AVENIR

Chapter 6: A Treasure From the Past

I carefully pick up the paper. Dust is covering it, however, I can make out the words Wednesday, June 6, 1832. A note from Enjolras, or a death date? I have to know if this is real.

The dust is too thick...I can't tell what is written. I try rubbing it off. Dust flies up in my face, in my fair, in my nose and mouth. I cough - much too loudly, and quickly smother my cough in my sleeve. My sleeve is also covered in dust, only making my hacking worse and all the more obvious.

After I contain myself, I continue to wipe off the dust. I realize that I have uncovered a signature. It reads, simply,

I stare at the signature. The paper is torn, so the only worlds visible are the date - Wednesday, June 6, 1832 - and Enjolras's signature. Tears welling in my eyes, I stroke the "E" in Enjolras.

FLASH!!! There is a sudden burst of light - I scream! - and everything goes black...

I wake up, and find myself holding in my hand what appears to be a piece of golden-colored metal, shaped into the letter E. It somehow looks familiar. My mind suddenly flashes back to my brother, to an all-too-familiar time when we were sitting, warming ourselves by a fire we made, when he suddenly disappeared into thin air. I tried to recall every detail from that night.

He had talked of another world...I watched him pull something strange out of his pocket. It looked like...maybe a piece of metal? I watched him run his hands slowly over it, until it began to glow. I heard him murmur a strange language, so soft I barely knew if he had opened his mouth. A golden light surrounded him... and then he was gone.

A golden light...

A strange piece of metal...that shone like gold...

I look back to the piece of paper, and at the signature, which now reads:

The E is missing. Somehow, I have extracted a magical artifact from an old speech or letter of Enjolras himself! My hands are shaking. Now what, brother? I think. Why is this happening, Enjolras? Is this where you wanted me to end up, Javert? What is wrong with me?

I slowly get to my feet, my hands continuing to shake. I suddenly lose my grip on Enjolras's artifact. The letter E breaks loose, clatters to the floor, and breaks cleanly in half, as I watch in horror.

I have broken history. I have destroyed all that is left of a warrior whose origin was unknown. I bend down and pick up the halves of the E. It is broken, like my spirit. I push the halves together, of course they don't seal. Do I expect some magic dust from the floor to come and seal it? Of course not. I believed that I was holding something of significance – a magical object related to Enjolras which I know I saw my brother hold many years ago and disappeared – but perhaps it was only a shiny wrapper of a piece of food as he left me alone in the alleyway for a minute or two to check for guards. Perhaps no magic took place that night, and my eyes had deceived me.

But still...some part of me wants to believe in the magic that brought this artifact into my hands, all these centuries later.

Thinking of the centuries makes me think of what Enjolras said: "Citizens, the nineteenth century is great, but the twentieth century will be happy. Then, there will be nothing more like the history of old, we shall no longer, as to-day, have to fear a conquest, an invasion, a usurpation, a rivalry of nations, arms in hand, an interruption of civilization...we shall no longer have to fear famine... prostitution arising from distress, misery from the failure of work and the scaffold and the sword, and battles and the ruffianism of chance in the forest of events. One might almost say: There will be no more events. We shall be happy."

"We shall be happy..." I repeat. I am certainly not happy...instead, I am bitter. The very century in which I find myself living is a disgrace. Enjolras and his students died for nothing. Nothing but for the next line of tyrants to rise out of their ashes. The students died for us. They died for all of us. They died for me. I shudder and start to weep. The golden E shines with a supernatural light. I hold its broken pieces in my two hands. Broken, just like our world. No one but the broken pieces of the E hears my tears. Time passes, and still I silently weep.

Still thinking of the abaissé, I am beside myself. "What do I do now, Enjolras? I want to believe. I wish I could believe..." I have spoken aloud.

The E halves begin to glow. I do not notice; I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. The glow radiates out – some magic force field of golden light surrounds me. I feel warm, and comforted. Eyes still closed, my tears fade away, as the golden spirals from the E halves calm me.

Silence. Stillness.

Eyes still closed, I listen. Horse hooves clatter outside the window. I hear people laughing outside.

I open my eyes, and I am in a different world.