Paradox: The Last Day - Seymour's Story

by Rachel Charman

  “Testing voice recognition device. Direct order: begin preliminary longevity functions, initiate immobilization of basic self-sufficient developmental frontal lobe neuronal functions, and commence activation of variable operative voice-stimulated synaptic responses. Open electrical pathways connected to all muscular tissue and test pain threshold. Allow perseveration of all normal autonomic nervous system and sensory functions…”

  The alley falls silent for a moment, the only sound present being the distant rumbling of cars on the nearby freeway. Seymour leans in close to Gordon, and says quietly –

  “Direct order: open your eyes.”

  Instantly, Gordon’s bright green eyes snap open. His pupils are now completely clouded, and his face is blank and idle. Seymour places a hand on his shoulder cautiously, and Elena starts toward him. Seymour quickly raises his hand to stop her movement without turning his gaze from Gordon’s, and mouths to her –

  No sound.

  Elena nods somewhat resentfully, and backs away tentatively. He nods back wordlessly, and resumes monitoring Gordon carefully.

  “Direct command: respond to directive tag ‘Gordon’ if verbal order has been recognized.”

  “… Response.”

  “Good. I am your Commander. You will refer to this verbal frequency as ‘sir’, and comply with any order I give you, understand?”

  “… I understand, sir.”

  “Danger and fear will not keep you from carrying out your orders.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You will serve your Commander, and protect him with your life.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You will not acknowledge anything pertaining to who you were or who you know. You will think no thoughts for yourself, save for those necessary for your survival.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “… Right then. Can you stand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Seymour offers a hand to him, and Gordon takes it with a slight sideways glance at Elena, who looks back at him with a small smile breaking on her dismal façade. Despite her significant glance, he simply continues to stare vacantly, his expression completely devoid of emotion. She takes a step toward him, but Seymour holds her back, and hands Gordon his revolver.

  “Now we’re going to try a little obedience test here. I want you to take this gun, and shoot yourself through the hand.”

  Gordon nods complaisantly. Gasping in shock and rage, Elena shoves Seymour aside, tears the revolver away from her brother’s hand, and rounds on Seymour with a livid glare.

  “How could you make him do something like that?!”

  “Well, if you’ll notice, that order was purposefully illogical, since he only has one arm. But he was about to try it, even if it was fallacious, so I have my answer. Alright, Gordon, continue setting up all secondary cognitive repression functions and cut off visual intake.”

  He nods, sits back against the alleyway wall, and closes his eyes. Elena continues angrily to goad Seymour, but he silences her with a wave of his hand.

  “Look, I understand why you stepped in, but you have to let him do what I say. Understand?”

  “… I suppose..”

  “Alright, good. Let’s just wait here for a little while, see if he has any reaction to the process.”

  When Seymour fails to elaborate, Elena asks anxiously –

  “… What kind of reaction?”

  “Believe me, it’s not pretty. The first few people I tried this stuff on, they cracked open their own skulls to try and get the nanomachines out. Some of the others, well, let’s just say that they won’t be doing much free thinking with their brains being comparable to butterscotch pudding..”

  “Okay, stop it! That’s horrible!”

  “Trust me, it’s stuff you REALLY don’t want to see.”

  “Yeah, I get it..”

  After about an hour of waiting in silence, while Seymour closely monitors Gordon’s body, checking for any signs of a negative reaction to the injection, and as Sakura continues steadfastly to guard the alleyway exit, Elena suddenly speaks up, cracking the discomfited stillness of the shadowy alley.

  “… What if you’re wrong about Adrian?”

  “… Huh? Wrong about what?”

  “What if using him as your energy source won’t work?”

  Seymour looks over his shoulder at Elena, who stares at him seriously, her attention rapt, and he says somewhat flatly –

  “.. The thought has occurred to me, Elena. But if it doesn’t work, we’ll find some other way to manipulate vast amounts of electrical energy..

  Perhaps we’ll siphon the power of Santuc’s electrical power grid.. That was my initial plan before I knew about Adrian, but I have a feeling that it would be too difficult to execute..”

  “I see..”

  “So this is the point I’ve arrived at.”

  Unsatisfied with his answer, Elena approaches Seymour from behind as he continues to monitor Gordon. She looks at her supine sibling, the burning knot in her chest tightening at the sight of him, and finally, unable to contain herself anymore, she asks in a low, serious tone –

  “… So.. you really haven’t considered any other options?”

  Wiping off a wayward trickle of blood seeping from Gordon’s nose with his coat sleeve, Seymour asks stonily through gritted teeth, his patience near the breaking point –

  “… What other options do you think I have, Elena?”

  “Well.. I don’t know.. Have you ever tried.. just.. walking away?”

  Finally pushed past his limit, Seymour resentfully abandons Gordon, turns to face her, and stares angrily at Elena, who returns his incensed glare indignantly.

  “Walking away? Are you being serious?”

  “Of course I am! If all that’s making you do this is your own desire, what’s there to stop you from just.. turning around and walking away?”

  Seymour’s face hardens darkly at Elena’s remark, and he has to force himself to refrain from shouting as he breathes intensely –

  “… That’s not an option, Elena.”

  “But it is! Look-”

  Elena extends her hand to Seymour, and says with a steely face –

  “Just take my hand, Seymour, and we’ll both walk away from all of this, as far away as we can, until everything becomes a blur. As long as we keep walking, our sins won’t catch up with us!”

  Though her hand trembles, her face remains set and serious, and for a moment, the happy notion of abandoning all of the sick, gruesome weight that burdens his existence flashes across his mind; a wretched, yet beautiful prospect it is, though he shakes his head slightly, trying to dispel the enticing urge that seems to grip his heart in a stranglehold, and begins to utter half-heartedly –

  “Elena, you-”

  “Please, Seymour! I need you to just… try it..”

  Seymour stares at Elena’s outstretched hand, and he extends his own, his fingers tingling excitedly, though he hesitates halfway, thinking hard.

  “… Seymour?”

  “… Elena.. Listen… I would love nothing more than to take your hand and run away from everything I’ve done. But I can’t. I can’t turn back now, after everything that’s happened.. I’ve gone too far past the point of return.”

  “Seymour, stop being so dramatic, and just take my hand!”

  “JUST STOP IT! STOP TEMPTING ME!”

  Taken aback by his shout, Elena’s eyes sparkle with tears in the dull orange light. Her hand still extended but shaking, she says in a whisper –

  “Why won’t you stop? Are you saying you actually WANT this life? You’re okay with hurting the ones you love?”

  “Of.. of course not.”

  “Then-”

  “… Look, just.. drop it, Elena… Please.”

  “But there has to be a reason for you to do all this, right?”

  “T-there is.”

  “Well then, now’s the time, Seymour! You have to tell me what it is! I don’t want to be in the dark an
ymore!”

  “Just drop it!”

  “No! I want you to tell me everything!”

  Seymour opens his mouth to respond, but Elena cuts him off by interjecting in a monotone voice positively sagging with seriousness –

  “Before you answer, Seymour, know this. I’ve known you for nearly three years now. I’ve walked to the very gates of Hell for you, and just now, I’ve watched you turn my beloved brother into a soulless puppet. If you believe I am still undeserving of an explanation, after everything I’ve done for you, then I’ll.. I’ll turn around and.. and leave you here.. I know I said I’d wait for you, and follow your path, but I’ve run out of patience. It’s time you explained yourself.”

  Seymour stares at Elena in surprise, but she remains dead serious; her resolve is palpable even behind her furious tears.

  “… Elena, please don’t make me say it… I made a promise-”

  “A promise to who?!”

  “I… I’d rather not say.. You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

  “Just tell me. Otherwise, I’m leaving. And I swear, I won’t look back.”

  Seymour turns away from Elena hesitantly, searching frantically for the right words while wringing his hands together nervously, feeling his heart beating painfully fast against his chest.

  |… I’ve kept my promise all these years.. kept our secret and my silence for so long… How should I explain it, when I’m not even entirely sure about everything? Guess all I can do is try.. If she leaves, it’s all over anyway …|

  Steeling himself, he turns back, every logical part of his body screaming at him to keep his secrets, but he resolutely ignores himself, and says softly –

  “Look, I’m not asking you to believe me.. Just hear me out.”

  “Alright. I’m listening.”

  He takes a deep breath, and to indicate his absolute seriousness, he keeps his gaze fixed unblinkingly upon Elena’s skeptical blue stare, and begins to explicate his darkest, most closely guarded secret in a choked voice.

  “The reason I have to keep doing what I’m doing… is because I owe somebody a massive debt… She saved my life, and because of that.. I have to take everyone else’s away. But she doesn’t exist on this Earth… She exists in a place called… Paradox.”

  Just saying the name of the place brings to the surface terrible memories in Seymour’s mind, but he keeps them silent. He rubs his throat subconsciously, the long scar beneath the ebony fabric burning in his recollection. Elena stares at him apprehensively, as though she’d been expecting something more dramatic. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, she says uncertainly –

  “Paradox..? I don’t get it.”

  “Paradox is.. It’s like a… a place where you go… after you die. And it’s a prison.. A prison where, regardless of how good or evil someone is, you will endure the very edge of despair, and the greatest of agonies.”

  “… Okay.. So.. What does this have to do with you?”

  Seymour buries his face in his hands, the memories of Paradox flowing without cease, the horrid images burning in the blackness of his closed eyes. After a moment of silence, Seymour says in a placid tone –

  “… I’ve been there before…”

  “You have?”

  “Yes.. I.. was murdered.. And she brought me back…”

  “Who did?”

  “… Nyx did.”

  Seymour takes his face away from his hands, and stares up at the greenish smog in the air above them, bracing himself for Elena’s reaction.

  “.. Nyx? Who’s that?”

  “… She’s a... cursed, manipulative creature.”

  “Uh huh.. So, how did this ‘Nyx’ save you?”

  “To this day, I don’t exactly know.. She took something from me, which let her remove me from Paradox, and restore my presence on this plane. Or, in other words, she gave me my life back. Though it came with a price.”

  “She’s the one who you owe a debt to then?”

  “… Yeah.. She told me I would have to kill everyone. Everyone and everything. To give up everything I care about, so I could end human existence.”

  Elena folds her arms resolutely, her face caught between disbelief and pity as she says quietly –

  “… I see..”

  “… I know it’s hard to believe.. But trust me, I don’t kill of my own volition. I do it to… protect everyone and everything.. from a fate they could never prepare themselves for..”

  “But why does this Nyx woman want to kill off mankind? And why make you do it?

  That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “… I don’t know why either.. But I have to do it, because if I don’t, you’ll all have to go to Paradox when you die too, and it’ll be my fault… and I won’t let that happen, no matter what.”

  After Seymour finishes, Elena keeps quiet. She sits down against the wall, stares down the darkened alleyway, determinedly keeping her eyes away from Seymour’s, and, after a long, awkward silence, Elena whispers impassively –

  “That’s quite a story.”

  “I… I suppose it is, if you’re hearing it for the first time.”

  Biting her nails passively, Elena remains with a contemplative look on her face, and keeps her gaze fixed anywhere except on Seymour. Finally, she spits out her last nail, and inquires coldly –

  “.. So… How do I know you’re telling the truth about all this?”

  Looking up from his knees at Elena’s hardhearted visage, Seymour’s face is aghast; his eyes gleam with repressed sorrow as he breathes in a devastated tone –

  “… You.. You think I’m lying?”

  “Er, well.. It’s just.. How am I supposed to know if you’re not just making this up as an excuse?”

  Elena’s words cut deep. Feeling as though the wind has been knocked out of him, Seymour stands disconsolately, and turns to face the distant light of the alleyway exit. His hands in his back pockets, he laughs humorlessly under his breath, and says in a hushed tone –

  “… I see.. I knew you wouldn’t understand.. I shouldn’t have told you..

  I knew there wasn’t gonna be any point in telling you. I knew nobody would ever believe me…”

  “Well.. no.. It’s just.. Look..”

  Elena stands hurriedly, approaches Seymour from behind, and puts a hand gently on his shoulder. He resolutely averts his eyes from hers, and feeling the knot of betrayal tighten in his chest, he has a sudden urge to smack her; to beat the truth into her, and to make her understand his suffering until she couldn’t take any more. But he suppresses his impulse with difficulty, and suddenly becomes aware that she is speaking.

  “… I want to believe you, because you seem sincere, but, some proof would be good to back up your story.”

  “Well, the only way I could give you proof is if I killed you, and that would kind of defeat the purpose now, wouldn’t it?”

  “Well then… If you don’t have any proof.. You don’t have me convinced, Seymour. I still say you can find some other way out of this, you’re just not trying hard enough.”

  “But Elena, I really can’t-”

  “Enough, Seymour. You didn’t convince me.”

  Elena places both of her hands on Seymour’s shoulders while he struggles to find the words, and with all seriousness, she says stoically –

  “So this is goodbye. I won’t tell anyone about what you told me, but I hope whoever you find to replace me is more easily swayed by silly stories.”

  Elena turns from Seymour, and starts down the darkened alleyway, wiping her streaming eyes on the back of her hand. Seymour tries to call out to her, but his voice is paralyzed by shock. As he watches Elena’s swaying sheet of golden hair disappear into the gloom, he thinks desperately for a way to convince her, but his mind remains frustratingly blank.

  |… How can I prove it without.. without.. wait… I don’t have to kill her… No, that’s right… I just have to make her see it.. Make her understand the bind I’m in. Er, but how..?|

&nb
sp; As though his mind is seized by a foreign, but startlingly powerful consciousness, an idea suddenly pops into Seymour’s head, though it is an extremely unpleasant one, and he has no clue how he knows that it will work, however, he has no doubt in his curiously blank mind that it will. Wasting no time, he quickly rolls up his coat sleeves to reveal his black stigmas, coiled upward around his forearms like stygian tongues of flame. They vaguely form the shape of a grasping hand. He then runs after Elena, his footsteps echoingly loudly off of the alley walls; finally catching up her, before she can react, he forces her up against the wall and grabs her hands roughly.

  “S-Seymour! What’re you-”

  “Would you like to know, Elena? Would you like to see?”

  “W-What?!”

  Seymour manages to forcefully slide Elena’s hand over his brands, and a streak of pain shoots up Seymour’s spine.

  “Now close your eyes, Elena.”

  “S-Seymour, I-”

  “Just do it!”

  Though terrified, Elena complacently closes her eyes, and for a few tense seconds, nothing seems to happen, but another thrill of pain explodes in both Seymour and Elena’s spines, and she reopens her eyes. Suddenly, the two of them are standing atop an enormous white tower. As the raging wind blows violently through their hair, Elena looks down apprehensively, and gasps in terror at the sight of at least ten million atrociously withered, blank-eyed bodies lying in the streets far below; screaming in agony, and bathed in the bright light of a giant white sun that hangs low in the onyx sky above them. As the voices of the desiccated husks sing out their horrid, wailing chorale, the hideous tones of their deathly dirge agonizingly invade Elena’s mind, and an insurmountable pain permeates her entire body, too great even to describe, but her scream is lost amongst the others, which only grow in volume as her anguish steadily mounts. Seymour stares at her seriously, but doesn’t make a sound. She tries to break her grip upon his brands, but she is unable, and begins to black out from the pain. Seymour guides her limp hands up to the sides of his head, and whispers intensely –