Long After The End

Josh MacLeod

"There are times when compromise is necessary, my son. Times when the only way to defeat evil is to become it, when the only way to destroy your enemy is to eventually replace it and follow their same path. Those were the dark times, the ages of ruin and war. You are startled, lad? I know the term "war" is now forbidden but some must remember and speak. Our past must not fall to myth. After all, what is the difference between two children fighting in the street and two armies killing each other? It is merely a matter of degree, and perhaps of intent. Violence begets more violence. We wish to forget that war ever existed, but it is better to face our demons than to hide from them -- by facing them, our fears cease to become our masters. You know of the term war, but do you know what it is, correct?"

He appeared to be waiting for an answer, so the lad nodded.

"War is the killing of others to further your own ends. The killing of millions of people in order to protect simple things, pathetic laws, borders and pride. War is caused by pride. And fear . . . some days I think everything is caused by fear. But you did not come here to listen to an old man ramble, lad. You came to learn and I, inadequate though I may be, am among the last who teach. Once that realisation frightened me and I suppose that fear does have some uses. But I am too old to fear what I cannot change."

The old man sighed softly. "I have spoken to you on war but you do not understand it. That is not surprising. In this day and age, who can think of the millions and billions who once roamed this world? Not even the wise can comprehend those numbers, and those who claim to are not wise but fools masquerading as intelligent people, much like most of the population. Those wars killed untold numbers of people and species since the people then knew how to fight, but not yet how to exterminate. That would come later. Suffice to say, child, the wars continued because no side could fully decimate their opponent Some say the genocidal wars were for the best since they ended the misery, even though they ended joy also.

"But after one side had finally won the war -- more through luck than anything else -- they turned on each other in the end. You see, paranoia and hate cannot be turned off and on in people. Once woken, they remain and grow until a concerted effort is made to stop them. In this case, they grew until they turned back on their creators. As has happened before and likely will again, parent slew child, child killed parent, brothers and sisters slaughtered each other in jealousy and fear. It was the end result of the age-old practice of war: extermination. They killed themselves and finally the wars ended.

"The few who survived, the founders, declared war and violence to be anathema. Hmmm?" The old man looked up with an indulgent smile as the lad suppressed a yawn but his eyes were hard. "I know you are familiar with the story of the founders but I am going to tell you the truth now about them and our past, not the stories you here every night. Oh I'm not saying the stories are wrong, lad! Merely that they are not true. You want the truth now, then? The founders were wrong.

"Don't looked so scandalised, lad; anyone with a sound knowledge of history would understand my reasoning. War and death was an inseparable part of mankind, from the infancy of our race until the time of the founders. Those few thought that we had learned our lesson and were right, at least for a time. You see, the horrors of war and the deaths eventually fade into the past. The veterans die and war is once more a glorious prospect, a thing of honour. The founders thought that, finally, mankind had created a war that would be remembered and branded in our social consciousness. They were wrong.

"You shake your head? Don't tell me you wonder how that could that be? Oh, lad, you are providing me amusement in my later years. No, don't be offended. I merely meant that you show me how the youth still think. What our people have forgotten . . . some days, I wonder if it is it my fault that so few remember. Well, perhaps in part, but it is not my fault that none wish to learn. The founders were merely human, as fallible and weak as the rest of us. Oh, I know the legends, the tales of their greatness, and I agree that much of that is truth but it doesn't make them any less human. It didn't make them more.

"True, they survived the Fires and ice that came next and were capable of reading minds and altering the face of the world, but beneath it all the core of them was human. And while not as rotten as most, their core was still flawed by the very humanity that created them. An imperfect people cannot produce perfection. It would be like two rats giving birth to a cat -- even if they managed it, the cat would kill them. You smile, but it is what our ancestors tried. But they forgot, in their desperate need to succeed, those who had created them. It may be the curse of humanity's existence, that we always must try what can't or has not yet be done. Nothing like them had ever been made before.

"Hubris. An old word, but one that describes the founders better than any and their creators far too well. It means mortals who aspire to become gods in their pride. That was their folly, not that they aspired to be gods -- whatever else I know and suspect, they were very close -- but that they assumed the remnants of humanity could aspire with them. The house cat cannot become a lion, even if it thinks itself a lion. Belief was important but so is reality and when you came right down to the facts, the house cat was deluding itself. The founders were naive, innocent, and that is a crime worse than any sin. Innocence brings no wisdom, child, no learning. It was a measure of their time that innocence such as their naiveté was not a crime but that was the case. Don't give me that look, son. You can't argue with what was! Now, the founders eventually left the villages and died." The old man sighed and shook his head, chuckling weakly. "You assumed they had not died? Then they would "return in a time of need and aid the world," yes? Why do you think they would bother?

"We are not children, to so require our adults to help us. What? I mean, we are not all children, that we grow old and must make our own way."

-­ Is that right? ­-

The old man blinked once, then smiled slowly. "I do not know, child. But I think it is. We must each find our own way our of ignorance. If others lead you to knowledge, then when they pull their hand away, you'll be almost as ignorant as when they led you. We can guide other, but they must take their own journeys. The founders grasped this in the end: it is why they grew old and died.

"But enough of my thoughts. You have few chances enough to speak yours."

­- Why am I here? -­

The old man laughed dryly. "That is a question that would take more years than I have left to answer. Eh, you look puzzled? Oh, why are you here. Sorry, I did not see the emphasis. You are here because I need a student, to pass on some knowledge of what was."

-­ But don't we learn by going alone? -­

"Yes, but we also learn by observation. History -- or, to be more precise, our actions -- rarely change. We seldom evolve, save by not making the mistakes of those who have gone before. The lead us by their dubious example, and only by not following entirely where they guide us do we become better people. Don't look at me like that, lad, we can always improve ourselves. Now, as to why I picked your in particular it is because you are the only child the village would spare.

"You are not as shocked as I expected. Good. To put it simply, you are very smart, though not the smartest in the village. I wasn't in mine. The reason for that? Because those people can challenge your understanding or interpretation of the past and thus make both you and them smarter. I'm sure you know the other reasons you were spared."

The lad nodded. ­- My body is weak -­

"Yes. The fact that you can't speak is also a hindrance when hunting other animals. I am surprised your mother was able to devise even a simple code to communicate with you."

­- You didn't show her yours -­ The old man nodded. ­- Because if I could not figure out one, I didn't deserve to speak? -­

"Not really, though it was a factor. I was curious as to when you would feel the need to communicate at all. You waited until your fifth year to try, a sign that people don't need each other as much as they once did. That's good, since we may be finally outgrowing the need for cities and rulers and our herd instincts. Since you know yourself well enough, I will tell you the other reason. Teachers are always looked after by the people, this is tradition. It's not because teachers must spend so long teaching and learning that they have no time to get their own food, but merely that the founders successors realised that the best would never be teachers.

"You are shocked again? Lad, they simply realised that the best would be the ones out hunting, fighting and gatherings. The strong ones, in terms of necessary survival. Now, I cannot attest to this as truth or not, but I think they made it so that many of the more intelligent would be lesser, weak in many ways. It ensures more teachers. Now, I can't prove it, but I do know that no one is born without enough intelligence to do basic tasks and fend for themself, as occurred before the founders' time. Why? Because there were too many people to change and make effects permanent, that's why.

"Look at me, for example. I can't see much past the length of this hut, though I see that clear as day. Can't see spit at night, regardless of how close things are. I'd have made a pathetic hunter. But, despite the fact I can't teach writing, I make a good teacher. Writing? You see that book I taught you to read this week? Those letters can be written on rock or bark and read by others, if they're taught." The old man got up and walked over to the rooms single table by the bed and brought over a piece of bark and a stick of chalk. "You remember the first line of that book?"

­- In the days when the god UN ruled the world, a rebellion came against his mighty fist of cold -­

"Very good." The old man held up the piece of bark and the lad frowned at it. "Can you read that?" The lad shifted his position slightly and shook his head. "I wrote what you told me to." He laughed softly at the lad's expression. "You see, my hands shake badly when I try to do fine things like writing. It's another reason I became a teacher.

"As for you, you are my student because you can't speak, and because you'll soon be unable to walk without aid."

The lad's hands didn't move for a long time. Then: ­- How do you know this? -­

"I've heard of weakness of this sort. No, not how to cure it, but of it. You're legs will get weaker every day until one day soon they won't be able to support your weight. If you choose not to become a teacher, your only option is really that of sorting herbs at some hut and not living a life. It is your choice."

The lads expression was bitter ­- Not much of one -­

"To put a fine point on it, no. You see, lad, you are not stupid, reasonably intelligent and very intuitive. Just about every teacher has those qualities. I think it is one of the changed the founders made in us, myself."

-­ You mean they made all who would be teachers to be wrong in some way? -­ The lad signed incredulously.

"The word you were looking for is defective and, yes, that is what I think they did. Now tell me why."

The lad frowned, absently shifting his weakened legs and looked at the strangely then looked up and bit his lip. ­- I think -­ He paused, and shook his head. ­- I think it is so that others won't envy us -­

"What makes you say that?"

­- Others may be smarter than the teachers, but the teachers know more than they do -­ He looked up and the old man nodded for him to continue. ­- It's like us with the animals, isn't it? -­ he signed slowly. ­- We fear the ones who are faster and more cunning, and we kill them -­

"Yes." The old man waited, and finally the lad signed:

­- Being smart is a reason to fear someone, isn't it? ­-

"Not smart, lad. Most people are smart, in their own ways. It's learning their fear, the fact that teachers know more than they do, and speak truth against others' lies. I think that was why the founders limited us. I am sure you have been mocked?" The lad nodded, guardedly. "As was I. It is meant, as my teacher told me and I now tell you, to teach us something. Wisdom.

"By that I mean the ability to know when to tell truths, and when to accept lies and leave them be. The founders said that truth should always be guarded by lies and spoken rarely. I doubt you will have that problem." The lad smiled weakly. "But that is not all. Wisdom is the applying of knowledge, knowing when to use it and when to throw it away and begin something new. Most people don't do that. they have too much pride in what their fathers did, or are afraid of insulting them. Are you?"

­- I'm me because of who my father is -­ The lad paused. ­- I don't want to hate him -­ He got up slowly, using his sticks to help himself ­- I would do something new -­ he signed awkwardly, then ­- Thank you -­ and moved to the door and towards his home for chores as the sun slowly set.

The old man sat by himself for a long time then smiled slowly and got up, wincing at the pain in his joints. He walked over to the piece of bark and scraped the writing off, then wrote in a clear, concise hand: This house and all it holds belongs to is the quiet lad now. He paused, thinking, then wrote in one of the old tongues: We couldn't all bring ourselves to leave you. When you want to cut the strings, you'll know where to find me. He signed no name to it, knowing the lad would find the books in the cellar and learn that tongue soon enough.

Getting up, the old man walked out into the dark unerringly, slipping past the herders with ease. Maybe this lad would be the one to find him, he though to himself as he began the long walk to the next people. Even almost-gods have dreams.

- Josh MacLeod (1999?)