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The world is declining, not in lifestyle but in the way humanity acts. All governments promise their citizens an ideal world, a utopia. Yet none delivers. Instead their power corrupts forcing the world into a continuous spiral of darkness.
I tell this story from the dead. This was my way of making the world a bit closer to perfection but has lead to my own demise, truly showing that no justice exists in the world, not immediately...
* * *
If practice makes perfect, and no one's perfect, then why practice.
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The morning sun with its eternal beauty shines through the window, penetrating the lace curtain, scattering light in all directions. It is Monday, how you dread Mondays, the first working day. As usual you do the morning habits of unconscious actions before ending up on the kitchen bench staring away at the rubbish of the morning news, nothing ever attracts your attention for longer than a few seconds while eating breakfast. It's always politics or criminals that are being prosecuted nothing more.
Living in a world of injustice and a world in the state of ruin; this can be seen every day as you travel to work from the train. You live in Blacktown, the outer west of Sydney but as the train inches its way closer and closer to Central, the ruins seem to jump alive rising to skyscrapers. The skyscraper that shadows all others, intimidating them is where work is, the place where one can forget everything in the outside world and only worry on the work itself. Just before Central on the concrete barricade that separated the tracks to the road read the line "If practice makes perfect, and no one's perfect, then why practice." This line always hit you in quite a profound way, though it never really made sense, as perfection is what everyone strives for in good or bad circumstances, which has been taught since childhood.
Like always the train is late and as always you're constantly in a rush, which basically explains your entire life, late and in a constant rush, never noticing the finer details of life. Today, something was different, something had unconsciously caught your sight. It was a laptop, black with a piano finish, it seemed familiar, particularly the few fine scratches the top right corner but it seemed to belong to no-one, it was just sitting there staring out to the platforms as trains came and went. Nobody noticed it, as everyone is also in a constant rush as if their life is a video tape put into fast forward. - go unnoticed
Opening the laptop up, a rock-pop song starts playing unexpectedly.
She drowns me out
When I shout
I'm so overpowered
I cannot hide
From the opposite side
When she takes me over
Flip the switch
Makes me split into insanity
Gotta getcha, gotta getcha, gotta getcha
The screen flashes before focusing, revealing the words "I hereby forfeit the ownership of this device...May whoever find it, put it to greater use."
Sitting there like a stone statue, nothing seem important except for the unique font and the lyrics of the songs, Gotta getcha, gotta getcha, gotta getcha. The screen flashed yet again, this time revealing a harsh clash of black and white static similar to those seen on a television. The flashing stopped and you could slowly make out the words buried. "Registering new user." The screen flashed once again but this time stopping mid way through revealing only darkness, a random series of coding scrolled by like the credits of a movie, before the word "Rules" appeared.
• The human whose name is written in this laptop shall die.
• This request will not take effect unless the writer...
In a state of shock, the unconscious movement of your hand slams shut the laptop, making a rather distinct noise attracting a few bystanders' attention. You begin to think to yourself, is this a cruel joke and cameras are situated somewhere to record your reactions, or is this the real deal? The line "If practice makes perfect, and no one's perfect, then why practice." comes back to you but specifically the word perfect runs around in circles in your mind. The perfect world...
Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice, it is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved.
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Through the week the laptop constantly knocks on your mind, nothing is able to distract you long enough so everything can be forgotten, not even endless hours of work. Ever since the laptop has emerged, actions of the night before seem unclear. Waking up every morning feeling the symptoms of insomnia, which tends to subside by the time you are buried in a load of paper work.
The trip home was not delayed long enough - the pounding inevitability of the laptop still had to be faced. The darkness of night had its ways of putting one into a state of fright even when the entire city is still awake and surrounding you with neon brightness. The real safety is at one's home, a place of sanctuary where anything done cannot be judged by anyone but you...freedom. The night was no longer still, it began its own temper tantrum, throwing lighting in all directions and each time the bolt of blue light appeared half your face would reveal in the darkness of the room, you seem to forget a few seconds between each interval of lightning, but no matter.
In the ominous night, you dare not light the room up, continuously removing all the magazines and paper on top of the laptop. In doing so you caught a glimpse of a recent magazine that's opened to the horoscope pages and quickly scanned down to Leo, you read the first sentence "Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice, it is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved." then stopped and continued on clearing the desk. Sitting on the sofa you stare aimlessly at the laptop contemplating to test it out or not, suddenly mumbling in a sinister manner "This world is Rotten. Rotten people should be killed off to cleanse this world."
Thoughts rush around your mind, looping round and round creating the outlines of a sphere. "Destiny" filters through all the thoughts and you think to yourself it's only right to try the power out atleast once and it could be tested out on someone who has already been given a chance, a criminal. The television in the kitchen is broadcasting the late news, it's bound to announce a criminals name and identity. One of them can be the test subject. A sense of crazed determination swamps you. You grab the laptop and watch the news. Your heart pumps, faster than you've ever felt it pump before, and surely enough you begin to fill with excitement. It is short-lived as you remember you hadn't finished reading all the rules. You reveal the familiar darkness as you open the laptop, and to an amateur they probably wouldn't be able to tell it's on. You picked up from where you left off reading last.
• This request will not take effect unless the writer has the persons face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.
The final rule seemed strange yet you felt it must have been a safe guard so only the owner of the laptop knew how to use it. It read:
• The name that is written must be done in Notepad otherwise the action will not take effect.
After reading the final rule, your ears just caught the name of a criminal, Nate Rivers, a troubled young man who murdered his family. You tilt your head up to catch a glimpse of the face of the criminal. "Perfect, for murderers, there is no good or evil. I know that." you mumble again. In a frantic manner you attempt to open the program: Notepad, it was saved to the start menu, the previous owner must have used it many times for it to be saved to the menu. Back to the task at hand, you begin to type out his name while picturing his face. Your hands begin to stutter, palms begin to sweat and your finger slip from the keys. The name has been written and you've accepted that this was part of your destiny. To become justice...
"Behind every good person lies a darker self"
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The mid-morning sun scatters its rays into the lounge room, your cheeks begin to feel a burning sensation. Opening your eyes the glare reflected from the mirror in the corner blinds your vision. Insomnia hits you again - unable to recall memories of the night before. You stumble your way to the shower, thinking it'll help clear your head. As the warm water continuously runs down over body, the feeling that nothing matters overcome you, clarity. The water rushes past contorting around the features of your body yet again like all good moments they are short lived, cold water strikes.
Rushing out of the shower, the warmth of the steam is still present in the room. Your eyes stay locked, staring into the mirror, unable to see past the layer of condensed water, however your mouth moves, controlled not by you. In an unrepentant manner, laughter arises and with one deep breathe the words "Behind every good person lies a darker self" leaks out in a in a deep foreboding voice. Sudden shots of pain envelopes your mind, a sense of pins and needles strike the less likely of place. You collapse. The missing intervals of time are being recalled, the actions done during those blackout reveal clear images in your mind as they flow pass you eyes.
Lying on the floor, you awake. It must have been hours since you collapse, the tiles are cold.
You get up and dress yourself, walking slowly out to the lounge room, where the laptop was left. The LAPTOP!!! Your brain has finally finished rebooting and sitting there, realization of the name written on the laptop the night before was your own. Calling out to your wife and children, no-one answers. The news was true, you've committed murder. You turn back to the darkness of the laptop, Nate Rivers - continuously flash between over long periods of time. The walls seem to inch closer, attempting to confine you. Feeling claustrophobic overcomes you as you run out into the street, openness.
* * *
Heighten senses each rain drop seems to sound like a crystal shattering on the ground, peaceful in a way. Crossing the road heading back to the sanctuary the rain builds up on your face.
Sensation of being numb, strikes you, the rain became heavier the cleansing has arrived - the rain will wash all the mistakes you made. Your eyes close themselves and simultaneously you smile one last time.
Copyright 2008 Ben
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