Mrs. Maroonie’s 4th grade class jostled in excitement. They, along with hundreds of others, stood in a rest-ally, staring skyward.
Grimy buildings flanked the streets with their towering presence. The upper floors of the gray monoliths were so distant that they merged with the grays of the visible strips of sky. The Sun was no more… It still existed, but it had been permanently eclipsed by apartments and offices and businesses and industries that spired toward the heavens for miles. Citizens living in the lower levels lived in moist, humid darkness, with the only illumination coming from electric lights streaming from windows, peppered along streets, or on personal screens.
“When’s it gonna show up?” Little-Jamon asked.
Mrs. Maroonie frowned at him. His sunglasses were so large they were nearly falling off his face.
“Any moment now.” She said. “And I’ll thank you to not be so whiny!” She snapped. “Fix your glasses. Do you want to go blind?”
Upon hearing this, many other students ensured their glasses were secured as well.
Mrs. Maroonie turned to her screen. She snapped several times, causing the tightly-gathered students, as well as a few outside spectators, to fall silent.
“The weather forecast today for District 507FS for City Levels minus twenty to two-hundred includes high humidity, temperatures in the lower forties, and in the areas where sky is exposed directly overhead, a rare glimpse of the Sun.”
“I saw the Sun once.” Little-Gerard bragged. “My dad’s boss invited us up to his level for Christmas, and up that high you can see it for a few minutes every day.”
The other students bombarded him with questions.
“Did it hurt?”
“Was it bright?”
“Did your skin burn?”
But before he could answer, Mrs. Maroonie silenced the group with a few more snaps of her fingers.
“Silence, children. The Sun is bright, but it won’t burn you if you’re only in it for a few minutes.” She checked her watch. 11:45.
“Two more minutes.” She said.
The students, as well as many nearby spectators, readied themselves. They held glasses tight to their head.
“One more minute.”
“I think I see it!” A student exclaimed.
“That’s just the reflection off a window.” Mrs. Maroonie shushed. Nevertheless, her heart began to beat a bit harder.
A hush came over the crowds as everyone collectively held their breath. The tension was nearly as thick as the soupy air.
Then all at once the Sun appeared and the ground was awash in light.
“Whoa!”
“That’s amazing!”
“Oh wow!”
Deep within, Mrs. Maroonie felt a primal elation. For hundreds of thousands of years the Sun had been worshiped, and in the rare times in her life where she’d seen it, she completely understood why. It was the life-giver. It was the warm, caring Father of the planet Earth. She closed her eyes and allowed the light to encompass her.
“It feels so awesome!”
“This is amazing!”
“Look over there!”
One of the students was pointing at a nearby building, and the others stared in awe. The drab grays of their world had been replaced with a plethora of colors… Blues and periwinkles and yellows and reds such that reality took on a surreal, movie-like appearance. Despite her strict demeanor, even Mrs. Maroonie openly showed her astonishment.
“It’s so bright.”
“I can’t look at it any more.”
“I think my skin is burning.”
Mrs. Maroonie felt annoyed at having to deal with the complaints of her students. She looked down at the collection of glowing children, each as bright as an angel.
“Your skin is not burning!” She snapped. “You’re fine!”
The light continued panning across the street until those along one side were once more obscured by shadows. Mrs. Maroonie closed her eyes, trying to savor the feeling as long as possible. She mentally willed time to slow down, but seconds later the Sun once more disappeared behind the tops of the buildings.
“Look! I got a Suntan!”
“You did not. Mrs. Maroonie, Jesse didn’t get a Suntan, did he?”
The last lingering feelings of warmth slipped away from her body. She blinked, surprised at how dark the world appeared. Dark, and gray.
“Mrs. Maroonie, did Jesse get a Suntan?”
Mrs. Maroonie shook her head, sad that she once more had to deal with the realities of her gray, shaded world.
“No, none of us got a tan.” She snapped her fingers, and the class fell silent. “Everyone get your buddy and line up. When we return to class, we’re going to going to have an activity sheet about the way the Sun works.”
The class groaned.