Yearning for Sarah

I found some stories I wrote after my mission while I was at BYU. See what you think. Love to hear your comments!

By W. Lee Hunt

The cool breeze off Wilmack Lake whips John's brown hair as he mopes down the quiet sidewalk in Sunset City.

He's been walking for at least 15 minutes, quite a while in these times of instantaneous molecular transportation.

But he likes the feeling of the hard surface under his feet, the breeze against his face, the throbbing of his heart, the sun's rays filtering through the ancient oak trees lining the decaying monorail expressway.

This morning in the year 2034 is no more special than yesterday morning except the weatherman has ordered a half hour rain shower for 10 a.m.

If John doesn’t hurry to work, he’ll get caught in the rain. But, then, he really wouldn’t mind. How many can feel the rain falling, splashing on their eyelids? He knows only a few -- only the helpers.

For the past several days he's been doing a lot of serious thinking. This morning’s no different. And like always, he’s thinking of Sarah.

“You’re so beautiful. I want you, but I can’t have you – and I know it.

"Just to hold you, but that's stupid. You’re little more than an image on a screen.”  

John is walking extra slow today. He’s still a block away from Eternal Home 222,31,3874 when it starts to rain. A few drops at first, then a torrent.

He’s still in no hurry.

Five days a week, 12 hours a day John monitors the life-support system for Sarah Eternal.
He also entertains her with news of the outside world.
Explains to her how the rain comes and goes.
How it feels to run free.

She always listens intently, pictured on the screen, lounging in a large chair with her left leg tucked under her right.

As motionless as death.

Arriving at the front door to her house, dripping wet, he rings the bell.

The door, unattended, swings open.

"You're a little late today, John," he hears her calling.

"I walked again and this time got caught in the rain," he replies as he moves toward the large screen in the living room.

"Are you wet?" she asks.

"Yes, quite," he answers, brushing the surface water off his slacks.

"I've forgotten, I think," she remarks, now bringing an image of herself onto the screen.

“Tell me how it feels to be wet, to have rain falling on 

you.”

Looking up, he sees her on the life-size screen. She’s in her “Number 13” pose. She’s beautiful in her long, gold gown with her blonde hair flowing gently over her bare left shoulder.

Sarah's lying on her side supporting herself with her right elbow. Motionless.

"John – tell me, please, about the rain."

"Oh, yes," he stammers.   

"Well ...," he tries to explain.

Stopping short, “Oh, Sarah, why couldn’t you be like me?”

The image on the screen changes. She’s standing now, in a dark uniform-like outfit.

"We've talked about this before, John. I really like you – you help me so much. But I don’t know love, nor will I ever be able to experience it.
"In my youth, before I became an Eternal, I remember dreaming of being in love, but it seemed only to happen in the movies," she tries to explain.
"And over the past 30 or so years that I've been an Eternal, I've forgotten feelings of emotions. But I can think and imagine and will always be able to… "But John, you can become like me," she beckons. "We could unite our minds and imagine travels and fantasies together."

John blurts out: "But, what of love, what of feeling you next to me?"

"Forget it," she counters. "Love is only for the Helpers -- only for those who still have bodies."

The buzzer sounds and he leaves his seat before the screen. Walking behind the screen he opens a door and enters her chambers. A computer, off to his left, is silently carrying out the processes of keeping Sarah alive.

On a small stand in the middle of the room is Sarah.

Tubes enter an oxygen-controlled cubicle where she lies.

Flipping a switch on the monitor to adjust the room temperature, he turns and goes to her.
He places his hands on the sides of the glass cubicle and watches her -- a small mass of highly advanced nerve endings, which was once entombed in a skull of a helper like John. He listens to the quiet murmur of the blood-like, life-giving fluid as it flows into her and then is expelled.
Moving his hands over the smooth clear surface, as if searching for some response, he whispers, "Oh, Sarah."