The GOD Box (7 page)

“And happiness is related to freedom, right?” The skinny boy s
aid excitedly like he was clever.

“Right!” Gabe said
overly-buoyantly, tired of Jonathan’s explanation.

May smiled and shook her head. Since thin
gs were going so well, Gabe figured he’d throw in the bad news right now, “And so, we started over.”

“What do you mean?”
the burly, intimidating man asked.

Why do they
always ask that? Gabe wondered. They pretty much know. They do… pretty sure…

Gabe went for honesty, “we gave everyone a disease,
which they hardly recognized and we picked this area of this continent to clean it up and put a new population on it.”

“
What is a continent? Why this area?” Miek asked, untainted in enthusiasm.

“It was the least industrious.
Less work.” Jonathan claimed. That was sort of true. “Sort of” meaning that World War three was on the verge of beginning when they made that decision and this area was the first to go. It worked perfectly for the sake of the project. All they had to do was go in and clean up.

“… so… you just killed them…”
Miek added as if it were a joke.

“Yes, that’s what he said.” Gabe clarified with a patronizing tone.

“Whatever. That’s creepy and psychotic. So now what? You set up a new world, why are you here?” Miek asked.

May rais
ed her eyebrows and watched the scientists as they exchanged glances and stared at the ground, then cleared their throats.

“We do research.” Gabe said in as cold
a tone as he’d spoken yet. The icy looks from May and Dane were stimulating. “… You should probably know, and what May is waiting for us to tell you is that we’ve done this before.” He paused, “five times over the course of two-hundred and twenty-eight years”.

Too much information was contained in the admittance once
their new friends really thought about it. Unfortunately as well, the kids had the time to chew on it. Samson and Miek roamed all the possible questions: They’ve extended their lives long enough for it to happen… or… somehow had to come back? How could they come back? Did they live one of those other places? Were there other people somewhere in distant lands? Then, came the concern for themselves: What would they do to the present inhabitants?

“So,
it doesn’t matter if we kill them. They obviously have overcome that already.” Dane said to clarify to both of them. Mutterings of ‘how?’ wandered between them. Death was not an overcome-able thing in their minds. No way.

“We have advanced techniques that make it so our bodies can be remade with the same memories.” Gabe said with a wave of his hand as if it were nothing consequential.

Now Jonathan and Gabe realized their real secret. No weapons needed, they’ve got death by glare and ill-intention down to an art. And not even just to mention by humor. It was a very real effect for Gabe at least. His heart was filled with menacing hate that was coming from the outside, not out of him. It didn’t feel good. He grabbed his shirt and rubbed his chest.

Neither of them were quite sure why
it felt so uncomfortable. There was nothing inherently different that they said from what others have said. Suppose, in a way, Gabe felt mocked. Almost as if the ability to die made someone properly human, and significantly more worth their time. They spent years planning and researching to achieve this God-like quality, and now instead it made them the chaff. Even, and at least, the last four times the people found it awesome whether in belief or disbelief. That was their “in”; their way of achieving this wonderfully fearsome control over people.

The
eyes looking at them this time were full of concern, deliberating what they should do.

Jonathan was tense and
for once had nothing to say.

Gabe couldn’t imagine anything decent could come out of his mouth right now.  He thought and thought, mulling everything over in his mind. How could he ease the tension? Gabe mana
ged to suppress his temptation despite that every lash of hatred he wanted to release. Instead, this is what he managed:

“We had a goal, something we’ve been appealing for in every society. So far, I see no reason you should fear our approach. We
want
you to be
happy
.”

True, yes, he did not just lie.
Was it believable? Well, maybe not.
They wanted them to be happy, but not so much stemming from an interpersonal bond and deep-rooted hope, but as means to personal validity. Begging for a way to break free from this heaviness, Gabe looked around for something nice he could do. Niceness worked almost all of the time. He asked if he should go find more fruit. He got a few nods and then when he got up to leave, the skinny one followed him, whether by command or prompted by the weird telepathy of the group it was uncertain. Ugh, the nerve to ruin the catharsis with mistrust.

And then, he didn’t say anything! Just… followed…
maybe Gabe didn’t like this guy so much. Gabe tried to ignore him as best as he could. Jonathan probably hated him right now for leaving him alone. Honestly, Gabe didn’t care.  He was a little sick of babysitting Jonathan and whatever was about to come out of his mouth. Of course, that was expected really with anyone you spent every lively minute with. Maybe Jonathan was just his last connection to his ultimate reality, but there was some sort of friendly attachment there.  Friends… eh… Gabe didn’t know if he would go that far. Business partners. At any rate, Gabe really just wanted to be alone. He began plotting ways to be alone as he walked through this jungle turned forest to find fruit. The constant looking up strained his neck.

Finally he gave up and turned around to the skinny boy.

“Is there a better place to find fruit?” He asked, pushing up his glasses which were slipping down his wet nose. This was more exertion than an old man like him could handle.

The skinny
boy watched him curiously as Gabe’s thoughts came to a stopping point. He pointed with a teenage look of disbelief down at the ground. Plenty of over-ripe mangos lay littered on the ground. Were the plants
that
dead, or was it just late in the season? For them to have any fruit at all mean there had to be bugs, right?

Gabe snorted, or somethi
ng of the like, and snapped, “Did you have to follow me?!”

“Do
you have to be completely untrustworthy?” He bobbled his head back and forth and smiled as he said it.

Gabe huffed
, and more hunched than usual, constantly pushing up his glass, started picking up whatever was fallen on the jungle floor; ripe or rotten. Hands full and no help from the boy he stalked back with a lengthy lopsided gait, then sat in silence exactly how he was before, fruit still in hand. He let them roll out and put his hand to his face dejectedly both catching his breath and shedding a few tears of mental, emotional, and physical exhaustion.

Jonathan was in an argument with Samson (who was still sitting and not saying a word), but Jonathan had gotten up from his seat and was bearing down on him. Bi-polar was certainly not on their side for this.
Gabe zoned out thinking how May’s mannerisms were very natural and casual. She seemed to take no specific care to be feminine or gentle. She was honest, and seemed to be comfortable enough with herself that she wasn’t thinking about how her actions would affect others, yet they seemed generally beneficial. She was compassionate, or maybe just didn’t like watching a pathetic old man cry, but seeing his distress she concluded, “I think you’re overworked. You should sleep.”

Gabe didn’t respond and didn’t catch her eye. Miek was sitting talking to Dane about who knew what.
Perhaps he was getting information about what May and Dane knew. Normally, Gabe would have loved to listen in. But not now. It seemed so superficial when his emotional capacity was falling apart the way it was.

On
another, more important note, Gabe was going to die, again, soon, he could feel it. He curled up by the rocks, took off his glasses, put his hand over his face and tried to fall asleep. Gabe ignored everyone else for the time being. He found himself slapping away a bug or two. Not as many as would have anticipated. They didn’t bother him so much, now that they represented hope. Some kind of life was still busily working for the benefit of mankind, even in their own unconscious, programed way.

Naps
like this with unrelenting insomnia made him wish he’d brought his pills like Jonathan. Speaking of, Jonathan should probably take them again; they didn’t seem to be working.

Why couldn’t he sleep
?! He was so tired. He bit the knuckle of his thumb to keep from having a panic attack.
Sleep, please sleep.
He thought over and over again. Most nights he was more reasonable about this. With the sun and the heat, and the eyes of strangers, he couldn’t convince himself. Everyone was watching him, too. Even an old man like him hadn’t learned to master these emotions. Instead he cried and he cried until his mind couldn’t run anymore and his body did what it could to evade true sleep, but modeled it enough that it seemed to have value. He cried even harder thinking how much he just didn’t want to do this anymore.

The blaring idiocy of Jonathan’s argument became the lullaby of sleep.
Jonathan was hollering and hollering. He couldn’t stand not being understood. However, he didn’t have the words for how he felt, or just was unjustified and couldn’t really defend it, so he was talking in circles. Somehow he decided that speaking in a louder tone would make his anguish more understood. It seemed that even when Gabe fell asleep, he could still hear Jonathan for an indiscernible amount of time.

When
Gabe woke up in the morning, the sun wasn’t yet above the trees. Jonathan woke up after the sun was up. Both were trying to forget their embarrassing actions the previous day. Gabe personally determined that the best way to get around it was to pretend like it didn’t happen and continue in their distinguishing arrogance. Gabe wondered if he’d be able to go for a jog without being followed. Samson was up tending to breakfast. May and Dane were absent. The skinny one was in a tree, not seeing his movement (Gabe hadn’t even lifted his head yet). Was there less likelihood of being followed if they knew where he was going, or if he just left? It was probably better if he told them, or else they might just think he was running away
.

His eyes hurt, too. What a pathetic old man he was.
This old body was convincing him it might be better to die. Feebly, he pushed himself up with his arms and stayed in the yoga position to stretch and think for a second. There was dirt stuck to his face and when he licked his lips he could taste it. He stood up and heavily twisted and turned this way and that. Sighing and moving his shoulders up and down he was starting to feel somewhat awake. Walking up to the Samson he asked confidently, “is it okay if I go for a jog?”

“Whatever, man.”

How was it that the society managed to maintain that irritating slang so long? They didn’t say anything else, so Gabe nodded and looking at the ground walked a little ways into the jungle alone. He started out really slow as any old man without exercise experience was prone to do. Just when he started feeling relief some twenty yards from camp there were slow muffled foot steps behind him. Gabe was going so slow that this big fellow could catch up to him with regular sized steps. Gabe’s chest immediately tightened. And he glared behind him briefly as he went. Well, they weren’t going to stop him from running. Shortly after the attempt to continue, he just didn’t want to keep trying. He knew it was depression creeping in. Should he just keep going in effort to keep himself sane? He certainly tried, and there’s merit in that. He stayed moving as long as he possibly could, probably going no more than a fourth of a mile.

Feeling dejected and like a failure, Gabe returned.
Back at camp, Jonathan was engaged in a calm conversation.
Hm. Must’ve taken his meds.
As a matter of fact that’s exactly what they were talking about. Jonathan held one pill up and feeling like something he had to say was interesting to them was encouraging. May seemed concerned with it, looking skeptically from the pill to Jonathan’s eyes. Miek was sort of listening and was also distracted by a cloud…

Hopefully
they would like the idea and see the kind of intelligence they were coming from and trust them a little more. Wishful thinking. Gabe frowned and watched as he stretched. He tried not to think how he looked, because he hadn’t stretched for years. However, he was trying to put on a show that he was still in charge of himself, that they can’t control his habits, because he was a well-organized, healthy person. That, and he wanted an excuse to listen without being bothered. He was hoping that Jonathan had really thought it through and made an intelligent decision to share those things.
Not likely.

A few minutes later,
May and Dane were engaged again in patient conversation. Jonathan hadn’t noticed that she left. Gabe now listened to them instead. Right now they were quiet, allowing each other to think and ponder. The couple wasn’t paying a lot of attention elsewhere. May was zoned out at the ground and Dane was looking with grave concern at the food on a large banana leaf.  They sat that way for some time. What a weird relationship they had.