Work Text:
But a Small Price
by Juls
Why am I writing this? I suppose it's so there will be a record of what happened. There is no jury to condemn me, nor a punitive system to enact revenge. There has never been a penalty for a crime such as mine. I suppose living with the result is my only absolution. I would gladly trade my life to remedy that which I have done, but I have already seen the damage that such noble offers can cause...
I wish you could have known my sister-in-law, back before the change, when it might have mattered. She was a wonderful woman! More than any, she would hate me for what I have done, if she only could. She was the kindest and most tolerant person I have ever known. I never heard her say a bad word about a single soul. This would be a better place if we all had a little bit of Paula in us.
Her murder was a crime against society, for there is no telling what she might have done had her life not ended so tragically early. She left behind my brother and their two children. Her violent death destroyed their family. I have never seen anyone hurt so profoundly over the loss of another as my brother did over his wife.
For two long years, I suffered through each day with him and the children, sharing their pain and engulfed by the hole that was left in our world. Everything that I did fell short of easing their grief. I felt like my hands were tired; an outsider doomed to watch, unable to affect the play within the bell jar.
I found myself unable to overcome the despair that constantly strangled my heart. How can you continue to watch such suffering in one you love so dearly? It was an all-new version of Hell, one I had never before contemplated. I actually considered running away, leaving without looking back, never having to see the hurt in that strong face again. It would be far easier to leave my life and those I loved behind.
Did I lose my mind? I hope I did. That would be such a comforting thought, far preferable to believing in reality, as I perceive it to be. Once again, my mental faculties are something I would gladly trade, but I don't think in those terms anymore.
Had I been drinking? It's possible. I drank a lot then. I would drink a lot today, but the existing alcohol has been put to better use and no more is being made. I just can't remember…but it doesn't really matter. This story doesn't really matter, but still I go on. Why couldn't I just be like the rest of you?
I may have been drinking. The details of that night are rather blurred. I can't remember how it first started. Maybe I awoke from a dream into a nightmare.
It was just like any other night had been. I'd come home from my brothers after work -- I always dropped by to see how they were doing -- and was too tired to eat. I must have had a drink before I went to lie down.
It was dark when I opened my eyes again. I couldn't see the clock. I didn't turn on the light. I think that was my first mistake. I remember crying in the dark, for hours it seemed. The front of my shirt and the sleeves were wet with tears and I felt cold all over. I didn’t bother to make a fire. I just wallowed in my misery. Perhaps that was my second mistake.
In the darkest part of night when the stars shine the brightest, just before the return of the sun, something happened in that cold, dark room. Everything became silent, so quiet the very molecules of air whispered as they moved. The inanimate objects around me seemed to vibrate with living energy. I was filled with an unfamiliar primal terror that could send a person crashing through the wall were they not paralyzed into inaction.
I don't know if my heartbeat was louder than the thunderous steps from behind. I closed my eyes, hoping to die of fright without seeing what was in that room with me. It would have bee so much better, if I had died then and there, without ever uttering those fateful words. Not dying was my third mistake.
Soon it moved in front of me. My eyes were still closed, but I could see its radiant energy straight through the lids, as I could feel its heat bouncing off my skin. It was the hot chill of Hell I felt in that emission! How could I have been so blind as to take his generous offer at face value? This was a moral as old as Aladdin's Lamp! Every djinni curses their favors. Every deal with the Devil goes sour. Any offer to good to believe probably is! Indeed, this was no different, and I knew it even then.
The offer too good to refuse: I thought I was mad. What other explanation was there? A mystic being materializes in front of me -- of me! -- and says our Paula will be returned for a small price! Of course I was insane! But how could I risk the off-handed chance that this was real? And what price would be too much? Nothing I could think of could balance against the loss we had experienced. Either way, I suppose I was insane. I traded what was not mine to give. No sane person would have done as I did.
I asked what small price, as if anything he named might be too great a sacrifice.
The emotions of the world, I was told.
The emotions of the world!! That was what he wanted? What an absurd thing to ask for? What use could they be to one such as he? I'd expected him to demand my soul in exchange! Wasn't that the usual price? But the emotions of everyone in the world… It seemed a small price for what would be received in return.
I asked if anyone would be harmed, if their souls would remain in tact and was assured they would be undamaged. I asked if there were hidden terms, side clauses of which I had not been informed. I was told all had been said. I thought I'd covered all the angles. What a fool! How pompous that sounds now!
I thought of the conditions that prevailed on the Earth, wars driven by hate and jealousy, gangs that manipulated the innocent through fear false assurances… so I considered the alternative; logical, rational beings that could achieve together what they had never managed in their isolationist states. I decided that maybe this wasn't a bad thing. The loss of emotions doesn't have to be disastrous! This could be the boost that humanity had been seeking ever since we crawled out of the caves -- the next evolutionary step for man! I could be the catalyst for that, and still get my sister-in-law returned to her family! Arrogant, pompous fool…
"I agree!"
Those catastrophic words still echo about in my hollow soul. If only I could have ripped out my tongue before they were spoken. That was my last mistake.
I don't exactly remember what happened next. You see, I was probably drunk or mad. I may have done no more than fall asleep. It sounds so innocuous for all that it meant. I did not dream, nor did I rest, but instead slept in two-dimensional flattened fits. It was an omen of the dawn.
I awoke to stupidity and a hangover from Hell. Little did I know how true that would turn out to be. I looked around a ransacked room, trying to recall the night before. It wasn't until I saw the spot where it had stood that I remembered the dream. Not a dream -- it was too real! I remembered every detail! I could still smell the stench it left in the air!
I ran out the door and erupted onto the streets. This was the first time of endless many when I saw that stare. Blank and comatose, the people looked like Zombies. There was nothing human about them; unremarkable and uninspired, they'd lost the spark that gave them life. The breath of god had been exhaled from the race. We had become less than the animals around us.
I ran up the street. They looked busy, as ants following a common purpose, a hive mentality without individuality.
I had done this to them.
The mile to my brother's house went intentionally unnoticed. The houses were a blur to my racing feet and mind. One of the walking non-humans stepped in my path and I knocked it aside. They were as genderless as the cobblestone that pounded against my bare feet. Did I mention that no one noticed I was naked? This was how much our world had changed!
I finally saw the trellis over my brother's door. The smell of breakfast floated through the screen. The sprinkler was on and the dog was chasing butterflies in the yard. I knew it was too normal. I had hit the eye of the storm.
I entered without knocking. The candle that had burned for the last two years was no where in sight. I ran into the kitchen and knew I would find Paula there. My niece and nephew were at the breakfast table; my brother was cooking at the range. They looked up, startled when I burst in from the hallway. Paula was not there. The expression of their faces confirmed her absence. The room seemed vacant in the burn of my expectations.
Then she walked in through the back door. Clumps of dirt were still in her hair, but she was alive. Her color was right. I could see blood-warmed breath condensing in the cool of the morning. The only thing missing was the light behind her eyes; the aura that said someone was inside. She looked like everyone else!
Even this was acceptable! Even this was more than we'd had. Paula was back and that was what counted! We could work around everything else. Weren't we still humans, even if we couldn't feel?
I turned suddenly to look at my family. Gene had not moved from the stove. The kids had not arisen from the table. No one was jumping or shouting in joy. There was not so much as a single smile or tear.
I could contain myself no longer! I called out her name and she looked apathetically in my direction. I told her how glad I was to see her and how happy I was that she had come home. She walked past me wordlessly and took the spoon from my brother. He handed it over and they never missed a round. They didn't even look at each other, just went straight to the duties on agenda.
"Hello, Mother." It was as bland as raw dough.
"Yes, hello Mother."
I ran from the house and never looked back.
I haven't been back there to this day. It wasn't very hard to do. You see, they don't miss me… Nobody did…
Juls
©1999