by Seth Rain
He smiled and she kissed him.
‘Now,’ she said, getting off his lap, ‘can we forget about this dying business? It’s getting me down.’
He took the pack of cards from his pocket and opened them.
She tidied away the glasses and bottles.
He shuffled the cards, slid them back into the box and placed them on the arm of the chair.
‘I’m not finished with that,’ he said, taking a whisky glass from her as she walked past.
‘There’s no need to drink now,’ she said. ‘We made it.’
He finished the whisky. ‘Have you heard?’ he asked, staring into the empty glass. ‘The AI has developed a drug that can stop time and can induce any experience you desire. It’s called Eternity. You live an hour in this world but a lifetime in the inducement.’
‘How do you know you’re not in the inducement now?’ she asked.
He loved her because she said things like this. He loved her because she saw through it all, saw through everything, right down to the truth.
‘I don’t. Except I don’t think I’d create a world in which each year I thought I’d die on 22 April.’
‘Maybe not,’ she said and sat on the chair next to his. ‘You will stop, won’t you?’ She glanced at the bottle of whisky.
Scott stared at the bottle. ‘The AI’s not been wrong once.’
‘That we know of.’
‘We’d know,’ he said. ‘Someone would know.’
‘Maybe.’
‘What if you’re right?’ he said. ‘What if they ensure the dates are adhered to?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘They wouldn’t. Who’d do that?’
‘People who want others to believe the 144,000 – the Second Coming – is real. The Watchers.’
Scott raised the glass to his mouth but it was empty.
‘You have to stop drinking,’ she said.
He put down the glass. ‘I will.’
She’d told him how she knew when he was lying – it was in his eyes.
‘I mean it. I know it’s tough.’ She rested a hand on his arm. ‘But we have to make the most of what we have. We have at least another whole year: another summer, winter, spring… We could have another twenty years, fifty, a hundred – who knows? Stop waiting to die and start living.’
He ignored her, his jaw tightening. She didn’t understand what it was like, and he’d given up explaining.
‘Promise me,’ she said, glancing at the whisky bottle. ‘Promise me you’ll stop.’
There was a knock at the door. Rebecca flinched.
‘It’s okay,’ Scott said, again checking his watch to make sure the date had changed to the 23rd.
Rebecca peered through the peephole. ‘I think it’s your friend.’
Scott frowned and waited for Rebecca to step aside so he could see for himself.
‘What’s he doing here?’ he asked, sliding across the two bolts and opening the door.
‘Thank God,’ Craig said, placing a hand against his forehead.
Scott leaned into the hall to check no one was with him. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ Craig said. ‘I wanted to know you were okay.’
Scott went to speak but then stopped.
‘Come in,’ Rebecca said, pushing Scott aside. ‘I’m Rebecca. Ignore him – he’s not used to visitors.’
‘Hi,’ Craig said, raising a hand. ‘I’ve heard all about you.’
Rebecca smiled. ‘All good?’
Craig blushed. ‘Of course.’
Scott registered Rebecca’s expression as Craig walked past her and into the apartment. It was one of understanding. Scott couldn’t do pleasantries the way she could. Small talk was painful for him. It was a game people played that he couldn’t give in to; it was dishonest.
‘I had to know you were okay,’ Craig said, taking off his baseball cap and running a hand through his hair. ‘I waited until after midnight. Didn’t want to give you a fright.’
‘I’m fine,’ Scott said.
‘We made it through another one,’ Rebecca said. ‘Another year.’
Craig smiled. ‘I’ve told him he’ll be an old man. I can tell.’
Rebecca smiled. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
‘No, thanks. It’s late. I’ll leave you alone. Just wanted to … you know…’ Craig used his cap to point at Scott.
‘It’s good of you,’ Rebecca said. ‘Isn’t it Scott?’
‘I appreciate it.’
‘Please,’ she said to Craig, ‘stay and have a drink.’
Craig glanced at Scott before putting on his cap. ‘No, really, I must be off.’
‘Come again sometime,’ Rebecca said. ‘We’ll make a night of it. Now we’ve met.’
‘I’d love to,’ Craig said, walking to the door.
‘Thank you,’ Scott said.
Craig put a hand on Scott’s shoulder. ‘No problem. We have to stick together.’
Scott nodded and opened the door. ‘I’ll see you around.’
‘Maybe see you at the bar,’ Craig said. He walked along the hallway and onto the stairs.
Scott closed the door and slid the two bolts across.
‘He’s nice,’ Rebecca said. ‘You should help him. He needs someone to talk to. He’s lonely.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Scott Beck,’ she said, ‘show some compassion. Being friends with him will be good for you, too.’
‘I’ll meet up with him.’
Rebecca tilted her head and pursed her lips.
‘What?’ he said. ‘I will. Promise.’
Rebecca reached out for him. With her head resting against his chest, he buried his face in her hair.
‘We can’t let the date stop us living,’ she said.
‘I know,’ Scott said, glad she couldn’t read his eyes, knowing full well this was not a promise he could keep. ‘We won’t.’
Five
Scott stumbled in shock, his eyes fixed on Craig’s body. ‘What have you done?’
‘Your friend is by His side,’ the Watcher said. ‘I’ve done a good thing. It’s what he would have wanted.’
Scott dropped to his knees and reached out to touch Craig’s shoulder, but his hand stopped short. He couldn’t. It looked as though, at any minute, Craig might move his head. But that didn’t happen. Scott realised he’d never seen a dead person before. The body in front of him was motionless, and so was Scott.
‘You’re insane,’ Scott said.
The Watcher’s expression changed and his body stiffened. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Insanity is knowing the truth and not acting on it.’
Finally, Scott’s legs and feet moved. He strode towards the Watcher, his eyes on the revolver, his fists clenched.
‘Stop,’ the Watcher said, lifting the revolver and pointing it at Scott.
Scott stopped.
On the street beyond the alleyway, protestors chanted. A muffled beat throbbed through the walls of the buildings surrounding them.
‘Wait.’ The Watcher glanced up as a drone flew past. ‘I can help you too.’
Scott swallowed.
The Watcher’s expression was filled with sympathy. ‘With your date.’
Scott recalled his hand being tattooed. Then he understood what the Watcher meant. He shook his head.
‘You’re supposed to protect the Chosen, not kill them yourself.’
The Watcher bowed his head and shook it slowly.
‘Why?’ Scott asked, unable to come up with anything else to convey his feelings.
The Watcher pointed at the protestors moving along the street. ‘Each one of them,’ he said, ‘believes they’re choosing to do what they do. Choosing. Like it’s common sense. Like it makes any sense at all. What I’ve done is a blessing for your friend. You must see that.’
‘I don’t believe in it. Any of it.’
The Watcher tilted his head, his brow furrowing. ‘You don’t believe in God?’
‘No,’ Scott said, and c
hecked no one heard him; it was automatic.
The Watcher raised his eyebrows. ‘I will help you too,’ he said again, nodding to Scott’s hand and date. He offered Scott the revolver. ‘Leave this hell and take your place by His side.’
‘You’re crazy.’
The Watcher appeared hurt. Then he flinched and cocked his head to one side, as if he had heard something. ‘I must go.’
Scott wanted to stop him but he was too late. The Watcher was disappearing down the alley and onto the street.
Rain fell, large spots hitting the ground. Scott stared at Craig. Nausea swirled in his stomach and bile rose in his throat. There was blood on the wall. Craig’s hands rested in his lap, palms upwards, blood covering them. His date was different to Scott’s, but the shape of the numbers, the colour of the ink, was the same.
Six
Craig was already there, waiting for him, as he was every week, sitting at the bar, his head bowed, his broad shoulders hunched over a half-full glass of whisky.
Scott waited, thought about leaving. He stared at the door but remembered what Rebecca had said to him. He’d promised to talk to Craig.
‘Scott?’ Craig shouted across the bar.
Scott, pretending to see him for the first time, raised a hand and headed over.
‘How’s things?’ Craig asked.
Scott asked the barman for two whiskies and sat next to Craig. ‘You all set?’
Craig’s face darkened. ‘Think so.’ He shrugged. ‘You never get used to it.’
Scott thanked the barman and drank. ‘It’ll come and go,’ he said to Craig. ‘This time next week it’ll all be over.’
Craig nodded, sniffed, and took a long drink of whisky.
‘Then we’ll celebrate,’ Scott said. ‘Right here. The day after your date.’
Craig made an effort to smile.
It was quiet inside the bar, with only a few people dotted about. Scott swirled his whisky glass so the ice clinked. He glanced at Craig, who stared into his own drink. Rebecca would know what to say, Scott thought. ‘It’s no big deal,’ he said. ‘You just have to get through the day. Then you’ll have another year.’
Craig nodded. ‘You know when you have that feeling…’
Scott drank.
‘It sounds stupid,’ Craig went on. ‘But I have a feeling … that it’ll happen this year.’
‘It’s like that every year.’
Craig shook his head. ‘This is different. This feeling … it feels like no matter what I do…’
‘It’s only natural.’ Scott checked his watch.
They sat in silence for a while.
‘Are you going to tell me?’ Craig asked.
Scott raised an eyebrow. ‘Tell you what?’
Craig nodded at Scott’s pocket. ‘The cards.’
Scott shifted on his stool. ‘It’s nothing.’
‘You have to tell me,’ Craig said. ‘I’ve stopped myself asking enough times. What’s with the cards?’
Scott straightened his back and rolled his shoulders. ‘I started doing it when I heard about the AI.’
‘Go on.’
Reluctantly Scott took the pack from his pocket and placed it on the bar. He rolled his eyes. ‘Do you have any idea of the odds that another shuffled deck of cards would end up in the exact same order as this one?’
Craig leaned towards him. ‘A million to one?’
Scott smiled. ‘Multiply fifty-two by fifty-one by fifty, all the way down to one.’
Craig stared at the ceiling as though calculating the answer.
‘The number,’ Scott said, ‘is an eight with sixty-seven zeroes after it. Which means there isn’t, never has been, or ever will be, a shuffled deck that ends up in the same order as this one.’ Scott took a sip of whisky. ‘We could sit here, along with everyone else on the planet, and shuffle packs for the age of the universe and there would still only be one in a trillion-trillion-trillion chance of a shuffled pack matching this one.’
Scott pushed the cards across the bar towards Craig. ‘This pack is unique.’
Craig rubbed his forehead. ‘What does the AI have to do with it?’
The AI would know the order these cards are in. Out of all the possible sequences — an eight with sixty-seven zeroes after it — the AI would know.’
Craig held the box then placed it back on the bar. He sighed.
‘And that’s just one deck of cards,’ Scott said. ‘What about every other deck of cards? What about you, me…’ Scott scanned the bar. ‘How does it read all the possibilities?’
‘Maybe it can’t,’ Craig said. ‘That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.’
Scott took the cards and pushed them back into his pocket. A couple came into the bar, laughing loudly, catching Scott’s attention.
‘I knew you wanted to be left alone,’ Craig said when the couple reached the bar.
‘What?’ Scott asked, unclear as to where Craig’s thoughts had led him.
‘The day we met,’ Craig said. ‘Remember? You didn’t want me to talk to you. It took me five attempts to pluck up the courage. You know how hard it is to talk to someone you know doesn’t want to talk?’
Scott didn’t know what to say. Craig was right. He hadn’t wanted to talk.
‘Even though I could tell you didn’t want to, I knew you needed to talk,’ Craig said.
Scott hadn’t considered it this way around.
‘I’m glad you did,’ Scott said, guessing that was what Craig wanted to hear.
‘Don’t close yourself off.’ Craig studied Scott’s face, then his own hands resting on the bar. ‘You need people – no matter what you think.’
Scott wanted to laugh but stopped himself.
‘You can laugh,’ Craig said, smiling. ‘But I’m serious.’
‘I know.’ Scott straightened his face. ‘I know.’ He swallowed and spun his glass on the bar. ‘I’ll stay with you,’ he said, surprising himself.
Craig stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘On your date,’ Scott said, remembering Rebecca’s words. ‘We’ll hang out.’
‘You’d do that for me?’ Craig said.
Scott finished his drink and shrugged. ‘Sure. We can make a day of it. Forget about Watchers, dates, the AI.’
Craig raised his glass and nudged Scott’s with his.
Seven
Scott laid Craig on the wet ground.
On the day he found out he was Chosen, the moment he discovered he was one of the 144,000, everything changed … and nothing changed. People doubted the AI could do it. But when over a hundred males had died on the dates predicted, everyone knew the AI had done it, that it had proven reality was deterministic and that people had no free will. Yet people carried on living as though nothing had happened, because it was impossible to comprehend. Events became inevitable, and that’s all there was to it. Even the protestors at the other end of the alleyway, their hands raised in the air, their voices loud, knew everything was unavoidable but carried on, regardless.
But being told that everything that happened was determined and had nothing to do with free will didn’t appeal to what it felt like to be conscious. Scott, like everybody else, knew what it was like to make decisions, no matter what they said, no matter how many deaths the AI predicted. People were told that consciousness was a trick. They said it was like believing the sun orbited the earth. Understanding what was actually happening with the sun and the planets was far from intuitive. The same was true of free will. Thinking that, if we could rewind time, we could have done differently, was the same as believing the sun orbited the earth. All the evidence and common sense would convince anyone. But if humanity had learned anything, it was not to trust intuition.
‘Do you know this man?’ a voice asked.
Scott stood and saw another Watcher walk towards him.
‘Haven’t you done enough already?’ Scott asked.
For a moment, the Watcher looked confused, then he shook his head. ‘No. Tha
t man was not a Watcher.’
It was Scott’s turn to be confused.
‘His name’s Dearil,’ the Watcher said, edging closer. ‘He’s no Watcher.’
‘His coat,’ Scott said. ‘The revolver…’
The Watcher shrugged. He stood next to Scott, tall, bald with bright eyes. He scratched his beard and glanced back the way he’d come, through the alleyway. On the back of his neck was the Watcher’s tattoo: a cross, sprouting up out of the collar of his coat.
‘He’s a religious zealot,’ he said to Scott. ‘So I’m told. And there are more and more like him turning up.’
Scott glanced at Craig. ‘It’s Craig’s date. How would he have known?’
The Watcher nodded at Scott’s hand. ‘It’s not difficult.’
‘Craig kept his date hidden,’ Scott said.
‘It’s not difficult to find the dates. These dates have been released on the black market several times.’
‘If you know who he is, why don’t you stop him?’
The Watcher shook his head. ‘His time will come.’
‘That’s it?’ Scott asked. ‘His time will come?’
The Watcher stooped over Craig. ‘It’s your friend’s time. I couldn’t have stopped it.’
Scott barged past the Watcher. ‘You wanted him to kill Craig. You’re as insane as he is!’
A drone, its siren blaring, a blue light flashing beneath it, hovered above them. It’s insect-like head dipped and scanned the Watcher, who stood and peered up at it. Scott stood still, knowing what drones could do. It swept towards Scott and again dipped, then banked to one side to hover above Craig. The Watcher buttoned up his coat beneath his chin. After one last fly-by, the drone rose into the sky and flew away.
‘Where’s it going?’ Scott asked.
The Watcher stroked his beard. ‘This is no business for the authorities.’
‘Not their business? That man just killed Craig!’
The Watcher walked past Scott towards the alleyway. ‘I told you: his time will come.’
Scott pointed at Craig. ‘We can’t leave him here.’
‘Someone is on their way. They will take care of your friend; he is Chosen.’
