rating: +31+x

I must, again, become that which I hate.

But why?

We haven't heard from central command for decades. They're probably gone. Lost to their own horrors. But because of a girl, we live on. She's down the hall now. She's crying out for a friend. She needs to know what's happening.

I know what must be done, but what's the point? There's hardly anyone left alive here, and there's no one left alive outside. I want to let it end. I can't carry this burden any longer.

Cowardice creeps into my mind. If I shirk my responsibility, I'll die and so will everyone else. I won't accept the blame for the death of our species.

I'll leave it to chance. Cold impartial chance. I'll flip a coin. This time I'll follow through.

Heads, I go down the hall and do my job. Tails, and I let the world burn.

The toss is freeing. To have fate slip from my hands. To let the heavy burden fall, just for a moment.

But is it worth it? Tossing away my humanity? Counting on a tarnished coin to give me a glimmer of hope?

It's old. Older than I am. Yet it spins deftly in the air. Heads, tails, and heads again. It falls to the table.


Tails and I let the world burn the rest of the way down.

I worry. About my humanity. About the world. About the future. About hope itself. But none of it means a damn thing anymore. Nothing does except for this moment in time.

The coin must have landed on heads. After all, it always does.

I press a button and an automated voice blares to almost empty halls.

Non-authorized personnel, please evacuate the containment area. Procedure 110-Montauk will now begin.

The coin was a momentary reprieve. A forlorn hope that I could become something else… or anything other than what I am.

But I am bound to my duty, and I am bound by my purpose.

The moment has come, and I become that which I hate.

The storyteller.

And the world spins on.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License