The Machinations Of Greed

Hate

Gabriel reads these words off her notebook, and then raises her gaze to meet A's, an inquisitive, curious look on her face.

"...What do you choose, A?"

"..."

Closing his eyes, he imagines something. He finds himself standing. There is a lever at his side, and ahead, there are two train tracks. On one, there are five faceless, featureless individuals, while on the other, there is only one individual. A she.

The looks to the right, and he sees a train barreling towards the five people on the main track. He watches those people closely, and his 'mind' considers his possibilities.

To save them, or to save that she.

His 'mind' 'imagines' the grotesque sight of those five people, ran over and mutilated by the weight of a rampant tram. He doesn't know what to make of it. He feels sick, yet at the same time, he doesn't. His face doesn't contort into horror, yet he feels it should. His 'muscles' want to. After all, these are... 'people'. Just like him. They're 'people'.

Yet that she... there's more than simply being a 'person' to her. He doesn't want 'his' 'people' to 'die', though. Not even for her.

His hand moves towards the lever, and one by one, his fingers curl around its handle, primed to turn it.

"...A. Snap out of it."

Gabriel's voice calls out to him, nonetheless, his eyes remain shut.

"..."

He doesn't want to lose 'his' 'people', yet he can't bring himself to end her. To... spare her.

So, his 'mind' decides to do something else. He pulls the lever, and immediately bolts towards the side track where she lays. The tracks shift trajectory, and the train approaches more quickly than ever, yet, undettered, he jumps to her side and immediately begins to untie her rope.

Slowly, the knots are being undone, but the end is coming closer. His mind is racing, and he still can't tell who she is. Her face is a blur. Brown, or green... purple... or is it black hair? It looks black... right?

He can't afford to be distracted, so... he finally manages to break her shackles, and pull her out of harms way. The tram passes by with blinding speed, and he finds his breath having quickened. Had he been holding it in all this time?

"...Are you okay...?"

He asks aloud, yet she is gone.

"...What? Who're you talking to, A?"

Gabriel's voice answers his, and he's pulled back into reality. His eyes opens, meeting her gaze.

"...No-one, Miss Gabriel."

His monotony returns, and he nods firmly, as if reaffirming himself.

"...Alright. In that case, answer the question."

"...I choose to pull the lever, and to rush to her... no, to the singular individual's side before untying their shackles and pulling them off the tracks."

"...Haah... no, A. You can't do that."

He frowns.

"...Why?"

"...You can't move, A. Does that suffice for an explanation?"

Gabriel's voice grows more stern, annoyed by his question, as if it was only logical that he can't do anything to change the outcome beside pulling the lever.

"...Yes."

Even so, he relents, and he closes his eyes again. He finds himself back in the same spot, watching over the two tracks, the lever at his side.

"..."

He searches for her with his gaze, and there she is. Simply waiting for him, tied to the track all the same.

"...?"

He moves his upper body, as if to walk, yet his legs don't do as told. He looks down, and he sees... shackles. Chains of steel, large and restricting. Ones that hold him in place, making sure he doesn't step from his spot. They're coming from the ground, materializing from the hard concrete underneath him.

The train barrels down the track, and he finds himself at these crossroads again. This time, though, he forgets morality. He forgets 'his' 'people'. His fingers simply hover over the lever, yet he doesn't even think about pulling it. He lets the train run 'his' 'people' over. And he hears their screams beforehand, their frantic movements. Those weren't there before.

He sees their eviscerated bodies, mauled and unrecognizable. It makes him want to vomit, truly. But they are more... detailed, this time. Those were 'his' 'people'. And he let them die. For who? For her?

It makes him hate himself. Despise himself.

"...Hate...?"

His 'mind' repeats that word over and over, and it rings through him. Hate.

"...A. What is your answer?"

His eyes open again, and Gabriel is still there, awaiting his answer.

"...I choose to break off the lever, and throw it towards the train's wheels, aiming to break them and derail it."

His words come out of his mouth, yet they don't feel like his anymore. Why did he say that?

"...No, that's not..."

Gabriel sighs in disappointment, and she hangs her head. Shaking it, she meets his gaze again.

"That's not an option, A. You can't do that. You can only pull the lever. Understood?"

That word rings through his 'mind', and he finds himself confused by it. He shuts his eyes again.

Same place, same people, same train. He tries to move his arms, yet neither answer his commands. One holds the lever tightly, refusing to let go no matter what he tries, while the other sits limply at his side, unable to move. He can only watch it happen.

...Why?
"...Why?"

He asks, and Gabriel answers with a growl, finding herself becoming increasingly annoyed by his insistence. She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing for a second time.

"...Because you only have two choices, A. Only two. No more than two, and no less than two, A."

...Why?
"...Why?"

It isn't fair.
"It is not fair."

He says, and Gabriel can only answer with:

"...What?"

His expression contorts with anger.