METANOIA

EPILOGUE

The ringing in his ears had stopped.

Barry woke up in a tiny room with no doors or windows. A dim cone of light above his head was the only source of illumination in the room. He was sitting on an uncomfortable chair, behind an old table made of an unfamiliar material. Alone.

He felt strangely relieved. It was finally over. He was dead.

He felt a strong hand on his shoulder as Seth materialized out of thin air behind him.

Barry wanted to punch him in the face, but he could hardly move.

He asked, "So what happens now?"

Seth didn't even flinch a muscle. It was as if he was now unaware of Barry's existence. Barry felt worthless. His apathy aggravated him. He opened his mouth to protest.

Seth powerfully said, "Silence."

They sat in silence for what seemed like hours for Barry; eventually, he became agitated and couldn't help himself.

"I was the chosen one; you said I was the chosen one. What was it all for? What do I win? There has to be some sort of reward for all of this."

Bluntly, Seth told him, "Nothing." His hatred for Barry was apparent in his features. Barry's heart sunk.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and placed it on the table. He flicked the lid with his index finger as his heavenly features started to glow. He was showing Barry his true grace. Frankly, he was kind of showing off to silence him, putting him in his place.

His voice changed as he spoke. It was an unearthly voice that echoed a thousand times over, not just in the room but inside Barry's head.

"What did you think being the chosen one meant?"

He pulled out a single cigarette from the pack and placed it on his lips. He just stared intently at the tip of it as a dim light flashed in his eyes. The cigarette was lit.

"I chose this cigarette, Barry; it is just one of the many from the pack. It doesn't matter which one I choose." He took a drag, and it was instantly consumed. "At the end of the day, it will serve its purpose. And I will be grateful for its use." When he exhaled, the entire room filled with the smoke. It was quite a sight to behold.

He took the butt from his lips and put it out on his palm. It didn't do any damage. He then flicked it aside.

Barry had his moment of clarity.

Being chosen was not for him; he was chosen the way someone picks a tool from a tool shed. Used and, when it outlived its usefulness, it is discarded. It is the person who does the choosing who is actually in control. Barry was never in control. Even in death, he was the slave.

Even if the universe has a plan, it isn't meant for simple human beings. There are things much grander out there.

That is the human condition, worthless in the grandness of the universe.

He was simply used.

He asked, "What happens now?"

Seth never answered him back.

It was as good an answer as any.