I first
arrived in Mammotham, there was but a single building in the entire town that
matched my height. I could easily look over the roofs of the houses to the
surrounding landscape. Now, however, the buildings that lined the street before
me made even me feel puny. I cannot imagine how humans must experience walking
through here.
Not a single person
in sight, still. I cautiously step out of the square I have occupied for so
long and onto the road. Thankfully it does not crack beneath my feet. The road
runs perpendicular to the square. It is a moonless night and therefore nearly
pitch dark, but my eyes can adjust to such conditions quite well.
I peer past one of
those tall buildings flanking me. The street is truly abandoned. The humans who
work here have long since gone home. I see some metal vehicles parked in neat
rows nearby—cars, I believe they are called. I have heard them often but seldom
see them. I move closer to inspect them and in my enthusiasm nearly stumble—I
am out of practice when it comes to walking, it seems.
I stoop down to
pick up one of the smaller ones. It is lighter than I expected. I turn it over
in my hand and peer at the inner workings beneath. Human ingenuity fascinates
me—my existence sprang from it, after all. Still, I wonder if the humans of
today could make anything like me if they tried. My creator was a one-of-a-kind
master of his craft, even if he had none of the tools that modern craftsmen
have at their disposal. Now that he was dead, only I knew the secret of my
creation.
My concentration
is interrupted when I hear a loud gasp from somewhere nearby. I look in the
direction of the sound and see the dark silhouette of a little girl huddling
against a wall, staring at me.
It seems I have
been spotted.
Before I can think
of a good response, the girl opens her mouth and shrieks. It is so startling
that I nearly drop the car I was studying. I quickly place it back where I
found it and scoot away from the terrified child.
“Who’s there?!”
she wails. “I can’t see anything! I’m lost, and cold, and then the lights went
out, and now there’s a monster… I just wanna go ho-o-o-ome!”
I try not to panic
as the poor girl breaks down into loud sobs. She cannot see; if only I had a
light for her… Oh, but of course! The torch! It has practically become an
extension of myself, so I had completely forgotten I was still carrying it in
my other hand.
It has its own
generator. Usually it turns on and off by itself, but there is also a breaker
for manual operation… Now, where was it again… Ah, there! I carefully flick it
with my nail. A bright light promptly begins emanating from the torch,
illuminating the street around me.
“Ah!” the girl
gasps and shields her eyes from the harsh light. She rubs at her face for a
moment, then lowers her arm and stares at my face in wonder with curious brown
eyes. She’s wearing an adorable yellow dress, and her frizzy black hair has a
little bow in it.
“You’re not a
monster,” she says. “You’re that statue that’s always by the water!”
“That is correct,”
I tell her, and try to send her a calm smile. If she knows who I am, then
perhaps I can get her to trust me.
Her eyes widen
even further. “You can talk?!”
I nod. “What are
you doing here by yourself, little girl?”
“Umm, well, I…”
She bashfully buries her face in her knees. “I kinda ran away from home ‘cause
I was mad at my mom. But then I got lost and now I feel really dumb about it.
And then it got dark out of nowhere…”
“I see. Is your
mother looking for you right now?”
“Uh-huh,
probably,” she nods and sits up straight. “Um, I’m Ashley. What’s your name,
Miss Statue?”
“N-Name?” I blink,
perplexed. How has that never occurred to me in all these years? “I do not
think I ever got a name. Never really needed one, I suppose.”
Ashley taps a
finger to her cheek. “You know, I went to visit you a while ago with my mom,
and she told me the sign by your feet says you look like someone named Athena.
Does that help?”
“Those are lies
someone made up. I do not look like the Goddess at all. I look like my older
sister, and no one else!” I say insistently.
To my surprise,
the girl giggles a little. “Haha, you look very serious, but you’re actually
kind of silly when you’re upset, Miss Athena!”
“That’s not my
name!” My mouth scrunches up in frustration. This child does not listen at all!
But oh well. At
least she is not upset any longer. I calm myself with that thought.
“Say, it is not
good for children to be out alone so late. Even I know this much,” I tell her.
“You said you visited me before. Do you think you know the way home from
there?”
Her face becomes
anxious again. “I, I don’t know. It’s so dark now.”
“That is quite
alright. If you like, you can stay with me while we wait for someone to find
you. They might be drawn to the light of my torch,” I suggest.
Ashley nods.
“Sure, okay! My mom said I shouldn’t go with strangers, but you’re not a
stranger, are you, Miss Athena?”
I feel a twinge of
annoyance that the name has apparently stuck, but I try to keep it off my face.
“Certainly. Shall we go?”
She hops to her
feet and dusts off her dress, but then gasps as her face lights up with
excitement. “Wait! Can I ride on your shoulder, Miss Athena? You’re so tall! I
bet the view is amazing from up there!”
“Well, I suppose
it is…” I consider it. I have had children climb onto me before, but that was
when I was sitting still. Yet if it would put her at ease, then perhaps…
“Alright, as long as you promise to be careful.”
I lower my free
hand to her and she climbs on. “Wow, you have strong hands, don’t you, Miss
Athena?” She taps her little fist against my bronze skin and it makes a hollow
metal noise. I cannot help but feel endeared by her curiosity.
Slowly and
carefully, I stand back up to my full height. I bring my hand over to my
shoulder and she clambers on, sidling up against my neck.
“Are you settled
in?” I ask.
“Yup!” Ashley pats
her little hand against me to confirm it.
I retrace my route
back the way I came, one step at a time, making sure to keep my shoulders
steady and upright. I hold out my torch in front of me to light up the path
ahead, making sure there is no one else around that I might step on.
Soon enough we are
back at my spot. Out of habit, I stop to gaze out to sea.
“Wow. Everything
looks so tiny from up here,” Ashley remarks. “Sucks that I can’t see much right
now, though, since it’s so dark. And you get to see this every day, Miss
Athena! You’re so lucky.”
“I wonder about
that sometimes,” I say. “Lately I have felt rather lonely and forgotten. Every
day is spent in solitude.”
“Sah-lee-tude,”
she repeats. I suppose she might not be familiar with that word yet. “Does that
mean you don’t have any friends?”
I close my eyes.
“I did have a friend, once. He brought me here. But he has passed away long ago,
leaving me all alone.”
“Aww, it’s okay,
Miss Athena. I’ll be your friend! I can come visit you every so often.”
“That is kind of
you, but I do not know if my heart can take losing you as well,” I say.
“What do you
mean?”
“You are a human,
I am not. Humans grow old and sick while only I remain. It is the way of
things.” And the humans of today care not for me, it seems. Being alone is just
my fate, I suppose.
Ashley thought
about my words for a moment, looking to the ground far beneath us. She seemed
troubled. I realize too late that burdening one so young as her with awareness
of her own mortality may have been too cruel of me.
Before I can
apologize, though, she looks up and declares, “I wish I was like you.”
“Hmm?”
“A statue, I mean.
Big and strong and always young. And so pretty! People could look at me and
feel brave because I’d support them. And I could do that forever.”
It has been a
while since someone said nice things about me, so I smile at her. Still, I had
better correct her lofty view of what my life is like. “I do not think you
would like that very much. As I said, it is a lonely existence,” I remind her.
“But that’s
exactly why,” she insists. “One day I’ll die too, and then I can’t be friends
with you anymore. But if I were the same as you, then we could be together
forever. You could be my big sis! I always wanted a sister.”
A sister… I wish I
could have met mine.
I break out of my
thoughts when Ashley begins coughing. “Are you alright?” I ask.
She shivers so
much that I can feel it. “It’s the wind. It’s so cold,” she says.
Ah, of course! I
cannot feel the wind, so it does not bother me, but a child like Ashley should
not be exposed to the elements for too long. Being all the way up here is not
helping matters.
“Please hold on,”
I announce as I carefully lower my body to the ground and sit down, keeping my
free hand near her tiny body in case she falls. Once I am settled in, I very
gently pick her up by her waist with two fingers and bring her to my stomach,
cradling her against it.
For the first time
I curse my lack of human flesh and blood. My metal body has no warmth to give.
Still, I hope that this at least shields her from the wind. If only my torch
had a real flame.
“Thanks, Miss
Athena,” she murmurs, then has another coughing fit.
I hold my torch
aloft. Hopefully someone will see it and come investigate. I am at a loss about
what to do in this situation. Should I go to seek help? But I would not know
where to look. Remaining still and waiting is all I have ever done.
So we wait. I do
not know how long. Ashley coughs a few more times, but then her breathing
slows. I look down and see that she has fallen asleep, arms and head resting
against my finger. What is that human saying, “It is so cute I could melt?” I
am glad it is only a figure of expression, or I would have been reduced to slag
by now. I just hope that she will be alright.
Eventually my
waiting is interrupted by a voice. “Ashley! Ashley, are you there?!” I hear a
woman calling.
I feel the tiny
girl spring to life in my hand. “Mom…? Mom, I’m here!”
“Oh thank the Lord
above. Where are you, honey? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m with
Miss Athena!” Ashley yells back.
I take away my
hand and the girl slides down my body to my lap, where she carefully climbs
down to the ground. In the meantime a woman in a professional-looking suit
appears from the sidewalk and runs up to Ashley as soon as she spots her,
embracing her.
“Oh Ashley! Never
do that again, you hear me? I was worried sick. Oh, you’re so cold, we need to
get you home. Here,” she says as she takes off her jacket and drapes it over
the girl. “I’m sorry I took so long to find you. Were you scared in the dark
all by yourself?”
“A little,” Ashley
admitted. “But I wasn’t alone! Miss Athena came to find me! She’s very nice,
Mom!”
Ashley’s mother
gives her a quizzical look. “Who’s Miss Athena, then?”
Ashley rolled her
eyes and pointed at me. “The statue, of course! She’s right there where she
always is! How did you miss her, she’s so tall!”
The woman looks up
at me. I wave awkwardly at her, and she recoils in surprise. “Oh my God!”
“Um, nice to meet
you, I suppose,” I say.
Ashley’s mother
looks at me, then at her daughter’s beaming smile, then back at me.
“L-Likewise. Sorry, I was not aware that you were… alive,” she eventually
manages. “My name’s Faith, I’m Ashley’s mom. So, um… Am I to understand that
you looked after her for me?”
I nod. “It was my
pleasure. She is a kind girl. I apologize that I was not able to keep her warm,
but I am glad she is safe now.”
“Yes, well… Thank
you, I suppose,” she hesitantly says to me. Then Ashley has another coughing
fit. “Ah, sorry, it was nice meeting you, but we really should be getting home
now.”
“Right you are.
Goodbye, Ashley,” I smile and wave at her as Faith begins guiding her away.
She waves back,
then turns to her mother. “Mommy, can we visit Miss Athena tomorrow, please?”
“Not with your
cough acting up again, dear. You’ve been out for far too long.”
“But mooom! She’s
lonely! I’m her only friend right now!”
“Well, she’s a big
girl. She can handle being alone for a while. If she’s your friend, she’ll
understand that your health comes first.”
They have left my
earshot, and I am alone again. I rise to my feet and strike my usual pose,
holding the torch aloft. Soon after the streetlights finally blink back on.
Then they blink off again when the sun rises, and back on when it sets.
A week passes
without incident. Then one morning Ashley and her mother come by to visit me
again. I cannot move this time lest the whole city knows my secret. Come to
think of it, I suppose this means those two did not tell anybody about me. They
speak to me at my feet, explain that Ashley has always had a weak constitution
and that she had run away after getting fed up with being cooped up indoors all
the time.
I wish I could
join them in conversation. All I can do for now was listen. But then Faith remarks
on my lack of response, suggesting that perhaps I am not alive after all and
that they had both imagined our meeting, so I wiggle my toes in protest. Ashley
immediately points it out with a giggle.
They leave again,
then come back the week after. This routine keeps happening. Ashley has been
telling me about how she’s doing and that she hopes I am doing alright as well.
We have more in common than I thought: She spends a lot of time by herself due
to her poor health, watching the city and its people go by from her apartment
window. I begin trying to keep track of time going by so that I knew when she’ll
come visit. Finally I have something to look forward to. The days going by
means something now. I grow to care about the girl deeply, as if she were a
younger sister to me.
Still, years pass
me by all too quickly. Before I know it, two decades have elapsed and Ashley
has grown into a wonderful young woman. She still visits me by herself, when she
is well enough to. More often than not in the middle of the night. If we are
lucky, no one is around and we can actually have a conversation. She sits on my
shoulder and admires the view with me while I offer my thoughts about whatever
is troubling her that night.
I worry sometimes
that spending so many cold nights with me has had an adverse effect on her
health. She got better for a while, her health improving to the point where,
during her adolescence, it no longer restricted her so much—yet over the last
year she has been falling ill again more and more often. She has confided in me
that she is not long for this world, and that she has known this for a long
time. Still, doctors had told her that she could not hope to see her
twenty-fifth birthday at the rate her health deteriorates, so the fact that she
is twenty-seven today is an achievement in itself.
One of many
achievements, I should say. I have watched her graduate from college despite having
had to miss many classes; become a famous, award-winning artist and activist
for fair and equal treatment of Mammotham’s citizens; and win over the hearts
of nearly the entire city in the process. To them, especially the
lesser-fortunate, she has become a hero, a symbol—something I was supposed to
be but never managed. Yet I am not jealous. If anything, I am immensely proud
that she has done so much in such a short life.
And unfortunately,
the day when I must bid her farewell has come sooner than I had hoped. I have
not seen her in a month and fear the worst. Last night Faith appeared before
me—something she has not done in a long time, especially not by herself or at
that late hour. She works for the city council and has risen through its ranks
these past twenty years, which spared her no free time to spend conversing with
a statue. But tonight she had an
important message which confirmed my suspicions: Ashley may very well be on her
deathbed.
She has but one
last seemingly vain request. Yet when I hear it, I understand her intention
right away, and it is far from selfish. I also understand why her mother has
appeared before me: To have me divulge the secret of how I was created.
I do happen to
know. It was one of the first things I asked my creator.
“It will not be
her,” I warn. “For the same reason that I am not my sister. But it will carry
on her legacy when she is gone.”
She nods in
understanding and leaves again, having written everything I explained down in
meticulous detail.
To my grief,
Ashley succumbs before she has the chance to say goodbye to me. I spend weeks
in despondency. My torch remains unlit. It feels as if the entire city is
grieving alongside me.
But tonight her
mother has come to visit me again, and she has not come alone. Many workers
drape an enormous cloth over me. Tie me down. Wrap something around my waist—a
cable attached to a crane’s hoist, I believe, but I cannot see. It is a
disconcerting experience, though I trust that they have good intentions.
I am being
transported somewhere. Not to the harbor, but deeper into the city. How
exciting! I have never been this far in.
Eventually we
stop, and I am placed back upright. The ropes and cloth are removed and I see
that I am standing at the top of a number of steps, overlooking a large plaza
lined with trees.
Faith is standing
at the bottom of the steps, looking up at me. She looks even smaller from this
vantage point. “There, that will be all. Thank you for your hard work, you may
go,” she tells the workers, and they seem pleased to head home. Soon enough it
is just us.
Next, she
addresses me directly. “Behind you is city hall,” she says. “This is to be your
new home for the foreseeable future. For the both of you.”
The both of us?
Then that means…
“You must be
Athena. Nice to meet you… or to see you again, I guess,” a familiar cheerful
voice to my right says.
I want to look,
but is it safe? Is anybody watching?
“Go on,” the woman
at the bottom of the steps reassures me.
I turn my head to
the right. I am indeed standing in front of a building that reminds me a little
of the temples back in Greece. It is just slightly taller than I am. So this is
where the city’s government resides.
But that is not
what catches my attention most. I am standing to the left-hand side of the
building’s entrance, and over to the right, there is another statue…
“Hey, glad you
made it,” the statue with Ashley’s face says to me.
I smile wider than
I ever have. “I thought I’d never see you again,” I say.
She is just half a
head taller than me. It is the first time in my life that I have had to look up
at someone. She is truly gorgeous, fashioned from polished dark metal for her
body, with lighter tones for the dress she has been immortalized in. Truly, she
has come so far since I first met her.
I am overcome with
emotion. If I had tears to spill…
She opens her arms
invitingly and I happily embrace her. For once I do not have to fear crushing
her. For once I get to experience the joy of being embraced back. She is here,
and I never have to be alone again.
“I never imagined the
city council would approve this,” I say, still burying my face into her
shoulder.
“They almost
didn’t,” Faith interjects. I had almost forgotten that she is still here. “I
had to pull every string I had to get enough people on board, and even then…
Making a statue of this scale is just taboo these days unless it’s of Jesus or
something. But they made an exception since she’s come to mean so much to this
city, and there was enough popular support for it. Her memory means something
to a lot of folks.”
Ashley flashes a
coy smile. “Thanks, mom. Love you.”
The human lady
sighs wryly. “I still don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about all this, but
I’m glad I could make my little girl happy one more time… In any case, it’s
late, so I’m going to get some sleep now. You girls be back in position before
the sun rises, got that?”
“Yes, mom,” Ashley
and I say in unison.
So begins our new
life. This Ashley—She decided to stick with that name—does not have the memories
of her human counterpart, but she has the same personality, and I am happy to
fill in the blanks for her when we get to talk at night. During the day we
silently watch all the little humans come and go. There are so many more than I
ever saw at my old spot.
“You can hear so
many things just standing here and eavesdropping,” she remarks to me one night.
“It makes me glad that at least some people are still fighting for what’s right…
Though, it’s ironic that my reward for my activism is to become a piece of art
myself and passively watch it all happen for the rest of time.” She giggles. “It’s
almost funny when you think of it that way.”
I smile as well. “I
suppose it is. But such is the way for our kind.”
“Maybe for you,
since you’re so boring, Athena,” she teases. “But just so you know, if I hear
something big going down and I’m the only one who can jump in, I’m doing it.
Consequences be damned. You watch me.”
“Don’t,” I warn. “You’ll
cause a panic.”
“Maybe I should! Sometimes
shaking things up is a good thing.”
“Not that kind of
shaking things up. Trust me.”
“’Trust me,’ as if
you would know. You’ve been alive for like three thousand years and you never even
dared to say ‘boo’ to someone.”
“Hey, I’m not that
old!”
“Aren’t you always going on about how time means nothing to us? So what if I’m
off by a few hundred years?”
“Well—Well, that
just means that age doesn’t matter, so don’t bring it up!”
“Oh ho, struck a
nerve. And here I thought you didn't have any. But sure. That means you’re not the older sister, since age doesn’t
matter, hmm? But I’m the big sister, since I’m taller!”
“That’s not how it
works.”
“Then how does it
work, oh Goddess of Wisdom?”
“For the last time—”
“That’s not who
you are, I know!”
“Hmph! Then stop teasing
me about it, will you?!”
Ashley has a laughing
fit, leaning against one of the pillars of the city hall’s façade. It is a good
thing it is quite sturdy.
“What’s so amusing?”
I demand to know.
“The look on your
face, of course!”
She continues
giggling incessantly. It’s endearing. Despite myself, I smile and begin
laughing too.
If anyone sees us
like this, we are in a lot of trouble—but I cannot find it in myself to worry
about that. So long as we’re together, I am so happy. And the whole world can
see it for all I care.