Ten years earlier

Lewis and Clarke middle school was quiet by the end of the year. The 7th graders were on their big outdoor field trip and the 6th graders were outside being lost to the sunshine. 8th graders however had serious classes with serious homework to do, preparing for high school and “real life.”

A decent number of 8th graders were in the library cracking open books with flat expressions and others trying to secretly nibble on sandwiches as they logged onto the big white clunky computers. Others whispered to each other as they tried to color in poster boards and still others sat quietly by themselves with a book on their lap. The library wasn’t particularly big but it was hushed and usually the right temperature in a school ruled by chill and bulky sweaters.

I sat with my back to the front desk at the computer the farthest from the door. I didn’t like being seen, I would say it was a teen thing, but even when I was five years old I used to hide from cameras. Of course, puberty hadn’t helped.

So I sat in the very back of the library with acne on my cheeks, and head down and stomach empty. I wrote quickly on the page: Shakespeare uses the metaphor about light and candles to capture the briefness of existence and make a commentary on life's hollowness...

I was bit dramatic at that age as well.

My vision kept blurring over and I rubbed my face as the lunch period dragged on. It was two weeks until I was free to hide in my bedroom for days on end and not come out for anything but food and glowering at my parents. But I had to earn that free time.

I kept typing: When Shakespeare writes “out, out brief candle…”

“Okay, but you have to try this.” Two girls, other 8th graders who rarely talked to me but I knew were Carly and Georgia, sat at the computer to my left. I glanced over at them as they excitedly leaned in toward the screen with their heads together. Something squeezed in my chest and I looked away.

“My brother showed me last week. It’s cool.” Carly logged on and started typing in an address. I knew they weren’t doing homework and it made me grumble internally.

They muttered something between themselves though and something caught my attention: “...You just go to Google maps and hit anywhere.” Carly explained, “And then you go to street view and try to make your way to an airport! It takes forever but it’s fun. See?”

My fingers stopped typing. I had been using google maps for years now, but the street view was new. Hundreds of thousands of pictures taken to make the world an even smaller place.

I glanced over and saw the glow of the blue reflected on their cheeks and their shared whispers. My chest squeezed extra tight.

My mind wandered to “street view.” To maps.

I quickly switched to my email and opened my own personal folder where I had been sending files back and forth to myself. It had several items in it: articles on the landscape of Siberia. The languages spoken in Siberia. The money they used in Russia. The animals that lived in the tundra.

There was an immense number of links and extracts and screenshots and online maps. I never showed anyone my slowly growing stash of material. I did use it for projects I chose to do about Siberia and essays and social studies presentations and obsessive late-night Wikipedia binges.

One time Wesley from earth science asked me why I was doing a project on Russia “again.” And I said my grandma was from there. I said I had family still there. I said I just found it interesting.

I had stopped trying to explain the dot for a long time now.

Carly and Georgia giggled and tried to navigate the blurry roads until the bell rang and they shut the program. I had a free period, but I had originally planned to spend it finishing my essay and maybe taking a walk to the vending machines at the top of the school.

I opened google instead and typed in a new site.

I waited patiently for the website to load and the digital bits to come into focus. When the site finally responded I spun the little globe around and stopped at my favorite location on the map.

Just like the physical maps and pictures online and cartoon maps found on the back of cereal boxes: there was a hole there. Perfectly round and dark, it drilled into the blank surface of green there and left something unitched and bug-bite red inside me.

I started to zoom in.

The closest town to the spot was “Yakutsk” and there was nothing but green pixels around it and a distant blue splash representing a lake.

I slowly eased the image closer and closer. It seemed to take its time blowing up with a raw silence spreading in a place within me. Quiet and impatient as my eyes fed hungrily into the screen.

Just a little closer, I thought, just a bit closer.

I zoomed until the colors of the map disappeared and the words disappeared and the whole screen went cool and black. It wasn’t like it turned off. It was more like it was splashed with a total darkness that was blacker than black- smooth and shiny and strange.

It was depthless, feelingless, empty black. I leaned in closer and closer to get a better look and my insides turned liquid and smooth and cool and I kept staring.

“Emily!” I jumped at the sound of my name. “Are you just sitting there? The library is closing.”

I turned left and right and the lights in the library were dimmed and the other students in the chairs and tables by the desk were gone. In fact, everyone was gone except one librarian with hands on her hips. Mrs. Lilly with her soft white hair and stooped posture. “How long have you been here?”

I glanced out the closest window and realized the sun was setting. I jerked to my feet, “what time is it?!”

She shook her head. “It’s almost 5pm, were you playing one of those online fighting games? The boys always manage to crash the computer with those. Do you know how long reboots take?”

I looked down and the computer had a large blue error screen over it. It had crashed. It seemed to have crashed hours ago.

“I have to go.” I reached for my backpack, cheeks burning and thoughts spiraling. My mom would have been trying to pick up two hours ago.

I had missed my afternoon classes. I hadn’t finished my essay. I had been sitting at that chair staring at that screen for apparently five hours.

I stopped actively searching for the spot after that.