AfterTheObvious

 

AFTER THE OBVIOUS

PART ONE

Chapter 1: The Return

The village sat nestled in the heart of the forest, surrounded by rolling hills and clear, running streams. Life here followed the rhythms of nature—steady, predictable, and simple. When Kylin left for the city years ago, no one expected the boy who loved the fields to come back a stranger. Yet here he was, standing at the edge of the village, his once-bright eyes dulled, his movements stiff and awkward, like he no longer belonged.

The villagers had gathered to welcome him, eager to hear about the world beyond the trees. But Kylin didn’t smile. He didn’t greet old friends with warmth. His time in the city had hollowed him out, filled him with something alien.

Jasha, the village elder, approached him, the familiar crinkling of his weathered face filled with concern. "You've changed, Kylin," he said gently, looking into the young man’s eyes. "The city... it's done something to you."

Kylin's face hardened. "I adapted. It’s the only way to survive there."

"You adapted to their way, but can you adapt back?" Jasha asked.

Kylin's gaze drifted over the fields, the familiar smell of earth and pine filling the air. But it didn’t calm him; instead, it felt foreign. He scoffed, "Why should I? It’s you who should change. The city is the future. This... this place is dying."

Chapter 2: The Rift

In the weeks that followed, it became clear Kylin hadn’t come back to the village to reconnect. He was a man divided, expecting his old friends and family to bend to his will. He spoke of efficiency, of progress, of a better life in the city, but his words dripped with disdain.

He refused to help tend the fields, called the traditional tools primitive. When the villagers shared their meals, he complained about the simplicity of their food. It wasn’t long before whispers spread—Kylin had been poisoned by the city.

“Why can’t he just remember who he was?” Mirra, a childhood friend of Kylin, asked one evening by the fire. The villagers gathered in silence, their faces tense with worry.

Jasha shook his head slowly. "The city does not give without taking. It gives you a way to survive, but it robs you of something deeper. Empathy. Connection."

And Kylin grew more distant each day, the strain between him and the villagers deepening. Every conversation turned into a battle, every interaction an opportunity for him to assert the superiority of the city’s ways. 

One day, after a particularly harsh argument with Jasha, Kylin stormed into the woods. He hated the villagers. He hated their insistence that he should return to who he was. He hated their peace, their contentment, their refusal to embrace what he had learned in the city.

But as night fell and he wandered deeper into the forest, something snapped. Alone, surrounded by nature’s vast silence, Kylin collapsed to the ground. Anger surged through him, but then it crumbled, leaving only the raw, unbearable weight of his isolation.

Chapter 3: The City

Years before, Kylin had been full of hope when he first arrived in the sprawling city. Its towers reached high into the sky, its streets bustling with people who moved with purpose, ambition written on their faces. He had been drawn in by the allure of opportunity, the promise of a better life.

But the city was a wasteland. Beneath its shiny exterior, Kylin quickly learned it was a place of endless hunger. The concrete jungle required constant feeding, consuming everything around it—resources, energy, and, worst of all, humanity. No one gave without taking, no one connected without a motive.

Kylin had compromised, slowly losing parts of himself. The city’s demands were relentless. He had become someone he didn’t recognize, someone cold and detached. When he looked at his reflection in the glass windows, it was a stranger’s face staring back. He had been forced to survive by sacrificing his heart, his empathy, his connection to others.

But now, standing alone in the village he had once called home, he realized that sacrifice had cost him everything.

Chapter 4: The Containment

It wasn’t long after Kylin’s breakdown in the woods that the containment began.

The news came quietly at first—rumors of force fields erected over the cities, trapping the urban populations within shimmering barriers. No one knew who had done it, no one understood how. It seemed impossible, like something out of a nightmare, yet the proof was undeniable. The cities were sealed.

Panic spread through the village as reports trickled in. Those who had lived in the city, like Kylin, tried to make sense of it, but there were no answers. The villagers feared for their friends and family trapped behind the invisible walls, but Jasha saw something different.

"The earth is healing," he murmured as they gathered around the fire one night, the glow illuminating his wise eyes. "The cities were always hungry, always taking more than they gave. This... this is a reckoning."

Kylin stared into the flames, his heart torn. The city, with all its promises, had failed. Now, its people were left to fend for themselves, their artificial world crumbling. He couldn’t help but wonder what was happening inside those domes—had they adapted, or had the hunger finally consumed them?

Chapter 5: Renewal

Years passed. The world outside the containment zones flourished. Forests grew thick and wild, reclaiming land that had been stripped bare. The villagers thrived, returning to a way of life that had once sustained humanity for generations. They built, traded, and shared knowledge, reconnecting with other rural communities that had survived.

Kylin remained in the village, but he was different now. He no longer fought to impose the city’s ways on the people who had once been his family. Slowly, he relearned the rhythms of life, rediscovered the connection he had lost. He worked alongside his neighbors, his hands no longer idle but full of purpose.

One day, as he stood on a hill overlooking the village, Kylin felt something he hadn’t felt in years—peace. The city was gone, and with it, the emptiness it had created within him. In its place was something older, something truer: the quiet hum of the earth, the song of a world that had survived its own destruction.

Kylin had finally come home.

PART TWO

Chapter 6: Echoes of the City

As the years drifted by, Kylin's memories of the city began to fade, but the scars it left behind did not. He still woke some nights with the echo of sirens in his ears, the sterile glow of neon lights haunting his dreams. Though the village had grown to accept him again, the city remained a ghost on the edge of his thoughts—a place he had once tried to become a part of but had never truly belonged to.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Kylin noticed a stranger approaching the village. It was rare for anyone from the outside to visit, but this man, cloaked in tattered robes and limping slightly, seemed to have come a long way. His face was lined with exhaustion, and his eyes gleamed with a strange intensity.

Kylin was the first to greet him at the village entrance. “Where do you come from, traveler?” he asked.

The man raised his head, a hollow smile on his lips. “I come from the city,” he rasped.

The words sent a chill through Kylin. "That’s impossible. The cities are sealed."

The stranger nodded. “Not all of them are dead. Some of us survived... barely.”

The villagers gathered as the man spoke, his voice hoarse, each word tinged with despair. He told them of the world inside the containment zone—of how, in the immediate panic, society collapsed. Food and water became precious, violence erupted, and only the strongest survived. But over time, a fragile new order had emerged. Those who remained scavenged for resources, fighting for every scrap of what the city still offered. Some had even learned to harness rudimentary forms of energy, though it was far from enough to sustain their numbers.

The villagers listened in silence, horrified by the tale of suffering and chaos. Kylin felt the old dread creeping back into his chest, the knowledge that, had he stayed, he would have been among those souls trapped behind the shimmering walls.

"Why did you come here?" Mirra asked, her voice filled with concern. “What do you want from us?”

The traveler’s eyes darted nervously. “I came... because the containment is breaking.”

Chapter 7: The Warning

The traveler’s revelation sent ripples of fear through the village. "Breaking?" Kylin asked, his voice tight. "What do you mean?"

The stranger took a deep breath, his gaunt features reflecting years of desperation. “The force fields... they’re failing. Not everywhere, not yet, but cracks are forming. Some of us have escaped, but it’s only a matter of time before the cities break free.”

The villagers murmured among themselves, panic threatening to take hold. Jasha stepped forward, his voice calm but grave. “What happens when the cities fall? What will the city people do?”

“They’ll come here,” the traveler said flatly. “They’ll come for your food, your resources. They’ll do whatever they can to survive.”

Kylin felt the weight of the man's words like a stone in his gut. The city had never been able to sustain itself; its people had always lived off the labor and resources of the rural communities. If the containment failed, the starving remnants of the cities would come, and they would bring with them the same hunger that had destroyed their world.

“We have to prepare,” Mirra said, her face pale. “We can’t just sit here and wait for them.”

Jasha nodded. “We’ve built something strong here. We can defend it, but we must act quickly.”

The village quickly mobilized. Farmers and carpenters worked together to fortify the village’s defenses, creating barricades and watchtowers. Scouts were sent to the surrounding forests to look for signs of movement. There was a quiet determination in the air, a sense of unity that hadn’t been tested since the cities had first been sealed off.

But Kylin couldn’t shake the gnawing dread. He knew the people of the city—he had been one of them. They were desperate, ruthless, willing to do anything to survive. What if the containment breaking wasn’t a random failure? What if the city dwellers were deliberately tearing down the barriers, planning their escape?

Chapter 8: Over the Old Roads

The world outside the village felt ancient and wild, as though nature had swallowed the remnants of human civilization. Kylin, Mirra, and Tobin walked along a path that had once been a motorway, though you wouldn’t know it by looking. Trees grew from cracks in the tarmac, their roots pushing through like the hands of some forgotten past, reclaiming what had been taken from the earth. Vines crawled over rusted guardrails, and wildflowers bloomed where cars had once sped by.

Kylin led the way, his machete clearing a path through the dense undergrowth. The road beneath them was barely recognizable, overgrown and broken by years of neglect. They traveled in silence, the sounds of birds and the rustling leaves their only companions. It had been years since anyone had ventured this far from the village, but the mission demanded they go to the dead city.

As they moved deeper into the wilderness, the signs of the old world became more apparent. Abandoned cars, long stripped of their parts, sat rusting on the side of the road. Crumbling billboards, half-covered in ivy, advertised products and services that no longer existed. It was a strange feeling—walking through a world that had once been alive with the hum of technology and now stood in eerie silence, overtaken by nature.

Tobin, still recovering his strength, trailed behind. He stopped often, his eyes scanning the horizon, his face filled with an odd mixture of nostalgia and fear. He had lived in the city for so long that this world—so wild, so untamed—was both alien and familiar. 

“This place…” Tobin muttered as they paused by the shell of an old service station. “It’s like the land’s been reborn. I don’t recognize anything anymore.”

“The city’s out there,” Kylin said, pointing to the distant skyline. “You’ll recognize that soon enough.”

Mirra glanced at Tobin. “Are you ready for this?”

Tobin shook his head but kept walking. “No one’s ready to see what’s left of the cities.”

Chapter 9: The Dead City

The dead city appeared on the horizon late in the afternoon. At first, it was nothing more than a few broken towers rising above the trees, but as they drew closer, the true scale of the devastation became clear. Buildings had collapsed, their skeletal frames jutting into the sky like the bones of long-dead giants. Streets, once bustling with life, were overgrown with weeds, and the silence that hung over the city was suffocating.

But the most striking feature was the shimmering barrier that surrounded it—the containment zone. The energy shield flickered faintly in the light, like rippling water caught in a permanent wave. The city inside the barrier was still, untouched by the wild growth that had overtaken the world outside.

“We’re here,” Kylin said, standing at the edge of the shield. He pressed his hand to the invisible wall, and the surface shimmered, resisting his touch. “This is what keeps them in.”

Tobin stared at the city beyond the barrier. His face was pale, his hands shaking. “It’s like it never changed,” he whispered. “It’s exactly how I left it.”

Mirra knelt by the edge of the barrier, studying the faint hum of energy that rippled beneath the surface. “We can’t get through, can we?”

Kylin shook his head. “No. And neither can they.”

Inside the barrier, the city stood frozen in time. Buildings decayed, windows shattered, and roads cracked beneath the weight of abandonment, but the wildness of the world outside had not breached the city’s walls. The people who had once lived there—the few that had survived the initial panic—were long gone, leaving nothing but empty streets and crumbling ruins behind.

Kylin nodded, though he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that crept into his bones. There was something unnatural about the stillness of the city, something that felt… wrong.

Chapter 10: Travellers of the Wild

As they made camp that night just outside the barrier, the air was thick with the scent of pine and wildflowers. Kylin sat near the fire, watching the flames dance, lost in thought. The containment zone shimmered in the distance, a silent reminder of the old world’s reach.

Suddenly, the sound of people approaching echoed through the trees. Kylin’s hand went to his machete, and he motioned for Mirra and Tobin to stay quiet. The sounds grew closer, and a group of figures emerged from the undergrowth. They were ragged, their clothes tattered and patched, their faces weathered by years of living in the wild.

“Easy,” one of the travelers said, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “We’re not here to cause trouble.”

Kylin relaxed slightly but kept his hand on his weapon. “Who are you?”

“We’re like you,” the man replied, stepping closer to the fire. “Travelers. We come from the north, where the cities fell long ago. We’ve seen the barriers, the dead cities. The world… it’s all like this now.”

Mirra stepped forward, curiosity piqued. “You’ve seen other cities?”

The traveler nodded. “They’re all the same. Sealed off by the shields, left to rot. The people inside… most of them didn’t survive. And those who did… well, you don’t want to meet them.”

Tobin, his face pale, looked up. “What do you mean?”

The traveler’s expression darkened. “The ones who survived inside the barriers… they’re not like us anymore. They’ve gone mad, living in a world cut off from everything. They’ll do anything to survive. Anything.”

Kylin frowned. “Have you ever found a way through the barrier?”

The traveler shook his head. “No. We tried, once. But the energy field… it’s impenetrable. Not even sound can pass through. It’s like the city is frozen in time, trapped in its own death.”

A heavy silence settled over the group. The travelers exchanged stories around the fire, tales of other lands where the wild had reclaimed the earth and the cities remained locked in their glass cages, unreachable and untouchable.

“We’re all that’s left,” the traveler said, his voice low. “The world’s shrinking, and the wild is all that’s keeping us alive. But for how long?”

Chapter 11: Echoes of the Past

The next morning, they set out again, the travelers walking alongside Kylin and his group. The road they followed led deeper into the wilderness, past more remnants of the old world—rusted signs, crumbling bridges, the occasional husk of a vehicle overtaken by moss and ivy.

As they neared the outskirts of another dead city, this one smaller and less intact, Kylin couldn’t help but feel the weight of history pressing down on them. The cities, once the beacons of human achievement, now stood as tombstones, marking the end of an era.

The containment zones had done more than just trap the people inside—they had trapped the past itself, leaving it to wither away while the world outside moved on.

Mirra stopped by an old signpost, its letters barely visible beneath the layers of dirt and moss. “It’s strange, isn’t it? That the cities still exist, but we can’t touch them. It’s like they’re ghosts.”

Kylin nodded. “We’re living in the shadow of the old world. But we have to keep moving forward.”

Tobin looked back at the shimmering dome that enclosed the dead city. 

They continued their journey, following the old roads as they wound through the re-wilded landscape. As they traveled, they encountered more groups of travelers—people from distant lands who had experienced the same collapse, the same rise of nature, and the same eerie silence of the cities. They shared stories around campfires, stories of survival, of loss, and of hope for a future free from the shadow of the past.

But always, the cities loomed in the distance, their glassy barriers reflecting the sunlight, impenetrable and eternal.