The Centre Of The Universe
Nana says she’s from The Centre of the Universe, also known as AMK. It is common knowledge that the AMK is an artificial rock constructed in South Africa that became its own sovereign nation back in the 1600s. I’ve always wanted to visit there, I heard it's a mysterious place that cannot be truly be understood until you live in it or is it that on it? I’ve seen satellite photos of it from the cosmos and it looks like a giant alien artifact that was sent to Earth for the Fundamentalists to build missionaries on.
Kristen and I were considering going to Sweden this summer. I also had my eye on Italy, seeing as I love Spaghetti Westerns and Mob Dramas. Why not be spontaneous? Our flight arrives in 2 seconds for The Centre of the Universe.
I’m dropped off on top of the formation. No, not the upper face of the rock’s surface, but the upper part of this two mile high apocalypse I’m looking down at. My chalky hands hurt from gripping a ledge; I will fall to my death at any moment. In the distance, a ridged man limpingly approaches me. His leg isn’t bad it’s the rock he walks on that obstructs his posture. These people live parallel to the ground as the walk along the southern face of this rock. How do they do it?
The man asks me, “Are you ready to start living sideways, backwards, both ways?” He grabs my hand as I dangled from the rock leaning towards a quick and painless death. Before I could answer, he says “you have four minutes.” He took my hands and placed it over top the spikey surface of the formation. It’s just then I realize the rock has tiny cactus-like pricks sticking out of it. Oh look, a car driving by. The tyre must stick to the surface by the sharp nails impeding the ground; but how have these people’s feet adjusted? He stomped my hand into the cactus spikes. I stick to the vertical surface as a rush of serotonin exhumes the pain.
Two weeks go by and I can’t discuss what goes on.
The final test is outside the man’s house. I am in a line with him and three other people, facing straight down at the ground, from almost two miles above. I’ve learned a lot about the fundamentalist culture, and it was time to take the final test: Run down the rock, and don’t ever stop.
I looked down Lee Street, and saw sandbags at the end to prevent any cars from crashing through AMK. It wasn’t a straight route to the bottom; this was an elaborate community, full of churches and waterfalls, which now look like rivers to me. The men held me up, but by this time I’ve adapted to stand up straight by myself, running on this spiky surface was a different threshold. The men started running, dragging me along with them so I could keep with the pace. If I slowed down too much, gravity would take over and I would fall to my death. The end of the road is near, and the sandbags are instantly unavoidable. I can’t turn. We plummet into the sandbags and behind them is a stream of water. The cactus-roads, and earth tone surface diffuses into a grassy countryside of peach trees and churches. Children are playing in the water and two are laughing as the other men are dunking each other into pond. The horizon is still vertical but I feel the safeness of my adolescence surround me as I easily walk out of the water. The drips are pulled off my face towards Earth as I look parallel to the rock, down and realize the dimension I’m living in. |
