Above It All

Above it All

The first day of the apocalypse was unremarkable. It was one of those days where you expect a clear sky, you wouldn't think of your email, you didn't care to double check that your doors were locked. It was simply mundane. Safe. Secure.

Then the world's heart began to burn. It came without fanfare or warning. Like casually flipping on the light switch when you enter your home. Most died immediately, those were the lucky ones. Corpses burst into flames like fireworks dotting the sky on the fourth of July, planes fell from the sky, doctors burned alongside patients, cars careened off the roads, political rivals reveled in their victories. The world nearly ended that day.

The others envied them. How could we not? Why must we live with a burning, thumping heart? With adrenaline cycling through our veins every day and night? With our passions unmet and our anger unfounded? With so much pain inside of us?

The disease took hold in many different ways, but a few common symptoms stood out. There were those that were so overcome with love and affection that they went mad with jealousy and remorse when their partners could not match their fervor. These few would eventually give in to the most common symptom, rage. Those enraged enacted a constant torrent of violence upon the world. They searched constantly for a target deserving of their anger. Unfortunately for the world, those that bore this undying hatred tended to be the ones with the most power. They were the ones with nuclear launch codes. Then there were the passionates, these individuals had nothing but art on their mind. They worked day and night on their creations, writing until their mind was numb, painting until their hands bled, making music until they became deaf. All chasing a perfection that didn't exist. Forever dissatisfied with their works.

One day a promise fell from the sky in the form of hundreds, maybe even thousands of flyers. Each was simple, stating that there was a cure for the disease and that it sat atop one specific tower. The tower was not spectacular in any way, just an ordinary skyscraper, perhaps once it was an office building. Like a pack of rabid dogs frothing at the mouth, humanity flocked to the tower.

People, if you could still call them that, clawed, pummeled, and bit each other to get closer to the tower. The hordes tripped over themselves in a frantic desperation. Once there, they scrambled to the top. Some used the elevators until they collapsed and many more died attempting to climb the snapped cords left behind. The stairwells were promising until they were consumed by the very flame that urged the frenzy upon them. People began to scale the sides of the building. Those that climbed quickly fell to the earth and became lifeless stairs for others to clamber upon to get one step closer to the top. 

I stood at the top of the tower. I hadn't gotten there using unnatural skill or cunning or even violence, I had simply been lucky. I was one of the first to find the tower and those that preceded me killed each other or were otherwise preoccupied with killing each other while I climbed to the top. 

From there I stood with the cure in my hand, looking down at the remains of humanity mindlessly assaulting one another for a prize that had already been claimed. I watched the crowds spill over each other like the rushing waves of the ocean. Those that combusted were merely the reflection of the sun skipping across the water's surface.

I looked at the key in my hand, the cure. I looked closely at humanity. I contemplated the nature of the locks that chained our hearts, that burned them so thoroughly that there was nothing left. I wondered what would happen if I unlocked just one. What would become of man? Would we lose all that had driven us, leaving only cold husks in our place? Or would we finally discover the true meaning of passion, love, or hate?