Dead Man Talking

Refer to the dead man in "By the Waters of Babylons".

Dead Man Talking

        

        The boy is here again. After the night he spend sleeping in my house, the boy came back several times for my broad book collection. One who seeks knowledge eagerly has to be a decent person. I hover near the mantelpiece, taking in his appearance. The boy wears clothing that resembles the cavemen’s. However, his eyes have an intelligent shine to them. He is reading intently and perching on my second favorite seat. I frowned at the trial of muddy footprints on the floor. It had been some time since I last had company other than the boy. How long had it been? A couple of hundred or thousand of years? Time means nothing to a ghost.
 From the first time I saw the boy, I knew that he is the one. The one who would be the messenger. For I have a lesson to teach his people that will altar their fate altogether. That’s it, if they manage to follow my advice.

 

        My eyes flicker in the general direction of my beloved armchair, in another room. My luxury, when I was alive, was settling in the chair with one of my works of literature, or just simply staring at my artworks which decorated the walls. I had been putting my story together the past few weeks. Now is the time.  
      

         With a brandish of my right hand, I put the boy to sleep and lure his soul out. I have practiced some ghostly tricks in my eternity. His soul blinks and stares at me blankly. Then, he suddenly recognizes who I am. He bows deeply to me. No further explanation is needed. 
 

       “I am the owner of this suite, and the only one who possesses the knowledge of the truth,” I proclaim gravely. “I showed you our tragedy already, when you first came here, remember?  On that fateful day, men were still fussing over themselves and carrying out their daily routine. They did not realize the end was near, which I knew all too well…,” I gulp tentatively. Even years after witnessing the scene, it is still difficult to recall it. Although, I must carry on, for it is my duty.

     

     “A small, rocket- shape object flew through the air. It exploded in mid- air releasing a blinding light the strength of a hundred suns. Then the heat, over a million Celsius, swallowed up part of the city and vaporized every creature on it instantly. The high pressure caused by the heat swept through the rest of the town, leaving piles of rubbles in its wake. My building was one of the scarce fortunate. I watched my fellow men perish, as I died later of radiation. My body was in immense pain, although it is only a fraction of  the agony inflicted on my soul.

       

         You are probably wondering why I know so much about the atomic bomb, a weapon of mass destruction. I invented it. Well, maybe indirectly. Nuclear power is my discovery. During  my whole life, I never dreamed the power would be used by the government to slaughter men.
 Regret, like vines, crept around my heart, multiplying at an alarming speed. The dark side of human nature shattered my innocent outlook on men, the one that I took on in my childhood. I was born to a wealthy family, with two loving parents. They sheltered me so thoroughly that my previous stages of life had been blessed. Part of this was my fault too. I separated myself from the world by staying indoors, reading. I was extremely shy, but I still loved my school, my community, and my country. My dream was to give back to the world that had given me so much. Never would I know that my inventions would cause such a catastrophe. The news that the government was developing nuclear weapons was earth- shattering to me. I protested in all ways imaginable, writing letters, organizing sit-ins, and giving speeches. It was all in vain. In the following six months, I learned more about life than the previous twenty- eight years. I was desperate to mend my wrongs so I donated all my fortune to charity organizations. It was dirty money anyway.
 

        The supposed ‘enemy’ was the country right beside us. We had hostile relationships due to the protracted boundary disputes. When I realize that I was not able to prevent the making of the deadly weapons, I moved to the capital of our neighbouring country. My plan was to provide their military forces with anti- atomic bomb devices. Shamefully, it was not done in time. The situation between the two countries grew tense.
 

        I knew the bomb was launched on that day. Despite my betrayal, the government was still grateful for my accomplishments. They informed me about it days in advance. In the morning, I seated myself in front of the window overlooking the city, waiting. These ‘enemies’ are men just like us. We all breath the same air, and deal with the sorrows and joys of life. The least I could do was to share with these innocent citizens the same fate that was upon them. The sight was horrifying and beyond my ability to describe. All devils in hell seemed to break loose in that second. The bombing was another blow to my confidence in humans’ nature.
   

         Boy, if you do not intend to follow in our footsteps, then listen carefully. In my time, men gained knowledge too fast, they did not have time to digest it. They were engaged in a busy, materialistic lifestyle, always rushing, with no time to stop and look inside their hearts. Men did not know what their heart truly desired. Instead of investigating deeper, they were captured by the shallow temptations, such as pursuing more money or power. They absorbed information and knowledge hungrily, but with a barren mind where no seed of knowledge could grow into a healthy tree. No one in our society applied the brakes. We were an out- of- control train plunging into the depths of devastation. My invention of nuclear power was like giving fire to a child. The child did not have enough sense to put it to good use. The result was a ‘Great Burning’. Boy, take knowledge slowly. We paid with our lives, millions of lives, to learn this lesson. Please, give me the comfort that you will heed my advice and save our descendents. Even though I am disappointed in men, I still believe that we have plenty of wonderful virtues. There were articles of shocking serial murderers but also of  selfless scientists who put themselves in life- threatening danger for the sake of mankind. Expose your fellow men to literature, and make them think. Feed their minds so that they will grow. I have high hopes in you, boy. I can tell that you also seek the true meaning of life. However, we can never grasp it fully, just fragments throughout the course of our lives. Anyway, I hope now you understand the cruel history of our civilization. Pass my words on and I shall rest in peace.”
    

        I smile in satisfaction at the expression of the boy. His lips are slightly parted with a far- away look in his eyes. Underneath them, the wheels of his brain were turning. My words are flooding over his mind. Raising my right hand, I note that it is translucent. A ray of light shines through it, escaping from the gate of heaven, that is ajar, right above my armchair, where my body laid. My time has came. I have no attachment to this world now. Among all the faults of humans, one virtue will always stay intact, the ability to hope. Ascending the stairway to heaven, my eyes fix on the now beaming, young face of the boy.