Beyond the Boundaries

15

15 - The Congress of the New Society

"Talking to dead people?" They might say, still teasing me for my "childlike" imagination. Luke thought to himself. My father isn't dead. He still lives, little do they know. I don't care anymore. I know this'll go somewhere. To whoever, is the question.

Luke grabbed a pen and put a paper in front of him.

For years, I've found it hard to be formal. What was the point? I WAS talking to a dead man, but I can't say that. I already see him too much to the point where I think he's real.

I'm the ruler of everything, but... Not for long, unfortunately. It's taken me a lot of confidence to do this with myself, though I fear those small children are right. Without help, this "new society" plan will only crumble beneath the ruins of what is soon inevitable for Utopia. I've felt this... Rupture... For a while now.

Luke tapped the pen on the paper, making tiny dots in the middle of the paper. He crumbled it up and threw it away, grabbing another one from a pile of a lot of papers. Luke was prepared for this moment—he knew he would scrap away many papers, because when it came to his father—his dead father—he had to be perfect. In fear that if he didn't live up to his image, he'd face the consequences.

Little does he know, he failed long ago. When the thought of the "new society" plan even came into his head.

First, Luke signed his name in almost perfect cursive, and stared at the writing for a moment. He titled his head, turning the paper around at different angles—trying to check and see if it was absolutely perfect.

It wasn't. And it never would be.

Luke scrapped the paper and threw it into the corner, where his assistant's body would've been if he hadn't already been gone.

It had been a few days since the sudden explosion, and Luke realized this was a terrorist attack. His perfect world would crumble if he didn't have backup, hence why he was making backup.

Luke decided to hand the useless investigation to those below the social ladder, who were almost dying of boredom of doing nothing. People were earning the same amount of money by actually having fun—partying with friends, family, or even going somewhere more private like a suite.

For the last couple of days, the investigation has been constantly updating, and a stack of other papers sat on Luke's desk regarding the investigation. Luke didn't know what to do with them, and would probably throw them out in a few days, pretending like he had read every single last bit. Pretending like he even cared.

At least he knew it wasn't his own son, or his new enemy turned friend, Jayden. Luke sees everything, like a hawk searching for prey in the sky. He even saw his own daughter roll down on a hill to waters below, and all he could do was sit, and smirk.

One person he knew everything, that was stubborn and didn't care about their future—was gone. What was to cry about?

Luke didn't want to do anything to his son. Luke still saw that spark in him that his father saw in him. It was small, but could still be ignited to a fire. The same fire Luke finds himself burning in. Success, riches, and least importantly smiles from the entirety of Utopia. Or in other words—gluttony, envy, and greed.

Luke still felt that if he reached his son much more than he had done that day, then he could toss that firewood into Kyrell, and light him up. Luke knew that Kyrell was a success from day one. He wasn't as arrogant as Elizabeth was, nor rebellious. He followed directions, and would always stay on task. Only if Luke had told Elizabeth to get rid of herself earlier, maybe Kyrell wouldn't be in this rabbit hole. This dilemma, having to choose which side he's going to be on.