Belvedere

My eyes adjusted to bright, new light.

I emerged from the mirror onto a gleaming terminal bustling with crowds. People were exiting from rows of tall mirrors all leading towards turnstiles. The wide plaza—bereft of filth—featured mermaid statues pointing at the gothic ceiling overhead.

Brrrr. My arms still in white sleeves shivered. Even if minor, the change in temperature and climate was apparent. I could feel a cool May breeze blowing in from the exit where stern security guards roamed.

"Took ya' long enough!" Chad waved from ahead. His green mohawk and punk clothes were easy to spot in pulsing crowds.

"Sorry," I said as I grouped by him. "Brainfarted a bit."

"Whatever. Look over there." He pointed towards turnstiles where people were walking through. "Guards ain't asking everyone for passports. Could be a good chance to prove if our outfits work again."

"Oh, yeah. They weren't asking anyone at the other terminal the other day."

"Right? Maybe less tourists here. Either way, it'll be epic if our garbs save us from being checked!"

I looked down at my semi-formal clothes. The vest was something I'd seen worn in mafia movies, so it felt natural. But it wasn't secret that me and Chad stood out amongst crowds. The hustle of business men on lunch break or the sleek outfits of joggers—we were the obvious foreigners.

Almost all eyes were on us.

Chad lifted up his camera and pretended to take photos of the mermaid statues. "Are you ready?" He whispered towards me.

"Let's do it."

We ventured across the indoor plaza towards lines of people waiting to pass turnstiles. It was an assortment of citizens, likely some foreigners too. An old man was speaking Hindi to his granddaughter, while in another line a Japanese family all sang aloud. However, anti-discrimination laws prevented police and security from profiling anyone. Law enforcement needed new, dubious methods to do their jobs.

And me and Chad had been theorizing if clothes or hairstyles were the new redflags.

I smoothed my beige hair back as we approached the front of the line. Security guards had just asked a woman wearing a baseball cap for her passport—crucial identification needed to travel abroad or between states. In theory, guards could only ask randomly for it, but more was always at play.

"Geez, still can't believe it's twenty dollars to enter." Chad pulled out his wallet. "Other places we go are way cheaper."

"It's New York, what do you expect," I said. "I'm surprised there's not a tax on breathing."

"True that, haha."

The business woman ahead of us passed through turnstiles without issue. Both guards looked on while she went by. Then our turn came.

I inserted and removed my credit card from the turnstile. The process was quick, efficient, and didn't raise suspicion. But I avoided eye contact with the guards before pacing by them.

Chad came next. Both guards glued their eyes to his big green mohawk, giggling. All he did was give them a friendly nod behind sunglasses as he walked towards me.

"Let'sgolet'sgolet'sgo." He gestured to hurry and power walk away, until we'd both exited outside into a lush, green world.

Sunlight. We faced an expansive lake surrounded by wilderness. Flocks of birds flew overhead towards a distant castle that overlooked Central Park, as streams of people continued wandering into wooded areas.

Chad and I broke into a sprint. We were chuckling and laughing even while entire crowds watched us whiz by, confused.

"Holy shit, I can't believe that worked!" Chad said as we ran. "You saw those guard's faces! They were totally into my mohawk!"

"C-Could just be coincidence, haha!"

"Nah! This is another point! For me! My theory is coming true, ahaha!"

We regrouped by Turtle Pond's shore. A few Bufflehead ducks and Canadian geese were floating around, almost eyeing us like they thought we had food.

I caught my breath. "G-Geez. The guards asked that girl ahead of us for her passport. That's probably why they didn't ask us."

"Excuses! It's true! Wearing stuff that makes you stand out, makes security less likely to passport us! Reverse psychology!"

"Wh-Who knows . . ." I sat down in grass and sighed, then gazed towards the other shore. "Anyway, shouldn't we test your theory out in more places? We've only been at it for two weeks."

"Bah. Havin' fun is all that matters; that's what we said we'd do, right?"

"Weren't we already having fun before?"

Chad scoffed. "You've been bummed ever since your girlfriend broke things off. So it's up to me to get ya' back on your feet."

Ughhh . . . It was true life hadn't been going swimmingly. But I wasn't someone who'd just throw their emotions out for everyone to see. Having one good friend that could still pick up on signs though, felt nice after years of misfortune.

I lifted my camera and snapped a passing duck. "What's today's plan then? Just go birding as usual?"

"If ya' want. Not sure if it's breeding season here or not."

"Should be. Spring or fall are good times, depending on the species."

"Northern Cardinal! That's one I wanna hopefully see! They got a rad mohawk just like me!"

"Makes sense, haha. Didn't see any last time we came even though they shouldn't be rare."

I felt Chad rummage through my backpack behind me to pull out binoculars. He stepped ahead. "Should we start with Belvedere Castle up there? It's a decent vantage point if there's flocks flying around."

"Sounds good. Let's go."

Chad offered his hand to help me stand, before we set out exploring. The winding path through woods gradually led uphill towards a bridge made of stone. Overhead, the wooden pavilion—shaped like a clock tower—enveloped us as we took refuge.

"Hey, look down there." Chad peered over bricks towards a lake. "What kinda duck is that?"

"Hmm?" I grabbed his binoculars and looked below. "That's just a Northern Shoveler. But you should know tha—"

"Shhh. Don't say anything, bro."

"Huh?"

Behind us, slow, heavy footsteps marched by. I turned to glimpse at two Bureau of Public Order officers, donned in striped suits. Their fedoras masked calculating natures as both men observed everyone walking along. It was a mechanical efficiency—cold apathy accented by jackets hiding their shoulders. No one dared tread in their paths as both men descended the staircase below.

Damn, I thought. Their suits are so suave! But don't ever piss those guys off!

Chad beside me breathed a sigh of relief. "Sorry about that. I just can't risk the BOPO singling me out right now."

"Oh, yeah. We've been spotting them around more often these days—all over the world."

"They're just world government dogs. But if I get in trouble, so does my brother; we ain't havin' that."

Maybe standing out with a green mohawk isn't the best idea then . . . "That reminds me: BOPO officers actually visited my house this morning."

"Huh?" Chad almost yelled. "What for?"

"I-I'm not sure. I guess they were just searching for Whisperers."

"Tsk. Those guys make the underworld business harder for us; always keeping BOPO dogs on high alert."

I knew his family situation was complicated. But it wasn't my place to comment. Instead, I tried figuring out ways to break our awkward tension. "Uhhh, the BOPO probably have other jobs right now. Maybe they're looking into that rumor about the mirror dimension?"

Chad stared at me with a blank face before breaking into laughter. "Bahaha! Don't tell me ya' actually believe in that! It's just an old fairy tale!"

"Wh-Who knows. Let's just finish crossing this bridge." I gestured to follow me along.

"Ah! Good idea! Maybe we'll find you a new girlfriend today, ahaha!"

Belvedere Castle loomed overhead. It was a small, gothic tower perched where tourists could easily spot it amongst a picturesque landscape. Outside in the courtyard were guitar performers, panhandlers, and curious sightseers.

I led Chad onwards until reaching the front door of a gift shop—Belvedere Castle's ground floor. A bell jingled as we walked in.

"Hello," I said, peering around. There was no one inside except a cute blonde cashier.

"Hi!" She smiled. "We have a sale on pins and postcards today!"

"Pins?"

She gestured towards assortments of badges along her apron, pinned in a heart shape. "If you like what you see there's more in the corner over there."

"O-Oh! Okay, thanks." I blushed even from quick eye contact with her.

Chad's elbow lightly jabbed me. He leaned in before whispering. "You always did like blondes, huehue."

"Shut up."

We made our way to investigate a staircase that headed upwards. But it'd been cordoned off with rope.

"Sorry," the cashier said. "Upper floors are closed for maintenance."

"What? No way," I said. "They were closed last time we came too."

"There's lots of refurbishments going on. But I think things should be open again sometime next month."

"Ah, well, it's fine. We'll come back another day."

Me and Chad regrouped outside. The chatter of pedestrians made it hard to hear ourselves.

"Hey, Chance!" Chad told me. "You shoulda tried hitting on that cutie cashier!"

"That's not what we're here for."

"Yeah! Those upper floors were closed though! So maybe you can return later with a new girlfriend!"

"Be serious."

"I am! We'll visit Norway or Sweden if you wanna try picking up blondes, heheh!"

I rolled my eyes and just let him keep rambling.

The backpack weighed on me as we traveled downhill into wooded areas. It was a frequented path where joggers and fellow bird watchers were plenty. But the serenity of a closed-off world reminded me of something.

"Hey, isn't The Ramble in the opposite direction?" I told Chad.

"Probably! But that really cool bird we've been chasing came this way! Let's find it!"

I sighed. "It's long gone by now. Let's just head to The Ramble where there's good birding spots."

But he ignored me and eagerly kept pointing his camera at anything that moved. Some girls jogged by, giving him confused looks.

I'd be weirded out by anyone dressed like that here too; though I'm not much better. I raised my binoculars to help Chad find his bird. "You said it was yellow, right? A yellow warbler?"

"Yeah! I just dunno if we're talkin' Kentucky Warbler or Pro-thon-uhh-tar-eey Warbler."

"Prothonotary Warbler," I said. "You can tell the difference from their field marks."

"Eh, you handle the nitty-gritty. Infinite Warblers are hard recognizing 'em all."

Another half-mile of trekking led into Central Park's North Woods—the most secluded, wild area laden with dense greenery. We were alone apart from a chorus of chirping around us and rushing water roaring somewhere nearby.

I pointed my binoculars up towards some trees. "Let's just give up. I saw Parulas earlier we could try finding instead."

No response. I stashed away our binoculars but Chad was nowhere in sight.

Huh? Where'd he go?

I began exploring along the trail, hunting for someone's big green mohawk. Different birds would distract me, making me stop to snap pictures. Though after several winding twists and turns I came to a fork in the road.

"Did he come through here?" I muttered. "Could just text him, but—"

"Woah, mama!" A familiar voice down the path rang.

That's our guy . . . And I bolted off to the right.

Joggers and bystanders watched me zoom by as I tried spotting Chad. His voice couldn't have traveled far, which meant he'd since moved.

"G-Geez." I caught my breath on a handrail. "Could've sworn he was just here."

Then, out of the corner of my eye, something golden flapped onto a tree branch.

Unmistakable. I switched to an analytical state before slowly turning. Each eye absorbed the perched bird's details: bright yellow plumage, blueish-silver wings, white undertail, subtle crescent marks beneath dark eyes, and a long beak for devouring insects.

Unmistakable field marks of a Prothonotary Warbler.

Each distinction set it apart from other similar species, like Yellow Warblers, Wilson's Warblers, and Kentucky Warblers. But more than anything else, the rush of spotting a rare bird felt rude to not try memorializing.

It preened and groomed its feathers while I lifted my camera. But before I could click the shutter, the warbler flew away.

"Hey, wait up," I said, then chased after.

The golden bird zoomed further down the trail. Handrails along the path prevented me from maneuvering around much, though after one minute of chasing, I stumbled on someone suspicious.

"Yeah, yeah. Just like that," Chad whispered. He pointed his camera into woods ahead.

"There you are," I said and approached him. "I found your warbler earlier just no—"

"Shhh. Look over there."

"Huh?"

Peering into dense greenery, I gazed towards a Northern Cardinal fluttering around inside a puddle. Red wings shook and shivered until every feather sagged with the weight of water. And even the crest on its head couldn't fully stand as the bird continued bathing.

"I saw it flying this way and followed," Chad said while snapping pics. "This is great."

"Do you need our tripod?" I moved to unlatch my backpack but Chad shook his head.

"We're all set, bro."

Guess so, hehe. The sight of a guy in punk clothes so engrossed in birding had me smiling. I didn't even bother photographing the Cardinal—I snapped a picture of Chad instead, without him even realizing it. It'd be something I'd tease him with in the future, or just keep as another memory.

"Hey," I told him. "Wouldn't it be better to take pictures without your sunglasses on?"

"Heh, no way." He lowered his camera as the red Cardinal flew away. "It's like I always tell you: seeing these pics in full color for the first time at home, would be like seeing them for the first time again, don't you think?"

There wasn't a single rebuttal I could conjure besides a chuckle.

Ultimately, we both had our quirks, and that'd made our outings fun even months after they'd started. We were just two guys ostracized by the world and pushed together by our circumstances.

Though how we decided to live our lives was our decision.

I reached behind into my backpack and pulled out two water bottles for us. "Well, ready for the rest of the day then?"