by Bill Roberts
The house remains quiet and dark. I listen for the garage door. I stare at the empty piece of wall. Eventually I will have to sleep, but I do that as little as possible these days.
The world has changed. Changed in deep and fundamental ways. One driver of change has been the promise of the Watcher technology. There is no reason, any longer, to keep the technology and its origin secret. With what we had learned everything will become easier and more efficient. Travel and transport, power, medicine, production, everything that shapes modern human life will improve drastically as we apply this technology. These improvements will not only improve everyone’s quality of life, but also render many things we consider essential moot. Oil? Useless. Water? We can desalinate seawater and transport great quantities of it with ease. Food? The technology allowed us to produce food at levels and in places never even dreamed of. The list goes on and on.
Everyone in possession of the Watcher technology is sharing it freely. As the technology spreads everyone is being touched by it. The new machines and systems it produces are repairing the damage suffered during The Invasion. Not only repairing, but making many things better in the process. Slowly, people around the world are realizing that there is nothing really left to fight over amongst ourselves. Almost every human conflict throughout history has been about resources. Sometimes, ideology or religion would provide a veneer over this hard truth, but in reality it was always the case. When you can easily feed and care for your children, when you no longer have to worry about illness or resources, what is there to fight over? Sure, many people continue to follow the old ways of religious strife and ethnic selfishness, but most are working together.
I would like to think that it is humanity’s inner nobility that is mostly leading towards all of us working together. But, I am not a fool. The greatest impetus for change is fear. We know we are not alone in the Universe. There are at least two other races out there, one benevolent the Watchers, one terrible, the Synti. Perhaps there will be even more; it would surprise no one at this point. The Watchers may be benevolent, but they are distant and unknown. The Synti, on the other hand, are known all too well. Nobody thinks for a minute that we have defeated all of them. In fact, we all accept that we have only seen the smallest fraction of them. What we have seen of them makes us fear them completely and totally. In less than a year they wreaked more destruction on humanity than we had done to each other throughout our entire history. Nobody can go through that without experiencing fear, and fear is a great motivator.
This blend of technology and fear are changing the paradigms of human politics. While I sit alone in my empty house governments around the world are working towards a permanent change in how we relate to each other geopolitically. Many nations, led by America, are moving for a unified human government. This effort grows daily as people demand protection against the Synti threat. Along with the demands for a unified government people are demanding a unified military. There is an edge to this demand. People want to defend themselves of course, but underneath that need there is a growing desire. As more and more people are confirmed dead, another primal human emotion is taking over, the desire for revenge. Already we are making tentative plans for carrying the fight to the Synti. As we move to unite, the new Watcher driven manufacturing plants are working full time. They are building things like Kodiaks and MCS’s of course, but in the great open plains outside Wonderland new ships are taking form. Massive vessels that will carry these weapons to the stars. We do not know where the Synti come from, but we will find them. And when we do we shall wreak a terrible vengeance upon our foe. The Synti will soon learn they have made a catastrophic mistake. To paraphrase Admiral Yamamoto, all the Synti have done is waken a sleeping giant and fill him with a terrible resolve.
This desire for vengeance does not fill me. I feel far too empty for such emotion. My parents and my sister had been confirmed dead in Detroit a couple of months ago. I had not been surprised. I really have not felt sad about it, just hollow. Still, I sometimes think of them during the quiet nights while I wait for the garage door to open. Whenever I do I stop it as soon as possible. I try very hard to always think of nothing while I stare at the wall in my dark and silent house.
During the day it is usually not so difficult. I keep busy at the office. There is always something to do. I work on rebuilding my battalion. I work on plans for unifying with other militaries. I work on developing the tactics and techniques we will use for invading foreign planets. I do so thoroughly and professionally, but not passionately. The emptiness lives with me at work as well. Honestly, I embrace it. The alternative to emptiness does not bear thinking about.
The beer in my hand feels almost weightless. The nanites do for that. After this many years having them inside of me I am the strongest I have ever been, ever imagined being. Also, Doctor Morton’s theory that the nanites could help us to live almost indefinitely gets more and more confirmed with each passing day. I have not aged a day in the last four years. Fantastic. I could now live forever, a stupid, pointless, painful … I stop this train of thought and focus back on the emptiness. The blank wall helps.
Time continues to pass, and I just sit on the couch and let it. Eventually I will sleep, then the nightmares will come, then I will get up and go through another pointless day that I now have an infinite supply of. I knew that … a knock on my front door interrupts my train of thought. It sounds almost thunderous after the long silence I have sat through this evening. For the briefest of moments a surge of hope crashes through me, before logic coolly crushes it. Liz would never knock on the door like that.
Placing the beer on the coffee table in front of me I stand and head for the door. I feel a glimmer of curiosity before the emptiness swallows it up. Mechanically I open the door. Standing in the small pool of light given off by the bulb next to my front door I see Lance and Jenn. I summon my little used voice: “Good evening, what brings you guys here?”
I do not know what they see in my face, but they look worried as Lance asks: “Can we come in, Shawn?”
Fine, whatever. “Sure.” I gesture for them to enter. It takes me a moment to find the light switch for the living room, I have not used it in over a year, but I manage to get it on shortly after they enter the house. I remember my manners and add: “Please, grab a seat.” Then remembering my purchase: “Would you like a beer?” The words feel strange somehow.
Lance continues to speak for both of them. “No thanks, we just wanted to have a little chat with you.”
As they sit on the couch a very small part of me is glad that the downstairs is clean. Cleaning has proved an excellent way to hold onto the emptiness. Another small part of me is glad they cannot see the upstairs. I had tried going up there once, but the emptiness would not allow it. The bedrooms are upstairs. I do not want to see them. Not ever. What little sleep I got I got on the couch. I sit on the overstuffed chair next to the couch and wait. If they want to chat I will let them start. I have nothing I want to say.
Lance and Jenn share an uneasy look before Lance turns to me and says: “We just wanted to ask why you didn’t come by tonight?”
This statement confuses me. “Why would I go to your place tonight?” I ask.
Their unease grows. Lance replies slowly and carefully: “We invited you over for dinner tonight, Shawn. I talked to you about it on the phone this afternoon.”
I try to remember the conversation and fail completely. “I must have forgotten. Sorry,” I return. Something pricks at me, but I let it drown in the hollow void inside of me.
Lance asks patiently: “How did you forget? I called you maybe an hour before the end of the work day.”
The pricking sensation comes back more strongly. I cannot allow that. I need them to leave. I quickly respond: “I don’t know. Maybe we can do it tomorrow night instead.” The pricking is troubling the emptiness, it drives me to stand up. “If there is nothing else, I need to go back to listening f
or the garage door.”
Lance and Jenn’s expressions go from uneasy to frighteningly worried. Jenn breaks her silence. She speaks quietly, but firmly. “They’re not coming back Shawn.”
“What?” I ask.
Jenn does not falter or hesitate. She continues: “Elizabeth, Joshua and Esther are dead, Shawn.”
My hands ball into fists. The emptiness cannot keep the anger at bay. I almost shout as I respond: “You don’t know that. How dare …”
“Their names were added to the confirmed dead lists four months ago, Shawn. I know, I checked for them myself,” Lance interrupts.
My voice falters to a halt and my hands slowly unclench. The pricking becomes unbearable. I have never checked for their names. Never. As long as I did not check they could walk through the door at any moment. As long as I did not check they were still alive, somewhere, trying to come home. But deep down I knew. I knew that if they were ever going to come home it would have happened long ago. I had just never admitted it to myself. But no matter how hard I tried to delude myself my subconscious mind would not let me ignore the truth. That is why I have the nightmares. I say nightmares, but really it is just one nightmare that comes to me almost every night. It is a vivid image of a Synti machine ripping the top off their car as they tried to drive to safety. The nightmare would fill with their screams as the Synti ripped them apart. Sometimes, I would be there, screaming myself as I tried to stop the Synti in a Kodiak that would not respond to my commands. Mostly I would not be there at all, I would just watch it like a film spooling over and over until I woke up shouting and covered in sweat on the couch.
With incredible insight Jenn says: “You never checked did you? You thought that if you did not see the names than it would not be real. Oh God, Shawn. I’m so sorry.”
I collapse onto the chair. The pricking erupts into an ocean of pain. The emptiness is gone now, burned away completely. Part of me knows that it will never come back. The emptiness had been how I kept from admitting the truth. How I kept the pain from burrowing into my soul. Once it settled there it would scorch forever, making emptiness impossible. These thoughts are small ones against a background of abject misery. My mind despairs and quails against the pain. I realize that I am sobbing uncontrollably, my face in my hands. The pain wracks through me as I accept the reality of my loss. The greatest things in my life have been taken from me forever. I am also completely alone in this world now. These thoughts tear into my soul with violent force.
I notice a feminine smell as a pair of arms wrap around me. A few moments later I feel another hand rubbing me gently on the back. Lance adds his apology: “I’m sorry, Shawn.” Lance and Jenn’s companionship are like a soothing balm against the agony. It helps me start to deal with the horrible thoughts spinning through my head. I begin to grapple with the pain. It does not go away, but it grows less fierce as I come to grips with it. I know that it will be a part of my life forever, but tonight I have taken the first step to managing it. The sobs stop and I raise my head slowly and see my friends kneeling next to the chair on either side of me. They are looking at me with faces creased with worry. Thank God for good friends. I take a deep shuddering breath and croak: “Thank you.” I manage to force a smile and sound vaguely human as I add: “I’m sorry I forgot about dinner.”
Jenn starts to tell me something about there being no need for an apology. Lance, however, knows me better and with mock heat says: “You better be. We went all out. However, since I am known for my magnanimity I will forgive you if you come tomorrow night.” He grows serious. “You need to rejoin the land of the living, my friend. I know this sucks more than anything, but hiding in your house isn’t going to help. For whatever reason you’re still alive. Don’t let that mean nothing.” He holds out his fist and I bump it.
Jenn stands up and heads for the kitchen. I hear her open some of the cabinets and then the sound of running water. She comes back and hands me a pill and a glass of water. “Take this,” she says. “It will help you get a real night’s sleep. I can’t promise you won’t have any nightmares,” Again her intuition, “but you should be able to sleep through them.” Never argue with a medical professional. I take the pill and drink down the whole glass of water. The water tastes cool and cleansing as it passes through my mouth. How long had I been crying? I set the glass on the table and thank them again.
Lance stands up and I join him. “It’s time for us to go,” he says. I escort them to the door and open it for them. “Get some sleep, Shawn. I will see you tomorrow for dinner,” he says as they turn and head for their car.
I close the door and head for the couch. I have not been eating very much so already I can feel the pill working. I get my bedding from behind the couch and lay it out. Kicking off my shoes I lie down and pull the blanket over me. I need to deal with the pain better. I probe it; I dredge up memories of my family. It hurts like hell, and tears come. My last thoughts before sleep comes are almost all about Liz. What am I going to do without her?
The sun shines brightly through the blinds. It wakes me up slowly. I sit up groggily and look at my watch, Zero Eight Fifteen. Good, I still have enough time to get to work before Zero Nine. I stand and stretch. I am not sure whether or not I had the nightmare. I have slept beyond the point you remember your dreams. I head for the window and pull up the blinds. Outside the Sun has risen and casts its warm glow on the training areas of Pendleton. I look at the rolling hills. I hear sounds of life as the neighborhood wakes up and goes about its business.
The pain is with me, of course, but it is a dull thing. I turn my thoughts in a different direction. I think about the ships being built and 2nd Heavy Armored. I think about the Synti. I think about what I am going to do. Oddly, I remember my conversation with Heavy Combat Systems’ surgeon, Commander Morton, all those years ago. Then I had felt that with the new dangers facing humanity it would need people like me to fight for it. Today that feeling has grown into a certainty. I may have nothing left, but there are millions, no billions, of people that do have something left. I will not let what happened to me happen to them. As I look at the tranquil landscape outside I swear an oath to all of those people. As long as I can still draw breath I will fight for them. No matter what I have to face, no matter how far I have to go, I will not stop. Not until all of those people are safe. I think of Liz and the kids, but this time I embrace the pain those thoughts bring. I make another oath. I let that oath settle in the dark places of my soul. With new purpose I turn away from the window. You wanted war Synti. Fine. You shall have it. My Marines and I are coming. Vengeance shall be ours.
Epilogue
The Watcher who has come to be named Patience waits as calmly as his name would imply. He is expecting someone. Having existed since the Galaxy was young an hour, a year, a millennium, these all pass easily for him. Patience suspects he knows the reason for the appointment. Little happens anymore that he does not know about.
The expectation is met soon, well as much as that word has meaning for Patience. The Watcher named Adventure enters. He does not enter alone, Passion comes with him. Just as Patience expects. There has not been a Watcher called Relish in time beyond counting. Adventure and Passion are on the cusp of changing that.
Adventure speaks: “The motley ones have exceeded even our grandest predictions.”
Passion interjects: “You mean the Council’s predictions. It is just as you and I anticipated. As I stated when you came to me, the motley ones are the perfect vehicles for our goal.” Relish indeed.
Patience tempers their enthusiasm; really, Passion should show more of Wisdom’s influence: “The Arrow has not been irrevocably altered. Darkness still looms.”
A sensation, all but forgotten, rolls out from Passion over Patience. How could Patience keep being surprised by her? Relish? What an undeniable mistake. Passion does not lie on the cusp of something so simple. Passion is on the verge of … Joy. She speaks: “They have
only yet begun. Understand this now, Patience, the motley ones will shake the Galaxy down to its very atoms.” Passion returns to her nature and with great heat continues: “I, for one, am very much looking forward to it.”