How did I get here, you ask? Well, to keep things simple, I’m a watcher. I travel throughout space and time and record and archive important events. I sensed the whole world changing, and all those changes stemmed from one place and time: the Golden City in 2050. I knew I had to be here. I don’t interfere with events, but I do speak to people throughout the community and write their stories. I only have two rules: I can have a personal life and go about my business like anybody else, but under no circumstances am I allowed to directly get involved with major conflicts or the main event. I am merely a bystander and am only allowed to document it all. Second, I am not allowed to reveal my true identity. If anyone asks why I am doing what I am doing, I reply that I am nothing more than a writer doing my duty. “If you were a baker, you would bake, yes? Precisely.” This tends to get me out of tight spots.
As soon as I set foot in the Golden City more formally known as San Francisco, I knew I was home. The year was 2050, and things were very different from the San Francisco I had lived in and left in 2017. I was instantly met with the warmth and golden lights of the city. They danced brilliantly across the city in front of my eyes. The city was only seven miles by seven miles, which is a lot smaller than most metropolitan cities, but there seemed to be what felt like a million people living underneath those lights. From the outside, it looked like a brilliant city that sat quietly in the Bay, but once you get there you realize that it’s prospering and bustling with life.
There are five main districts in the city, thirty-six official neighborhoods, and a hundred and twenty minor districts, all with their own unique culture. It’s so condensed that the number of people you’ll run into in any neighborhood at any time of the day is astounding.
My first week in the Golden City, I scoured downtown for stories and information. Downtown was a huge part of the city and a hot spot for many of the residents and tourists. I knew if I was going to get information about what was going on, that was the best place to start. The city’s population seemed to consist mainly of residents, a bundle of commuters from the east, and a dash of tourists. I spoke to anyone who would respond. I heard great stories and tall tales. I heard whispers throughout the city - rumors that something was amiss and that things were changing. As I said before, the Golden City had always been a beautiful place full of life and prosperity, but recently something had been threatening the city’s laid-back lifestyle. I asked people what could possibly threaten the livelihood of such a magnificent city. Many weren’t sure – they just felt like something was off. They noticed the behavior of others changing. A city full of friendly, talkative people had become more withdrawn, aggressive, and displayed a subtle amount of fear. Emotions were running high and this seemed to have caused a ripple effect throughout the city. Even as a newcomer I noticed that people seemed really skittish and nervous when talking about this subject.
Just as I was about to give up, I decided to take one last stroll up Market Street, the main artery of the city. It’s a long, wide, street with orange cobblestone sidewalks the orange-red color of the Golden Gate Bridge that stretches across the city for three miles. I looped back and started walking along the Embarcadero at the Ferry Building on the eastern waterfront of the city and walked from there up into the Financial District. I tried getting a few people’s attention, but they all either ignored me completely or seemed too scared to speak. The people in the Financial District were always a little standoffish, though, even during my own time, so I didn’t take it personally.
I continued up Market Street, past Montgomery Street, until I hit Powell, which is what I would consider the main social hub of the city due to the abundance of attractions and shopping in the area. As I walked past the entrance to the Powell Street BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) Station, I felt a hand tug at the sleeve of my shirt. I looked down and saw a young woman sitting on the cobblestone sidewalk and leaning up against the underground entrance to BART. She asked me if I had any money or food to spare. I didn’t have any food, but I did have a little money on me. I felt really bad offering her money in exchange for information, but this was my last hope.
I gave her the few dollars I had and she told me about demons invading the city and wanting to take it for their own, about kidnappings of children and adults and the kidnapped people coming back and attacking the city. She went on about a man who could turn into a dragon and a witch that fought alongside him. She told me about a school called Golden City Academy that floated in the Bay and was training kids to fight in a looming war that was threatening to bring San Francisco to the brink of destruction.
The most incredible thing she told me about was the story of a young girl who was a student at the academy. Allegedly, she was an Angel who fought valiantly with her friends to protect the city. I was told that every now and then you could see her giant wings eclipsing the sun as she searched for and uprooted the evils of the city. I didn’t believe a word the woman said and kind of brushed it off as the delusions of a person who had fallen through the cracks of San Francisco’s mental health care system. As I was about to walk off and write the day off as a bust, murmuring to myself about how sad it was that thirty-three years after my own time San Francisco still hadn’t dealt with its homeless problem, I noticed the streets getting darker, as if an eclipse were happening.
That’s when I looked up and saw what resembled an angelic young girl with giant wings gripping a sword and soaring through the sky.
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