The Future Keys

Daryl

Daryl sits on his bed, gazing at paint that's ever so slowly peeling off the walls. He looks down at the floor--there lay his clothes, scattered around, covered in dust, dirt, and... whatever's down there. He doesn't care. He looks back up at the wall.

Is what I'm doing right?

Daryl has never been able to answer that question. He's only been able to justify it with the same things that he always says.

For the greater good... yeah.

Wasn't there any other way to do this? Not only would it potentially be tedious, but causing people harm wasn't in his best interests. It was impractical.

I'm not hurting anybody...

Maybe not physically, but how would this affect them? Not just Frank and Susan, but everyone that he needed to-

No, don't think like that. They'll--they'll all see that you're helping them. They--they're all a part of something greater.

There he goes again. This form of false justification that makes a terrible thing seem moral. He thinks about this as he stares off into the distance. His mind grows weary.

________________________

A million fires, blazing through the world. He's gone mad with power; just look. People run, they scream, they hide. A young warrior emerges through the chaos. The warrior stands up and looks to the skies. A hero. The warrior sprints to the fortress, no weapons in hand. All the warrior has is a plan of action--and a good one at that. Inside, there are a thousand doors, all closed, all leading to different pathways. Every door, divergent. Only one true path. The warrior approaches a door. The warrior opens the door--

Daryl shoots up in a cold sweat. What--what just happened?

The fires... and--and the doors...

Daryl needs to get his mind off this. He has to keep his head clear, or else everything will crumble out of control. He sits back up (whenever he went to sleep, he reflexively lied down) closes his eyes, and just... breathes.