“Do you ever wonder what’s on the other side of the border?” 

Margaret’s sandwich nearly fell out of her mouth.

“But we already know what’s across the border,” she protested, pointing to the newspaper Joshua clutched in his hands. 

His eyes followed her gaze to the crumpled sheet, and he unfurled it to show her the headline. It read:
“Breaking news: Bloodthirsty lunatics on the Right have turned to cannibalism, reinforcement work on the border will continue.” 

Margaret shuddered at the headline, then looked questioningly at Joshua. 

“So what? I mean, it’s awful, but what else would you expect? After all, there was a reason for the Great Schism.” 

Everyone knew that the Great Schism took place in approximately 2200. It was a well-documented fact that it was a matter of self-defense. It had become abundantly clear by then that the Right and Left could not coexist in the same country. The Right, always more aggressive, had become far too dangerous for civilization, and so a wall was built, splitting the once United States into two countries, and forcibly keeping the Right at bay. The wall had held for nearly five hundred years, and not one person had ever crossed.

Joshua nodded thoughtfully. He seemed lost in thought, and Margaret laid her hand on his, gently shaking him out of his reverie. 

He forced a slight smile, then shook his head.

“I don’t know Maggie. I mean, don’t you think it’s odd that every headline is full of threats about the Right, and yet we’ve never so much heard a sound coming from the border? Not one person has come across in five hundred years.”

This made her pause. He had a point. “Strange,” she thought, that she had never asked that question herself. After a few seconds, she nodded her hesitant assent. 

“You have a point. I suppose we don’t actually know what’s on the other side of the border. But what makes you ask?”

“I’ve always wondered.” He said simply. “It just doesn’t sit right with me.” 

Margaret stared at him as if she were seeing him for the first time. They had married less than a year ago, but he was her childhood sweetheart. How could it be that there was so much she still did not know about him? 

There was a long pause, and then she asked, “What else have you been wondering that I never knew about?” 

He gave her a small smile and took her hand. 

“Everything, love. Absolutely everything.” 

She laughed at that. If there was one thing she did know about Joshua, it was that he liked to ask questions. Part of her thought that he asked the questions, not to learn answers, but only to add a layer of confusion to his neatly organized life. He was a soul with a thirst for adventure, not knowledge. After all, the two rarely went hand in hand. 

Margaret was a chemist. She preferred her solid, reliable facts. They were the sturdy ground she stood on, and without it, she could not walk. Questions without answers irked her, but Joshua’s sensational curiosity never failed to make her smile. 

 

They talked no more about the border for several weeks. Their days progressed the same way they always had, and Margaret tried to forget the conversation had ever happened. 

Then one evening, Joshua turned on the news. It was the same border information as always: distant rumors about the brutality of the Right, and reassurances that the border was being further fortified. 

As Margaret watched, she couldn’t help remembering their recent conversation. The gnawing sense that something wasn’t right, planted by Joshua’s question,s wouldn’t leave her. 

“I don’t know about this,” she whispered, as if someone could hear. 

He didn’t need to ask what she was talking about. “It isn’t right,” he nodded. 

They sat in silence, then Margaret blurted out, 

“What if we went?” 

“To the border?” 

Joshua was not dismissive, but thoughtful. 

She paused to consider the words she had just uttered, then nodded sharply. 

“I mean, we don’t have to cross it or anything. It’s only a few miles outside of town, and then we can see for ourselves.” 

So the plan was agreed upon, and they set the date of departure for a weekend in late May. The border was just a few miles out of town. However, there was nothing in sight for at least five miles before the border (according to popular belief and general opinion). This included roads, so they would have to walk the last part of their journey. 

After a short road trip, Joshua pulled the car over at the end of a cul-de-sac. It was the last available road space. Since there was no way to get directions to the border, they determined to just keep walking until they found it. After all, such an awe-inspiring monument to national security should be harder to miss than to locate. 

The few people on the cul-de-sac gave them horrified glances as they stepped off the road and started off in the direction of the border, but no one said anything. 

The heat pressed them into the ground, and the endless continuity of scenery wore them down, until Margaret began questioning her own senses. 

“We should at least be able to see it by now,” she grumbled. 

Joshua nodded in tense agreement, but they kept walking. After all, what else was there to do? 

Another hour of the same. Feet dragged, spirits flagged. Silence reigned, and Margaret began questioning her very existence. 

Then, with no warning, she saw the wall. Rather than an imposing silhouette, it looked more like a taller version of a garden retaining wall. 

Margaret shot Joshua a horrified glance. “That can’t possibly be it.” 

She pulled the newspaper clipping from several weeks ago out of her pocket, explaining the horrifying possibility of cannibalism and reassuring them of the continuing restraining efforts. 

There was no work crew in sight. 

Joshua met her gaze with a quirked eyebrow, and took her hand. 

They came up next to the wall, and Margaret shuddered with anticipation. It was no more than seven feet tall. If Joshua jumped, he would be able to see over the top. She leaned against him for support. Even beside the border, he was the most sturdy object in her world.  

Before they could do anything further, there was a noise from the other side of the wall. Margaret nearly jumped out of her skin, and Joshua squeezed her hand so hard she found comfort in the pain. 

What did cannibalism sound like? 

Margaret had a feeling it didn’t sound like pop music. 

They both paused. Nothing they had imagined had prepared them for the reality that the Right was merely human. 

On a whim, Margaret stretched out her hand, and knocked on the wall. The hard stones seemed to absorb the sound of her knuckles striking them, and she expected no effect. 

The silence thrummed in her eardrums for what seemed like a lifetime. 

And then, from the other side, an echoing knock. 

Joshua clenched her hand, but when she looked at him, a grin of anticipation spread across his features. 

They held their breath, waiting for a further response. This was the moment. They were risking everything they knew in the hopes that it was wrong, and they were about to find out. 

And then, from the other side, a piece of paper floated down, a message from some unknown being, delivered by a stranger’s hand. 

Joshua bent to pick it up, and read: 

“Breaking news: Bloodthirsty lunatics on the Left have resorted to cannibalism, reinforcement work on the border will continue.”