The Future Diary 2: Blood Of The Past

The Prize With A Twist

Dawson opened up the door the next morning. A man wearing a corduroy jacket was standing there, staring at him with deep, gray eyes.

"Hello Dawson," the man said. "May I come in?"

"Who are you?" asked Dawson.

"I believe your wife named me Miller," the angel said, walking into the lobby. "I am not given a name because I am not human."

"I assume you're a part of the game then?"

Miller smiled. "You're probably the only person who I have talked to who has figured that out without bubbling like a fish."

"Oh."

"Did you like my joke?"

"What joke?"

"Nevermind. I am not here to tell jokes."

Dawson scoffed, walking to the center of the room. "Then what are you here for?"

Miller walked into the study on the left side of the lobby, and took a seat on one of the leather couches.

"Sit," he insisted, and Dawson did. "Out of all the people I have met, you have the most understanding for the game. Why is that?"

Dawson swallowed. "I have no reason to care anymore. If the world is ending, so be it. There is no place here for me anymore."

"But what about your son?" asked Miller. "Do you not wish to spend more time with him?"

"Of course I do," Dawson said. "I'd do anything for him." He paused, sucking in a breath. "For her."

"So your only desire in this game is to continue for your family?"

"I guess so."

"Do you not wish to create a world of your design? To continue on the legacy of the universe, to make your mark on the eternal history?"

Dawson laughed, and Miller looked confused. "My mark has already been made. As a human I can't comprehend what greatness is beyond this life. In fact, I really don't want to."

"Material things lose their value once you transcend," Miller explained. "Nothing except your values and ideals leave a mark on the world you leave behind. Nothing except that matters when you leave this place. Because material things are destroyed eventually, but those that are intertwined with your mind and soul never leave."

"What are you saying?"

"You are grounded in your own reality, so you cannot seek a bigger picture. The God never designed this game to be about killing. Your rapid, rash solution will bring about the deaths of many. Your attempt to end this game may backfire."

"I don't care," Dawson said. "If I don't win, it's too bad. If I do, I'll do anything to change what has happened."

"You know very well how time is."

"I do. And as a God, I can change time."

Miller came closer. "Time is the essence of all reality, all existence, and it cannot be comprehended by anybody, not even Gods. But it is growing shorter, Dawson. There is a problem."

Dawson felt confused, even scared. "You're saying there is a problem with time?"

"I am afraid so. The simple concept of time is coming to an end in this reality. It has existed far too long, and the only way to save it is by doing this. You are not the first person to be in this situation. There have been many games before this one, but this timeline is coming to an end."

Dawson pressed his temples. "I can't think about this right now. I'm sorry."

"No matter," Miller replied. "Just know that when the time is up, you have to know what really matters in order to save it."

Miller stood up, and Dawson let him leave, as he walked into the kitchen. Jacob was setting each of the tables individually for the hundreds of guests that would soon come.

"Jacob, we need to talk."

"Oh no, am I in trouble?" Jacob asked nervously.

"No, it's fine. Just take a seat."

They each pulled out chairs around one of the tables, then sat down as the silence boomed in the dining hall as Dawson collected his thoughts.

"We've known each other how many years?"

"At least ten, sir."

"Drop the sir shit, it won't mean anything in a few days."

"Oh. Okay then."

"We've known each other ten years," Dawson continued, "and not once did I ever stop to ask you who you were. What you stood for."

"I always just thought we understood each other," Jacob replied. "You know me well, and I know you well."

"Knowing each other is such a loose term," Dawson said. "We'll never be inside each other's heads. We don't really know each other that well."

"What's your point?"

"I just never really asked what other people wanted," Dawson said somberly. "And just look at where it's gotten me. I have so much, yet nothing."

"It depends on how you look at it," Jacob said. "You can't always look at the world like it's falling apart."

Dawson sighed. "I guess you're right. But I guess I just have one question for you."

"Ask away."

"What do you think the meaning of life is?"

Jacob stopped. He thought for a long moment, staring at the tablecloth. At long last, he said, "I don't know."

Dawson blinked. "What do you mean? You have to have some idea."

Jacob shook his head. "People who say they have an idea what life means are lying. Life has so many possibilities, so many purposes, and they're all greater than anything we could imagine. It's different to everybody, and trying to put words to it would just make it unfair."

Dawson nodded. "Thank you." He stood up. "Thank you."

He walked out of the dining hall, and upstairs, as the sun began to set and clouds rolled in overhead, ready to unleash their snowy bounty onto the earth.