Fighting Against Total Entities

Chapter 3

The day ends, and the students sigh in relief, they all want to go home. Rather, they all want to come to our house. You always decline because you know that then, even I could overpower you, and they could find out that we live together. And you don't want that. It could damage your reputation.

I laugh sometimes. Not because it's funny, and my laugh isn't sarcastic. I laugh because of the irony. The sweet irony as some would say. We are supposed to be partners. They did teach you about team work, and communication? I'm sure they did, but you obviously chose not to learn. You chose not to listen. And I pay the price. How unfair. Two and a half decades of suffering on my part. Years of pain. Years of watching people die. You've killed some people you know. You are a cold-hearted killer. Did you know that? Do you? You kill and you don't care.

Not one bit.

And there's nothing I can do to stop you. Because if I used my power to stop you, I would become like you. I wouldn't be doing my job. And I gave my honour to do what I am called to do.

I always wondered, especially in the first hundred years of us working together, why they picked you. I wondered what qualities they saw that jumped out at them and said, "Choose me!" I still wonder now. But I know I will never know. Maybe this is a phase that life on earth must go through.

Maybe. I'm not too sure.

But why did you say yes? Why did you vow that you would do your duties? I could never believe that there is a conspiracy that I know nothing about, so why did you decide that it would be fun to torture me? If not fun, then is it pleasure you get out of it? Or fair? Did I do anything to you, or did I cause you pain before you took this job? I don't believe I did, because I remember all the assignments that I was given, and you, you were not one of them.

I get home after you. I always linger in the corner after everyone exits just in case someone else needs me. They won't know they need me, but I'll be there regardless. Sometimes I follow them as they take a quick trip to the sweet shop. The boys always go for something sour, to show their manliness; they want to grow up too fast. This is what you have caused. The girls always go for something sweet or cute and blush when the boys grin or smile at them. They are too young. This is love that should be for adults only over the years it has trickled down into everyone who loses their innocence at the age of seven or eight. Not fair at all.

***

I told you that I wanted to go back to the city in which I was born. I'll take you through, and when we are done, I really hope something will change.

This, I say to you, is the edge of the city. When I was still living here, there used to be men on the look-out. There always seemed to be some danger. It always seemed as if everyone was secretly scared of attack. I don't know why though. I doubt I will ever know.

This, this here is the Town Hall. The structure is to imitate the temples of the Ancient Greeks. I'm sure you have heard of them. Yes? No? You don't answer. I move on. There are always meetings. Every Friday. They are usually to discuss how to better the lives of the people. Also, although I haven't been here in so many years, I'd say they would also discuss the move into technology. Since I left, I always kept up to date with the happenings of this society. I could not believe my ears, or eyes more like, when I found out that no-one aside from myself has moved out or in. The people are still as they were. All the same families. Thus, I wonder how they would have access to the things the rest of the world takes for granted. But then again, they do not need to communicate with the world outside. Sad really.

It seems like they still grow their own food. Nothing is imported and nothing exported. Not even to the neighbouring cites. I think I should stop calling it a city. More like a village now. 

It's night, therefore the people are in their houses. No-one is out like it used to be. There are no street lamps like where we come from, nothing that can help our navigation. But we do not need it anyway. Nothing much has changed. I know this place like the back of my hand. Then again, I do not know the back of my hand that well. I laugh. You don't.

Then suddenly, a light flashes into our eyes. It is the light from a flashlight. A man holds it. He narrows his eyes at us. "Well, what do we have here?"

And before we could say anything, we find ourselves handcuffed, I close my eyes, not yet wanting to look as we ride through the city. I feel pain. And I don't want to look at anything I remember as I feel this way.

The car stops. We are pulled out by the man,

I blink, and the door of the cell shuts.

We are locked in.

This is the first time you look at me. The first time you acknowledge me. And I so easily read the meaning in your eyes. It's ironic actually, because I always think this about you.

Your eyes are saying:

All your fault.

I look away quickly. I do not like the obvious anger. I turn and cry out to the man that chained us.

"It's me!"

The man stands. "Who?" The disbelief is evident in his expression. He doesn't remember me. And suddenly I remember him.

"Me!" I cry again.

"Please," he says. "I need to get some shut-eye. Don't try to escape, as any attempt will be futile."

He turns to walk out of a door we did not come in through.

"It's me," I try one last time. And I cry out my name for all to hear.

He spins round, shocked. And I nod. Yes, me. He cannot believe it.

He strides across the distance.

And, the door of the cell is unlocked.

***

It felt good to come home, our current home, and put my feet up, although we will be going back to my home town again. We didn't get to see much.

But even with the little you saw, nothing has changed.

Do you understand what you are doing? Do you understand how painful you are making this? I don't think you do. On second thoughts, I think you have an inkling of what I am saying, but you are too caught up in this game that gets you excited. You enjoy sucking up all the happiness. And this always puzzles me. How could you become so corrupt? It's like all those governments that we see in third world countries. You remember, don't you, our trip to Africa, where we were exposed to the rawness of dictatorship, and the fear of civilians. Where the terror of speaking out was just too much. Some of those kids wished to be sailors, engineers and painters, like children in the Western World, where we were born, but unlike the kids in the West, they knew their dreams were far beyond them. I bawled for hours. You never came to the rescue. You have become almost evil. I am scared to say it, or even think it, but this is what keeps me up at night. This is what fills my dreams. This is what becomes nightmares.

Sometimes nightmares become reality.