The Lapse in Our Politics

Part 16: Finis

"And then... my grandpa woke up." The storyteller finished his story.

"Wow," Jess smiled in sheer excitement.

"Yeah," Johnson smirked. "That story was a freakin' novel."

"Okay, okay," the storyteller shrugged. "But it was originally my grandpa's dream. Sure, maybe he was a little crazy—"

"A little?" another muttered.

"Yet he still had a great m-moral sense. It was a dream my grandpa had, but it makes a perfect story. Just reflect for a second. The 'OoxpokloskiI' represented the corrupt politicians of the world, and the humans represented, well, everyone else!" the storyteller remarked.

Its overconfident gaze was met by its four friends' laughing expressions. In their eyes, it wasn't the storyteller's best story. Yet its absurdity was just enough to have made their stay bearable. It was a nice balance.

"Thank you for listening," the storyteller added quickly. "I-I really appreciate it."

The storyteller watched as its friends continued to laugh, as if the thirteen sessions were no more than silly fun. It watched them leave. Now, they'd go on with their lives, possibly tell the story to some others. But eventually, they would... forget.

The storyteller sighed miserably. Distraught and distracted, it looked after its friends mournfully.

Suddenly, under its breath, it muttered, "Now centuries later..." The storyteller sighed again.

It went outside, noting the world still looked slightly war torn, but in comparison was beautiful. It strolled down a path in the New York central park. It sits down on a bench. A few minutes later, it was joined by a mysterious man.

"Say," the newcomer said, not making eye contact with the storyteller. "Why not it grace you to allow your feelings trapped within to be allowed outside?" He was Henry.

The storyteller didn't respond.

"See now, you've told a wondrous tale for the ages. Are not you glad?" Henry asked looking more directly at it.

The storyteller explained, "Yes, I told the story. But I hate that the grandpa was fake. I loathe that the story I told... I hate that..." it sighed again, stopping. "But I know my friends won't believe the story I've told them. Henry," it turns to the stranger emotionally. "Why do I have to be so indirect! Why can't I just—"

"Because, it is not as I wished. Think on it, I plead, of what occurrences may become of this world! There be no need for yet another world war, now be it?"

Unsatisfied, but admittedly understanding the situation, the storyteller relented. It crossed its arms, and shook its head in the purest of lament.

"Why did you tell me in the first place, anyways?" it asked Henry.

"It was, by such luck, I could find someone as trusting and curious as myself. I knew, by mere glance, you were the one to tell. It killed me by remaining so silent, be I am the only of my kind remaining. Now humans teach humans, and I am left to hide."

A silence stretched for several heartbeats. Eventually Henry rose, mentioning he had another conundrum to deal with. The storyteller nodded.

"I leave you now, in trust. You will remain our secret cloaked, I can hope?"

"Yes," the storyteller muttered. It read the lines of dialogue. Henry grinned lightly, before quietly beginning his leave.

"Please, wait a second," the storyteller said, and caught Henry's attention. "There's just one last thing I wanted to ask... since I'm uncertain of the next time we'll meet. Y-You wouldn't happen to want to explain why you are still alive, and all the others of your kind are... gone?"

Henry's grin faded, and a very serious look replaced it. He cleared his throat.

"Kid, realize it or not, but anarchy prevails. Through no matter the apocalypse that may reign the world, no matter the demons who down their own kind, no matter the strongest leader or strongest government—insurrection and chaos will always remain prevalent. Order does not last forever." Henry took a moment to pause. "Which is why those eras of misery become the world. Sometimes a fresh start is needed. Although, I was unfortunately not there for the last, for I am now forced to await my final silence. Now, I bid you well, kid." With that, Henry walked out into the shadows, not so much as glancing at the storyteller. He left with the quietest of gestures.

And it remained pertinacious.

Character Explanations:

Doctor Ech- terrorist/ extremist

Henry- anarchy

Symbolic (the original Lead)- monarchy

Roy- democracy

Loy- dictatorship

Rice- revolutionary

Commander Richard- idealist

General Hopkins- militarist