Chapter Five

As time went on, the situation with the Red Eyes simply kept on deteriorating. Every time we were sure we had leads, it ended in complete failure. Chrom members began to drop like flies, unprepared to fight an unseen enemy, when they also needed to complete their missions. The weight of Sal’s news also started to crush me. I had to hear news of more failures, while knowing that it was our own employers trying to kill us, because we were no longer needed.

“Mr. Sebastian Kurt. You have an hour left. Care to eat any food?” I looked outside. It was one of the part-time officers here in the correction building. I’ve grown accustomed to seeing him by this point, kind of like that old drug addict you always see outside the supermarket or something. So I don’t really hold a grudge against the guy or anything.

“Nah, I’m fine. Got any smokes though?”

He nodded, pulled out his pack, and handed me one of his cigarettes. Lighting it through the bars, I sat back down on my cot, slowly smoking it and letting it burn out. I don’t need food anyway. My time alive is short, and I’ve gotta fess up. But hey, at least I did what I set out to do.

“I know.” I looked up. The guard’s still there. For some reason, I automatically know what it is he’s talking about. He knows. He knows why I’m here, what I’m about to die for, what I might’ve already sacrificed to get to this exact point. Sure, it wasn’t easy, but in the end, it’ll be for greater good.

“Just be sure to keep my memory alive.”

Things slowly became more and more hectic and dangerous as the weeks went by. Soon, both Julie and I were helping Sal out with his work. A lot of his comrades had already been eliminated by the Red Eyes, so they were now short-handed. Julie didn’t do as much as me, but that was because Sal was still trying to conceal what he and I knew from her. Time and again, I told him that he really needs to say something before it’s too late. Julie had a right to know, I’d say. He’d just shake his head, saying it wasn’t the time.

At any rate, the strain was starting to take its toll. One night, Julie even fell asleep on her keyboard, in the middle of programming a brand-new, hacker-oriented OS. By this time, I was allowed to leave (though I had to be back in about six hours), so I just grabbed a blanket that Sal had and spread it over her. I saw that there was a notepad and a pen next to her. I contemplated it for a moment, then picked it up and started writing a note.

Julie,

There are a lot of things you don’t know right now, yet I feel that you should know them. I’m not sure how else I can tell you these things except in person. At the same time, I can’t seem to put everything into cohesive sentences. But when the time is right, I will tell you everything. So put it out of your mind for now. See you tomorrow.

Sal

I pulled the paper out, folded it, and carefully slipped it under her arm. Hopefully, she’d read it. Still, as I walked out of the shop, I started to wonder what I really meant when I wrote those words. I knew that I wanted to tell her about what the real problem was in our organization. But was there something else too? I couldn’t be too sure.

The other problem I was having, on top of everything else, was that, lately, I just wasn’t able to organize my thoughts. I wasn’t sure why either. I read up bunches of stuff on the Internet, and however edited and monitored it might’ve been, nothing came up to match what it was I was experiencing. I couldn’t quite think straight anymore, I had trouble concentrating on the simplest of tasks, and no matter what the situation, my thoughts always drifted to…to…God, I’m not even sure now. The ocean, the beach, Julie, I don’t know, one of those three, any of them, all of them. They’re all inextricably linked in my head now, and I can’t pull them apart as separate things anymore.

Julie, I could understand, or at least, I can understand now. At the moment, I didn’t. But the ocean and the beach…those perplexed me to no end. I’d only ever seen the ocean and the beach in books and on the Internet, and I’d yet to actually visit it in person. I looked at my watch at that moment. It was 3am.

Maybe I’ll just blow off tomorrow…

And that’s exactly what I did. Without warning, and knowing full well I could probably be shot on the spot the next time I was seen by any Chroms, I hopped on the bus at around 10am, and headed for the mystical place known as the beach. I knew that to get from the city to the beach outskirts took a very long time, almost an entire day, but that didn’t bother me. Neonstadt was too damn big for its own good, but then again, it was also the world’s capital.

The time passed by me pretty quickly. As the bus continued on its route, people filed in and out at different stops. Nowadays, no one except the government’s highest ranking officials were allowed to have private transportation. Everyone else had to either take the bus or the train, or just walk. This was the only way the government could keep track of everyone’s movements, seeing as everyone had to pass their ID card through a machine to be registered as having entered or exited a train or bus, and whenever they enter or exit a building.

Still, watching the city go by is always something of a sublime experience. Nothing in Neonstadt looks different. It's all the same. The same gray skyscrapers, the same sidewalks, the same streets, the same grid structures repeating themselves everywhere...there's nothing unequal anywhere, nothing that springs to the eye. It's almost like watching an old black and white film repeating itself every thirty minutes. Only the people should look different, and even then it's almost as though they themselves are clones of each other. The world has lost its color. I've seen pictures of the other cities and places, and it's all the same. That's the way the world is now, an entity that moves as though it were only one...no diversity, no creativity, no color.

The exception would be the place where I'm headed towards now, the one area who's color never seems to fade.

Finally, what seemed like moments later (but was really hours later), the bus arrived at its last stop, the beach. This particular beach, from what I recalled learning in school, served mainly as a memorial to the soldiers who had died in the last war. Tombstones, crosses and flowers were strewn everywhere. Yet, underneath them was nothing. The last war had utilized nuclear and nano-weapons so extensively that very few corpses were left in the after math. There are also no genuine records as to the amount of casualties and general destruction, though the government has a habit of blowing them more out of proportion every few years to keep the public under a constant state of fear of a new war.

Still, as I surveyed the beach, I noticed one spot that was left completely open. A palm tree stood over it, and a broken trunk laid buried in the sand. The sun was setting behind it, and when I checked my watch to see it was about 5pm, I realized how much time it had taken to get here. Watching the view though, it felt well-worth the time (and risk) taken.

I wish to be the ocean itself. I wish to be a ripple on water.

Was that who I really was?

Soon as I crash on the beach’s edge, I’m leaving again, to travel the ocean once again.

Was that who Julia was?

Chase me. Reach out your hand. Try and catch me.

I’m someone who can’t be caught. I’m someone who comes and goes. Once I’ve completed my goal, I’m gone again, off to the next life.

Don’t catch a ripple, because I’m gone before you know it.

But it’s always her, her with her deep blue eyes, her sandy-colored hair, her pale skin…it’s her, and only her, who can catch me. She draws me in and lets me go just as the moon waxes and wanes.

That is who I am. That is who Julia is. That is how our lives always play out, the same music and dance, always.

But then, who was Sal in this picture? As the wind blew by, blowing the ocean's waves in and out, towards the beach's edge and away from it again, blowing my hair around, the leaves of the palm tree back and forth, I still couldn't figure out an answer. And yet, I knew that the answer was right in front of me somehow.

I liked the beach a lot. I decided that, should I still be alive, I'd come back and see more of it sometime soon.

Swiping my card in the bus, I checked my watch quickly. 11pm, it read. Yeah, I'd blown the entire day off by taking that impromptu trip to the beach. I figured I'd be getting my retribution the next day at work, but as I walked into my apartment, the first thing that catches my eye is Sal, sitting right on my sofa, smoking a cigarette, and drinking one of my beers. I can't say I was too surprised, considering the person in question...but it was still pretty creepy.

“So, enjoy your day off?” he asked.

I swallowed and took a deep breath. Something told me he was pretty pissed. It might've been the tone in his voice, I'm still not sure.

“Yeah, uh, it was great, thanks.”

“Look,” he said, as he pushed his glasses up his nose, “I'm not really mad that you decided to take the day off, without even telling me, or anyone else. I mean, a little warning next time would be pretty helpful.” He stubbed his cigarette out on my ash tray. “I'm here to tell you about your next mission, since it's tomorrow and you weren't at work today for me to tell you.”

He pulled out a small envelope, and handed it to me. As I grabbed it, I tried to make out his facial expression, but nothing came to mind. Whatever he was thinking, he was hiding it pretty damn well.

“Tomorrow, you're to go to the location written on the piece of paper inside that envelope, and you're going to complete the mission that's also written on that piece of paper. However, you're not to open it now. It must be opened at exactly 9am tomorrow. Don't think no one will know if you open it before or after 9am though...this apartment is just as rigged with cameras and microphones as the next apartment is.” Sal stood up, and finished what was left of his beer. “You were the only one that we felt was capable of this mission...so I leave it in your hands.” Finally, he turned towards the door and left.

But it was at that moment, that split-second as he turned to the door, that I noticed the expression on his face change. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, though, as to what it was. Was it worry? Or it could've been regret. At any rate, it was telling me something about this mission of mine, but I just didn't know what. Just something that Sal couldn't put in words and had to instead convey to me on a piece of paper. Still, I was tired, and I wanted some sleep, so I decided to worry about it in the morning.

No. Not there. It couldn't be. What kind of sick joke were the Chroms playing on me? I was so sure that April 1st had passed a long time ago, and no one knew my birth date, so this definitely wasn't some stupid prank in honor of my birthday. What could Sal be thinking? If only to find out the meaning behind the words on that stupid piece of paper, I did exactly what it told me to do. Show up at this address, and eliminate the man who lives there.

So, at around 10am, I arrived. As I walked up the stairs, I realized that nothing had changed since the last time I'd been here. Even though it'd only been months, it felt like years had passed since. I wasn't quite sure why, but perhaps it was just the life-altering path I'd been forced to take. Finally, I was face-to-face with apartment #707. I swallowed and took a deep breath, praying that this was all a mistake, even though I knew it wasn't.

I knocked a few times. Inside, a few glasses fell down and shattered, along with what sounded like empty cans (more than likely of beer). A chair, probably wooden, could also be heard falling over. Then, the locks undid themselves, and a beep of the official lock sounded. And then, the door creaked open.

Even though I tried to avert my eyes, they just seemed to automatically gravitate towards the pair of eyes staring at me now, slightly confused, yet mostly comprehending of what was at hand now. This pair of eyes were the only things that I shared with this man, the only piece of evident proof that we were related. They were also embedded with the unmistakable mark of a Chrom-Schmetterlinge, the faint butterfly imprinted into the irises.

Even though only a moment had passed since the door had been opened, a lifetime seemed to go by in this exchange of comprehending looks. We both understood. And I had to accept that this was no joke.

“Hey Dad.”

“Hmph,” he said, shaking his head. “You move out, don't call for months, and then you show up at my door, probably needing money. Goddammit...well, don't stand there, just get your ass in here.” He turned, walking back into the apartment, and I followed.

Physically, Dad looked the same as always, slightly muscular, shorter than average, short red hair with black spikes here and there, green eyes identical to my own. You could see the slow signs of age in his face and hands though, as both were succumbing to gravity. The scar across his forehead, diagonal, was the same as it's always been since Mom died. As I looked around the apartment though, I could see its descent into decay. Ash trays, empty beer cans and bottles, and heaps of unwashed clothes were strewn everywhere. Thankfully, he was always sparse about furniture and personal possessions. But, of course, his computer equipment was in the same corner as always. Once a hacker, always a hacker.

“Want a drink?” he asked, beers already at hand.

Eh, what the hell. “Sure.” I took one, and sat down on one of two chairs that had absolutely no garbage or clothes on it, while he sat down on the other. Opening our cans, we just stared at each other, not really saying anything for awhile. I knew and he knew what was coming...we just weren't sure how to go about starting this.

“So,” I said.

“So,” he said.

I shook my head. “Look, we both know why I'm here. So before we cut to the chase, I need you to tell me.”

“Tch,” he muttered under his breath while lighting a cigarette. “Tell you what? There's nothing to tell. I was a Chrom, I committed the worst crime possible, the love of my life died in the process, and now it's my turn to die to repent. That's it. Finite. The end. What else do you want to know?”

“I...” I knew what it was that I wanted to know. It was the same question that had been burning at the back of my head ever since it'd happened. And I needed an answer. “What did you and Mom try to do? How did she die? Why did she die? Why'd they let you live? Just...why?”

“There is no why! Or a how or a reason or logic! Nothing! I killed her! With my own hands! I had to!”

The words hung in the air for a full minute. I shook my head. “No. No, that's not true. The government did! Genesis did! You couldn't have! You loved her, you still do! You love a memory more than you could ever love me! How could you have killed her?”

“I had to,” he repeated. “She didn't want me to go through with it. But I knew what had to be done in the end. So when she stood in my way...I shot her.” He looked at me. “When I held her in my arms, her blood dripping all over me, she didn't say anything. Nothing. All she did was smile, until she took her last breath. And yet...” Dad looked down, so I couldn't see his face. But I could still hear the sadness in his voice. “...And yet, her death was in vain, because I was foolish enough to think I could go against Genesis.”

I could feel my anger disappear slowly and steadily. This was the Chrom in him speaking, the side that knew that he had to get the job done, no matter what.

“What happened when you finally saw Genesis?”

He paused for awhile, pondering his words as I finished my can of beer.

“Do you know why no one who goes in for correction comes out the same?” I shook my head. “And I thought you were a Chrom...anyway, the reason is because once you overcome the physical torture, the mental abuse, and everything else they put you through...you face Genesis.” He took a deep breath. “No one who sees her is ever the same again. You're faced with who you really are, and you're shown what it is you're worth. And you realize how meaningless it all is.”

I looked at him, and saw his eyes meet my own again. “We're all meaningless without Genesis. In the end, everyone realizes this. And we all must repent for our mistakes. That is why I found the Red Eyes...to repent.”

“Dad...” The words I would've said at that moment slipped out of my grasp. I didn't know what to say. The man standing before me wasn't the same man as from years ago, from when he was a Chrom hero, from when he had a wife and son whom he loved dearly, when he had ideals he was willing to fight and die for. This was a man who'd become like everyone else, a slave to Genesis. And yet, I knew there was no other way. I knew that this was how it had to end for him.

“I didn't like you very much, Sebastian. In fact, I hated you. I hated you because you're the exact opposite of me: lazy, apathetic, and unconcerned about most everything, yourself included. But that's why I also love you, because it's you who'll do what I couldn't.” He stubbed out his cigarette, his very last one, and stood up. I did the same, while pulling out my pistol, already loaded.

“Do you regret anything?” I asked.

“Just one. I only wish I could've listened to your mother. But then...you wouldn't be where you are now.”

I nodded. He had a point. “Dad...I don't really like you either. But I guess I do love you.”

“Pfft, liar.”

He smiled. So did I. I pulled the trigger.

Sorry, Mom. I lied. It was only you that I really loved.

That's it. Finite. The end.