Outbreak

Remember this; we died an extravagantly horrible, spectacular death. There is really nothing to regret. The holiday was a good plan all along.

I realized that my eyes start to get blurry as bites of her petite mouth start to hollow out my neck, jagging nerves and veins that God had applied as should. There is nothing that can be done. My wife, I see also has already been succumbed by the mountain that is horrendous living corpses, ready to take a bite out of everything that moves.

No, she is still alive. She crouches out. She is moving. She is starting to stand, wiggly at first but she manages to balance out. She jumps out to me with mouth opened wide. Teeth showing like no one in the world cares.

We had not considered that someday we would see the sight of our daughter to be like this, ripped apart by undeads, soaked in blood, her eyes red and a bite out of her leg, dead. People say the most horrible thing a child can do to his or her parents is to die before them. It is.

For some millisecond I can say for sure that everything pauses, not moving and silent and all. Then she still got yanked out like nobody’s business.

But they got her. They most certainly do as I lose my grip on her little hand. Turns out one of the rotting hands succeeded in getting his way inside the room.

I told my wife to stay put behind the door, that way no one of them could get in. She cried, but the swarm did not let that be a reason for them to stop. We had just met our child again and that could only mean we need to try harder to survive.

I used all of my power to bash the corpses’ head in, screaming words I had hoped never could my child hear from me. But this is an emergency. This is the very moment that I need all the things in life which could accelerate my adrenaline to the point of no return. I tightened my fist on her little hands swearing to never let go again.

She got in, but not with the very same man who had brought her to us. He got engulfed by the horde of pale-skinned dead men we wished we did not meet. No time for generous concern, the rest of the deads have already seen us and charged their way in.

We cannot get out. We can only wait for them to clear their way in themselves. If we get out of the room, there would be no other safe place to go.

My daughter screamed to us as the elevator opens. Turns out they already are here, but they brought company we had hoped not being there at all. Three or four were even already coming to us.

In our surprise I whacked him back to dead. I hoped he is for we cannot check him for it neither to afford to move him back outside for it is very dangerous. I shouted at my wife to keep her eyes on the body at all time.

A bell boy already dead suddenly wakes up. He turned similar to those outside.

A police was with my daughter and they are moving up the skyscraper to us. She was playing by herself down on the beach by the time we realized there is this outbreak.

The condition now is that we are somewhere high up a sky-scraping hotel, in a nice room which was supposed to be the huge relaxing room we rented that would deem our usual living quarter to be very poorly designed. Yet again, it has now been a little bathed in blood.

What we had not thought out of the God-forsaken plan to take a break out of our daily life was that there would be an outbreak of living corpses near where we are supposed to calm our nerves. The holiday was supposed to be a very good plan.

The Most Beautiful Entity That is You

They said God has finally come. They said God came down from outer space with his flying saucer all shining and bright.

They said God is an alien. They said it answers everything that was formerly only clouded in mystery.

They said it was majestic. They said everything felt like they had stopped as that bright light fell down; as if it brought hope, as if all dreams are to be realized.

Shortly after God had landed, leaders of the world assemble to see Him. After what seemed to be an hour had been going for their meeting, the leaders of the world announced His coming to their own respective part of the world. Apparently, they believed He is the real deal.

So were people. People were excited, people asked questions. People asked if heaven maybe then an interplanetary object or perhaps a planet. People asked what is living about. People asked what religion is the most righteous, what are malicious.

He did not answer. What He said then was only that He came in peace. He said that love brings salvation. He said there is no right or wrong in teachings of love. He said that there is no reason people should be divided because of differences in how they approach love and compassion. He said that faith should only be instilled in love and nothing else.

People were happy. People believed in God’s words.

God and His companions travel all over the world in their flying saucer teaching words of love and solving problems the world faces. It really was as if all prayer and hope are realized.

People asked again, why is He doing this? To this He answered the reason being that all of them are the most beautiful entities there ever are.

God had touched people’s heart and people embraced Him as their source of salvation.

Then came the news.

Religions state that none in their books and teachings are there any evidence that God would come now, nor would it come down on the place He descended then. There is nothing that would support the fact that the alien is God.

Religions stated He is a fraud. Religions stated He is a heretic and people of His kind should be vanquished for good.

And it caused great debate. There is no fact which is to be related to Him descending down to earth at this time, but what is there to say it should not be? Religions stated their sacred books said so, but when is the right time not one could decide for sure. Those that had have different answers and viewpoints to the question and not one is there any evidence or reason it should be.

There was only dead-end. It was either believing God or believing religions.

But, defying their religions? It is about some time later that people come back to religions because in them their faith was once in. Both teaches love, but one does not have anything to support He is the righteous way.

In the end no one believed God. Everyone came back to their religions and prayed for their sins to be erased. The first law of almost all religion is for there to be no false idol but its own and only God. So there be no one who is not afraid of being carried away by some prophet from nowhere.

So God left. In the dead of one night, everyone forced God to return back to where he came from. Sure His companions got angry but God told not to.

As long as there is love there is nothing to be worried about, He said.

But, where is the love?

God answered there will come time it be realized. Just not now. It is too early for mankind yet to understand.

And God turned back to His flying saucer. God said there would come time He be back again to this planet where His most beautiful entities are. Until then, he continued, stay to strive for the love, He said, like in the ending of every one of his preaches.

But people already hate Him; saying not to listen to Him the false prophet, saying every one of His words might lead them against their religion. People threw rocks to the saucer in attempt to make Him go away faster.

To this, people agreed to be a right thing to do. People believe using force to react against what not in their faith to be right. It has always been like that, people believe vanquishing what is different from them to be a righteous thing to do.

And then there never was any word of God anymore.

People continue to believe in their religions. Sky, is still blue, and the sun still rises and sets respectively on the east and west.

I kind of hope that the sky would turn dark and the earth would shatter in two when everyone turned their back on God. Then again, nothing happened up to the point in which this was finished. I guess, God still loves us all, and that is a good thing, maybe.

I kind of can understand how people would choose their religion compared to someone with no background who preaches about love; I mean, it is kind of easy to accept God as long as it is in their faith, but if it is to defy the initial faith that one has, how would one react? Not everyone could go against the logic that their mindset was built on, that would require a tremendous amount of leap of faith to do.

What is it about force that some people use that to walk on with their faith? It is not just about the big things, there always are small kind of force, be it physical or just emotional pressure that happen around us and the diversity of beliefs that are our religions. I guess it is just a kind of superior complex and we can only be glad that not everyone is like that.

*Laugh* I ran out of things to write down.

Well, we may never know whether or not that alien who called himself “God” was the true Omnipotent Being who created life as it is. I guess, the best possible thing to do right now might be to just continue to strive for the love as every positive belief tells us.

People continue to believe in their religions. Sky, is still blue, and the sun still rises and sets respectively on the east and west.

I guess, and this is just my random guessing, we will still be here for another long time. That is good, right?

Right?

The Dream

Dimmer switch. The room must have dimmer switch and it must be around 40% power of a regular lamp. There is also a fireplace which sometimes lets out a crackle, which also lights the room with color similar to the lamp the room has.

He cannot say for sure what the fragrance the room is enveloped in. It is a kind of perfume that is neither too strong nor too weak, the type where the sweet lingers but after a long time does not hurt your nose.

There is also a vague sound of music from somewhere that reverberates quite nicely to the acoustics of the room. It is Scarborough Fair by Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel. It has been repeated for quite some time now like there is no other song in the playlist but that one.

Parsley, sage. Rosemary and thyme.

He knew quite some time has passed after he got into the room, but he cannot be sure how long. Being in the room for that exact long time drive his head a little numb and pretty much difficult to think straight.

“So, how are you feeling?”

Another man has been sitting on a leather sofa near where he lies down. That other man holds in his hand a pen and a writing pad, while his legs he crossed european-style to ease his writing. He seemed to have a complexion to straighten his glasses more time than necessary.

“Just remember to be relaxed. You do not need to feel like you are in a hurry to say anything. You can tell me just whatever it is in your mind and we maybe can move from that to help with your condition.”

The man feels a little like paralyzed in his position but now he remembers where he is and what he is doing there.

“Recently I have been having this dream,” he started, “it really felt very vivid, like I can feel all there are in it, emotion and taste and everything.”

“Some dreams are like that. It is just that they are usually a result of a desire you hold strong enough to disturb your unconscious mental state.”

“I have those, but these are very different. They were lucid. They were almost all too true that when I woke up the next day it took me an increasing amount of time to realize which one is reality and which one is dream.”

“It might possibly be due to depression. Have these past few weeks been hard on you, like, have your job been going wrong, or has situation at home grown unlike how it should be?”

“I don’t really feel like that at all. If there was any, it should really not be something I would possibly forget as quick.”

The other man looks up from his writing pad to the man. Clearly, this is a point of interest for him.

The song on the background is repeated again. Parsley, sage. Rosemary and thyme.

“The thing is, after every experience of the dream, I could feel that my real self is losing portion of itself to the dream. It is like my memory is being erased at an alarming accelerating speed,” the man continued, “they started off a regular dream, but after every repetition it gets more vivid all the while my real life starts to blur.”

“Can you tell me what kind of dream it is? You can start off with what the dream is, then its correlation to you in any way, or how you usually feel in it.”

“In those dreams, I am a butterfly.”

“A butterfly?” the other man wrote on his writing pad.

“Yes, a typical butterfly. Not unique, not interesting, not anything. I act also like any other your usual run-off-the-mill butterfly.”

“What did you do in those dreams?”

“I don’t know, really. I guess, in terms of an insect, I am trying to live, to survive. I just flutter around, flap my wings, collecting nectar from flowers I know of, evading predators; birds, men.”

“Any variation?”

“No, not really. If I have to say, those dreams were more static than what happens in this reality. I tried to think this feeling is an effect of the dream, which I have said to you before, becoming more vivid after every time I dreamed the dream.”

“Reality is usually the duller one compared to dream, especially those that are caused by strong desire. That, however, does not work the same way if the way you see reality is as something you find hard time to adapt to, like, things are all happening too fast and you could not keep up, or if everything outside of you cause you nothing but fear. Tell me, have you any case of xenophobia before? Have you ever felt like everything foreign to you is fearful?”

“Not that I could think of. I never really need any help with my mind before this case.”

“So, not being xenophobic,” the other man seemed to think a little before making a motion on his writing pad with his pen. “Any other thing you can mention to me?”

The man fell silent. He realized after some time that the song in the background has been repeated yet again. Parsley, sage. Rosemary and thyme.

“Maybe I should tell you how the dream changed me; that part about it being more vivid after every repetition?”

“Go on,” this also seemed to interest the other man.

He exhaled a long breath and starts to talk.

“I feel like all the more I dream, the more I know how to act like a butterfly; how to flap my wings and fly, how to suck nectar with my straw-like mouth, how to hide from common predators. That, however, comes in cost that I forgot parts of my life.”

“It certainly is strange that you can remember so much out of your dream. We usually forget almost our entire dream by some few minutes after we wake up.”

“Is there anything you can do to help me?”

The other man fixes the position of his glasses for the third time after the man noticed his complexion now. “I certainly can give you prescription to certain relaxant drug. What I can mostly catch from what you said is that there is this depression and distress in reacting against your dream. This may be due to what most people would call mid-life crisis on older men of certain age as you. Then again, there is this other hypothesis I can think of.”

He waits for a few minutes before putting down his glasses. By this time, he is sure that his patient had already succumbed to partial unconsciousness. He starts a metronome he has near him to sway and lets out this ticking sound that repeats itself every second.

“Let’s say that you can sleep well now, you can close your eyes freely and you do not need to be afraid of anything.”

The man does not react upon hearing the other man’s whisper.

“Close your eyes slowly, try to imagine anything nice in your head, but not too powerful nor exciting as to disturb you from your sleep. Breathe in a momentum slowly; inhale a long breath, exhale a longer breath. Repeat. Repeat.”

The man followed what the other man said exactly and now begin to lose his linger on himself.

Parsley, sage. Rosemary and thyme.

“What I need to tell you now, is that this is most probably another one of your dream. What this maybe is, is that in your head you got reality and dream inverted,” the other man said slowly, “now you are going to close your eyes and when you wake up, you will be a whole new individual to this one you are now.”

A whole new individual.

Parsley, sage. Rosemary and thyme.

“Inhale longer, exhale longer. Repeat. Repeat.”

The other man kept saying those words over and over in a slow momentum that it helps not to let him stay awake. His vision gone dark and slowly but sure he drifted off to slumber.

Parsley, sage. Rosemary and thyme.

When he wakes up, he spreads his wings and flaps and flutters away.

Jupiter’s Child

It took a little bravery for the boy to open the door to the room at the very end of the corridor. It has been quite a while ever since the last time he last checked the room and the lamp in it seemed to have been lit since.

His family should have slept by that time. It was just that he could not that he still is conscious late that night. There would not be anyone being in that room at that time and would he or she be still in for the long time mentioned. Even if there is, that should not be normal. That should be something he needs to check.

Maybe it was not bravery that led him to open the door, which on its sides reveal an orange-yellowish radiance of neon light. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was just that he did not have any choice that he finally led himself to it the second time he checked on the room.

His hand is now already at the cold steel handle of the door. It was still a little after winter and early into spring that the temperature is still a little bit extreme. His hand could not work on it. There was a little fear still in him. But it is the kind of fear that even thought it pleaded not to, a certain part of it still wanted to. The kind of fear curiosity has.

A short, sudden determination leads him to hear a click. The door is surely not locked from the inside, that he can be sure as the door is already opening on him.

Inhale. Exhale. Take a long, deep breath. Calm yourself, he thought to himself.

It may be that behind the door there was already someone waiting for him. Someone short with a funny accent on his voice with feet similar to horse, or goat, or maybe it was a talking rabbit. Whatever he is, maybe he was chosen to help the man in a war in a world where reality does not work as it is in the boy’s own world. Maybe he was a hero mentioned in a prophecy somewhere there and he was now to be brought, to be reborn under some kind of giant tree, or in some kind of velvet-colored crystal.

What if it were like that. What should the boy do?

He could reason not to go because his parents would be worried. But what if he replied that time does not work the same way in both worlds; what if he said an eternity in that other world would only equal to an hour here?

What if he said Einstein’s theory where the man explained about the aging of someone traveling at a speed comparable to light, a state that specific someone could be said to be traveling in time, is to be completely different from his colleagues in normal state does not work in this situation?

Well, the boy would not understand any about that, let alone given the equation this genius man formed in the thought that some time later such possibility might occur. The boy might agree to go with the strange man even without that last explanation he gave.

There is no reason for him to worry. The strange man can only be from a different dimension, a strange world formerly unrelated to the boy’s. He heard his parents once said that only reality can be scary, only reality can potentially be feared to an extent it could not be called curiosity.

It should be safe like this. Movies he had seen taught the boy that everything like such can only lead to an exhilarating adventure.

He is ready to be that sort of person. He is ready to be brave. He opened the door while holding his breath.

…

Yet there was no one inside. The room was still the same room he used every day. He peed in there and switched the lamp off. In a way, he felt relieved that the toilet is still the same room as any other day.

The boy went into the kitchen and from the refrigerator he takes out a milk container and pours the creamy white liquid into a mug before heating it in a microwave.

The boy did not know that he left a little milk stain between his lips and his nose as he walks toward his bedroom. It was not before he sees his reflection on a mirror in his room that he wiped it off clean.

Not knowing what to do but wait for the Sandman to come by its own, he opened a curtain in his room along with the window it covered and looked outside to the clearing sky.

It already is a little to morning and the sky has on it a light bluish tone cascading to a somewhat darker color.

He can already see Mars up there in the sky. Not too clear, but he can be sure that it is not the sun or the moon and yet not as small as stars so it should be Mars. His teacher had once explained about how it sometimes can be seen at dusk with its orange-red color.

The boy decided he did not like Mars at all then, but he forgot all about it when light breezes at times blow into his room the afternoon that very same day. It is quite a downpour out there.

6 – Forum

18.30 Mike Mancini

I believe that believing supernatural power at work, be it good or bad, in this day and age shows how much people have not evolved from the way men were from long ago.

I believe what we are encountering is most possibly nothing more than your usual mentally unstable serial killer now laughing his ass off somewhere in vicinity waiting for another chance to strike.

This is not laughing matter that we see a killer as providence of God. I believe, seeing what we are in now, that we are completely helpless one way or another.

Mankind is bound to perish and it is happening fast with no chance on escaping.

19.15 John Wroblewski

God is back. He will judge, and he will smite all who are his enemies.

Personally, I think all who cannot believe in a (or more) significant being(s) are those who cannot see the blessing that is their life.

This kind of people can only say how miserable their lives are and how every little good thing there remains are only there because of only their own doing and no one else. You know why? That is just so they can be acknowledged by others, the very people they scorn because they “cannot live according to their own and would not take up responsibilities if ever something is wrong with life.”

You know what? That just shows that they do not have the ability to blend in with their peers. That just emphasizes how sad they truly are inside.

19.30 James Jenkins

Speaking of believing, I believe we are starting off talking about the two murders in Northern Glory these past few days and their relationship to the graffiti on the said church. This is not about people and their view on life, so I believe we already are veering off-topic for quite some time.

Then again, what is with all the flaming about the two sides of view there are? Is anyone’s belief really others’ problem?

It doesn’t hurt to just not care about others’ belief, mainly speaking if the said matter would only arouse anger and hate between the said individuals.

Realistically speaking, there is no benefit nor loss to one if another’s doings are wrong. As long as you do good, you get good.

As long as you yourself feel secure about your relationship with who it is you adhere to, why should you care about anyone else’s?

By the way, who can say that one’s belief is the only good path there is?

21.00 Saturday

I dream of a world where girls do not act all high and mighty just because they possess the beauty society demands.

I dream about a world where hip-hop does not reign as the “it” genre of songs.

I dream about a world where drugs are legal as long as it induces creativity in art.

I dream about a perfect world where everyone thinks what they are doing are wrong, thus they cannot feel like the most righteous there is.

I f*cking dream about a world where 9-years old do not say “f*ck” out loud to just everyone.

22.25 John Scribner

Faith is the strongest shelter, yet is the shakiest to manipulate.

In my point of view, there really is a big indifference about whether the murder is done by people or an act of Godly vengeance. As long as it helps in cleaning the world off certain problematic matter, there really is no use in throwing a fit over the case.

And, I believe, we still are veering off-topic.

23.00 Jordan Whitmore

If these were acts of God, why would he kill the officer who was investigating the case of Derringer’s murder?

Now, I do not believe there is no God; I even have my belief based on a certain religion. But, relating the “I AM BACK” on the church wall and the strange happenings in its surrounding area is plain pulling things over too far. What if it is not interrelated in the first place, like what if it is only a certain publicity stunt of the said church to amass more people to embrace the belief it is offering?

Now I know I am overthinking and perhaps a little too offensive to certain group of people, but seeing how most people instantly rage over some inplausible happening, generally those related to beliefs, really fed me up.

I wish more people are thinking for themselves for once, and not just take what sh*t other people are giving them.

5 – Revelation

This is no coincidence, me bloodied and somebody out there related to my case found dead.

“This must be your doing.”

“What? No. I never did anything bad, Langley, you need to learn to trust people more.”

He seems to know what I am going to say that he quickly continued his words before mine.

“How would you know this and that are related in the first place? You hold no evidence of any of it, don’t you?”

“It must be related. It all point to just that.”

“You are just being overly sensitive, Langley. Relax.”

“How could I relax? I have two heads on me now. The court would like it very much to find any way to torture me to the last of me.”

“Calm down now. Retrace your steps. Do you remember anything by yesterday night?”

“How could I? I slept all the time.”

“You are forgetting what you need to do, Langley. Focus. Try to remember what had happened.”

This is not going anywhere, talking to him. The last time I did it turned out very likely ugly.

“I am not sure about this, but hypothetically speaking, I think you are forgetting more things than you are supposed to.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Members of the authorities points out today that both the murders most possibly are related seeing that both are killed using the same method of murder. What can be said for sure now is that this is no work of an amateur killer for both murder leave not enough trace and evidence to be worked out with at the moment.”

“How could you do that?” I asked him as the television screen turns to advertisement.

“How would I know? You did it.”

“How could I do it? I am not even conscious at that possible moment.”

“I don’t know, but it is more likely you who did it compared to me. That I am sure,” it took him awhile before he chuckled again, “you know, God does miracles, I think everyone says. A complete hokum, but there really are some things that cannot be explained in life by science alone.”

Back to the God joke.

“You know what, Langley? You should actually be proud that none who suffered loss from the case has found their way to you.”

Wait. There is something wrong.

“I thought at first you said I didn’t do it.”

Commencing silence for probably five seconds.

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

“No, I was just pointing you to where we are at the matter now.”

…

“So, I really have killed two persons now, right?”

“The first time you got it right.”

“You are insane.”

A smirk, “Fool, idiot, insane? I don’t care what you call me, Langley. After all, those are all just the words you use to call the infinitesimal of population who cannot comply with general inception.”

The television came back with more news. I suppose it is special for usually there is not much news to be broadcasted during the little time between morning and afternoon news.

I suppose this is for Gullible, and I am right.

I AM BACK.

It was written on a church wall, the one I had been in two nights before. Today, this time, the church is crowded by people of Northern Glory where the church stood to see the words written with what I hope red paint.

People are in awe, people are excited, the newscaster said. Some said the words are made up by irresponsible men, some believed the words were real; that even if it is not God himself, it is someone who is working under His guidance to cleanse the country off misdeeds.

God, they said, is the way.

God, they said, is bringing retribution.

And people are wishing for miracles. People pray.

Me? I can see myself in front of me. I can see Gullible. Smirking, smiling like how I imagined he would.

Gullible is getting truer every moment passing.

4 – Coincidence

He said to me he is me, but for the sake of making things simple, he told me to just call him “You” or “Gullible”.

C. Gullible Jones. He doesn’t say what the “C.” Is for but I also am not the type to look it up. Especially in this situation I am in.

Nevertheless, I sleep easy. I do not know why but I lose consciousness as soon as both my eyelids went closed.

It is not supposed to be like that. Yesterday is not like that. I still felt the uneasiness I have ever since the chain of events starts to happen.

Today is different, tonight is different. Perhaps I am just tired. Perhaps these all had been more than what I can handle and my body, overheated, turned off forcefully.

Or, maybe when I wake up I will find all of it is just a long dream. Maybe when I wake up I will be back to my boring breakfast, to my boring job, to my boring apartment, to my boring everyday.

Not.

I woke up just like every day. I walked through my messy room to the bathroom to wash my face.

It felt so strange that the water I am using to wash my face is crimson red.

And the faucet.

And my face in the mirror.

I am bloody as hell.

“It took you long enough to realize it, Langley,” Gullible said, his voice the same as yesterday.

“What happened?” a little frantic, I quickly wash everything. I wash my hands, I wash my face, I wash the faucet.

I let myself off my clothes, bloodied.

Hurriedly I went in my shower naked. Steam from the hot water coming out of the shower can be seen under the flourescent lamp my bath has on its ceiling.

“Your wish is realized, Langley. That is what has happened,” Gullible chuckled, “You prayed and God replied, simple as that.”

This is just a dream. Not.

I did not say anything up until I get myself off shower. I put on a long-sleeved white shirt and jeans and I sit down before the television again like yesterday. I turned it on.

An ad depicting something I could not understand, which in the end said the name of the brand being advertised. I do not understand what it is actually saying.

I just know that the product is what being shown, but the plot, it is messy and does not depict anything which can be related to the product. But, no, this is not my problem right now.

“Is it already time for the news?”

I looked up to the clock. No, it is not.

“Tell me what happened,” I said now, losing patience.

“I don’t know anything. I just can tell you that last night you went out somewhere and came back like when you woke up today.”

“You murdered someone again?”

“No, you. I report.”

“Who is it?”

“How should I know?”

This is not going anywhere.

“Look, we just know that you went out and someone lost blood. It may also be yours, right? Nobody can say anything about it for now. And anyway, there is a chance this may help you out of your problem. You prayed last night like I told you, right?”

“Murdering another person is not the answer.”

“What if it coincidentally helps you out of your misery. Like, somebody in charge of your case died out of it?”

“It is still not the answer. This is crazy.”

“Crazy, you say?” Gullible’s voice become louder, “most people think this is deranged. Most people do, Langley. Then again, when they did it, it could only feel like the most fucking righteous thing. People are just that kind of animal.”

What?

Mid-day. The news went on.

Stevenson Carlysle died today. His body was found cold in his office with a deformed face. He is like how Derringer’s body was found the day before yesterday.

And I, I happened to be in a case Carlysle is in charge of as an officer of the law.

God.

I can imagine his face now, what probably is his face, that C. Gullible Jones, smiling maliciously.

Sitting on my seat, not far from me who is sitting on my bed. He said, “Look. Coincidence?”

3 – Dialogue

I cannot believe my ears. There was a voice just now, I am sure of it. But where, who, how?

The sound was much too detailed to have come from outside of the room.

What was it that he said again?

Don’t you understand, Langley? You are now God to them all, was what the voice said.

The sound is right inside my head.

“Okay, you are not God. I was just messing with your head.”

Buzzing noise from the television set is still there, then again this voice in my head feels like the only sound there is. Like it restrained all other sound which is not mine.

“How are you feeling after last night? Pretty good?” he said again, “people in that area should be praising you by now.”

“Are you the one who killed the man?”

Believe it or not, thinking it through in a flash, it felt like the most obvious thing to have happened to be asked; I somehow created another personality in me that goes around killing other people during nightime. Quite like the tale of Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde by the very same R. L. Stevenson.

Godsend.

But, how can I use the very same reason if I were to defense myself under law? I could pledge mental illness.

It scared me how this all seems so reasonable in my state of mind.

 “Why would I have killed the man? You killed the man. Wait, then again I am you,” a short pause, “but, no, still it is you who killed the man.”

“But, why would I?”

“An altruistic momentary lapse of reasoning? A vengeance; A judgement?” he goes on with his words about me being God.

“Why are you suddenly in my head, then?”

“You want reason? There is no reason in life, Langley. Hasn’t the past 29 years taught you that?”

What?

“No, it has to be you. Why else would this happen to me now? Why are you suddenly there in my head?”

“People call it ‘coincidence’, Langley. To me, it is also ‘coincidence’. A sudden heavy outburst of something usually results in unexpected happening.”

“But surely there is nothing like developing another personality right after it.”

“You can be quite surprised in what coincidence can do to you, Langley.”

I am out of words. I do not know what to say now. This is like a dream.

I throw myself to bed, thick white bedsheet spread.

“What should I do now?”

The police should already be moving on with the case. Evidences, eyewitnesses. It would not take long before someone knock down my door and arrest me.

“What do you want? Them to come crawling down and worship you?”

“I want this all to be just a dream; I want to wake up tomorrow and you are gone and there is no dead body anywhere associated with me. I want this all to end.”

I can hear a chuckle of evil laughter going in my head.

“You want this all to end? Focus, Langley, concentrate. Poof, it’s erased just like that. You just need to focus, Langley. Pray.”

Vor

So, this is the universe?

This is pretty much it, yes.

But, what will we say to them all if the universe is just like this?

We are going to say to them that the universe is just like this. What else? People want to know, and we are given the duty to seek and show.

But people do not. People have lost their interest in the universe long ago. There are more in world alone that people still haven’t figured out what and how to.

What else in world? what we all haven’t figured out yet are just those within mankind alone; how so resources be shared equally and none high or low complain, how so those same resources can be used again and again without fear of how it is finite, how so the world be without its global social paranoia, how so in all its plurality the world can become singular. The one and the same infinite cycle.

That is why we still seek. That is why the search cannot end like this.

But people have lost their interest in universe long ago, you said.

That is why we still seek. Billions have been lost to discover in vast universe the answer to all within the world, not to mention to incite the same interest all over again.

Billions spent to try to answer the question on how to save billions. The infinite cycle.

But what else can we do? This is the final frontier and the final frontier is supposed to answer the rest of them all we have not get up to now. That is why this is the final frontier.

The very same billions could just be used to save the now unsaveable.

But the very same billions could be used to save the rest, the now majority.

That all for a question of chance? For this answer now?

But what if we get something and that saves the majority?

That all for proving that chance exists? For this answer now?

That is why we cannot stop here. The search must still go on. What if there is more to the universe than what we have been able to perceive now? What if there is an end we missed which holds all the answer we have been seeking up to now?

And lose more billions? Will people want that;  to have their billions lost to prove a theory?

…

People love certainties. People love losing something for a definite bigger return. People. Do not. Like this.

…

…

So, this is the universe?

This is pretty much it, yes.

What will we say to them all if the universe is just like this?

We are going to say to them all that the universe is just like this. What else?

Won’t this cause riots all over?

It would.

Is there no way we escape the riots, the extinction?

Men will survive. We are going to find ways how to so there is no reason any to be afraid. We always have, we always will. We are, human, we are just that kind of creature. We are not going to lose this all. We will survive. We are going to just be all right.

Back in Those Days: Remembrance

“This is a journey!”

I opened my eyes, we are on top of some buildings, I suppose; me and him. The sun right now is a little towards setting on the west horizon as it radiates its orange color to its surrounding blue sky. Me, I somehow are just following the man from behind, crossing all these rooftop of buildings.

Why am I here? I do not know. What am I doing here? I do not know.

A little unbalanced, he lost his footings which made me close my eyes as I scream a little bit to myself. I feel an ache, one which made me realize I have walked these steps one time in my life.

“I am okay,” he said, regaining his steps as he walks again forward, “let’s keep walking, it is already not too far from here.”

I open my eyes, seeing him a little bit further from me than where he was before. Seeing him more accurately now, I realize all this; we, the both of us now, are back in those days, somewhere in it.

On his face he doesn’t have all these wrinkles he has in the future. His hair is also still that dark color it once was. More importantly, he still has his proud, young smile he once bore as a teenager right about to face the real world, brimming with the optimism he once had.

Seeing that one smile now, I feel now the exact thing as I felt from back then; a little braver, a little more encouraged to face the thing we are going to approach. I am in high hopes.

Then again, what is it we are going to face? I cannot recall anything about it now. I guess it’s better to just continue on following him for now.

On the way he started humming “Somedays” by Audioslave, which like Tesla’s “Love Song”, he also said just a part of it is interesting. It actually is quite a nice song, also like my opinion about Tesla’s, but there sure is this part in each song that really seems to get to us quite deeply and there is no objecting that.

I, myself, somehow is quite content just seeing his face from behind. As I said so to myself, it has been so long since I last see this face which captivates me up to those days in the future.

There is this subtle something I cannot define which attracts people to him, it seems. He is a self-defined antisocial, or so I supposed he said to me about himself from the first time we met. He doesn’t like talking to others about what generally is being talked about around him.

He does not like new stuff. We somehow at times talked about this; most of his music and movie collection are all so dated that nobody talks about it anymore. Then again, he is so persistent on saying that anything new is never better than the past that most of the times I surrender to his words just like that. This, I suppose, is one of those qualities of him that made him an unpopular person, a jerk even, to his peers.

He, however, as I have said before, has this subtle something in which people are attracted to him. Although not all are affected, he made himself quite a number of good friends along his life which he said so himself he can be proud about despite his selective attitude towards everything in the world. A giant paradox, he is, in truth as well as in fiction.

I looked to him again, standing on top of the roofs on one of his feet as another he lifts a little up to his belly. He starts to hum a refrain to “Africa” by Toto. The momentum by then is really fitting, that somehow a wind blows hard enough to lift part of his hair a reasonably long time, creating an adventurous look to him which you usually see in movies.

He especially likes songs which contain in its title a name of either a place or a person. Those of a person’s name, he said he can intricately feel what the songwriter felt as he wrote the lyrics. Those of places’ name, he said he felt a little of those rumored homecoming feeling, even though he never were in one of those places in his life. I remembered one time after listening to Kla Project’s “Yogyakarta”, he said he is going to go there one day by himself just to feel the mixed feelings the songwriter once had for the place. He also said that to this one song he is humming, but this promise he made to himself he never realized until his old age.

I guess that is just what is to be expected; I mean, not all dreams come true, to some it may all never happened in the end. But, then again, is he, was he, someone who keeps promises? He is never a man who like to make promises.

He prefer not to keep people’s hopes up before it happened; a part of him is just like that. As long as he can, he would not promise anything to anyone, even me, it seems.

Remembering this now, I feel how I felt back then. Pretty much crushed, but a little hoping after all.

A part easily associated to Weather Report’s “Birdland” is hummed to end, followed by some long passage from Yellowjacket’s “Homecoming”. I suppose I prefer the two of this more than those in his tendency to metal songs on his younger age. They are, according to him, a purer form of jazz compared to those in general listening, and he, as I think at some time I have said, generally do things, even those he prefers to like, on its most perfect form as possible; a die-hard genuine perfectionist on the things he wanted to hone.

“Here we are,” he turned back to me, opens his hands as if to show me everything behind him. Smiling, he says again, “Look at all this.”

I looked up. The vast, open clear sky. It is now mostly colored orange, as if the blue within is either been eaten by the setting sun on the west horizon or grows darker in intensity, showing wide spectrum of color now on it all; as if the expanse of the sky is nothing but giant canvas painted by this otherworldly power.

I held my breath a little bit. How could I have forgotten this? This wide open twilight sky he shows that one day. That undefinable mixed feeling of hope, sadness, happiness, romance. That fundamental feeling of art that few mortal artist could grasp.

He told me to sit down as he also sits to whatever surface it is he is formerly stepping on. The both of us paused for a moment there. Then again, I think he is just not speaking to let me settle to the scenery.

“Is it to your liking?”

“It is okay, I think.”

“Really, just like that?” he chuckled a bit, “I know you don’t feel like that at all, you know. I know you are quite perplexed by this, don’t you?”

Quite a big talker, he is, back in those days. To those people he knows best, he can usually be described as quirky, creative, or lots disturbing. To those stranger to him, he always seems to be the calm and composed nerd he actually is as well. He is quite a paradoxical existence, even then.

“Actually, I want to say something to you,” here he seemed more serious than ever, “about what you said the other day.”

What did I say the other day?

We sat by in silence for a few moments, me gripping my own mind back to reality. A light breeze of wind blows to my face, creating this feeling of comfort in me. I drew a long breath, held it in for quite some time before I let it out again, feeling a little bit asphyxiated.

“What did I say?” I slowly said again, requestioning what I had asked in mind.

“You know,” he seemed to have difficulties in saying what it is, “about where this relationship is going.”

I slipped out a little “oh” from my lips unconsciously, not knowing what is there to say. It was perhaps that he waited for me to say a few words for he doesn’t say anything but instead just facing his eyes toward mine’s view.

Another empty moment of silence. Awkward, really.

I remember this, this is some days after that one time I asked him the question out of curiosity. As I think I have said before, he is one man who doesn’t like to promise anyone anything; that is, not excluding me in it. It actually arose from his indecisive nature, I think, always unable to make up one’s mind and therefore cannot live up to everyone’s expectation on the spot.

This actually has resulted in a lot of bad things, this trait of him. Then again, this is him and I see no possibility of him changing it nor do I really need it too. At times, this characteristic of his sure has its comical side to observe.

“I thought about it for already quite some time now,” he opened again.

I waited. He chuckled a little again as he shrugged his hair seeing my face.

“And I, however hard I try to, couldn’t make up my mind after all.”

As I have suspected.

He is now lost at words again. Another light breeze hits our face again as the setting sun slightly blinded my eyes from afar.

“However, again,” he stood up, his hair slightly blown by the passing breeze, “I guess we are all right.”

I looked up to him who just smiled to this.

“I do not hope you will believe whatever it is I say. I do not hope you trust whatever it is I decide on. I know that I am not the best man there is to trust nor in any other redeeming qualities there are you might sought for, but, we are all right, I guess.”

He drew in a long breath.

“What I can promise you for now is this; that at this moment we are in now, I still have in me a love deep enough for I hope you can believe in me. There is no momentary lapse in me in which I would doubt you and I hope you as well. I cannot promise you anything in the future, I just hope you, like me, could just spend our remaining days facing forward without any care what is there to happen; to just believe in this simple thing we’ve built and cherished…”

I put one of my finger on his rambling lips, “You finished?”

“Ah, well…” I can say for sure he is dumbfounded.

“Idiot.”

He is a little taller than me, that is why my face is only on his chest as I hugged him with both of my hands. I can feel my eyes get warmer and hot and it felt like little needles are piercing my eyes.

Not knowing what to do, he just lets me in that position without saying anything. Is his face blushing now? His heartbeats are accelerating. I hope he is, I do not want to be the only one like this.

True, that day gave me this warm, heavy feeling I simply could not describe in short. It is like, everything in me melted, and I do not care for everything which will happen then. God, now I too am at lost for words.

It is just a part of a memory, but I felt back what I remember I had back then; like the first time I got to see the twilight sky.

That day, back in those days, I decided to trust him forever forward, and I never look back.