Fighting Against Total Entities

Chapter 1

I sit in every corner. I watch in silence as you capture the hearts of the other people in the room. Our classmates.

I watch as the gush their love for you. It’s not that hard to tell that they idolize you. And why shouldn’t they? You are beautiful in every way.

But you tell lies. And that’s the problem. They believe every word you say because they are programmed to.

The teacher steps into the classroom and for the next hour their eyes are off you, not that you mind though, you are grateful for a few moments to think. You never follow the lesson because you know everything already. You have repeated maybe five times.

Am I correct? I’m not sure. Sometimes you catch my eye, but you always look away quickly. It’s not like you to be shy. Or maybe it’s not that you are shy. It’s because you know that what you are doing is wrong. But I never say anything. What’s the point? Two hundred and fifty years ago I told you, in your first life. But you ignored me. You didn’t care then and you don’t care now. But you don’t know who I am really, and soon, your time is coming, you will get your punishment. We were told that we would do our job, together, as one, until you died your natural death, but time may be up my friend. The clock is ticking.

I glance around the classroom; these are all the people that allowed us to have our jobs, the people that require our service, the ones who see a need for us, even though they shouldn’t. I sigh. Attending to their need is hard work, a daily chore that has to be done, whether we like it or not. Because of this, I am continuously surprised that you are not afraid of misusing your rights.

You make them all love you. You abuse your power and call them to you and they cannot refuse because they are in love with that feeling of worthiness that only you can give. They relish in the feeling of acceptance that they feel when they are even ten feet away from you. And you and I both know that’s not right. We both know that this is not how it should be. We both know that you shouldn’t be doing it because its wrong, you are wrong. And you’re supposed to be perfect. Perfect.

But you aren’t. And that alone can make me cry.

How long will I suffer in silence? How long will I cry out in the subconscious? For how long will I try to get you to feel? To feel an emotion that could make you want to help the lost souls out there? For how long will you continue like this? You tell me. Because only you know what this plan you seem to have is. Only you know you better than I do.

I focus on the class again.

The teacher does not notice that we are different. We have perfected our art. The art of disguise. But remember our first time? Do you? You probably don’t, or maybe you do, how could I know when you refuse to acknowledge my presence? Oh well, humanity lives on, time goes on and we, we do our jobs.

Only, you are not doing yours properly.

 ****

Remember the time, long ago, in the streets of London, during Queen Victoria’s reign, when the children would walk, barefoot, to beg the upper class men and women of the ton for a little bread, just to survive one more day. Where were you then? Right beside me. You watched the tears fall down my face, and saw as the pain flashed against the unscathed features. But they are scarred now. I told you to help. I told you to do something, anything to save the children from the inequalities in wealth, just as is it now. But you didn’t. You didn’t even bat an eyelid. How unfair of you. How selfish.

We wander around town, as I do my job, and pass a home. But this home is not a house. It’s a shack, where mother, father, daughter and two young sons are sitting at the side of the marshy road, wearing barely anything, thin and bony from the lack of food. This is where you have allowed humanity to end up.

The tears keep falling, and I see, in the future of this family. All of them are to die, and their family tree is to die out. You don’t care, as usual. They are all ridden with Cholera, a disease gained from the water that they drink. Their bones are hard and brittle. These people look as if anything could snap them into two. Anything could break them.

But I want to know what breaks your heart.

I want to know what makes you cry at night. I want to know when you go into that safe place where you know that everything will be alright. You are that place for some people, but you rip them apart when they realise that you can’t help them. You break their trust when they realise that you have been stringing them along. You crush their souls when you show them that you are not a safe haven.

You don’t have to be perfect. But strive for perfection if you cannot or do not want to be what you are supposed to be.

Life in this era is hard. On that, I have also played my part. I have made sure that there will be an end to that. You know it hurts me to see people die for no valid reason, when you could easily save them, if you did your job properly. But no, you wouldn’t, since the beginning of your existence, since your first life. I forget about this for a moment when the bell rings.

The lesson ends. Girls and boys fawn over you in the fields of our school, where we have been assigned to watch over. And me, I sit in the corner, just watching as I always do. But you cause me problems. I can’t do what I need to because of you. And I hate it; I hate how you don’t care! I hate how you are selfish, and that’s not supposed to be in your nature. But I don’t hate you.

****

Last night we received a call from the General. When we arrived at his office, you acted like everything was going well. I played along too. You never looked at me. Just stared straight ahead, like nothing was wrong. Like you were not playing a game of deception and lies.

When the General first found me, if you would like to know, though I doubt you will, but I will tell you anyway. When the General first found me, I was very young. I was at the stage where I was just being nurtured. Random people were hearing me from all over the city from which I came from. They came to see me, whether they were near or far. At that age I did not know my worth, I didn’t know who I was and it was only when I grew that I knew my worth, my calling, my destiny. I was honoured by the title I was given, the trust that was placed upon me. They gave me a name, you know what it is. You have never addressed me by it, but you know. Thus, you know my power and I know you fear me, somewhere deep inside. But you are biding your time, and soon, if you do not change your ways, you will see my wrath.

The city I am from is small, small and predictable. It is one where everyone knows your name, and knows your secrets should you not be careful. I had to escape. But I think we should go there. Let’s visit. Maybe it will give you a taste of purpose of belonging, for everyone there will know your name.

Everyone.