Ripples 21 by KimB

[Editor's Note: Ripples is a serial story.

UPDATE 10/2018:

I am invoking the No Guarantee to Finish option

I've not run out of ideas but there is a definite lack of incentive to continue.

Such is the end of all serials.

The author makes no guarantees as to completing the serial.
Publication dates are located in the left side menu.]

There will be a break in publication
until the author writes new episodes.

21 Leaves on Leaves

Mild. Warm. Hot.

Cool. Cold. Frigid.

Dark. Dim. Bright.

Silent. Silent. Silent.

The noise of the outside world ended as the doors closed behind her. The soft swoosh separated the outside and from the inside.

Inside the light was different. The colors and hues a monotone. She looked behind her through the dark glass panes designed to change bright into dim and hot into cool.

Turning she passed down the hallway into a cavernous room. Bright lights and cold air redefined the outside and nullified it.

She was still welcome here. Just.

Tables and chairs, a few scattered couches, their cushions sagging from use, kiosks with pamphlets and row upon row upon row of the most valuable thing on the planet. More valuable than all the physical wealth of the world, yet only a small fraction of what had ever been.

There was so much and yet there was so little. What seemed like endless rows ended. Shelves that might go forever halted. Spaces. Empty Spaces. Places where things ought to be; yet were not.

There were those who believed that the most valuable thing on the planet was theirs and theirs alone. Theirs to do with what they wanted. Theirs to constrain. Theirs to control. Theirs to obscure. Theirs to obliterate.

There was a hunger there. A gnawing hunger. A covetous hunger.

When they claimed it was More. They provided Less.

When they claimed it was Better. They offered Lesser.

When they claimed it for All. They gave only Few.

It was Nothing. It was Petty. It was a Lie.

The building devoured the rows. An empty shelf, the carcass of its latest feastings. The building ground its way through the rows and shelves granting wishes to those who believed it all belonged to them.

But of course it didn't.

The digested leavings, a compost of nothing, were what was then offered. A goulash without content or context. The texture, substance and weight removed. The aromas of spices and nuances of flavor sanitized into a dreary gruel. Visible only under the proper circumstances.

Teased, tempted and threatened, the custodians yielded up what was Everyone's. Abdicating the rights of the world to those few who claimed it. Permissions granted by physical possession; then jettisoned. A deliberate action of abandonment.

The most valuable thing on the planet lay chained to a future of instability. The engorgement lasting the span of months or at best years and then lost. Some would be lost forever.

A civilization burning its heritage. No need for flames this time. The building would devour all and there were many who would help it do so.

Foolish hubris.

Yet what was lost, might be found again. The most valuable thing on the planet was still there.

She made her way towards a desk to seek answers from what remained.