On the Other Side

I remember the first time I told someone that the world on which I live is flat. He just kind of looked at me then laughed at me, and said, "Oh, good one." I decided I didn't need to talk to him anymore. So I left him and wandered around for a bit. 

   I do come from a flat world. I don't know why that's any stranger than living on the side of a ball. I understand their physics. I do wonder why they didn't understand the physics of my world. It's not as though the physics of a flat world is impossible. 

   Maybe it requires more numbers- less simple addition and more...chemistry. Yes. Chemistry. Much more chemistry. 

   Walking through the park, I meant to find more people to talk to but they were all preoccupied with flying kites or playing tag. None of them looked like they wanted to be bothered. Of course, they deserved this all this sunshine after two weeks of rain. I could always come back later to ask them questions. They like answering questions. Especially about themselves. Like any human would. World's flat or not.

   I sat at a bench intending to write down my observations (and a comic strip or two), and I did for a few minutes until I felt eyes. I knew I felt eyes because the way I felt is the exact same way I make people feel when I watch them: paranoid. I looked over both my shoulders, but no one was watching. I looked in the sky, at a few security cameras. Still nothing. I started to put my notebook and pencil back in my bag when I found the watching eyes. I jumped, surprised. A little girl's face looked up at me. Her eyes as curious as me. "Hi? Hi." I said. 

   "Hi," said the little girl. She held a teddy bear, and waved its arm at me. I waved back. The little girl continued, "I heard you talk with that man. You come from a flat world?"

   I smiled. "Yes. I do. Do you?"

   The little girl squinted her eyes and rubbed her teddy bear's chin. "No. I don't think I do."

   "Good. Because you don't."

   "Why do you come from a flat world?"

   "Why? Well, I don't know why. I know that I do. I-."

   The little girl got out from underneath the bench and sat cross-legged at my feet. "Can I see this flat world? What's it look like?"

   "It looks a bit like an island but floating in space instead of water."

   "An island?"

   "Yeah, like the island we're on now."

   "Is there a China underneath your world?"

   "We have different names for our countries."

   "But is there China underneath?" The little girl looked determined to have an answer.

   I thought about ways of telling her what's 'underneath' my country. "Think of it like- like a book! Yes! Like- like a book." I closed my journal and pressed my hands on its covers. "Technically, my world has a top and a bottom. No. You can't fall into space. Not technically. Not unless you really tried. Trying to jump off the edge of my world- first you have to get to its edge- you'll have died before you get there." The little girl's brow furrowed. 

   "Never mind. Back to the book analogy. If this is the top of the world," I motioned to the front cover. "And this is the bottom of the world," I motioned to the bottom cover. "The pages are the middle part of the world. It's layered. Your world is layered. You can't see it, but underground there are layers of dirt-."

   "Like caves? Caves are underground."

   "Right. Yeah. I guess. Caves can be between the layers. But don't think of a flat world as a double sided picture. It's not. It's like-."

   "An island."

   "Yeah! Oh! No!" I jumped up excitedly. The little girl jumped with me. We jumped as I spoke: "Like, like an apartment building. Floating. In space." I stopped jumping. "Is that really what my world is like?"

   "So, where do the rich people live?"

   "Anywhere. On every layer. Depends on what kind of riches they have. Or want." 

   "What are you doing here? On a round world?"

   "It's- it's my job." 

   "Can it be my job to explore your world?"