by P. S. Power
"Seconded." The man that called out was Winsor. He glanced at Morten and shook his slightly shaggy head.
"As long as Jake agrees, I mean. It twas him that was left to die."
A few other people tried to say no, but Yalla looked at him from her raised perch and shrugged.
"I agree. What do you say, Very Good Man." She used it like an official title, almost as if invoking a higher power.
Jake stood, just in case anyone didn't know who he was, raising his voice like he used to when performing.
"For my part in this I think that we should seek to forgive them all. Which won't be easy. As to Morten though, I believe that this other man has taken responsibility for his actions, when he has no need to do it, not if he was lying or simply wanted death. We should get him checked out, of course, but that's a formality. He should never have been put on trial here at all. Or, you know, whatever it is we're going to call this." He smiled, hoping it didn't seem over the top. It was just that they had too much to do to waste people on anger for things they couldn't control.
After that Morten was scanned by Sara and pronounced to have signs of severe tampering. Burt and the man that had taken responsibility for it both stood and walked over, as if they weren't prisoners on trial with their lives in the balance, explaining things to the woman, who finally walked Mort out by the arm, looking around like she expected someone to try and stop her. No one moved at all though. Finally Jake waved for her to just go.
Burt started talking, no doubt as a distraction to get the kid from the room.
"I take full responsibility for this. For all of it. I'm sorry. I won't say it didn't have to be done, there was nothing else. But I won't try to claim that necessity makes something like this right either. I..."
That started a fight. Just an argument, but one that lasted for about an hour, with several of the delegates proclaiming that they'd kill the man with their own hands if the council didn't do it for them.
Jake just listened, finally taking Colleen's hand. That seemed to surprise her though, at least she jumped a little bit. Heather, who was sitting behind them, leaned forward to whisper.
"See. He likes you. Things got messed up, but it wasn't either of you doing it, you can make it work. Don't give up. If you die now it will kill him you know. You need to keep her with you Jake. Like I always said. Things will be better now. Fewer people messing with you anyway. Make sure you invite me to the wedding. Maybe I can actually get a date? I can't see it happening, but there were a lot of things I missed. Hope..." She smiled, a dreamy thing that looked satisfied.
"That's going to be a wonder to see. The world to come is better than the one we had, I think. I mean, not that there won't be troubles, but we get through them. We all do. In the end."
The whole room had stopped arguing to listen to her, which made her blush, but stand up too, her voice getting stronger as she spoke.
"We make it. By working together, by choosing to be good instead of mean, or greedy, or petty. We're going to build a new world and it will be something no one has ever dreamed could happen. A place where no one is hurt, where we listen to others ideas. A new thing that no one here would ever imagine in a million years. It starts now." She went silent, sitting again.
After a minute she nudged Jake's shoulder.
"I said it starts now. Better world... Get on that, will you?" For some reason that got a laugh. Not knowing what to say Jake stood his breath leaving him as it hit what he had to do. It was going to be different than what he'd been thinking though, wasn't it? Instead of heading the hunting teams for the Windigo, he had to step back and be what he was always supposed to be.
The Very Good Man.
Though not at the end of the world at all. Just at the beginning of the new one.
"Right. Let's do this thing then. I'm passing sentence on these... villains. Please stand." Waving his right hand he waited for someone to object, but no one did. They just waited for him to speak.
"Burt... Humperdinck Linster, you've admitted to causing the deaths of over six billion people. You claim that it was to save the planet. This is, simply put, the very worst thing that anyone has ever done, no matter how good the reason. For the rest of your days, in penance for this crime, you will work tirelessly to fix the things you have done. Other than rest at night and breaks for meals you shall seek no pleasure other than your work. No one will watch you, or seek to harm you. But you will not fail in this task. Do you agree to this?" That part was important.
Burt nodded, then licked his lips, as if he understood what it really meant. It wasn't some kindness Jake had given him, it was a command to do the impossible. And never give up on it.
"I do." He said it somberly at least, as if there was actual weight to it.
"Fine. Get to it. Everyone here will give you what aid you need, and make certain no one stops or harms you for what you've done. Go. Do what you can to repair it all."
Then, one by one he asked the others if they would accept the same punishment and if they really understood what it meant. One by one they left, the room silent as they did. When the last person was out of the room Jake turned to the rest, looking around at the people nearest him first, then out at the room, finally he addressed Darian, Yalla and Morris.
"Some people will think that this was a kindness, but if we're going to have a better world it must start here. If people make a mistake they need to be given the chance to fix it. If they cannot, they need to try until they create something better than what they broke. It won't work if people are insane or simply evil, of course, but we need to make certain that we aren't the ones causing the bad things. Sometimes it will be a mistake and cost us for not taking action earlier, but a truly better world has to have room for people that mess up."
No one argued at least, even though Jake himself wanted to follow the people that had left and kill them all. It wouldn't shock him to find them all dead within the next few years, which they had to know was what would likely happen. Still, it wasn't on the orders of the new government, so at least they looked good, if a little soft.
Darian stood and bowed toward him, which got the rest of the room to do the same.
He bowed back, awkwardly, smiling and feeling good about the day's work. Then he took his friends and left, since they had other things to see to. For instance making sure that they found a way to prevent the Windigo from spreading as soon as possible and stopped all of them they could.
It wasn't going to be easy, but they could do it, working together. Maybe the new world they made would be better than the one that had died around them?
Taking Colleen by one hand and Sammi by the other, Jake walked down the hallway, smiling. It was infectious, causing everyone else to do the same.
Finally, for more than two minutes at a time, Jake felt a feeling of peace come over him. This time it stayed that way.
As they all walked away the man that had been Jake finally faded away for the last time, leaving only The Very Good Man in his place.
It wasn't just a good thing, it was one of the best things ever. No one noticed it happening, but that was alright. They'd figure it out soon enough.
He was becoming what the world needed him to be and now it needed love again. Peace and hope. All the good things that he'd thought lost forever.
But here they were, back again.
As he smiled a single tear of joy slipped down his face.
It was a brand new world and not a Dead End after all.
Not even for him.
Epilogue
(Year 132 After Founding)
"So that, as they say, is that. The story of Jake at the end of the world. I told it to you the way it was told to me years later, by the man himself. I was there at the time though and I have to tell you, it was far more fantastic than it sounds like from his perspective." The kids didn't really know who she was, of course. It would lessen the impact of the story if she'd told them that first.
The class was made of young men and w
omen that looked about her own age, fifteen or sixteen for a regular Human, the Vals in the group looked younger, the Denari and T'srith older, if in different ways. She was Bawdri though, so it made a bit of a difference. Most of them got it when she walked in, one or two might have even recognized her. Most didn't. The young had their own concerns after all and tales of Zombies, Windigo and Very Good Men might as well have been fairy stories for little children to most of them.
She couldn't blame them for that. It was the way that they'd been raised. Their world was soft and rounded, kind and most of all, extremely fair. Mickey had seen to that first, then, when she was grown up, Hope Morley had. It didn't make these youngsters weak or foolish to not believe what she said, it had happened so long ago that these kids grandparents hadn't had to live through the end, much less anyone in the room with her. Except one of course. Their teacher had been there with her, with them all.
One of the girls sitting near the front of the room on a soft cushioned chair like the one she was in sighed and looked a little troubled. A Human, most likely. They always felt a little bit bad about the story, especially if they had direct Technologist ancestry. That wasn't even a thing anymore though. There were just people now, like everyone else.
"I... that's so sad. It sounds like he did everything for everyone, more than a person could do and they just... I mean, all of them in the story hated him didn't they? Not at the end, but... I don't know. It doesn't seem fair. I guess that's stupid, the world wasn't fair then at all. Someone should have loved him. They should have made sure he knew it, not just... used him like that." The girl blushed, her dark brown hair drooping in front of her face to hide it as soon as she finished speaking.
From the front of the group, facing them like she was, it was possible to make out the looks on all the faces. No one seemed that bored at least. In the last class she'd been in one of the boys had actually fallen asleep on her. It was both rude and hilarious at the same time. This group was better though, making a point of looking at her as she spoke, focusing on what she said as if there might be a test later. There wouldn't be.
Mickey had insisted on that part.
After all, if there was a test it wasn't a fun story. How could anyone be expected to learn then? Unless of course their lives were in danger. Mickey... It was the hardest part about telling this story, a thing she'd done once a year since his death, so that someone would always remember.
"I know. You're right. I tried, but I looked about eleven at the time and he really was a good man. Even thinking he was going to die at any moment, never having touched a woman at all, he wouldn't do anything with me. I should have known that he was the real Very Good Man a lot sooner than I did. I was young though, so you know, excuses and all that." She waved that part away to some light chuckles. Her being "young" was funny to the ones that realized what she meant. They were a smart group after all. She didn't bother telling this story to just anyone.
"Something I'd add now that isn't in his story, but is, I guess if we have to frame it, from mine. He was loved. Always. By me and by a hundred other people that he saved. Yes, a lot of them were afraid of him, but they worshiped him when he wasn't around. He did something that no one else could have managed. He kept us all alive. The greatest evil ever committed wasn't just killing all those people, it was that they turned such a good soul into a killer. A monster in his own mind. I never saw him like that though. Not even once. Very few of us did. We had real ones to compare him too. Back then we all knew the difference, but he was always so hard on himself." It was hard to explain to kids, but for once, instead of the room going silent someone asked an interesting question.
"What happened after that? I mean, did he vanish into nothingness or go into seclusion? I can see doing that after all that happened to him." This came from a T'srith boy, which made it interesting for two reasons. They were bright enough people, but didn't hold with a lot of deep introspection as a rule. Their focus was mainly on others, the group they lived in. For him to empathize with Jake was incredible.
The other reason was simpler.
He didn't assume that Jake had died in battle. T'srith hero's always died in battle, even when they really hadn't. If this had been about one of them, Jake would have been the one to set the bomb off and the story would have ended there. This was a person used to the tales of other cultures then. She decided to take note of the name after the day was over. The world might have use for someone like that someday.
"He became a musician actually. He married and had two children. His wife Colleen performed with him as did one of his offspring. The other went on to be the fifteenth Chancellor of the Unification. Have any of you heard the holiday song "Veils of white"? Or perhaps the old tune "Let's Mug Santa"? Or the popular song "Merriment"? Those were ones he wrote. There are hundreds more, he was a very hard worker after all." She waited a beat. Everyone had heard his music, that or one of the remakes of it. After a minute a few people started nodding.
From the back a young Val spoke up. She reminded Samantha a little of a young Vicki. That wasn't just chance, after all, it was the woman's granddaughter.
"We play some of those at family gatherings. My grandfather supposedly wrote them though, he was just a musician though. I mean..."
Sammi laughed, covering her mouth with her hand, her Bawdri eyes crinkling a bit at the corners.
"And two and two comes together. Mickey Robson, the singer, famous furniture maker, and as you know if you've been paying any attention to your history teacher, Very Good Man."
A brown haired boy from across the room raised his hand, the school orange furniture shifting under him as he waved it a bit, looking fierce.
"Um, he was like, my great something or other too. That's a little weird, isn't it?" He looked at the Val that had just spoken about her own family line, which got her to look back a bit surprised.
Sammi shook her head.
"Not really. All of you are related to someone that was in the story I just told. A lot of people changed their names after that, or at least went back to their real names. I hardly ever call myself Sammi anymore for instance."
That started a flurry of questions, people wanting to know what happened to everyone else. She didn't know all of it, of course. Some people had fallen away, or lived quiet lives after that, farming, or taking up a trade. She tried to explain it all, but people still wanted to hear what she knew.
"Who? Which ones do you want to know about?"
A name was called out, from a boy near the back.
"What about Dave? He was pretty intense. Could someone like that survive after things started to get back to normal?"
That one she knew, remembering it all a bit more sharply than she wanted too. It wasn't all nice after all. His rage killed him in the end.
"He was always a fighter, a warrior. The world moved on without him after a time. For twenty years though he served, hunting the Windigo and the remaining zombies that were found in outlying pockets. When... after that, when there was nothing left to fight, he turned his rage in on himself. Drinking and drugs. We tried to help, but some people can't be saved. He'd seen far too much, too young and, well, not the happiest of the stories, perhaps another?"
Someone called out both Carl and Carley as if they might be the same person.
"Carl helped set up the first census after the Founding. He was an important government official, if in a low level capacity, for most of his adult life after that. Carley... Now she did something truly unexpected and married a man and settled down. She ended up owning a large set of forestry related plantations I believe." She'd died, in an accident. The vehicle she was in running off the road at high speed. No one had ever known if it was on purpose or not. That wasn't something to tell this group though.
The next name was another one she knew the answer too. Molly.
"Oh... you all know her. Mrs. Schmidt? Your teacher?" Samantha waved to her, getting one back, the brown eyes that Jake had often described as "cow like"
shining a little.
"What?" This came from more than one person, who probably thought that she was joking with them.
"I know, who would have thought? Teaching. She's pretty good at it though, but don't let her looks fool you, She's a hundred and fifty if she's a day." She looked about thirty, thanks to the treatments that she'd taken, old Technologist things that were common now. Most of the people that wanted to bother with it had life spans that were in the hundreds of years now. That "Suicide Molly" had chosen that path heartened her greatly. Not everyone had of course.
She grinned happily and waved at the front of the room.
"Tell all my secrets why don't you?"
"Well, alright, if you insist... this one time everyone was locked in the basement and Molly got bored so she took off-" She laughed then and let her face go serious.
"Most of the people in this story died young. A lot younger than they had to, given modern technology. It was like they'd used up everything they had in that one year and after that it was hard to keep going."
It was what had happened to Nate. He hadn't made it ten years past the start of the new world. He was an old man at fifty and seemed ancient at fifty-five. The voices in his head eventually drove him mad. He didn't have the early training that telepaths normally got, since it sprang on him only after the Plague had started.
Heather...
That one had really hurt. Some of the others had most likely killed themselves, or had gone into hiding to fade away quietly. She held things together until Hope was sixteen and then slit her wrists. Mickey had nearly died of grief then. It hadn't helped that in her note she mentioned that he was the only person, other than Hope, that she'd ever loved. Those had been some dark days for them all.
She sighed and shook her head, editing as she went, no one needed to know that part of things. She certainly didn't. No help for that though. It was the curse of living a very long life. Things, both good and bad, happened. It was always easier to remember the bad.
