Fighting Against Total Entities

Chapter 7

There is this guy that I have been watching. For a few months now. I know you haven't noticed me watching, but I have. I'm sure you have noticed him too. He looks a bit like you. In a weird way. But never nearly as beautiful. Does it make you feel weird or uncomfortable to hear me say that?

Anyway, this male specimen has caught my attention. And not because he has done anything wrong. But just for the fact that he looks so happy. I rarely see it, so do not judge me for the fact that I am getting quite excited. Why don't you? Can't you see that in 1000 years or so, or maybe even less, humanity could evolve to the point where they they no longer need us? Doesn't that make you feel excited? I may be able to live without the stress-ugh, I mean duty-of humanity's need. The future looks good. Only for that, I would have to survive the next 700 years or so of your existence. The future dims slightly.

Pardon me for waiting a better accomplice.

Pardon me for wanting to do my calling.

Pardon me for disliking you.

There, I said it. I haven't yet uttered the words until this point, but here we are at this stage. But not even an emotion flickers over your face. Ha, funny.

Follow me. Let's go, I say. You do not get up. My eyebrows crease and I moan. This is not going down.

I grab your arm and pull you up, you don't even defend yourself. You behave like a rag doll. I take you by the throat and pull you towards the destination, and suddenly, we are there.

We go back to my old town again, this is where we are. The woman I love, the woman who loves me, welcomes me into her home again, claiming that her home is my home. Her home is our home. I say to her that you are my friend. But I am lying. You know it and so do I. We are not friends, we never really were. She is unsuspecting though. I mention to her that you are very quiet and she smiles at you. I see the flicker of a smile on your face. You are trying not to be rude. At least you have the barest minimum of manners.

As she hands us cups of tea, I don't know how it became so bad, I hear, and I realise she is speaking to me.

You left, she says, and everyone went mad. The little boys and girls, who are now grown forgot how to be kind. Everyone mourned your loss in different ways. The people in charge, the mayor and the police department, they became like dictators. They forgot democracy. They forgot that we, the people, we had a voice. I sigh as she tells me this. The teachers, she says, stopped teaching how to be a good citizen, and began to solely focus on the general lessons like history and mathematics. And what could we do? For years we were all caught up in depression and sadness that we didn't notice the damage that was done until it was too late.

There is no way to fix it, she says sadly. The people on top are too strong. But maybe now that you are back, they will listen. Maybe they will pay attention. She laughs and I realise she is old. She has grown out of youthfulness and into old age.

Do you know who became major? she asks. I shake my head. She laughs again, and again I see it.

The boy you really disliked, the one across the street! she exclaims.

Time stops. And I know that this is all my fault. Tears nearly spring out of my eyes. Then I let them. But instead of crying, I laugh. Really laugh. I howl, and you sit there, confusion etched on your face. I continue, the woman that always loved me joins in.

When we stop, I really take in the situation and wondered why I laughed. I shake my head.

Then suddenly, through the door that bursts open, comes the boy. The boy whom I have always disliked. Hate is such a strong word.

Speak of the devil.

You look up in horror like you know him. And then, everything sort of makes sense.

Oh no, is all I can think.

And for a moment, the world seems to fade away.

****

You are assigned to this for one thousand years. I don't think you will last that long though. But you are only to blame for that. I can't stress it enough. You play with our assignments like metal toys. You act as if they cannot be broken, nothing can go wrong. But they can. You never stayed to watch the children dying, or the old people go without care, or the teenagers that run away from home.

You're too scared to watch. And you shouldn't be. Away from that, you act cocky and proud; like you feel what you did was good.

I applaud you for your show.

I give you a standing ovation.

But when the curtains close and the show is over, I will be the only one clapping as you go. I will scream with joy as the next act begins. And even though a tear will slip down my cheek, I will brush it away and look forward to the next to come, and I will hope that he will be better than you. I hope that less will die.

But for now I will persevere and carry on. I will join in this show and take a part in the game you play.

Let the tournament begin.

We slip out into the night back at home, when all is quiet; this is when we usually complete our missions in the city we live in now. We see the drunkards playing a game of ring-a-ring-a-roses, and you laugh. It's not really funny. This is what you have let humanity become.

A pair of women walk down the street, barely passing us a glance as they discuss the worth of getting a third breast implant. I shake my head. When did humans get this self-absorbed?

You only leer at them. You have a roving eye, I notice, which you didn't have before. Your eyes drop to their backsides as they walk past us. You know I'm watching you, but like your attitude to everything else, you don't care.

I shrug.

Nothing new.

When I tell you about Henry the Eighth of England, you only laugh. You find it funny that such a man could kill his wives for the sake of a son. You should be ashamed. But you are not. The partner I had during Hernry's reign corrected the failure that entranced that country for years thereafter, but you put an end to the serenity and have caused so much trouble. When will you end this? When will you stop causing harm to those you were supposed to protect?

I drag my feet across the ground.

Then we hear a cry, from a window comes the sound of a sobbing child. Then a scream. And we know exactly who this is. Someone we both know that you refuse to help. We stand outside the house, in the now quiet street, and we just listen.

I've done my job with this child, but you refuse to do yours. And I hate this part of you. I hate it with a passion. I close my eyes and just hope inside me that you do something. But just like yesterday, and the day before that, you walk away.

I cry.

And it's the last straw.

Mission aborted.