Awakening

by Hayden Pearton

  *

  With Maloch's always useful head-lamps and Kingston's multi-use solar staff, the were able to eat in the dying light. Dinner was a mixture of roots and leftover meat, which had come from the gracious cellar-stores of Wareven. After the meal, Kingston sat back against his rolled up greatcoat and gestured for Alza and Barsch to do the same. Maloch, who had been placed on watch duty, listened quietly just beyond the edge of the circle of light.

  “In my day,” the elderly hermit began, “we were still being taught history in classrooms, and the threat of pollution had only just been realised. It was a year after the Creed Event, in which the largest city in the world, Pure, was destroyed in its entirety. The nations of the world were panicking, and thus they came together and proposed a plan. It was called the First Venetian Treaty, and it called for world peace.”

  Kingston watched Barsch’s mouth open in slow motion. He knew what the youth was going to say. “I know, it sounds foolish, but that’s just an indication of how bad things were becoming. We had fought amongst ourselves since mankind had learnt how to sharpen a stick and poke it into his neighbour. But the pollution changed everything. We had a common enemy, a foe that followed no tenets, that had no reason to its actions. The Treaty was simple and to the point: stop fighting or die. Every country was to immediately stop all active conflicts, and all exclusive trade agreements were made illegal.”

  Kingston’s eyes took on a faraway look and a small smile formed on his wrinkled face. “Over night, the world became a peaceful place, and war was a thing of the past. The Treaty also insured that the smartest and most capable men in the world would be able to gather together and think up a solution to the rising pollution problem. Many plans were drawn up, including Project Phoenix, Project Eden and Project Jericho, which all ultimately ended in failure. At the same time, a global organization, U.N.O.E, was created to oversee all anti-pollution developments. At first, things went well. Progress was made and the people became hopeful that the surge of pollutants would be stopped before the year was out.”

  Kingston looked to the shining sky and breathed a deep sigh. Remembering such things always brought back his memories of his time in the South Wars. It had been a dark time for him, and he had returned home a shell of his former self. Pressing on through the bad memories, he continued in his historic recount, “As I was saying, things were going well at first. However, it soon became apparent that whatever the scientists were doing, it wasn't enough. Enormous swathes of land were being corrupted by the unstoppable onslaught, and people were dying in the thousands. Sickness, infertility, mutation, blindness, and death were the killing tools of the encroaching pollution clouds, which blighted the land wherever they formed. Soon, the nations began to close themselves off, and small wars broke out over unpolluted lands. To their credit, U.N.O.E tried to intervene, and keep the peace, but eventually they too fell prey to anarchy and chaos.”

  The sadness was plain on his face now. Barsch had grown up in the aftermath of the war, so he had some idea of the atrocities that had taken place. However, he had never known the world before the fall. For a moment he wondered which was better: to live without knowing what had been lost, or to witness it first-hand. The former, he decided, a few seconds later.

  Kingston continued, not noticing Barsch’s deep thoughts, “The world was consumed by a war, one unlike anything it had ever seen. Nation fought nation, city fought city, and man fought man. There were no rules, no mercy. It was kill or be killed, and everyone wanted the same thing: fertile land. The South Wars lasted for almost two decades, until at long last nature intervened and put an end to the foolishness of humanity. Without their realizing it, their weapons and warheads had destroyed what little they had had left, leaving nothing but devastation. The city before us is but one of hundreds to suffer such a fate.”

  For the first time, Barsch's voice piped up, “What did they do then? The scientists I mean.” He already knew the answer, but for some reason he had to hear Kingston say it. The tale had to be told.

  Kingston looked at him with pity in his eyes and replied, “They did what any reasonable adult would do when faced with the end of their world: they panicked. After the South Wars, the brutalized remnants of U.N.O.E got together and made the Second Venetian Treaty. Much like the first, it promised to end all conflicts, not that there was an army left on the planet that could wage another war. Instead of trying to accomplish a dozen of plans, they put all of their hope into the Cryogenesis Plan.”

  “So your government, instead of trying harder to fix the problem, gave up and ran away to their safe and comfy Stations.” It took Barsch a moment to realise that Alza had spoken, and another to realise that there was disdain in her voice. He turned to look at her, but her face was hidden in shadow, and only her otherworldly eyes were discernible in the darkness.

  “What would you have done then?” asked Barsch, not wanting to miss an opportunity to encourage her to talk.

  Alza took a step into the light, which both heightened and exaggerated her doll-like features at the same time. She looked like a beautiful princess, but at the same time her oddly coloured hair and enchanting powers made her look alien. Barsch knew that he was staring, but if Alza took offence, she did not show it. Instead, she said, “If it were up to me, I would have stayed and tried everything, until either the pollution was gone, or humanity was no more.”

  Kingston chose that moment to intervene, saying, “I know that what we did was wrong, but at the time, we simply could not see any other alternative. If they had listened to me, instead of shunning my work and demanding my exile, perhaps we would not be in this situation today.”

  Barsch reached over and placed a strong hand on the old man's shoulder, whilst saying, “It's not your fault, Kingston. People are stubborn, but at the same time they are easily led. Give a nation a strong leader, and they will do whatever he wants, whether it's for good or not. The nations were just looking for the easy way out, and in the end, that's what the Cryogenesis plan was.”

  “You say some wise things for one so young m'boy, but I still feel partially responsible. You say that people follow a strong man, but it's equally true that they will rebel if given the chance. If I had stayed and fought the plan, instead of running away to my exile, perhaps there would be more people like me. Maybe we would have found a solution that would bring joy to everyone. Unfortunately, we cannot live in a world of 'if I had' or 'I could have done something'. We have to live with the choices we make, whether we regret them later or not.”

  Kingston's solar staff took that moment to dim, a sign of its failing battery. In an authoritative, no-nonsense voice, he firmly stated, “Alright, that's enough history for one night. We have a long day ahead of us, so I suggest we get some sleep. Good night.”

  Regret was still showing on the hermit’s aged features as he laid down to rest. After putting away his things, Barsch followed suit. Alza looked at her strange companions for a while, her thoughts a jumbled, nonsensical mess. The girl who had found her way to that glade, the one who had decided to follow after a pair of strangers, felt a lifetime away. Who had she been? Why had she been alone when she met Barsch? If all the humans had been frozen five years before her birth, where had she come from? Did she have a family? Perhaps they were out there, somewhere, desperately searching for their missing daughter? Or perhaps they were dead, and she was alone in the world. She could not decide which thought was more terrifying. After a time, she too felt the pulls of fatigue, and sleep claimed her.