“Did you find what you were looking for?” Alex’s voice came clear over the radio.
“So, Alex, is this the way you wanted to have our first conversation?” The daemons voice was clear in its reply.
“Well from the looks of it you didn’t want to talk at all, just shoot us. But no since we are talking you should look at your chest.”
The man looked down and saw a small green dot in the center of his chest, and then dots subsequently appeared on the men around him.
“I guess your ghosts are up there somewhere is that right?” Alex could hear the smile on the man’s face. “If you wanted to shoot me, you would’ve done it yesterday. Or did that show bring out your anger?”
One of the MLM troops fell to the ground through a red mist that dissipated through the air as quickly as it came. “Not mine, but those of my men. Now lets talk about the terms of your surrender, or we will cut you all down one at a time.”
The man pulled out his gun and pointed at the driver. “Now, now Alex, I don’t believe that you would send two of your men into this canyon to die for you. No, that’s not the kind of thing a man of your convictions does. For now, I think we shall talk about an exchange and your surrender; otherwise, these two men will have the same fate I gave your parents.”
It was a quiet line for a moment before Alex spoke once again. “Their lives for mine. Once I get to you, you release the two drivers. Once they are back safe with the rest of my men, they’ll remove the targets. From there they will leave and not be followed, otherwise they blow the explosives in the APC that well will leave in.”
An equally quite moment passed before the man spoke back. “Agreed, but how do I know they wont blow the APC after both parties leave?”
“The signal for detonation is only good for a fifteen kilometer radius, you give them that much of a head start and we wont have to worry about anyone else dying today.”
“How do you know I wont kill you when we leave?” The man once again said with a smile on his face.
“Because,” the response came through with great confidence, and then continued louder, “You’d rather have someone to show off to all of Mispellem as the face of oppression, what better than making the spectacle as public as you did with my parents.” The voice was closer and directly behind him. “Show them how they are oppressed by their own people.”
The man turned to see Alex standing three feet in front of him. “Now please,” Alex said. “Hold up your end of the deal.”
Smiling, the man motioned for Alex to enter the APC and tossed the boot out the back of the vehicle as it headed north quietly into the cities.
When the APC stopped Alex could see they were in one of the suburbs of the Capital of Mispellem. Out the windows he could see the skyline a few kilometers in the distance. He was led out of the APC and into a taller building on the outskirts. One that had barricades pushed back up to three blocks from the building itself. Through the lobby he could see that they were in one of the prominent news broadcast stations that he had watched his entire life, the best possible place for propaganda of a movement to be born from and a direct artery to the hearts and minds of the people.
“Nice little home you’ve made here.” Alex said following the man into an elevator.
“I knew you would like it. You control the people from here, not from Nicea. We gave birth to our own god through our mouths, and then killed off the old by lies. It became simple the more and more deceit that was provided by your side the easier it was to point out the errors, the easier it was to have others join our cause and search out a new truth.”
“And what expense is that at?” Alex said defiantly. “You instill fear into everyone if they don’t take up arms for your cause, you kill their neighbors and friends in front of them to show them if they do not conform, the same fate will meet them.”
“Alex, I don’t promote or rule by fear, I simply remove the thought of hope from their minds, there then is no alternative.” The elevator stopped and the men got out. “The people from Vanahei have always provided nothing but the same type of control over us all, and infected the senate you hold so dear as the rightful rules. I have just separated the people from that central ruling now providing them the hope for change and now having the leader of their oppressor in custody, they’ll see just how deep that corruption went.”
“When enough people live and know only fear, hope is a luxury that can not be fathomed, Alex.”
“I saw the mass grave on that tanker outside of Aurorea. I know how you ordered the murder of men women and children, and I was there the day you had men come to my school and open fire. None of that strikes me as a man who cares about human life. That is just pure disregard for its value.” Alex continued his stance, looking for a crack, other than the sanity, of the man who was his captor.
“People were going sick, starving and spilling their blood to maintain poverty while our leaders squabble over grains of sand. And all the while you became their dog, hunting the bird trying to flee their oppression. How were you able to reconcile that? I would find it difficult to uphold an oath and know that every letter of it has been twisted to become the lie you served. You think I am an evil man Alex? Evil is not just a word, something used to loosely describe me, it is a reality, and that reality is why no army can withstand the strength of an idea whose time has come. And the idea of a free Mispellem from those who care for nothing but their own is here, and nothing that the war machine you command can do anything about that.”
It wasn’t the attempted manipulation that was chipping away at his resolve; it was the uncertainty of the future not repeating itself, again. Alex could fight until the last drop of blood fell from his body, and still not change the harsh reality that the world would need the mindset of actually wanting to change how people view one another instead of the lip service of harmony. In its wake, the world created itself a moral schizophrenia; it didn’t care if things changed as long as there was hope for it and a few silly bastards to hoist the colors, so the majority could continue to press on stating that the world will change eventually and never joining the fight. It was a shame that even hell would baulk at, but one that those of the living would turn a blind eye to because they were afraid of the results if they watched it through to the end.
“When you stand trial for the crimes you’ve committed, the genocide, know that they wont care about whether or not you’re mad, they will find you guilty.” Alex continued to find to weakness to the man himself.
“I’m guilty of far more than that Alexander. If that’s all you see that I have done, that I hope you are the one who passes final judgment over my soul. The fun part about it all is the fact that my or any mans sanity, as you should have learned form all the time spent in that cushy school, is a term the courts judge on, not clinical one. See in knowing that the act was wrong and not having the ability to conform, that’s how one is deemed to have lost their sanity. I did it only because I wanted to. The benefits of my actions helped perpetuate the deeply rooted fears of ones neighbor. So yes, I am guilty of genocide, but much more, the psychological dwarfing of generations, as they look to build the walls back between one another. I didn’t just cripple the world, this frail container of hope you’re trying to defend.”
They stopped walking as the man motioned for Alex to enter the room they were now in front of. It was an office that looked to be modified into a holding cell. Alex presumed that it was to keep one in solitary before they drug them out before the cameras and broadcasted to the world their sins. Quietly he went into the room and turned to look the man in the eye.
“Might I know your name?” Alex said with almost a genuinely formal tone.
Honored by the tone, the man stared back at the young man who was his most prize trophy of the war and spoke. “I’m known as Will, Will Lynch. And I’ll be seeing you soon.”
The door closed between them and a dim red bulb was the only source of light in the small room. Alone once again with his thou
ghts, a place that during this war that has never brought him solace. However, his mind found itself wandering once again in the past instead of the clouded future.
Two months before Alex and Aaron left for school, Alex had gone out to help an old man build a bridge over the creek that ran throw his property. When he arrived at the farm that day, Alex had trouble finding where the old man was. Standing at the base of the bridge along the small creek bed, he wondered how the water always flowed enough to have both banks of the river thrive in the middle of the arid country. The creek went as far as he could see, stretching out further than both horizons before him. The crystal blue water was untouched by pollution of the city and irrigation by the other farmers. Alex could see a pure white sandy bottom, clear of any large rocks or pebbles. Placing his hand in the stream, it was obvious that as clean as Alex believed his hands were, there was still dust and dirt that was washed clean, and taken down stream. Upon removing his hand from the water, Alex felt as though his hands were lighter, as if the grime that was washed away held any weight at all.
A moment later, Alex saw the old man making his way back to the semi completed foundation of the bridge. Alex could see he was out in front of his donkey and cart leading them to where Alex was standing. He ran to meet the old man half way to begin to wish him good day. While he was approaching, the old man, he was astonished to not see a pleasant look on the man’s face. Before Alex could ask if something was wrong, the old man put his hand up as to stop Alex in his tracks.
“Young man,” He said. “I know you come with pure intent. You come to help, you’re anxious to provide assistance to me as you do with every other farmer in the area. However I do not need your assistance in this matter.”
Alex a little shocked by the old man’s plea responded with his own. “Sir, I do not mean to hinder your work, only to provide more hands to lighten the work.”
Chuckling, the old man became more receptive to the young assistant. “I will tell you what you can do then young man. You can unload the rocks and stones from the bed of this cart. Any other assistance and you will be hindering my work.”
Still surprised, Alex nodded and once the cart arrived at the base of the bridge, Alex began to unload the stones one by one. Once his task was complete, the old man showed Alex to the side and began to move the stones where he wanted them creating the mortar from scratch and declining every attempt Alex made to help. After a few hours of standing by and watching in relative silence Alex grabbled the cobble stone he thought the old man was about to take and held it behind him.
With a laugh the old man spoke. “What can I help you with son?” he said not looking up from mixing the mortar.
“I would like to know why you will not let me help out. I’ve been sitting here watching patiently for hours now as you build this bridge stone by stone.”
Slowly the old man stopped mixing the mortar and looked up at Alex as he answered the demanding youth. “You saw how clear this stream is correct?” Alex nodded in affirmation. “How do you think it became that way? The day I purchased this land, I started to slowly remove the rocks, pebbles, and debris from the creek itself. I removed trash, and countless objects from the darkened waters and slowly the water began to clear. With every stone taken from the river I built something. The foundation of my home was built with the stones from that brook, my fireplace as well. And these stones here,” he said pointing at the once that made the bridge and those scattered about him, “were pulled from up stream where fittingly no more rocks can be found. This brook is being fed by an underground spring of pure clean water, which is why the grass on both sides flourishes and provides prefect ground for crops. This stream will always make the land around it fertile as long as it is kept as pure as the water that flows into it.”
The man stood up and motioned for Alex to hand him the stone. “Now to answer your question about the bridge itself. As it’s creator, I know the vision I have for it. Each stone has been selected by me and will be placed where it will best fit with the others in the bridge itself. Some stones are smaller to make way for larger ones, while other misshaped stones fit perfectly into the crevasse and gaps left by the perfectly round ones. As the only architect for this bridge I can insure that the hands that have built my home will be the ones that also perfect the building of this viaduct here. The purity of the idea comes from those who are willing to set side pace and quick work to find the perfect stone no matter how deep it may lie in the arroyo. Only then can the project be said to be perfect from its onset, stead of sculpting and sanding each stone to ‘fit’ the mold, even if it doesn’t belong there.”
At the explanation, Alex gave the stone back to the creator and watched in wonder as he picked up another stone that had been sitting at his feet with a smile and dropped the stone Alex had coveted. Alex watched that stone sit on the ground for a long while before the old man picked it back up. He turned it over in his hands several times before he placed the stone in the awaiting mortar. Another few moments passed before Alex got to his feet and began to venture home when the old man stopped him with his voice.
“Remember where your stone is in this bridge young man, for it was important in the building of it. Do not think it was any less of worth due to when it was placed with the rest, it was more important as to where it sits. One day your life will be a stone in a bridge, and remember it was selected to fit within whatever bridge that may be exactly when it is meant to.”
The door opened once again to reveal Will with a plate of food. Alex was unsure as to how much time had passed or how long he had been sleeping, and the natural light hurt his eyes as he looked at the silhouette. Placing the food on the floor near Alex, it spoke. “You know, convictions are more dangerous foes of truth than lies.”
“And I’ve noticed some rise by sin with others fall by virtue.” He responded by moving towards the plate.
“Ah, that is a very true assertion. But know, just because you’re a king in your game doesn’t mean you aren’t a pawn in another mans. Baldr wasn’t at your command base when we raided it, he probably fled somewhere and has been waiting to see how you play out, hoping you wont be as weak of a piece no the board as Tillery was.”
He didn’t comment on the death of Baldr, he knew it was a ruse to see if Alex knew anything about the information Baldr was hiding off of the mainframe at command. Instead, he played the card he was given.
“Tillery was weak, he should’ve set you up and killed you long before he hid in that old factory, waiting for me to kill him.” Alex, quietly took a bite of the food from the plate.
“I was wondering who dispatched him. Well then, maybe you are more than a pawn in Baldr’s game. Revenge is never a straight line is it? First you killed Tillery thinking he was in command, and then you realized he was a puppet, like you, and you weren’t sure the path, till it led home. And now here you are an animal in a cage. Like the war dog you are, blindly chasing a sent in the air.”
Alex swallowed hard to keep his composure, focusing on the food in front of him. He remembered the text he read about leadership at school, it was older and fell out of thought until this moment, a moment when he knew that should he falter he would hope. The text he remembered clearly: You should be like a rocky promontory against which the restless surf continuously pounds. It stands fast while the churning sea is lulled to sleep at its feet.
“Bill, when damning a man, make sure you use the same standards when you measure and judge all others, including ones self.” He never broke his concentration from the meal.
“It’s too bad you’ll have to die, it would have been great to have you fight with us instead of against,” William sat down and waited until Alex made eye contact before he continued. “It wont matter generations down the road how history remembers today tomorrow, the next day. The historians wont remember the facts. They will be misinformed, miseducated and the truth they wish to find will be diluted by one simple fact, those who are the scribes of history today, half of them will
be on the side that claims victory, while the other halves account will be tossed into the fire as kindle over time, fanning the hubris of those celebrating their victory. Eventually even the mountains and the seas will forget the echos of battle cries from the past. The stones and trees will look onward as they sit the silent observers to our history. And as they are whittled away by the elements, so too will be the memories of our pious cause, and eons after that memory fades, we’ll once again prove our nature to one another. It’s just a constant redefining of ourselves to a new generation, repeating the past as present.”
“Then why continue on the journey, if in the scheme of the world we wont be remembered on the tongues of all of those who follow after us? Because the here and now is what is important, the future only finds a new way to rewrite the same horrors. So what I did for future generations will be instilled in their subconscious to hate people from a different land because it has always been that way,” William stood up and continued his lecture moving around his performance space. “All you heard from that congress of men who ruled our lives is that everything has changed in the 200 years since that war, yet at the same time nothing has. Yes the laws and rules that once divided us have changed to bring us together, and on paper, we are one people. But the character of the individual is what needs to change, not always the laws that govern him.”
“And, you think this will be a step into us changing that nature? By having us kill and lie to one another?” Alex pushed the remaining food away to the other side of the room.
“No, it will be just enough to want the change. Victories in the field count for little if the right decisions are not taken or made at home, and because the decisions are only on paper and not in our own hearts, at least today, that desire, that’s enough. Through my actions I’ve recreated an enemy, remolded it. Evil never dies, it just evolves.”
William walked out of the room and had the door close behind him. Alex waited until he could hear the door latch to look at the door to his tomb before let his mind fill with thoughts. In the version of the world that William say, humanity knew the terrors they would inflict on one another, and chose to baptize one another anyway. They were stuck in a perpetual equinox, giving birth to an idea and its immediate application to the destruction of another man. Seeing an idea and then finding its most volatile application to ensure no one else can, exposing that moral schizophrenia we have in becoming devoted to an idea, and then using that idea to belittle those who do not agree. The tyranny they fear of others, instinctively lives in every fiber of their being, and that fear was finally drawn out. Alex could finally feel what remained of his soul being dragged through the only embodiment of hell he would ever know.
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