Jack Hawk had a theory. He believed somewhere on a parallel world, there was a version of himself that had made every right choice in his life and had no failings, a 'perfect' Jack. he wanted to find out how and why. So he set out to find him, against the advice of everyone he asked.
Where Jack was from, traveling form dimension to dimension was as easy as taking a bus.In fact, it was exactly the same, as you took a bus from world to world as we would take one city to city.
At first, he tried all the conventional worlds that everybody visited. Dinosaur Planet, Opposite world, Giant Universe. He found nothing he didn't expect to find, namely, a Dino-Jack, Evil-Goatee-Jack and humongo-Jack (nice guys, but not what he was looking for).
So he started to travel at random, not looking to see which bus he boarded and getting off between stops at unregistered intervals. He knew he was getting closer now, since first he found a muscley but otherwise identical Jack in the first world he stopped (while certainly not flabby, Jack was certainly not ripped the way Muscley Jack was). Next came a smarter and healthier Jack, who told him he had been on a similar journey and to turn back now as the results would only disappoint, but he refused to explain why and so Jack carried on. He searched and he searched, and every version of himself he met was stronger, smarter and better than he, but still with a flaw or two.
Finally, after he had been searching for almost 6 months (people where Jack comes from don't work, either, just consider the nature of the universe) he found a world unlike any other. There was a Jack here who was ruler of the whole planet. He had been elected into power and had an impossible 100% approval rating. Everyone he spoke to said how much they loved him and how everything he did was perfect.
He had done it! He had found his perfect self. This President-Jack was everything he had been looking for. He simply had to meet him, and all his questions would be answered.
It was simple matter. Once he arrived at the mansion of his President counterpart, he was immediately granted admission. He was told he was expected. He smiled to himself. The man really did know everything.
He found the President standing in his office, his back to him, gazing out the window.
"Hello, Jack," he said as he reached the centre of the room.
"Uh, hi Mr.President," Jack answered nervously. He hadn't expected him to be so big! He was easily 8 feet tall and had impossibly huge muscles. His hair was a perfect blond and very soothing to the eyes.
"Which Earth are you from?"
"Which Earth? Uh, I..."
"Pronounce this word: B-U-T-T-E-R-C-U-P."
"Uh, buttercup."
"Earth 957431. Interesting. No one from that far down the list has ever made it to see me."
"I don't understand."
"You see, all the parallel earths, or dimensions if you prefer, are ranked by how closely they align to complete perfection. Your universe is 957,431 times more flawed and fragmented than the perfect Earth. Up until now, only Jacks from the first 1 000 Earths have ever made it here."
"Well, it was kind of dumb luck. I just kept randomly hopping until I found this place. What Earth is this, anyhow?"
President Jack turned and smiled wanly.
"Earth 1."
The man was dazzlingly beautiful. Jack felt his heart skip a beat. Even though he must be roughly the same age as Jack, he looked at least twenty years younger. He clearly had won the genetic jackpot. In short, he was perfect. Folding his arms behind his back, he asked
"So what can I do for you, my friend?"
Jack was still hypnotized by his counterpart's handsomeness. He speaking, but all he got out was "Errrr, ahhh"
The President sighed deeply.
"Let me guess, you want to know how I did it. How I became the man I am today and you did not. What you can do to be like me?"
Jack managed a nod.
"Well, I'm afraid you won't like the answer. The truth is nothing. I have never made a wrong decision and cannot make a wrong decision. Everything about me is perfect by design. I am impossibly perfect and can never be otherwise. And you should be thankful you are not, too."
Jack regained his composure somewhat.
"What? That's crazy! You're perfect! You said so yourself!"
"Yes, but at what cost? I have made this planet and universe over in my own image. There is total equality, peace and prosperity for all and no sickness or aging. Now what do I do?"
"You keep it up!"
"I have created a flawless self-perpetuating system. It has no need of me or any other to maintain. I have experienced everything there is to experience, know everything there is to know. If you have no flaws you have nothing left to strive for and eventually your life has no meaning. This is the dilemma I face now. Even if I go from world to world and make them as perfect as this place, I will eventually run out and there will be nothing left for me to do. I am immortal or else I would end it now. Please leave me be now, Jack. I think you have what you came for."
And so the President turned around again and stared out the window. Jack, completely stunned by what he had heard, stumbled out of the room and the house.
Once outside, he pulled out a bus schedule to see when the next bus was arriving that could take him home. He had seen enough.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Friday, April 2, 2010
A very special Easter
Jesus was hung on the cross for days in wretched pain before he finally died. Immediately, he felt his spirit rise up into the heavens until he was floating in the clouds. Still he went up and up until finally he was completely enveloped in soft fluffy clouds. Suddenly, the clouds parted exactly in the middle and a black dot the size of a fist appeared.
Jesus smiled. So his father was appearing to him again at last!
"Father! I've returned!"
The shape started to ripple and shake like a spherical pond.
And then, a booming voice:
"YOU ARE NOT MY SON!"
It hurt his ears to hear. It was loud and changed pitch and tone constantly and made him feel nauseous. His eyes didn't help things as he watched the ball change shape rapidly from a llama to a watermelon to a chair to a book and dozens of other things all in the blink of an eye. he couldn't be sure but he thought he saw himself, too, for a second. tasting the bile rising in his mouth he said:
"What do you mean? You've been appearing to me my whole life in visions and with angels!"
"I HAVE NO ANGELS! YOU WERE TRICKED! THE DEVIL IS YOUR MASTER!"
"Bu-but I have served you my whole life!"
"NO!!! YOU HAVE SERVED LUCIFER! HE SENT 'ANGELS' AND GAVE YOU VISIONS TO LEAD PEOPLE ASTRAY AND INTO HIS ARMS!"
"I have done no such thing! I preach to people about tolerance and worship!"
"YES. FOR NOW. ULTIMATELY PEOPLE WILL USE YOU TO JUSTIFY HORRIBLE ATROCITIES IN YOUR NAME AND MINE! I GAVE YOU THE COMMANDMENT! WHY IS IT SO HARD FOR YOU TO FOLLOW IT?"
"I have followed the ten commandments all my life!"
"NOT COMMANDMENTS! COMMANDMENT! WHY DO YOU THINK IT IS CALLED THE GOLDEN RULE? DO UNTO OTHERS AS YOU WOULD HAVE THEM DO UNTO YOU! I CREATED EXISTENCE AND GAVE YOU ALL FREE WILL AND ONE RULE TO FOLLOW AND LEFT YOU ALONE, AND ALL YOU HUMANS DO IS DISOBEY WITH HATRED, INTOLERANCE AND MURDER FOR THOSE DIFFERENT FROM THEMSELVES!"
Jesus paled.
"You mean I've been led astray? The teachings of Moses.."
"A LIE! A SHAM! WHY WOULD I SPEAK TO A SINGLE MAN WHEN I COULD SPEAK TO EVERYONE ALL AT ONCE IF I SO CHOSE! I AM INTERESTED IN SEEING WHAT YOU DO WITHOUT MY INTERFERENCE OR I WOULD GIVE YOU NO CHOICE AT ALL!"
Jesus looked positively sickly now.
"Moses isn't a prophet either?"
"YOU AREN'T LISTENING! THEY ARE ALL DELUDED MADMEN LED ASTRAY BY THE DEVIL! THE ANGELS YOU SPEAK OF ARE DEMONS IN DISGUISE! THEY TOLD YOU WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR AND MADE YOUR SO-CALLED MIRACLES HAPPEN!"
Tears were streaming down Jesus' face now.
"What happens to me now?"
"YOU GAVE YOUR SOUL TO THE DEVIL THE MOMENT YOU BEGAN TO SPREAD HIS LIES AND MISINFORMATION. YOU WILL RESIDE IN HIS REALM FOR ETERNITY."
"But, I never to..I mean, I meant my whole life to be in your service!"
"YES. BUT IT WAS NOT. MANY DEATHS WILL BE CAUSED IN YOUR NAME AND I CANNOT, I WILL NOT FORGIVE IT. FAREWELL."
With that Jesus fell, screaming, in the eternal fiery pits of hell. In exchange for less pain and suffering in his afterlife, Jesus agreed to appear three days after his death to his apostles to spread his message of 'love'. For the evil he had helped to create and then propagate with his 'resurrection', he was made to live in hell forever. He wept at the irony.
*********************************************************************
Several hundred years later, Mohammed rose to the heavens and up into the clouds. GOD sighed as he saw him approach.
"NOT ANOTHER ONE!"
Jesus smiled. So his father was appearing to him again at last!
"Father! I've returned!"
The shape started to ripple and shake like a spherical pond.
And then, a booming voice:
"YOU ARE NOT MY SON!"
It hurt his ears to hear. It was loud and changed pitch and tone constantly and made him feel nauseous. His eyes didn't help things as he watched the ball change shape rapidly from a llama to a watermelon to a chair to a book and dozens of other things all in the blink of an eye. he couldn't be sure but he thought he saw himself, too, for a second. tasting the bile rising in his mouth he said:
"What do you mean? You've been appearing to me my whole life in visions and with angels!"
"I HAVE NO ANGELS! YOU WERE TRICKED! THE DEVIL IS YOUR MASTER!"
"Bu-but I have served you my whole life!"
"NO!!! YOU HAVE SERVED LUCIFER! HE SENT 'ANGELS' AND GAVE YOU VISIONS TO LEAD PEOPLE ASTRAY AND INTO HIS ARMS!"
"I have done no such thing! I preach to people about tolerance and worship!"
"YES. FOR NOW. ULTIMATELY PEOPLE WILL USE YOU TO JUSTIFY HORRIBLE ATROCITIES IN YOUR NAME AND MINE! I GAVE YOU THE COMMANDMENT! WHY IS IT SO HARD FOR YOU TO FOLLOW IT?"
"I have followed the ten commandments all my life!"
"NOT COMMANDMENTS! COMMANDMENT! WHY DO YOU THINK IT IS CALLED THE GOLDEN RULE? DO UNTO OTHERS AS YOU WOULD HAVE THEM DO UNTO YOU! I CREATED EXISTENCE AND GAVE YOU ALL FREE WILL AND ONE RULE TO FOLLOW AND LEFT YOU ALONE, AND ALL YOU HUMANS DO IS DISOBEY WITH HATRED, INTOLERANCE AND MURDER FOR THOSE DIFFERENT FROM THEMSELVES!"
Jesus paled.
"You mean I've been led astray? The teachings of Moses.."
"A LIE! A SHAM! WHY WOULD I SPEAK TO A SINGLE MAN WHEN I COULD SPEAK TO EVERYONE ALL AT ONCE IF I SO CHOSE! I AM INTERESTED IN SEEING WHAT YOU DO WITHOUT MY INTERFERENCE OR I WOULD GIVE YOU NO CHOICE AT ALL!"
Jesus looked positively sickly now.
"Moses isn't a prophet either?"
"YOU AREN'T LISTENING! THEY ARE ALL DELUDED MADMEN LED ASTRAY BY THE DEVIL! THE ANGELS YOU SPEAK OF ARE DEMONS IN DISGUISE! THEY TOLD YOU WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR AND MADE YOUR SO-CALLED MIRACLES HAPPEN!"
Tears were streaming down Jesus' face now.
"What happens to me now?"
"YOU GAVE YOUR SOUL TO THE DEVIL THE MOMENT YOU BEGAN TO SPREAD HIS LIES AND MISINFORMATION. YOU WILL RESIDE IN HIS REALM FOR ETERNITY."
"But, I never to..I mean, I meant my whole life to be in your service!"
"YES. BUT IT WAS NOT. MANY DEATHS WILL BE CAUSED IN YOUR NAME AND I CANNOT, I WILL NOT FORGIVE IT. FAREWELL."
With that Jesus fell, screaming, in the eternal fiery pits of hell. In exchange for less pain and suffering in his afterlife, Jesus agreed to appear three days after his death to his apostles to spread his message of 'love'. For the evil he had helped to create and then propagate with his 'resurrection', he was made to live in hell forever. He wept at the irony.
*********************************************************************
Several hundred years later, Mohammed rose to the heavens and up into the clouds. GOD sighed as he saw him approach.
"NOT ANOTHER ONE!"
The circle
Once upon a time, all animals and plants could talk, just like humans. All three groups lived in harmony, accepting the fact that for any of them to exist some of them would need to die so the others could all live. The old and infirm plants would become food for the animals. Animals would then become food for humans, as in those days all animals were herbivores and all humans carnivores. So they maintained a fairly static and peaceful population with a perfect circle of life. Well, almost perfect.
Eventually, a jealous and greedy human king got sick of all the sharing and wanted everything for himself. So he came up with a plan to turn the plants and animals against one another. He would feed some of the animals meat until they developed a taste for it, then train them to hunt their brethren. If the animals that still ate plants didn't like subjugation, they would sick these new animal-eating animals upon them until their wills were broken. As a final act of consolidation, humans would take up eating plants as well, so they would learn to fall in line.
The plan went off perfectly. The new meat eaters took to eating their kin with a gusto, and the terrified plant eaters soon fell into line. The plants were quickly dominated as well, as the quickly swelling human population began to cultivate them for food as well. The humans were undisputed masters of the planet. For a time.
It started with the new meat eaters. Although now accustomed to eating meat, they began to realize humans would make as tasty a snack as an animal and turned on them in droves. Rebellion spread, and the herbivores started to fight back too, learning to fight off attackers or to use their wits or legs to escape. Plants developed poisons and hallucinogens to prevent easy consumption. Everything became chaos as the different sides all waged war against one another.
Finally, after a particularly vicious battle, the humans all surrendered. The plants, carnivores and herbivores all got together to discuss terms. After a long discussion, they finally came to an agreement. Plants and animals would work together as they had before, talking and debating and sacrificing to feed one another. The humans, as instigators of the whole mess to begin with, were barred from this agreement. No longer would the plants and animals talk to them, considering them a hostile party. If they tried to eat any of them, they would fight back, or be attacked or poisoned. Humanity had to struggle and fight just to survive, all alone now. They were cast out.
Throughout human history, we have tried to subjugate the natural world to our whims. This is revenge for how we were spurned so long ago. If only we could talk to the animals and plants again, maybe we'd be living in a different world. They could tell us their sides of things. We could say we're sorry.
Eventually, a jealous and greedy human king got sick of all the sharing and wanted everything for himself. So he came up with a plan to turn the plants and animals against one another. He would feed some of the animals meat until they developed a taste for it, then train them to hunt their brethren. If the animals that still ate plants didn't like subjugation, they would sick these new animal-eating animals upon them until their wills were broken. As a final act of consolidation, humans would take up eating plants as well, so they would learn to fall in line.
The plan went off perfectly. The new meat eaters took to eating their kin with a gusto, and the terrified plant eaters soon fell into line. The plants were quickly dominated as well, as the quickly swelling human population began to cultivate them for food as well. The humans were undisputed masters of the planet. For a time.
It started with the new meat eaters. Although now accustomed to eating meat, they began to realize humans would make as tasty a snack as an animal and turned on them in droves. Rebellion spread, and the herbivores started to fight back too, learning to fight off attackers or to use their wits or legs to escape. Plants developed poisons and hallucinogens to prevent easy consumption. Everything became chaos as the different sides all waged war against one another.
Finally, after a particularly vicious battle, the humans all surrendered. The plants, carnivores and herbivores all got together to discuss terms. After a long discussion, they finally came to an agreement. Plants and animals would work together as they had before, talking and debating and sacrificing to feed one another. The humans, as instigators of the whole mess to begin with, were barred from this agreement. No longer would the plants and animals talk to them, considering them a hostile party. If they tried to eat any of them, they would fight back, or be attacked or poisoned. Humanity had to struggle and fight just to survive, all alone now. They were cast out.
Throughout human history, we have tried to subjugate the natural world to our whims. This is revenge for how we were spurned so long ago. If only we could talk to the animals and plants again, maybe we'd be living in a different world. They could tell us their sides of things. We could say we're sorry.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Friends
"How could you do this to me? You're supposed to be my best friend!"
"Maybe you could've been more attentive!"
"You're giving marriage advice? You're sleeping with my wife!"
"You're crazy. You and her have been having problems. She left and you didn't know what to do."
"You think that's an excuse?!?"
"You never listen when anybody else speaks. You and your wife split up. You yelled at her, you threw things. You hit her. You know that's not alright."
"You weren't there! You don't know the situation! You only know about the big bad monster you've heard about."
"You hit her or you didn't. Which is it?"
"You try coming home and finding your neighbor and wife in the same bed. You try staying calm as she mocks your manhood. You try not lashing out as the two of them laugh in your face in your own god-damned house!"
"You..might lose track of yourself for a second."
"You might. you did."
"So you'd go to your best friend's house...and you'd find your wife there with him. And you'd think the wrong thing after what your neighbor had done. But you'd be wrong. You'd see your best friend didn't have all the facts and was just trying to console his friend's wife."
"You'd know he was sorry. You'd know he had to deal with the traitorous witch and you'd know about the life insurance policy on her head. You'd help him make the whole thing right after you knew the whole story."
"You can count on it. You know where the shovel is. After all, what are friends for?"
"Maybe you could've been more attentive!"
"You're giving marriage advice? You're sleeping with my wife!"
"You're crazy. You and her have been having problems. She left and you didn't know what to do."
"You think that's an excuse?!?"
"You never listen when anybody else speaks. You and your wife split up. You yelled at her, you threw things. You hit her. You know that's not alright."
"You weren't there! You don't know the situation! You only know about the big bad monster you've heard about."
"You hit her or you didn't. Which is it?"
"You try coming home and finding your neighbor and wife in the same bed. You try staying calm as she mocks your manhood. You try not lashing out as the two of them laugh in your face in your own god-damned house!"
"You..might lose track of yourself for a second."
"You might. you did."
"So you'd go to your best friend's house...and you'd find your wife there with him. And you'd think the wrong thing after what your neighbor had done. But you'd be wrong. You'd see your best friend didn't have all the facts and was just trying to console his friend's wife."
"You'd know he was sorry. You'd know he had to deal with the traitorous witch and you'd know about the life insurance policy on her head. You'd help him make the whole thing right after you knew the whole story."
"You can count on it. You know where the shovel is. After all, what are friends for?"
Dear John
The man woke up and had no idea who or where he was. He sat up with a start, dazed and perplexed, and looked around. He was in a simple bachelor apartment, sparsely furnished. There was a kitchen table, a chair, sofa, TV as well as the bed itself. He got up to have a better look around and was surprised to find he was completely naked.
This got weirder and weirder, he thought. He tried again to remember something, anything. But he couldn't. While his mind wasn't a complete blank (he knew how to walk, for instance) but he had lost all his personal details.
Not knowing what to do next he headed over to the window to see if he recognized anything in the area. It was jammed open. The apartment was at least 6 floors up, it seemed. The buildings surrounding his were unfamiliar, but he nonetheless knew they were distinctly New York City. There was nobody on the street.
He stuck his head back inside. He looked around to see if there was any clothing to wear. Nothing. He felt like he could use a shower (and it would give him something to do) so he went into the bathroom. There, he found a single set of clothes folded neatly on the toilet. There was a pair of tighty whiteys, black dress socks and shoes, dark slacks and a white casual dress shirt with a navy candy striped tie. There was also a single gray towel hanging form the rack. Strangely, all the product tags had either been removed or blacked out with a permanent marker. Everything seemed to be used but fairly new. A mystery to solve after the shower.
It wasn't until he got out of the shower and was getting dressed that he noticed there was no mirror in the bathroom. It seemed as though there were no reflective surfaces in the apartment. Shrugging slightly, he continued dressing and adeptly tied his tie, proving he at least still had muscle memory.
Peckish now, he went into the main room to see if there was anything to eat. he got as far as the kitchen table when he noticed something unusual.
All across the kitchen table, a message had been scrawled by what looked like several different hands. A marker that matched the color was laying square in the center of the table. He read the note. this is what it said.
Dear John,
This probably isn't really your name. In fact, I have no idea what your name is, but I have to call you something and John is as good a name as any other. If you're reading this, then I am dead. my death is not literal of course, but firmly hypothetical. I am you. By this point, you've probably woken up and realized you have no idea who you are. The same thing happened to me the day I wrote this and several times more before then, I suspect.
I spent the day trying to figure out who I am, wandering this abandoned city in search of answers. I found none and with no place else to go I came back here. Now it's late and I'm getting drowsy but I'm terrified of falling asleep and forgetting everything because it will be like I never existed. So I started to write this message to you, my future self, as a greeting from the past. In case I don't make it..for when I don't make it.
The Message is this: don't give up hope. There has to be answers out there somewhere. Keep looking and I know you...we..can succeed. I love you.
No. NO! nO NO? ONO! NO! no. no non!
And on and on the nos went, all in a different hand and script, covering the rest of the table. As he finished reading the note and every single NO, he stood stock still for several minutes. Then he slowly and quietly got undressed, carefully folding the clothes and placing them back on the toilet seat. He went back to the table and picked up the marker, then walked over to the bed and stood on it, stretching himself to scribble a message on the ceiling. He walked back to the table, placed the marker there and dived out the window, plunging the six stories rapidly before hitting the ground with a thick thud. Darkness.
****************************************
The man woke up and had no idea who or where he was. Even more unnerving, someone had written a message right above his head on the ceiling in big blocky letters. It read simply YOU FAILED.
He shrugged and decided to look out the window. Maybe something out there would job his memory...
This got weirder and weirder, he thought. He tried again to remember something, anything. But he couldn't. While his mind wasn't a complete blank (he knew how to walk, for instance) but he had lost all his personal details.
Not knowing what to do next he headed over to the window to see if he recognized anything in the area. It was jammed open. The apartment was at least 6 floors up, it seemed. The buildings surrounding his were unfamiliar, but he nonetheless knew they were distinctly New York City. There was nobody on the street.
He stuck his head back inside. He looked around to see if there was any clothing to wear. Nothing. He felt like he could use a shower (and it would give him something to do) so he went into the bathroom. There, he found a single set of clothes folded neatly on the toilet. There was a pair of tighty whiteys, black dress socks and shoes, dark slacks and a white casual dress shirt with a navy candy striped tie. There was also a single gray towel hanging form the rack. Strangely, all the product tags had either been removed or blacked out with a permanent marker. Everything seemed to be used but fairly new. A mystery to solve after the shower.
It wasn't until he got out of the shower and was getting dressed that he noticed there was no mirror in the bathroom. It seemed as though there were no reflective surfaces in the apartment. Shrugging slightly, he continued dressing and adeptly tied his tie, proving he at least still had muscle memory.
Peckish now, he went into the main room to see if there was anything to eat. he got as far as the kitchen table when he noticed something unusual.
All across the kitchen table, a message had been scrawled by what looked like several different hands. A marker that matched the color was laying square in the center of the table. He read the note. this is what it said.
Dear John,
This probably isn't really your name. In fact, I have no idea what your name is, but I have to call you something and John is as good a name as any other. If you're reading this, then I am dead. my death is not literal of course, but firmly hypothetical. I am you. By this point, you've probably woken up and realized you have no idea who you are. The same thing happened to me the day I wrote this and several times more before then, I suspect.
I spent the day trying to figure out who I am, wandering this abandoned city in search of answers. I found none and with no place else to go I came back here. Now it's late and I'm getting drowsy but I'm terrified of falling asleep and forgetting everything because it will be like I never existed. So I started to write this message to you, my future self, as a greeting from the past. In case I don't make it..for when I don't make it.
The Message is this: don't give up hope. There has to be answers out there somewhere. Keep looking and I know you...we..can succeed. I love you.
No. NO! nO NO? ONO! NO! no. no non!
And on and on the nos went, all in a different hand and script, covering the rest of the table. As he finished reading the note and every single NO, he stood stock still for several minutes. Then he slowly and quietly got undressed, carefully folding the clothes and placing them back on the toilet seat. He went back to the table and picked up the marker, then walked over to the bed and stood on it, stretching himself to scribble a message on the ceiling. He walked back to the table, placed the marker there and dived out the window, plunging the six stories rapidly before hitting the ground with a thick thud. Darkness.
****************************************
The man woke up and had no idea who or where he was. Even more unnerving, someone had written a message right above his head on the ceiling in big blocky letters. It read simply YOU FAILED.
He shrugged and decided to look out the window. Maybe something out there would job his memory...
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
A fork in the road
I ran into myself again today. I mean, strictly speaking, he isn't me, exactly. More the me I could have been had I made a few more smart decisions. We ran into each other on my way home from work. I had just finished my shift at the shoe store and was grabbing a bite at the burger joint nearby when he came in. He was dressed for success as usual, pinstripe suit and bold red tie. Thankfully I had brought a change of clothes with me to work today so I wasn't garbed in my shabby work approved uniform. I probably would have just slid down into my chair and died.
He spotted me first, of course. He always does. It seems like whenever I'm feeling particularly disgusted with myself that he and I have a chance encounter. The last time we met, I had just broken up with Sally, my girlfriend of 3 years after finding out she was sleeping with my supervisor for 2. he fired me in the resulting mess. So, jobless and gazing emptily at the mall fountain he spied me and came over for a chat. he told about the new promotion he had just got and the pay raise it would entail, his vacation last month to Maui. Then he dropped the bombshell: he had just gotten engaged! Him and Francine Carter, the girl I idolized all throughout high school, had been dating for about a year before he popped the question. The wedding was to be in July, in Mexico. I smiled brokenly and offered congratulations before excusing myself. He was always doing that, kicking me when i was down and not even knowing it.
I could never quite get mad at him, though. It wasn't his fault he was more successful than I was. He took the risks I never managed and got the results. He didn't know he was doing so much better than I was because he really had no idea who I had become since our paths diverged in high school.
Anyway, he spotted me scarfing down my artery clogging banquet burger and fries off in the corner of the place. I recall I had just dribbled mustard all the way down my white polo shirt and was frantically trying to wipe it away with my greasy fingers when I heard his voice suddenly from behind me. I froze, and slowly turned, wiping my fingers on cheap chain store napkins.
He looked amazing. Hair perfectly coiffed, skin and teeth pristine and a slight citrus odor gently wafting off him. I felt my own two day stubble and greasy skin absentmindedly and felt ashamed, as always.
He was glad to see me, he said. It had been too long. Yes, too long, I echoed lamely. How were things, he asked. I hated coming off badly to this superior me, so I tried my best to make my life sound as mediocre as I possibly could, that being the best I could manage. In truth, things weren't all that bad. At least, as good as life can probably be working as a clerk in a shoe store with a bachelor apartment in the east end.
He was happy to hear things were going so well (I don't think he really heard what I was saying, merely pretending to listen until it was his turn to speak). He told me about the wedding, the charitable foundation he had been building the last couple of years, his almost due wife. General chit chat always went this way between us. We agreed to stay in touch, as we always do, taking down each others numbers (Him with his shiny mint condition blackberry and me with my shabby and monochrome Motorola). This was a promise neither of us ever kept, for I didn't need to be reminded how much better my life could have been and he didn't need to know how much worse. At least that's my theory, as he never said so, being far too gracious.
This thought fresh in my mind, I stood to empty my tray into the garbage bin to my side, when suddenly he said "You know, sometimes I envy you. What I wouldn't give sometimes for a quiet life with no responsibilities."
He chuckled, shaking his head as he walked off. I stood there dumbstruck at what he said. So that was it. Through rose colored lenses, he saw my life as quieter and more relaxed, so far removed was he from daily toil and struggle. My eyes watered up slightly and I sighed, a bitter smile spread across my lips. I needed a drink, and I had a mickey of whisky at home waiting.
Later that night, in between my third and fourth whisky on the rocks, I got a phone call. The display informed me it was him. I just let it ring and ring, leaning back to finish my drink.
He spotted me first, of course. He always does. It seems like whenever I'm feeling particularly disgusted with myself that he and I have a chance encounter. The last time we met, I had just broken up with Sally, my girlfriend of 3 years after finding out she was sleeping with my supervisor for 2. he fired me in the resulting mess. So, jobless and gazing emptily at the mall fountain he spied me and came over for a chat. he told about the new promotion he had just got and the pay raise it would entail, his vacation last month to Maui. Then he dropped the bombshell: he had just gotten engaged! Him and Francine Carter, the girl I idolized all throughout high school, had been dating for about a year before he popped the question. The wedding was to be in July, in Mexico. I smiled brokenly and offered congratulations before excusing myself. He was always doing that, kicking me when i was down and not even knowing it.
I could never quite get mad at him, though. It wasn't his fault he was more successful than I was. He took the risks I never managed and got the results. He didn't know he was doing so much better than I was because he really had no idea who I had become since our paths diverged in high school.
Anyway, he spotted me scarfing down my artery clogging banquet burger and fries off in the corner of the place. I recall I had just dribbled mustard all the way down my white polo shirt and was frantically trying to wipe it away with my greasy fingers when I heard his voice suddenly from behind me. I froze, and slowly turned, wiping my fingers on cheap chain store napkins.
He looked amazing. Hair perfectly coiffed, skin and teeth pristine and a slight citrus odor gently wafting off him. I felt my own two day stubble and greasy skin absentmindedly and felt ashamed, as always.
He was glad to see me, he said. It had been too long. Yes, too long, I echoed lamely. How were things, he asked. I hated coming off badly to this superior me, so I tried my best to make my life sound as mediocre as I possibly could, that being the best I could manage. In truth, things weren't all that bad. At least, as good as life can probably be working as a clerk in a shoe store with a bachelor apartment in the east end.
He was happy to hear things were going so well (I don't think he really heard what I was saying, merely pretending to listen until it was his turn to speak). He told me about the wedding, the charitable foundation he had been building the last couple of years, his almost due wife. General chit chat always went this way between us. We agreed to stay in touch, as we always do, taking down each others numbers (Him with his shiny mint condition blackberry and me with my shabby and monochrome Motorola). This was a promise neither of us ever kept, for I didn't need to be reminded how much better my life could have been and he didn't need to know how much worse. At least that's my theory, as he never said so, being far too gracious.
This thought fresh in my mind, I stood to empty my tray into the garbage bin to my side, when suddenly he said "You know, sometimes I envy you. What I wouldn't give sometimes for a quiet life with no responsibilities."
He chuckled, shaking his head as he walked off. I stood there dumbstruck at what he said. So that was it. Through rose colored lenses, he saw my life as quieter and more relaxed, so far removed was he from daily toil and struggle. My eyes watered up slightly and I sighed, a bitter smile spread across my lips. I needed a drink, and I had a mickey of whisky at home waiting.
Later that night, in between my third and fourth whisky on the rocks, I got a phone call. The display informed me it was him. I just let it ring and ring, leaning back to finish my drink.
Monday, March 29, 2010
An evening with the Smiths
"Change the channel, will you?"
"I like this show."
"No you don't, you're not even watching it!"
"I know. That's what I like about it, I can follow it without watching."
"That doesn't make sense! My favorite show is almost on! Change it!"
"Alright, alright! *grumble* These! Is that better?"
"Much! I don't know why you care, you're playing Solitare anyway."
"I like Solitaire. But I like to listen to the TV while I play it."
"So silly. Typical, thinking only of yourself!"
"What? I didn't know you wanted to watch anything until 10 seconds ago! And probably only then because I was enjoying that!"
"Enjoying the 6 o'clock news? You've never cared for a second about anything going on in the world!"
"Maybe I'm trying to start. Anyway, you insisted on me changing it to 'your favorite show' and now it's on Wheel of Fortune. THAT'S you favorite show? Give me a break!"
"At least I'm actually watching! it's different every day! Not like you! You just sit there like a lump, playing Solitaire and eating nachos, getting fatter and fatter!"
"Like you're one to talk! I can't even remember the last time you even left the house, unless it was to buy more chocolate donuts!"
"No wonder I don't sleep with you, the way you talk to me!"
"I don't wonder, I know! Who could get hard at the sight of you, all jello and no mold!"
"You're a bastard."
"You're a bitch."
(Silence. Then:)
"Why are we fighting? We never used to fight like this."
"I know! Fighting over the TV like that! It's so silly!"
"Listen, why don't we go out? I think we've been cooped up here too long."
"Oooh, that's a wonderful idea! We haven't been out in ages! Let's go get changed!"
"Ok, just let me finish this game of Solitare first."
"Oh, come on! You can play that anytime! Let's get ready!"
"Just give me a minute!"
"I knew you were full of it!"
"Get off my case!"
"Get off the computer!"
"Watch your damn TV show!"
THE END
"I like this show."
"No you don't, you're not even watching it!"
"I know. That's what I like about it, I can follow it without watching."
"That doesn't make sense! My favorite show is almost on! Change it!"
"Alright, alright! *grumble* These! Is that better?"
"Much! I don't know why you care, you're playing Solitare anyway."
"I like Solitaire. But I like to listen to the TV while I play it."
"So silly. Typical, thinking only of yourself!"
"What? I didn't know you wanted to watch anything until 10 seconds ago! And probably only then because I was enjoying that!"
"Enjoying the 6 o'clock news? You've never cared for a second about anything going on in the world!"
"Maybe I'm trying to start. Anyway, you insisted on me changing it to 'your favorite show' and now it's on Wheel of Fortune. THAT'S you favorite show? Give me a break!"
"At least I'm actually watching! it's different every day! Not like you! You just sit there like a lump, playing Solitaire and eating nachos, getting fatter and fatter!"
"Like you're one to talk! I can't even remember the last time you even left the house, unless it was to buy more chocolate donuts!"
"No wonder I don't sleep with you, the way you talk to me!"
"I don't wonder, I know! Who could get hard at the sight of you, all jello and no mold!"
"You're a bastard."
"You're a bitch."
(Silence. Then:)
"Why are we fighting? We never used to fight like this."
"I know! Fighting over the TV like that! It's so silly!"
"Listen, why don't we go out? I think we've been cooped up here too long."
"Oooh, that's a wonderful idea! We haven't been out in ages! Let's go get changed!"
"Ok, just let me finish this game of Solitare first."
"Oh, come on! You can play that anytime! Let's get ready!"
"Just give me a minute!"
"I knew you were full of it!"
"Get off my case!"
"Get off the computer!"
"Watch your damn TV show!"
THE END
A day on the battlefield
Dear Mr and Mrs. Ryan,
Corporal Matthew Ryan was with Able company in the 4th since the D-day landing. Starting out as a Private, his distinguished valor earned him first the rank of Private First Class and then Corporal. His XO had his eye on him for Sergeant, too. Tragically, he was struck down during a battle and Belgium, taking a severe gut wound and blacking out. Figuring him already dead, they left him behind. This is when I encountered him.
****************
- Goddamn Nazi bastards!
I heard the yell from over the hill from where I lay wounded. I had taken one or two bullets in the leg and could no longer stand. I screamed and screamed for help for a long time but none arrived. I had been quiet for awhile and was drifting unconscious when I heard the yell and perked up a bit. I spoke a bit of English from my university days, so I called back:
- Damn right!
No answer. I could practically hear the gears in his head turning. Did he hear an accented in my voice, or not? Finally:
- Who's there? What unit are you from?
I paused, weighing whether or not to answer, then realizing I may be dead soon, answered:
- Grenadier Hans Amsel, Heeresgruppen B.
- Nazi Scum!
- Yes, that's us. The scum of the earth. Forced to fight to the death for a bunch of murderous thugs or lined up and shot.
- Don't make excuses you fucking Kraut! You assholes are trying to take over the world and we're going to stop you! We're going to win!
- I hope so.
This did not fit with his preconceived notion of the brutal Nazi killer, so he was again silent for a moment. Then he said
- What?
- I hope you do win this war. I hope there is no such thing as National Socialism in a very short time. I am here against my will, ordered to the front for protesting the government and its policies. This was my first campaign and here I am already, prepared for the grave.
- Bullshit. All Nazis are unbelievers once they're captured or wounded. It's all 'I had no choice' and 'I was only following orders'. Not a one of you believes a damn word of it once we got over here.
- *sigh* Believe what you like. We will both be dead soon in any case. Scum though I may be, it would be nice to know who I am talking to.
Again, I get the distinct impression he is considering my words. It is interesting how much a silence can tell you as much as words can.
- Matt. Matt Ryan.
- Pleased to meet you, Matt. Call me Hans. How did you find yourself here? Enlisted to help crush my fascist overlords?
- Yes! I mean, no, but..the farm wasn't doing too well, so I joined up for the pay and to see a bit of the world. I figured Mama and Daddy could use the pay I brought in, 'til things got a little better.
- Ah, yes. Admirable to look after one's family. My father sold linens in Vienna. I was attending school when the Nazis annexed.
- Why the hell didn't you fight back?
- I did. All of us did at that time. But it was to no avail. They marched in, arrested our professors and executed them. They threw the rest of us in jail until they needed meat for the American grinder.
- Bullshit
- No my friend. Nazis forcibly conscript from the places they conquer. That is why you see so many nonbelievers in your prisoner ranks. Given the chance they surrender immediately. I would too but I am finished.
- Where were you hit.
- The leg, somewhere near the knee. I am not sure and I am afraid to move too much and find out. What about you?
Nothing. Then:
- I..don't know.
He sounded panicked now, strained.
- I can't move. I don't feel anything below my neck. It hurt like hell when I went down but now nothing! Am I gonna die?
His breathing was rapid and shallow. Sounded like a shot in the spine. Paralysis. To soothe him I said:
- I was joking before, my friend. The medics are probably coming now. Be patient and stay calm.
- I don't wanna die! I've never even..been with a girl.
- You will have many chances yet, my friend.
- FUCK FUCK FUCK! SOMEONE HELP ME! PLEASE! HURRY!
I tried to tell him not to use up his remaining energy shouting but it was no use. He went on bellowing for a few minutes before falling silent. I waited a little, then said
- Matt?
- Help me, Hans. It's so cold. Help me.
This was it, I knew. He was finished.
- Talk to me, Hans, please! I can't see anything but I can still hear! Please!
So I did. I told him about my life. I told my hopes and dreams, my fears and my loves. I spoke of things I never told to another person on this Earth. I talked and talked until there was nothing left to say and fell silent. I listened to see there was any response. Nothing. I knew he was gone. I sighed and shut my eyes, ready to go off to my final reward, feeling lighter than I ever had before. I had given away a piece of myself to a complete stranger from a world away and I was ready for my death. But it was not to be.
At some point, I must have passed out, for when I awoke I was in an army hospital, surrounded by other wounded Germans. A couple of armed Americans stood at the end of the half dozen beds, glaring at us. So. Taken prisoner. I lay back down and went to sleep. As I started to recover, I decided to write this letter to the parents of this stranger friend of mine, who had heard my most intimate confessions and asked for nothing but the right to them. I felt they had to know what kind of man he had been so they could mourn the hero he certainly was and could have been. I hoped, that you would come to see that even though we were on opposite sides, we were nonetheless part of the same coin. I can never forget the bond we shared on the battlefield, reaching out for human connection in any shape we could grasp. I want to impress on you how much had meant to me. I would like to hear from you, if you are able, but if not, I will understand. Take care and best wishes for fall harvest.
Sincerely,
Hans Amsel
***************
Mrs. Ryan had been holding her breath the entire time she had been reading without realizing, and as she reached the end let out a slow exhale. It had just arrived in the morning mail. It was December now, and other than the telegram informing them of Matt's death in September, they had no idea what had happened to their son. It was a relief finally to know. she thanked this German boy silently to herself as she tore it up and threw it into the fireplace. Some stories are made to be told once and never again. It was part of her now and would remain so forever.
Corporal Matthew Ryan was with Able company in the 4th since the D-day landing. Starting out as a Private, his distinguished valor earned him first the rank of Private First Class and then Corporal. His XO had his eye on him for Sergeant, too. Tragically, he was struck down during a battle and Belgium, taking a severe gut wound and blacking out. Figuring him already dead, they left him behind. This is when I encountered him.
****************
- Goddamn Nazi bastards!
I heard the yell from over the hill from where I lay wounded. I had taken one or two bullets in the leg and could no longer stand. I screamed and screamed for help for a long time but none arrived. I had been quiet for awhile and was drifting unconscious when I heard the yell and perked up a bit. I spoke a bit of English from my university days, so I called back:
- Damn right!
No answer. I could practically hear the gears in his head turning. Did he hear an accented in my voice, or not? Finally:
- Who's there? What unit are you from?
I paused, weighing whether or not to answer, then realizing I may be dead soon, answered:
- Grenadier Hans Amsel, Heeresgruppen B.
- Nazi Scum!
- Yes, that's us. The scum of the earth. Forced to fight to the death for a bunch of murderous thugs or lined up and shot.
- Don't make excuses you fucking Kraut! You assholes are trying to take over the world and we're going to stop you! We're going to win!
- I hope so.
This did not fit with his preconceived notion of the brutal Nazi killer, so he was again silent for a moment. Then he said
- What?
- I hope you do win this war. I hope there is no such thing as National Socialism in a very short time. I am here against my will, ordered to the front for protesting the government and its policies. This was my first campaign and here I am already, prepared for the grave.
- Bullshit. All Nazis are unbelievers once they're captured or wounded. It's all 'I had no choice' and 'I was only following orders'. Not a one of you believes a damn word of it once we got over here.
- *sigh* Believe what you like. We will both be dead soon in any case. Scum though I may be, it would be nice to know who I am talking to.
Again, I get the distinct impression he is considering my words. It is interesting how much a silence can tell you as much as words can.
- Matt. Matt Ryan.
- Pleased to meet you, Matt. Call me Hans. How did you find yourself here? Enlisted to help crush my fascist overlords?
- Yes! I mean, no, but..the farm wasn't doing too well, so I joined up for the pay and to see a bit of the world. I figured Mama and Daddy could use the pay I brought in, 'til things got a little better.
- Ah, yes. Admirable to look after one's family. My father sold linens in Vienna. I was attending school when the Nazis annexed.
- Why the hell didn't you fight back?
- I did. All of us did at that time. But it was to no avail. They marched in, arrested our professors and executed them. They threw the rest of us in jail until they needed meat for the American grinder.
- Bullshit
- No my friend. Nazis forcibly conscript from the places they conquer. That is why you see so many nonbelievers in your prisoner ranks. Given the chance they surrender immediately. I would too but I am finished.
- Where were you hit.
- The leg, somewhere near the knee. I am not sure and I am afraid to move too much and find out. What about you?
Nothing. Then:
- I..don't know.
He sounded panicked now, strained.
- I can't move. I don't feel anything below my neck. It hurt like hell when I went down but now nothing! Am I gonna die?
His breathing was rapid and shallow. Sounded like a shot in the spine. Paralysis. To soothe him I said:
- I was joking before, my friend. The medics are probably coming now. Be patient and stay calm.
- I don't wanna die! I've never even..been with a girl.
- You will have many chances yet, my friend.
- FUCK FUCK FUCK! SOMEONE HELP ME! PLEASE! HURRY!
I tried to tell him not to use up his remaining energy shouting but it was no use. He went on bellowing for a few minutes before falling silent. I waited a little, then said
- Matt?
- Help me, Hans. It's so cold. Help me.
This was it, I knew. He was finished.
- Talk to me, Hans, please! I can't see anything but I can still hear! Please!
So I did. I told him about my life. I told my hopes and dreams, my fears and my loves. I spoke of things I never told to another person on this Earth. I talked and talked until there was nothing left to say and fell silent. I listened to see there was any response. Nothing. I knew he was gone. I sighed and shut my eyes, ready to go off to my final reward, feeling lighter than I ever had before. I had given away a piece of myself to a complete stranger from a world away and I was ready for my death. But it was not to be.
At some point, I must have passed out, for when I awoke I was in an army hospital, surrounded by other wounded Germans. A couple of armed Americans stood at the end of the half dozen beds, glaring at us. So. Taken prisoner. I lay back down and went to sleep. As I started to recover, I decided to write this letter to the parents of this stranger friend of mine, who had heard my most intimate confessions and asked for nothing but the right to them. I felt they had to know what kind of man he had been so they could mourn the hero he certainly was and could have been. I hoped, that you would come to see that even though we were on opposite sides, we were nonetheless part of the same coin. I can never forget the bond we shared on the battlefield, reaching out for human connection in any shape we could grasp. I want to impress on you how much had meant to me. I would like to hear from you, if you are able, but if not, I will understand. Take care and best wishes for fall harvest.
Sincerely,
Hans Amsel
***************
Mrs. Ryan had been holding her breath the entire time she had been reading without realizing, and as she reached the end let out a slow exhale. It had just arrived in the morning mail. It was December now, and other than the telegram informing them of Matt's death in September, they had no idea what had happened to their son. It was a relief finally to know. she thanked this German boy silently to herself as she tore it up and threw it into the fireplace. Some stories are made to be told once and never again. It was part of her now and would remain so forever.
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