A million thank yous to everyone who has read, voted, and commented on this story. I appreciate it more than you'll ever know.
And, without further ado...here is the epilogue :).
Epilogue: A Letter to Jared Farrows
June 23, 2061
Dear Mr. Farrows,
Congratulations, Jared. You, for all intents and purposes, have won.
All these years of skirting around each other, plotting against each other—all of it led up to that single moment, that fated day.
And you have come out on top.
I hope you're proud, Mr. Farrows. You bested me, the unbeatable enemy. And, though I admit I did not expect much of you, you proved to be a formidable adversary. Your success is quite a feat, really. You should proud. So proud, in fact, that you should stand upon the tallest building and proclaim, "I, Jared Farrows, have beaten the—"
Oh, but wait: you can't say that, can you, Jared? Or, should I say, Jeremy.
You haven't told anyone your true name, have you? No one knows who you really are. For that, quite honestly, you have my respect. A man often finds that his name is the only thing he has; to give it up in favor of another is a challenge indeed.
I must say, though: I don't believe your legions of Followers would sympathize.
I'm not surprised that you didn't reveal your past to them, Jared. I certainly wouldn't want to, either. After all, how would people react if they were to learn that their fearless leader is practically a Superior himself?
I can imagine you staring at this page right now, incredulous at the blasphemous label. But, my dear sir, you really cannot deny it: that is what you are. When I brought you to the Capitol after your parents had been so tragically murdered, I performed the same alterations on you that I have done to every Superior since, save for the aesthetic beauty. You have the strength, the intellect, the death-defying longevity—you are capable of everything that Miracle is. Your problem is that you're too frightened take advantage of the gifts I've given you.
Imagine what you could do with your abilities! You could become a professional athlete, a brain surgeon—anything you wished, really. Yet, instead, you choose to lead the Pro-Inferiors, where you are forced to disappear every few years to acquire a new appearance, a new voice, and a new name to match. Just so that no one figures out your secret. (I'd go through all the pseudonyms you've worn in the past, but I don't think they're necessary to prove my point.) You'll never be able to live, Jared. You'll never be a proper leader if your entire platform is supported by lies! All you'll ever be is a weak, jaded, paranoid soul.
And for what?
Revenge?
I'm sorry I killed your mother, Jared. I'm sorry I killed your father. I'm sorry I ripped you from your happy life and forced you to be the test subject of my ruthless experiments.
I'm sorry I didn't kill you when I had the chance.
Honestly, Mr. Farrows, didn't anyone ever tell you that holding grudges is bad for your health? Certainly, you have reason to blame me. But don't you understand that I could have done so much worse? It's not worth it.
In any other circumstance, I'd admire your gumption, your unrivaled focus in taking me down. However, you didn't do for a reason that was bigger than yourself. No, you made this battle personal. And that, ultimately, will be your downfall.
But enough about you. I'm not taking the time to write this out simply to point out the flaws that you should already know you have. This letter is about me. Or, more specifically, the Superiors. (But I've come to think of the Superiors and myself as being synonymous.)
Earlier in this message, I commended you for your achievement in defeating me and my beloved organization. I still stand by that. However, though I gave you credit where credit was due, I am still furious at what you have done, and I harbor a deep and unending hatred for you and your idiotic Pro-Inferiors.
Do you understand what you have destroyed?
Years and years of work, all of it leading up to a single purpose. Eventually, our numbers would have swelled into the thousands. We would have been a society of perfect humans, another species entirely. A superior species. In time, we could have overtaken the normal people. With our strength and skill and intelligence and power, they wouldn't have stood a chance. Then, this country would have become a utopia in the most literal sense of the word. We would have no rivals. We would be perfect and invincible. I would forever be remembered as the man who changed the course of the world.
Now, almost all the Superiors are dead. So, props to you—you've succeeded in destroying the race that caused you so much grief. But, you forgot about one small detail.
The candidates.
The one hundred children, fifty boys and fifty girls, all of them the most Popular in their respective schools. They were there on that fateful day. And, you see, I have them.
Do you know what that means?
These one hundred children have anticipated Superiority for years. They want their dreams to come true. And they follow me without question, because they know that my way is the right way.
There is one candidate in particular who strikes me as being especially promising: a girl by the name of Carlie Heights. Ironically, she hails from the same school as Caleb Payne, Delaney Escott, and Trai and Abby Kaiser, the miscreants who became your allies. But Carlie is infinitely more loyal. A single glance at her face shows me her undying devotion to Superiority.
She will make a wonderful Superior.
Because—oh yes, Jared—these children will become Superiors. After so many years of administering the formula to past candidates, I have the steps memorized. Already, I have begun the process of converting these first-rate children into the species that transcends all others. And, well, you should be worried.
Listen to me, Farrows. You will fall. Your father wished to stop me, too, once upon a time, but he failed. And so will you. It may not be soon, but we both have the time, do we not? We have all the time in the world.
Someday, the people will turn against you. I'll be waiting here, biding my time, until the day that your secrets slip out into the open. And when they do? That is when I will strike. (Of course, I could simply reveal your lies myself…but what fun would that be?)
You and I have more in common than either of us would like to admit, Jared. We are both determined individuals. We both have a goal to fulfill, an organization to uphold. When our inevitable meeting finally occurs, the result will be the battle of the ages.
Remember this, Farrows, and remember it well: we are not gone. We are not finished. We are just waiting, waiting for you to make an inescapable mistake. After all, we are Superior. You'd best watch your back. Because mark my words: it might be in a year, or ten years, or a hundred years; but it will happen someday. The Superiors will rise again.
And we will take you down.
Sincerely,
Dr. David Leary, PhD.