Waves of Sound

 Ande worked hard. With each passing day in the mines he pushed himself further than he thought he could go. The work was difficult and offered little reward in wages as compensation for the work. Every night after his work hours were done and his room was tidied and his food was eaten, Ande laid awake in his cot. The booming of explosives detonating and ringing of metal on stone echoed in his ears. Once he was able to sleep, he dreamt of silence. Some nights Ande would find himself on a boat in the middle of the ocean. The waves did not make noise as they lapped against his boat. It filled Ande with serenity, a peace in knowing that he could simply float along in the quiet. Other nights he found himself for once on the top of a mountain and not within one. There was never any wind whistling against the rocky peak that he stood upon. It felt to Ande like he could see the whole world when he had that dream. When his dreams of silence were finished, Ande woke again and returned to his work in the noise and darkness of the mine. 

There came a day when Ande woke and was greeted not by the unrelenting storm of the noise of the mine, but a chorus of voices shouting erratically. Ande peered through the curtains and saw exactly what he expected. The union workers had established a picket line across the entrance to the mineshaft. Ande genuinely supported the cause of the union but never concerned himself with finding the time to attend the meetings and the gatherings that were requisite for becoming a member. Those meetings were loud and rowdy and full of argument, and Ande wanted quiet more than he wanted to go chasing trouble and starting fights. When Ande finally exited his small dwelling, he surveyed the picket line where they stood across the road from him. He took note of all the people there, a small portion wore the red bandanas of the union workers. Ande knew exactly how many workers were stationed to work in the mine during normal times. As Ande counted all of the people picketing the mineshaft, he realized every single one of the workers was there but him. 

Ande saw dozens of faces, some weathered and old, and some that still held the youthful optimism that was quickly crushed in the mines. There were faces that were plump and some that were gaunt. The faces that looked to him held the entire spectrum of humanity, pale and dark skin, young and old, masculine and feminine, and in each of their eyes they were pleading. Their eyes asked him to join them and fight. To Ande it felt as though he could see the whole world in the workers in front of him. Ande took one step forwards, and then another, and slowly strode across the gravel road that separated him and his fellow workers. He joined the ranks of striking workers. They greeted Ande with warm smiles, which he timidly returned. 

“We’re not alone this time.” Declared a large woman with dark skin and long cords of braids held back by a red bandana. All the other workers stopped and listened as she spoke. “All around the world, workers have taken to the streets, they’ve stopped working. The strike has gone global. We’re going to win this.” 

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For the next two years, Ande fought harder with each and every day. He left the mountain and the cursed mine where he had lived for a third of his life. Eight years of mining was replaced by two years of spying and stealing and surviving. With the same rhythm of his time as a miner, Ande woke each day, completed his tasks to perfection, and then tried to rid his mind of the noises of the day. Gone were the echoes and ringing of mining equipment. Now sirens and gunshots and the roaring of airplane engines haunted Ande as he tried to sleep. In those two years Ande met and lost more friends than he ever could have imagined. The changes to Ande’s world did not change his dreams of the mountain and the ocean. 

In midsummer of the second year of fighting, victory in the war was finally won. The sounds of gunshots and sirens and airplanes no longer rippled through air. As the sun rose, music began playing. Guitars and trumpets and makeshift drums created a melody that no one had written but everyone instinctively knew. Ande sang and danced with people he had never met as though they were his closest friends. The last of the old ruler’s flags were lowered and burnt. People warmed themselves on the fires made from burning the last symbols of hate that had ruled for the last centuries. Serenity overcame Ande as he floated through the day, celebrating his fellow humans and sharing in their joy. Food was cooked and shared, and everyone ate their fill, nourished not only by the substance of the meal, but the jovial company with which it was shared. 

In the following months, Ande lived more than he had in his first 26 years of life. His communities met frequently to discuss how to structure their growth from the ashes of the former system. The meetings and discussions were peaceful and generally founded on compassion. There were certainly still those who held onto the hate that they had been taught for so many generations before, but they were stripped of their power and encouraged to learn new ways by their new neighbors. As the world transitioned to a new epoch, Ande found himself building. Every few days Ande would help build constructs that would harness the power of the sun and the wind and provide energy for those who need it. Other days Ande helped rebuild and repair buildings and homes destroyed in the conflict. With each day, Ande helped more and more people. 

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And at the end of each day, it was not machinery nor weaponry that echoed in Ande’s ears as he tried to sleep. Instead it was the voices and words of his comrades and his friends. Now Ande did not mind the noise, it was no longer harsh or oppressive to Ande. And as Ande woke up each day, he found himself thinking of one voice in particular. One person’s words could make all other noise disappear as Ande focused on the beauty in each of the words they spoke. And so each day Ande grew closer and closer to that person. They found themselves talking for hours and spending many of the waking hours together. And soon they moved in together and vowed to each other in the quietest moments of the morning to spend their lives together. Each day they cherished life with each other more and more. 

They found themselves traveling to new places and helping and being helped by new people each day. They traveled by newly constructed trains and walked along avenues beneath canopies of living buildings. Every time Ande found himself gazing into his partner’s eyes, he felt as though he was looking to the whole world. And every moment with his partner it felt to Ande like he was floating in serenity, following the currents that he and his lover created together. 

Decades passed as the two lived together. Each day, they saw humanity reaching new heights and connecting the world closer than ever before. After years of seeing all the world, they returned to where they first had built community together. Some of their friends were still off traveling the world, others had never wanted to leave and stayed in the community, watching it grow with each day. Several times across their decades together, Ande and his partner left to travel the world, to return to the friends they had made far from their home community. 

As is inevitable with the passage of time, there came a day when Ande woke up, but his partner did not. The days that passed after his partner died were quieter, and Ande did not welcome the quiet. He could not find it in himself to become passive following his partner’s death. He spent time to grieve the loss and he spent time to celebrate the life had been lived. Ande traveled the world one more time alone, saying goodbye one last time to his friends, before returning home again. In the years that passed with his partner, the noises of the day had ceased to linger on Ande’s ears as he laid in bed. The longer Ande was separated from his partner, the more sounds again danced in his ears at the end of the day. Ande could hear his partner’s laugh and voice gently in his ear as he fell asleep. One night Ande gazed out his window at the shining moon, closed his eyes, and at last knew silence.