The Moon That Watched Everyone Get Everything They Wanted

I love to watch the water move. Tonight, it moves just a little; just enough to lick at her feet—enough for her to stop walking. I’ve learned that when the sea moves without cause, they pause. They almost wonder. She turns to face the open water and smiles - enough to light up her face, but not enough to reach her eyes. I shine brighter, hoping she’ll look up. But she never does. The water laps up further, covering her ankles. She steps back.

“Hey, I don’t usually see anyone else out here this late at night.” A voice breaks through the starry night. She turns and greets the newcomer.

“Well, I couldn’t sleep, so here I am. What brings you out?” It’s dark, and she does not know this man, but she shows no fear.

“I like to sit out here whenever I’m done with a late shift. It’s always quiet.”

“You work nearby?”

The man juts his thumb behind him, “I’m a tech at Restoration Global. A city monitor by day, historian by night,” he chuckles.

“Historian?” The young woman questions, turning her eyes back to the water. I try again to make her see me, but she only notices the water pooling at her feet.

“They keep records from Before. No one really reads them. Except me. I like to rifle through it in my free time; it’s very interesting.”

She frowns. “What’s so interesting about Before?”

“The language, for one. Have you ever heard words like “yearn” or “regret”?”

She tips her head to the side, “No, what do they mean?”

“Fadeborns used them to describe what it was like to not get something you want.” He smiled wryly.

She crinkles her brow now, “What is that?”

“Like, if you crave a muffin for breakfast, but you don’t have access to one?”

“Access? Like if… “ She glared at the ground, scratching her forehead. A warm, gentle breeze surrounded her, softening the tension in her shoulders.

“Ah, never mind, it’s just some techy stuff I learned at work. I’m Solin.” He says.

She tears her eyes away from the water to look at him again. “Lior.”

They do not shake hands, they do not hold each other’s gaze, and it drives me crazy. Soon they will be out of reach for the night, but I try one more time. The water falls over Solin’s feet, and he jumps back.

Lior chuckles ever so slightly. “That’s why I took my shoes off, the water is active tonight.”

“Like someone’s hacking the tide!” Solin tips his head back and laughs at the joke. Lior gives a light chuckle, but it seems more directed at him than the punch line.

The two drift out of my sight as their village of Rackle prepares to awaken. A series of tall buildings appear next, a big city. I peer into apartment windows, never expecting but always hoping. The food people want materializes in their kitchen as they think it, and books arrive on shelves as readers desire new stories. Optimized companions arrive at the doors of those who are lonely, and lights dim for those who come home tired.

Every night, I conjure the memory of the last time a young man stared at me from his balcony. He wondered if his long-distance lover was also looking, like they’d agreed to do every night at the same time. Not only was she looking, but she was longing, waiting, and wishing. Their eventual reunion made me so happy that I almost flooded a beach across the world, but I reeled in the tide just in time.

Every night, everyone gets everything they want, but no one looks up anymore. Not even to wonder. Not even to wish.

The streets empty as the city drifts off into a dreamless, wantless sleep. I wait patiently as they rotate, curious to see what the one remaining Fadeborn is up to tonight. One hundred and five years old, he is the only remaining human who lived Before. Housed in a modern, introspective retreat facility, he spends most of his time painting. The only one on earth who has ever experienced pain, his intensely dark and chaotic work is unique and highly sought after. He is rich, but riches are useless.

Tonight, he reads. A vintage romance novel, one of his favourites. I yearn to tell him that I, too, remember what true romance looks like. He’s my oldest friend, the last one who’s ever wondered about me. And yet we cannot lament together.

I watch with interest as I circle back to the little village of Rackle, home of one of my favourite beaches in the whole galaxy. Solin spends so much time on the shores he’d come to feel like a friend, though he’d never looked up at me. Now that he’d met and spoken to someone, I finally knew his name.

Tonight, he walks to the beach a little faster than usual. I watch his face fall ever so slightly to find it empty. Right on cue, the air, the water, the sand sense his loneliness, and a soft, lilting lullaby floats off the waves. Within minutes, the image of a beautiful young woman steps onto the beach. On the surface, she looks normal. But with hair too shiny, eyes too bright, and a smile unwavering, she is only a band-aid.

Solin turns around and locks eyes with the figure, taking in her appearance before averting his gaze back down.

“Do you want to sit?” She asks him, voice like a song.

“Okay,” Solin responds, cracking a small smile.

“How was work today?” She asked him, tilting her head slightly to the side, not taking her eyes off him.

“It was alright, we never have much to do these days. The Weave works perfectly, sensing our needs before we know we need them.” He says, digging his hands into the sand and letting it fall through his fingers.

She nodded, her expression simulating compassion. Detecting his silence, she reached out and touched his arm. “Would you like to kiss me now?”

I want to scream at Solin that she is not real. Although it has not worked in over 100 years, I still try to reach him.

Solin sighs as the water crawls up from the water’s edge and laps at his feet, half-buried in the sand. He looks at her wistfully, mild sympathy in his eyes as he observes the intensity of her. “Thank you,” He started awkwardly, “But I think I’d like to go home and go to bed.”

“Okay, have a good night.” The image says, getting up and wafting into the air as a car shows up to drive Solin home. The vehicle plays the perfect tune to lift his mood. He returned home to find the lights dimmed and dinner ready on the table, his favourite TV show playing.

I watch as Rackle disappears once again, dissolving into another night of wantless solitude.

Days pass, and I remain settled in my routine: watch, listen, wait, and wish. Hope and yearning arise when I see the more introspective people wandering the beaches. I so desperately want to reach them. My only vessel is the water. Sometimes it’s too much and the water leaks into the cities, the houses. I feel bad and ask the sun for help; he burns hotter those days, evaporating the water before it can cause too much damage.

“What were they originally doing, though?”

My attention piques as I hear that familiar sing-song voice, like a real song, not optimized by the world. Lior is back on the beach with Solin, sitting at the water’s edge. I greet them by sliding the water up to meet their toes. A few of them wiggle in response.

“Best I can tell from the records at Restoration Global, it started with mushrooms. They barely knew what mushrooms were back then. There were so many types. Some healed them. Some killed them."

“And some can alter the physical world?” Lior interjected.

Solin laughed lightly, “Not exactly. They mixed synthetic mycelium with some kind of neural fabric the physicists cooked up back in 2089.”

“Hm. Interesting,” Lior began, turning her attention back to the waves. “Neuro fabrics that listen.”

“More like respond, I think,” Solin says, drawing circles in the sand.

Lior’s gaze lingers on Solin a touch longer than the average one and a half seconds that people look at each other these days. I push the water a little harder, splashing it over the left side of her feet, willing her closer to Solin, the only way I can. She turns her shoulders slightly, her hand sliding an inch closer to his.

Solin finally looks up to meet her gaze. At first, he immediately looks away. I send more water over his ankles. He looks back and they lock eyes for several seconds as they lean closer, millimeter by millimetre.

Lior finally speaks, “Do you ever dream, Solin?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, see pictures when you sleep?”

“Ohhh, dream! Yeah, I’ve heard of that - it’s what happened when Fadeborns wanted something, they would make up a world where they had it. But we never want, so what need is there for a dream?”

Lior breaks her gaze away. “I don’t know, but I dreamed of the sea last night. I saw myself standing here, and then I just… walked in.”

Solin paused. “Do you… want to walk into the sea?”

“I didn’t think so, but that’s what happened in my dream.”

They fell into silence. Solin looked back and forth between Lior and the water a few times. He breathed in. “Do you…” His breath hitches. Lior looks at him, mild curiosity in her eyes. “Do you… want to meet here again tomorrow night?”

She hesitates for a second before nodding. The air warms around Solin to compensate for the goosebumps that appear on his skin.

After a century of nothing but splintered, fading hope, a single lingering gaze set something ablaze. It was all I could do to contain the tides that night. I felt the sun chuckle from across the Solar System, turning up his heat to dry the sloshing shorelines.

“Who wanted to go for a cosmic swim?” I heard someone in Thailand joke, garnering slightly more laughs than usual. “I thought it was a little early for monsoon season,” Someone else mumbled in response.

I passed the world’s last Fadeborn that night and watched as he fervently slashed shades of red, orange, and black against a large canvas. For the first time in several years, he stood to paint.

Excitement feels foreign, and yet I can’t shake the anticipation of drifting past the Rackle Beach once again. It floats into sight, and I see Lior waiting, shoes off, toes dipped in the water. I send the tide over her feet, lapping at her ankles. She digs deeper into the sand. She looks behind her shoulder every few seconds. I look with her. We both wonder where Solin is.

I search the city for him, tracing the path he takes after work. I find him in a park, a small car waiting at the entrance. He sits on the abandoned swing set, speaking with a materialized figure that bears a striking resemblance to Lior. He wanted time with Lior; instead of letting him reach her, the world gave him its optimized version. I can’t tell if he knows the difference.

I find Lior again. She sighs and gets up. Her car arrives to drive her home, playing melancholic love songs. She arrives at her apartment to find her cupboards full of chocolate. The music gradually transitions from romantic to aggressive, then returns to ballads. Her TV switches between rom-coms and science fiction. She floats out of sight before I can see if her world settles.

My Fadeborn friend paces his apartment tonight, more restless than I’ve ever seen him, and I’ve known him his whole life. The sun, usually amused by my committed observance of the humans, exudes annoyance with the floods he must help dry.

I remind myself how it’s been for over a century. Connection has waned and shallowed, but the wantless world still ebbs and flows a little. This is a flow and nothing more. The tides draw back out around the globe as I return to my reality of waiting, wishing, hoping.

And yet, every night Rackle Beach appears before me, I hope a little more. It’s weeks before they meet again, but I knew they would.

I send the tide flying up the shore as I see Lior wander onto the beach where Solin sits, the same way he has every night since he was diverted from their meeting.

He senses her presence before she speaks. He turns and jumps up. “Lior…” he looks right at her and trails off.

“You… didn’t come that night.” She jumps right to it.

“I know, I’m so sorry. The Weave intercepted me. It sent me an image of you…”

Realization settles into her expression. “You… wanted to see me. And it gave me to you.”

Solin nodded. “The same figure keeps showing up at my door. It’s not you. But… you’re what I want.”

“I had written you off. But I kept dreaming of the sea. Of the beach. I ignored it. Until I couldn’t. So I came. I didn’t want to want to see you… But I did. I do.” She stumbles over her words now, speaking faster and faster, never breaking eye contact as she rambles.

Silence settles as they look at each other. Wordlessly, he holds out his hand. She hesitates for a brief moment, then reaches out. Warmth rushes through the air as they both bristle for a second. And then they run into the water, ankle deep, knee deep, waist deep. I pull the tide out and surround them with the warm, sparkling water.

Lior laughs, louder than I’ve heard anyone laugh in over 100 years. Solin pulls her closer, closer than anyone had been to another in over 100 years. Slowly, he lowers his head. The breeze cools as her body heat builds. She closes her eyes and they share a kiss, light and gentle, but more intimate than I thought was possible in this wantless world. They part, and Lior looks up, eyes shining.

“Solin, the moon. I never noticed how bright it is!”

In a moment of poetic perfection, this is when they float out of sight, and my view shifts to my favourite city.

I find the apartment of the Fadeborn, only to see it filled with many people. They surround his bed where he lies, peaceful. Still. Too still. Melancholic music fills the room as images of his life appear on the walls. The Weave dulled the sorrow, but couldn’t mute irony. He died the day someone else remembered how to feel.