NftM #9: Traitor

Photo by Robert Couse-Baker

“Don’t you think we should tell them?" The young man flinched at the festival of horrors pouring from the small screen: people sleeping on hospital floors, in crowded tents on dusty fields, on the side of the street, holding bloody rags to their faces. He could almost smell the iron in their tears.

“There’s nothing we can do about it.” Shrugging, the old man turned the screen off, and the grainy darkness poured shadows on his pale face. “We’re not supposed to get involved."

Sighing, the young man shook his head in disbelief. The history lessons from school still haunted him at night and the weight of the deaths that paved the way for their success made his peace unpleasant, sour.

“They were so close,” the young man thought, pushing a button to open a window and let some white light inside the small, stuffy room. “So close to finding us, to understanding that another way is possible. I can still warn them.”

Standing up, tall as he was, hair unacceptably dishevelled compared with the neat haircut of his older companion, the young man paced around the room a couple of times, thinking of something, anything to escape, to let off some of the guilt bleeding him dry.

“I need to step out for a moment. I will be back,” he said simply, almost out of breath. The older man didn’t even turn to look at him.

“Bring some coffee with you when you come back, won’t you?”

The younger man nodded, maybe walking too fast toward the door. He just needed to reach the computer in the control room on the East wing to send the message. He exists. His universe exists. People here had learned from their mistakes and they lived in peace. He could teach the people stranded at the other side of the black hole how to stop fearing each other, hating each other.

With each new step, he felt closer to a solution to stop the screaming he could still hear worlds and universes away, in a place with different laws, but in the office, the older man knew what the spark in his companion's eye was. He had been there before, watching over the other ones, spending time with them in his nightmares, dreaming of a way to save them. His finger rested on the alarm button for a minute while he processed and discarded the sadness, just as he had been taught. 

“He’s going to the control room,” he announced to the person at the other side of the line, realising that now he'd have to go get his own coffee.

Here’s some cool stuff from the internet

1. The Writers Vincent van Gogh Loved, From Charles Dickens to Harriet Beecher Stowe

2. Let’s laugh at hilarious recreations of terrible art.

3. Your guide to Orson Welles’s work.

4. Manufacturing authenticity on YouTube.

5. Knuckleduster, the first single by Paul Banks’ new band, Muzz.

That’s it for this week, folks. If you liked what you read, consider helping me stay caffeined by donating to my Ko-fi.

Thanks for reading. Until next time.