Immediately Forgettable

Epilogue

In the movies, they build special prisons to hold super-powered criminals. Think Magneto's glass cell in X-Men, or Silence of the Lamb's Hannibal Lector's special mask to make him less...chompy.

Roderick King got the same treatment.

Buried deep in a CIA facility, down a long hallway adorned with King's pictures, is his lab, where he now does secret projects for the CIA in return for a lighter sentence and some perks. Posted outside are two guards, each with King's face stitched onto their sleeve, lest a blackout remove all electronic forms of King's face.

They nod to me as I pass. I pretend it is from some form of familiarity, but really it is just because they have been notified by the front desk of my arrival and are expecting me.

I enter through the thick doors and see the man himself, scanning blueprints at his desk. The desk is not nearly as ornate as his previous ones — in fact, it looks like any of those you would find in any government office. But one thing is still the same; the framed picture of his wife, who has stood by him through all of this.

And the reason I visit him today.

He looks up and squishes his average features in an attempt to remember me.

"It's Terry Laine," I say, and, like he always did, he shook his head and smirked at how dumb I am.

"I know who you are. You tend not to forget the person who doomed the world. Even when it's you."

"So...no hard feelings," I say with a smirk of my own. Then awkward silence.

Finally, King breaks it: "What do you want Mr. Laine?"

I motion toward the picture. "That. How do you...how do we get that?"

King lovingly looked at the picture. "They let me see her once a week. I can get more visits if this project I am working on does well for them, so I will make sure it does well for them."

"She...remembers you?"

"Always."

"How?"

King eyed me for a minute as if deciding if I were worthy of the secret. He looked at the picture again and chuckled to himself, deciding that she would want him to help me. And if she wanted it...

"They forget the face. The name. The...activities. All of it. But what they don't forget are the feelings. The kindness..."

I inadvertently chuckled at the man who wanted to murder a billion people mentioning "kindness," to my immediate regret.

"Don't laugh at me — you now why I wanted to do what needed to be done. Not for my own personal gain, but for the world that could have been. An exceptional world. A world you destroyed."

The awkward silence returned.

"Anyway, once she realized that I loved her and, most important, that she loved me, then she remembered me. And still does."

"The kindness," I repeated under my breath.

King nodded.

"Now off with you. I am anxious to get this project finished."

The Sun on my face felt good after being so far below ground in King's lab. King's words and the late summer warmth had me feeling pretty optimistic. I dug my phone out of my pocket and clicked on her name.

"Hi Jen. This is Terry Laine. I was hoping we could reschedule my tour for sometime this week...."