Who You Are in the Dark

Here it is. It's the final hour. Everything done, said, and suffered through has led to this moment. Here at the top of a tower that was built with the blood and bones of those beneath. This is it. All the pieces are finally in place. All that is needed now is to pull the trigger, but not yet. Something is missing. No, someone. She will be here any minute to stop it. Well, to try. To continue is impossible without first seeing the hope drain from her tender face. The sight will be just as titillating as the deed itself.

Here she comes. He can hear her approach. Now here she is. Standing before him. It's time. He says, "I'm curious. Did you come to try to save the world, or did you just want a front row seat to watch it burn?" He can see the sadness in her eyes. He doesn’t even need an answer. He knows what she is thinking: It is lost. Hopeless. There is nothing I can do to stop him. He's won and he knows it. The only chance is to appeal to his emotions. Make him feel something. She hopes to rekindle his sense of love. Ha! Love. Such weakness. How it has betrayed her. How can she not see that “love” is what caused this moment in the first place. She is only fueling the fire by trying to bring more love here.

She still has not responded. She just stands there looking at him with those sad eyes. They begin to infuriate him. He scoffs and rises from his seat. Her sad eyes follow him as he goes through the motions of pouring himself a drink. Soon enough he will never pour his own drink again, and those sad eyes will have turned to ash.

Still, she remains silent. There is nothing in the room but those sad eyes. "Trying to appeal to a guilty conscience will get you nowhere," he says, "You cannot appeal to that which does not exist. Why waste the effort? Why spend your final moments of freedom here? This is the most painful place in all of existence for you to be right now. Why do this to yourself? For love? You love this world SO MUCH you would willingly put yourself through this pain in a hopeless attempt to save it? Pathetic. Your only hope at freedom is to try to convince me to grant it to you now before I pull this proverbial trigger and it is too late. Instead, you waste this opportunity by pointing your miserable disapproval at me. That's the best you've got? That's your grand attempt at saving the world, is it?" Now, from her sad eyes, a single tear rolls down her still unmoving face.

Her lips part, she takes in an imperceptible breath, and finally she speaks, "I did not come here to save the world, my dear."

He laughs, "Oh? So, you have seen reason after all? Well, go on then. Tell me what you desire. It's a big day indeed, and I am in a rare generous mood," a sly grin spreads across his teeth, "Freedom can be yours. You need only ask."

"You misunderstand. I am not here to save the world," she closes her sad eyes for a moment, "because the world does not need saving." She turns her eyes to the wall of windows beside her which are concealed by large curtains. "Look," she grasps and pulls back the curtains with such softness one is unsure she even touched them at all. The world beneath his tower is reveled. There it is. Its last moments of freedom. Soon the image behind this wall of windows will be forever whisked away and changed. It gives the image a rare treasure-like quality. Like something to be captured and kept in a jar for some wealthy collector to occasionally gawk at. Her sad eyes return to him , and she says, "See? The world is still the same. It is still spinning the same way as yesterday. It is true though. The sun will set on this day and the image we see here will change. In fact, the sun is setting as we speak. In just a few short minutes it will be gone completely, encapsulating this world in darkness. The only lights left will be our own. Then you will see what I came here for."

While concealing his bewilderment, he says, "So, am I to understand that you came here not to try and save the world from me but instead to request that I," a betraying motion from his hand now scratches his head, "wait until sundown?"

Her indefatigable sad eyes say, yes.

"Fine. I will grant your wish to enjoy the world's last free sunset," he says disdainfully, turning his eyes away from the encapsulated world that spins beneath his tower, now only spinning with his permission.

"Thank you," she says with sincere gratitude. Her sad eyes turn away again, this time to the curtains, and she says, "When is the last time you pulled back these curtains and laid your eyes upon this world?"

He takes a drink from his glass and says, "Why look at a world I intend to change beyond recognition?"

As the sun is setting outside, the sky transforms into hues of pink and gold. It is getting dark enough now that he can start to see the little lamp shining its light on his desk being reflected in the wall of windows. As it grows darker outside, everything the light from the little lamp touches becomes more pronounced in the reflection of the windows, making the image outside the wall less visible and the image inside more visible.

Her sad eyes return to him once again and she says, "You speak as if you have not changed the world beyond recognition yet. Perhaps this is because you have not bothered to look."

"If this is your attempt at saving the world you have a very strange approach.” This nonsense is infuriating him. She's supposed to be begging him for mercy. Is this a game to her? Is she just trying to deflate his victory by confusing him?

"I already told you, I am not here to save the world. At least not by your definition of the world. I stand by what I said. The world," she gestures to the space around them, "outside these walls does not need saving." The sun has completely set now. "The world I came to save," she points to the wall of windows which have now become a wall of mirrors, "is the world within these walls. It is time for you to look." Another tear rolls down her face, curving around her cheek, and falling to the floor. He turns his gaze to the spot she is pointing to. He can't even remember the last time he saw his own reflection for he has always kept the curtains closed. "You, my dear. You are the world you have changed beyond recognition." The image he sees before him is of a man bringing poison to his lips and holding a gun to his head with his finger firmly on the trigger. "You see? I am not here to save the world from you." Another tear falls. "I am here to save YOU from yourself."