Vision of a City Upon A Hill:
It began in the fog of unrest, this ghostly image of the City building itself up and around him even as he continued his efforts preforming some...work, great and terrible, even as its nature eluded him. All he knew in these moments was a great web of bloodless string ensnaring each and every part of him as he toiled in that vast, ethereal sea. Eventually and with great effort he began to look around, slowly turning to see little Sarah Flaherty standing a few feet away from him, beckoning him to come closer.
As Bruce stepped forward, suddenly and similarly a child, Sarah took his hand and led him through the sea, and as they sloshed through the sea, Bruce saw visions of the worst and best humanity had to offer and saw the horrors of war, the devastation of natural disasters, and the exploitation of innocent people, each and every foul act greatly wounding them as he was forced to walk past, his every instinct to give aid suppressed. And yet...for every vile act, he also saw twiceover the kindness of strangers, the love between friends and family, and the beauty of the natural world.
As they continued walking, Sarah led Jack to a street where children were playing. They were laughing and running around, just as Jack and Sarah used to do when they were young. But suddenly, a group of men in all manner of official dress appeared and chased the children away, laughing as the streets grew swiftly to rot as they grew into dens of sin. They instilled fear in them and forced them to stay within the confines of their home, turning neighbor against neighbor in effort to keep them distracted from the sin of pride unchecked. Sarah then looked at Bruce with a gentle, sad smile, knowing what he was thinking as his rage grew deep in his breast. She walked away from him and out among the poor, with each step having her grow older in wisdom and bearing as she soon gained the bearing of Sister Brigid in her final hours but Jack was unable to follow. Chains made of coin, of pride, of each and every excuse held him within the walls of an ostentatious structure, trapping him in his own ambition...and then he awoke.
In those groggy moments of first waking up, covered in cold sweat, it was to uncertainty, the fear that he had lost sight of what was truly important in life, that he had become consumed by his desire for wealth and power, and he had forgotten about the simple joys of life - like playing with friends in the street, becoming like the men he had come to despise in this town and felt a deep sense of regret. It wasn't until he wandered down the stairs, searching for the elixir of blackwater, that he heard the sounds of children's laughter. Confused, he wandered into the living room to find Carrie having fallen asleep to a PBS documentary, with there now being a showing of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood about...architecture. Search for coffee forgotten, he wandered back up the stairs in a daze to find a file in his desk, almost forgotten...the
Ildefons Cerdà's Plans. Quickly flipping through the proposal, he saw that the rough outline for the proof of concept for a more naturalistic city plan, one that allowed the people a chance to make the city spaces their own, a place for children to play wild and free...
Slowly, gently he reached further into the desk and shook loose the stray photograph of all of them as children, laughing in the street as they had snagged Mr. Flaherty's camera to document their mischief, Sally's being the brightest spark of them all. Trembling slightly, he vowed to ensure that no matter who they were, each and every man, woman and child deserved a slight chance at happiness...and with all these people making their way to the City of Angels, now might be the time to ensure that they had proper quarters to live and raise themselves up.
"
It is required of every man," Bruce whispered, mind wandering to an old passage he remembered Sally highlighting over and over again in her writings, "
that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellowmen, and travel far and wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death."
A few moments, that felt as if a great many days had passed by, as old sorrows waned and waxed again, before he slowly fell to his knees and heartedly, raspedly whispered, "
Almighty and most merciful God, we remember before you all poor and neglected persons whom it would be easy for us to forget: the homeless and the destitute, the old and the sick, and all who have none to care for them. Help us to heal those who are broken in body or spirit, and to turn their sorrow into joy. Grant this, Father, for the love of your Son, who for our sake became poor, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."
