Masters of Creation
(1,900 words)
The Grand Ballroom of the Plaza teemed with life, masters and servants alike. Large round tables covered the floor, and above the stage hung a golden banner with a bright red acronym: VEM. Beneath it smaller varicoloured streamers flew with crimson stars and a single slogan repeated to infinity: Life Finds a Way to Die.
An officious looking little man with glasses and a bald shiny dome atop his head took the stage. Hello? he said, giving the microphone attached to the podium a few uncertain taps. Is this thing on?
When a hush fell over the audience the little man's confidence seemed to grow. Good evening, everybody, he said. And welcome to the 35th annual fundraiser dinner of VEM. I'm pleased to announce that we've managed to raise over 1.5 million dollars for our noble cause tonight. Give yourselves a big hand, everyone.
Gladly the jam-packed ballroom followed the little man's example and cheered themselves loudly, some clinking their glasses together and more emptying them. The little bald speaker then fumbled with his notes, and to a discernible, sober eye a faint frown flashed across his face as he read his next card.
And the night isn't over yet, folks, he continued. The Voluntary Extinction of Mankind movement has not seen a more fervent champion than our next speaker. Please welcome Senator Reston Longfellow!
Clutching a pile of papers an elderly man with wild time-peppered hair slouched towards the podium to applause just loud enough not to be rude, but reserved enough to make it clear that no one looked forward to hearing him speak. From experience they knew that they were in for another speech that would take 30 minutes to go anywhere, and then you were sorry it did. Longfellow straightened his papers ceremoniously against the wood while two men placed an enormous easel next to him and promptly left. After placing his papers down he stared long and hard at the first page, gripping tightly the sides of the podium. Then he let out a loud sigh.
Ladies and gentlemen, Longfellow began. For weeks I laboured on what I should say here tonight, and as you can see I even wrote a few words down. He tapped the pile of papers to a few nervous chuckles. But the more I thought about this night, about the past 35 years, and most of all about what exactly we have achieved, what I had to do became clear.
Longfellow grabbed the pile of papers and threw them down on the diners. I will not waste so many words on such a rotten lot. Too long have I stood idly by, letting you all play your silly game. Now it is time for us to face the facts: abstinence does not work. Contraceptives do not work. Termination does not work. Governments won't allow forced sterilization of the stubborn and the petty. Many of you parrot how we have managed to bring down birth rates in the west, but I ask what good does that do when all our hard work is undone by some hussy in Nigeria who can't keep her legs closed?
A murmur of disapproval filled the room, which could be translated as Was that racist? I'm pretty sure that was racist. I better object so no one will think I'm racist.
You are all children, Longfellow went on, ignoring the protests. The ideals from which Voluntary Extinction movement originated recognized that the history of humanity is written in blood on a parchment of rotting flesh. Will we be just another cankerous footnote? Many of those who came before you were no better than you, I admit it, when just one year after the Initiation they pushed through the One child policy in China, thinking it would not be long until reproduction would be a thing of the past. Fool and their dreams, but they were men of action and principle. What have you achieved? Just in the last 15 years we have gone from less than six billion to more than seven. This is an affront to all that we should hold decent, and all you do is hold parties and celebrate your non-existent accomplishments. I have cause to believe a few of you even are breeders yourselves. But I have a solution to all of this.
Ignoring the growing booing Longfellow reached over for the easel, tearing off the blank sheet. In doing so he revealed a picture, an orb ablaze with yellow fires.
The Sun, Longfellow declared solemnly to a suddenly silent room. Our precious star needs to be taken down a peg or two. Too long it has dominated the sky, reminding man of his mortality at dusk and filled him with false hope at dawn. Its eternal glow makes a mockery of life, it imposes its will upon us, and its monopoly of light and energy is no less despicable than that of a Middle-Eastern oil baron. Ladies and gentlemen, we have no need to trifle around with contraceptives and abortions when we can unite all of mankind against this celestial abomination. Turning them will be easy. We are face to face with our cruel creator every day. Its rays rape the good earth, spreading disease, dearth and death. We cannot choose our beginning, so let us choose our end. From this day henceforth, I propose we pool all our resources together in ridding ourselves of this evil.
You can't destroy the Sun, someone argued.
Yes, it's too hot, an uncertain voice added. And big.
Yes, too big and too hot, an expert confirmed the analysis.
Gentlemen, please! Look at the big picture! Longfellow shouted, pointing furiously at the tiny Sun behind him. We will not destroy the Sun, not as long as anyone in this room still draws breath. But in our quest to achieve this seeming impossibility we shall unite mankind. Our Halcyon days shall follow, days of unity through destruction to match God's seven days of creation. And when our descendants finally succeed, and it is inevitable they will, for life always finds a way to die, aeons may pass and this empty, dead planet will remain undisturbed. But one day it will be discovered by some race deserving of life, and what shall they find? Amidst the wrecks of the universe, countless of civilizations destroyed by war, disease and disaster, one shining beacon show them the way, a species which chose to end its own existence, understanding that the only way to conquer death was to embrace it. When they see what we have done, will they not worship us as gods? Will they not with resigned envy and admiration declare that these men truly were masters of creation?
You're a madman, Longfellow! Someone shouted at him, and the room was soon full of assenting shouts.
Who said that? Longfellow croaked as he scanned the room in uproar with a hand shading his eyes. Is it Waters? I should have known a flip-flopping liberal like you is all talk and no action!
Yes, it's me, the man called Waters yelled back, much louder now to be heard over the din. You're a madman! Get off the stage!
Say that once more and I'll shove a wine bottle down your throat!
He said it once more.
*
The ballroom was dark and empty, save for a lonely drinker at a large round table. Reston Longfellow huddled over his glass and bottle as if safeguarding the sole earthly possession remaining to him.
Shouldn't you be going home? someone finally interrupted his brooding.
Longfellow looked up, and saw the cordial face of Julian Waters. One of those Hollywood types, Longfellow knew, whose convictions were as fleeting as their morals. A handsome man, no doubt. What do you want? he said.
They told me you were still here, so I came to see that you're alright.
Now you've seen, and now you can leave.
But Waters didn't leave. He sat down at the table, few chairs away from Longfellow as to leave a comfortable cushion between them.
The cleaning staff is too scared to come in here, after the scene you caused, Waters said, and they glanced over to where Longfellow had jumped off the stage and ran on the tables on his way to throttle the life out of Waters, leaving behind him a trail of broken tableware, spilled drinks, scattered food, and one broken wooden podium. The party had ended soon after. I trust you have recovered from your momentary urge to murder me?
What a bunch of useless twits, Longfellow grumbled, ignoring the question. If they had an ounce of sense they would not be cleaning up after others. There's no dignity in that. None.
And pray tell, what should they do?
You know what. They should put an end to it.
Oh yes, I suppose if we can't have a good old fashioned general extinction, a personal one will have to do.
You're mocking me, Waters.
And you're underestimating the opponent, Longfellow, Waters said. These, hmph, the word seemed to get stuck in his throat. People you want dead so bad are much more resilient than you think. They cling to life like ticks to a fat cow, and more someone like you tries to dash their hopes, faster they try to rebuild them. You republicans will never understand that. I don't think I need to remind you of the whole American Dream debacle. Show people what they're missing to drive them into despair seemed such an elegant solution, but who would have thought the fools would actually try to go out and achieve it?
Why are you agreeing with me? Longfellow said, uncertain both from Waters' words and the drink. You made a fool of me. You just told everyone I was wrong.
I said that you were crazy, Waters said. I never said that you were wrong. And so am I, as far as most are concerned. You think I'm inconstant, fickle, but I'm anything but. We want the same thing, but for very different reasons. We were given our very own Eden, yet after all this time history still produces men like you, Longfellow, men who would destroy the world out of bitterness. But at least you have some semblance of principles. The filth that filled this room tonight is much worse than any angry old man. Our garden is overrun by hedonistic pigs whose whose ideals are chosen like their clothes and cars, by fashion. It was not some jealous god who cast us out of our paradise. It was us.
Longfellow did not deign to reply, but Waters just laughed. And you certainly did not need my help to make a fool of yourself. The Sun, Longfellow?
It would have been beautiful, Longfellow said, more to his drink than to Waters. Even as a failure.
I know you want to reach for the stars, but regrettably even the nearest one is much too far. But not to worry, there are solutions closer to home.
What? How?
There's one thing you can always rely on, Longfellow, Waters said as he rose and placed his hand on Longfellow's shoulder, giving it an encouraging squeeze. No matter what, life finds a way.