All in Time

“Power. I had all of the power that this country could muster beneath my fingertips. Had I wanted to, I could have brought the planet to its knees with a press of a button. And, because this is what I had planned from the beginning, it would happen so. This world was corrupted already, what difference would it make to bring just one more disease into the populous? Would these men and women of the earth notice their friends dying slowly around them, falling in drones to the ground? What would become of the world’s kindness if those dwelling upon it were cast into the throes of insanity and illness? Human sense and logic thrown to the wayside, life would be nothing more than a mad and futile scramble for a cure to the epidemic plaguing their lives. And who was to stop me? With both the world and humanity writhing in pain beneath my feet, who was to give the order for my death? Who was to bring justice to my cruel desires of inhumanity? There was no one. And that button, as though it were a magnet to my soul and flesh, tempted and lured, goaded and guided my palm to rest upon its smooth, untarnished surface. This surface; which could bring down the world, pain and suffering crawling and spewing from its terror wrought path, which could take the lives of the innocent and the wicked alike, this which could end the impurities of the human race. Knowing the fate that I had decided for humanity, aware of the destruction that I would reign upon those who I may have loved previously, or who had loved me, and with the realization that committing this act was comparable to binding my soul with the chains of hell, I allowed my fingers to caress this sleek, circular mechanism. One swift and decisive motion brought the world to the edge of death as I pressed down.”

It began in the northern corner of America, spreading with haste to those opposing it. The apocalypse had come prematurely. Surely no one had suspected such an early threat to humanity as this one; for in fact we were to be destroyed by the very source of heat and light that brought us life and prosperity. But as the death count rose throughout the country, and panic spread, a madman sat and waited, watching and listening. Listening, for now he could hear the screams and the moans. Listening, for the dying wishes and requests of those who were damned with the whole of their souls, and cursed with the deteriorating mess of their bodies, echoed inside the caverns of his mind. Time ticked slowly on, as though the suffering was to be never ending, this torment never reaching a ceasefire. It was not war and hatred that began this horrid event. Neither was it the lust for power, nor the need for those things which every man desires. More than all else it was a path gone wrong. A soul who strayed from the trail which was predetermined for the better of society and civilization. One man gone wrong broke the chain, and set that perfect path aflame. One man shook the world with the palm of his hand. One man took all that this race had to offer, and shattered it.

The epidemic, which quickly twisted and transformed, morphing and shedding its previous skin for a new one, and taking the form of a worldwide pandemic, spared no time with such petty things as empathy and mercy. It took all; life, love and liberty alike. There was no freedom in this newly transformed world that his insanity had created, only survival and surrender. The difference between life and death was cowardice, and apathy. To be a coward was to run from the demons of the disease, and survive. Find the will to continue living, whether or not happiness was an option. Apathy took life, as quickly as the plague did itself. This monstrosity demolished emotion and the determination to move forward. An apathetic attitude took away the purpose to living, and attempting to recreate the good in what was left of this world, if there truly was a meaning to it doing so in the first place. And so time continued on, each aggressive stroke of the clock present to all, the chiming of an hour comparable to an eternity. The madman sat one his throne, awaiting the final life to be taken. The last step that this world would need to truly fade, was the end of one last existence. His own.

“I sat in that pristine metal room, awaiting for the plague to take my life as it had so many others. All others. I sat, and I waited, and I pondered upon the question of whether or not what I had done was wrong. True, life was a gift, but just as much so a burden to the earth. Had I not ridded this place of a pestilence? Was this world not a more peaceful and clean place with my deed done? This was my glory, my pride, my accomplishment. I needed not a reward but the tears and bloodshed of those who were impure. Now that human existence was to be wiped away, the world once again was clean.

Of course, the soil which we dwelled upon had been marred, scarred, perhaps never to heal.

We had done damage upon this ground that would never be repaired.

But the impurities of the human race would eventually be washed away with time, as all else had. “