Through flames and pages

Through Flames and Pages

The Dialogue, the Dilemma, and the Death

By Samuel Bird

Chapter One

Walter laid out his school uniform on his freshly made bed. Against the backdrop of his scratchy wool blanket full of holes, he inspected his navy blue pants, matching suit coat, and white shirt. Despite his city and even the world around him falling to rubble, he did not want to have a spec of it on his suit. 

Once fully inspected, he dressed and then looked in the mirror to make sure the creases in his pants were clearly visible where they were supposed to, and not where they were not. After slipping on his best pair of black socks and twisting them so the holes could not be seen while wearing his shoes, he slipped his shoes on. Because of the great shortages, his mother could no longer get shoe polish so he resorted to using animal fat from his mother's cooking. It made the dogs in the streets chasing after him with all the same vigor, but Walter liked to look as neat and tidy as possible.

 He cinched up his tie tightly while stoically looking into the mirror. He grabbed his comb that barely had more than half the tines still in it, and combed his straight black hair all to one side. He ran the comb through it over and over again until not a single hair was out of place. He then tried to admire his appearance in the mirror, but the series of cracks that ran through it distorted his view. Yet, he could not help but feel a sense of pride. He was a very lucky young man to be able to afford a uniform to go to one of the nice schools. He never felt like he fit in as all the other student’s parents were all wealthy. 

Walter’s dad was drafted into the earth interplanetary armada from his job as a welder and Walter’s mother worked in a factory that soldered the components that went on the interplanetary warships. Walter still brimmed with pride for their effort and his. He looked around his small dark room where everything was exactly where it was supposed to be. It was clean and free from the dust that settled in from the great storms he saw everywhere else. He ran downstairs for breakfast.

“Good morning my dear Walter.” His mother said. “How are you this morning?”

“I am well Mother.” He replied in his typical formal fashion.

“You look just as sharp as ever.”

“Thank you, Mom.” 

“I can tell this will be a good day at school for you. Didn’t you tell me that today in history you are talking about Massai?” 

“Yes Mom, I am very excited.” 

“Were you able to finish that autobiography of him I got for you, Walter?”

 “Yes Mom, I am very grateful for it.”

 He knew how much of a sacrifice it was for his mom to purchase the book so he spent many hours pouring over every page to know every quote, thought, or fact he could about his idol. 

“That is wonderful Walter. Tell me, what is your most favorite recent quote from him?” Walter ran through a thousand thoughts as he tried to choose what of all these perfect ideas was the very best. 

“Well Mom, when he addressed the world leaders in 2253, he said, “Where there is opportunity for good, there is a responsibility for action.” 

“What do you like about that, Walter?”

“There is an absolute good Mom and when we can know what it is and have the ability to follow through on it, we must do so.” 

“That is wonderful Walter.” 

“Thanks, Mom. It reminds me of all the leaders now that are so focused on themselves and do nothing to stop the disorder and hate in the world.” 

“Walter please...” 

“Justice needs to be met and the world needs to be brought back into balance again.”

“Walter, please not again...” 

“We need Massai back and we need him now.” 

“Walter Stop! He is dead. Do you hear me? He is not coming back. He can’t. The world is how it is and there is nothing we can do to stop it. We just have to do what we need to to survive.” 

“But Mom, Massai was able to bring peace once, if he is out there, he could do it again. If he is not, someone else could.” 

“Walter, in all of history there has never been peace like that and it has never lasted. Massai was a fluke that would never happen again.” 

Walter was hurt. What little perfect hope he clung to was under attack as he began to breathe heavily and looked away. His mother took a deep breath. 

“Walter, I am sorry, but you have to be realistic. This is how things are now. He has been gone for ten years. No matter how much we cling to the past, it is not going to change it.” 

Walter looked up again. 

“Mom, we can and therefore we have to try.” 

She knew she was not going to get through to him so she changed the subject. 

“Well, I have some breakfast here for you. It isn’t much, but at least we got something through the shortages.” 

She sat down a second-hand plate with a single duck egg and a slice of thin white bread with synthetic butter. Walter wished he didn’t use the animal fat to shine his shoes so he could spread it on this bread. He thought back to when he was 5, when Massai was still around and he would eat strawberry jam on his toast every morning. He ate his food quietly and went to slip out the door. 

“Walter, I am sorry. I love you.” She said as she grabbed him and pulled him in for a hug. “I know being 14 you may feel too old for a hug, but you are still my son.” 

Walter felt embarrassed, but thought that the honorable thing that Massai taught would mean that he should love his mother. 

“I love you too.” He said with a sense of duty before his mother handed him his sack lunch and he stepped out the door. 

The grim and dilapidated landscape met his view. Boarded-up buildings, gang-affiliated graffiti, and broken windows peppered the landscape. He knew he had to hurry to make it to school, but he felt he should take a moment to mourn. This is not what Massai would have wanted. This is not what Massai worked for. How could the world look like this after only ten years? 

He stepped off the stairs to his apartment building and into the street as his freshly polished shoes hit the mud despite his careful steps. Walter hated anything dirty and did his best to keep everything clean, but the world around him was filthy to him. He looked to his side to see a homeless woman staring up at him with sunken cheeks. Her hair was gray and wiry and her blue eyes had clouded over. 

“How are you doing today Martha?” Walter asked her. 

“Not great. I am very cold. Last night one of the gangs came through and stole my money cups and blanket on their nightly raids.” 

“Did they hurt you, Martha?” 

She looked down as she tried not to cry. Walter’s stomach dropped as he felt compassion and yet righteous anger. 

“Martha, I am so sorry. If I found them I would tell them what’s what. You deserve justice, Martha.” 

“I don’t want justice Walter, I just want my blanket back.” 

“I am sorry Martha, but I don’t have a blanket. Let’s see what Mom packed me today.” 

He opened up his sack lunch to see two 100-calorie government-issue nutrition bars. 

“Sorry, it looks like no orange today Martha.” He said as he handed her one of the bars. 

“Are you sure you will have enough for yourself?” She asked. 

Walter remembered a quote from Massai “When helping others, tell them what they need to know.” 

“Of course Martha.” He lied. She reached up and held his hands. 

“You are such a good young man. I know with young people like you, Massai wasn’t for nothing.” Walter smiled and headed on his way. 

Across the road, he saw a tall homeless man with a hood over his head to where he could not see his face. His hood and cloak were made from pieces of old government issue wool blankets sewn together. He was impressed that someone with no resources was able to do such a fine job of making something to keep himself warm. 

Chapter Two

“You must be excited for today, huh Walter?” Hank, Walter’s schoolmate said. 

“Well yes, but so should all of us. Massai was a great human who changed the world.” 

“We all love Massai and his influence, but you especially must be excited. In fact, how was that book you read about him?” 

“It was motivating and powerful. I think I am starting to see how he did what he did and why it changed what it changed.” 

“I am sure you liked that.” 

“Well of course Hank. Someone needs to fill the role he left. Someone has to fix this world. Someone must bring back justice.” 

“Justice Walter? Do you think that is what Massai did?” 

“Yes, Hank. he brought order to the world. He controlled the evil politicians and made them do what was right.” 

“Well you clearly know more than I do, but the way I see it, he didn’t make anything happen.” Walter was just about to respond when Ms. Higby walked in. 

“Good morning class. It is good to be with you.” 

Walter had an admiration for Miss Higby. He had always followed the teachings of Massai, but Ms. Higby’s enthusiasm and brief post-class conversations with him helped him shape the powerful emotions he felt as a coming-of-age man, into a purpose. His admiration for her was matched with marveling. She was a slender young woman in her early thirties with long brown hair and usually dressed in black. When Walter asked why she always wore dark colors, she said it was to mourn the loss of Massai. Being as dainty as she was and the northern fog being as cold as it was, she looked blue and would be huddled together by the time she got to her first class of the day and it took the rest of the day just for her to warm up. 

“As we talked about last week, this week in world history we are getting to the golden age of the great Massai.” 

Everyone turned to look at Walter and smiled. He didn’t know if their look was good or not, but he beamed with pride to be associated with his hero. 

“To start off class, let’s talk about the world that Massai was born into. Does anyone recall what was going on at the time?” Walter’s hand shot up in a confident manner. 

“Go ahead, Walter.” 

“After the Martian colonization and terraforming, they began to need resources. Divided earth was both unable to supply the resources, especially with all the corrupt governments and the Martians began to starve. This was the start of the first interplanetary war.” 

A quiet moment lasted through the gray room as each student thought of the implications of the word “first.” They were all living through the second and many of their parents were drafted into the interplanetary warships. 

“Very good Walter. Yes, the earth didn’t have resources to give the Martians in their effort to keep colonizing Mars. However it wasn’t because it was not possible, but because of mismanagement. Massai was born at the beginning of the war in Ghana, Africa. He was the youngest of seven children.” 

She clicked on the light-wall as pictures of his family came up. Walter was horrified to see the rags Massai was in and how skinny he was. He had seen the photo before but thought his hero deserved better. 

“Here he is with his family. As you can see in this picture from his frown, he did not start out as a happy young man. Both his father and mother worked in the war factories that made the first generation of interplanetary starships.” 

Walter felt some solidarity as his mother worked on the second generation. 

“His family and him living in Ghana were particularly susceptible to the food shortages that came with war. During that time his father became very sick and died when he was only nine years old. His mother, heart-broken, took her own life shortly after. To make ends meet, he worked sewing together blankets from thrown-out clothes to make money. Does anyone know what happened next?” Walter’s hand shot up again. 

“Yes, Walter?” 

“He ran off into the wild to figure life out.” 

“Yes, that is true Walter, but before he did he first was kicked from place to place to live with his six siblings. Each place he went to, he was considered bad luck and this is when he received the title “The World’s most hated Man. No matter what he did, he was rejected by his community, his family, and as he put it, even himself. With so much alienation, he ran away into the forest at the age of seventeen with a declaration that he would either make sense of himself and the world or he would die in the attempt to do so. Now, does anyone know what happened in the wilderness?” Walter raised his hand, but Ms. Higby called on Hank instead. 

“No one really knows.” 

“That is correct Hank. He never really said what happened, just that what happened there made him. He then went back to the village and sewed more quilts than ever, but rather than use the money for food, he would fast as he bought every book he could come across. Many of the books he read are now on our Massai classics that you go over in Language arts class. He then began to learn as many languages as he could until he was able to speak fluent English, French, Spanish, Mandarin a few local dialects, and Martian, which is a Russian-German hybrid. 

He then began to save up more money for a plane ticket. In 2248, He then flew to the United States of America to visit the White House. While he was there as a tourist, he left his tour group and slipped past security where he stood face to face with the President. No one had ever just walked up to the president and asked to talk so out of curiosity, he heard Massai out. By now, Massai had practiced his skills of speaking and convincing in the mirror. In a discussion we have no exact record of, he managed to convince the president to set up an audience with all the world leaders. Somehow the president was convinced and put together what we now know as “Summit Day.” 

The meeting had two halves. The first half was him asking each leader about their concerns and what they wanted to achieve. Once he had fully heard people, he was able to sympathize with each of their needs. In one of my favorite quotes from Summit Day, he said; “Your pain is real and your bruises are many. However, in my efforts to love each of you, I refuse to hate those who did this to you. I invite all of you to consider the bruises you have caused others. This story can not be simple enough to say it was all someone’s fault.” Something in his delivery of this line was powerful enough for everyone to listen to him. He then went on with the rest of what we now know as the “Summit Day Speech.” At the end of the speech, he was able to put together another meeting this time with Mars and Earth leaders. In it, he invited all people everywhere to tune in and choose for themselves.” 

“Where does Zuke come into this?” A kid from the front row interrupted. 

“I think that is a great place for us to start tomorrow. For today, let’s talke more more about the ideas that Massai brought to the world.” Miss Higby said as Walter leaned in with fascination and intrigue.

Chapter Three

As the door to the school flung open from Hank’s shove, Walter’s gaze was met with the bleak fog of the early afternoon. It was unwelcoming, foreboding, and mysterious, but he knew his destination lay on the other side of the mist. Hank waved as he took off to home in glee to spend the rest of his day entertained by meaningless fiction. Walter knew his plight would not be the same. Making his way through the fog he watched his step to make sure he missed most of the more disgusting trash that lined the streets. The brown and gray brick and cement buildings towered above him up into the fog while they stretched out as if to say the road they lined was the only way to go. Walter would have felt claustrophobic if he had not lived in this his whole life. 

As his now mud dried shoes carried him home, he couldn’t help but dread the monotony and repetition of his life. Still, he would rather feel the same of something real, than to live a fresh and exciting life of lies like Hank. His life was bleak and near hopeless, but he wanted every bit of what dread there was to feel. He essentially had two options for the remainder of his day. He could go home and read more about Massai, or he could stop by the small urban park on the way home and contemplate about Massai and what he taught. 

The buildings in the fog lead him to the one corner in the area with no building. Even if just for a few yards, it was pleasant to him to not feel so isolated by the architecture. The park was small and run down. The grass had mostly turned to mud from the rain and people cutting through the park to save a few steps as they rounded the corner. Most of the equipment at the park was from the early first interplanetary war made from all steel with a brutal design and missing paint. Walter thought back to when he was four when his Mom and Dad would take him to the park. He would run all over giggling while his long black hair waved around. Things are different now. His hair was now shorter with his maturity. He no longer let it wave around, but kept it short and combed precisely. 

He mused that this park that was quintessential to his childhood looked like a stock image of a ghost town or of a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Though the reminder of his little world being broken didn’t help him, it was still better than going home where if Mom made it home from work, would just spend the afternoon trying to cheer Walter up. She chalked up his existential despair and dissatisfaction with the world to his coming of age, but Walter knew better. 

He sat down on the swing, pushed back, and lifted his legs so he could swing forward. As he looked at the world around him, it was in painful contrast to the world he learned about in class today; a world led by Massai. Feeling a responsibility to make sense of his world and how he related to it, he began to think. He thought back to a favorite new Massai quote he loved. “To be alive is to stand between absolute nothingness and extreme somethingness while not knowing what you are. To be human is to try to see if you can know the world as something you don’t know while you try to know the self while not knowing what it is.” He ran through the quote in his mind till he was sure he was remembering it correctly. 

Massai didn’t always talk in such an abstract poetic way, but this quote was an example of him doing so with the intent of people thinking about it and from only that, finding a sense of an answer. In another quote on the matter, Massai said; “The thoughts people have from the words I say are the reason for the words.” With this, Walter began to dig into his thoughts. It was clear those words were more than just vowels and consonants that made up sounds. They were trying to encapsulate a concept, one that Walter found poignant. While the words couldn’t take the ideas from his mind to Walter’s they could paint a picture of them. He began to practice self-awareness as Massai taught. He began to try to visualize himself and what it meant to be Walter. 

Would he still be Walter if his brain was put into a new body? What made him, him? If there were such a thing as good and evil, where would he fit on that spectrum? If he didn’t like anything about himself, could he change it? It became clear to Walter that he could not know himself perfectly, at least in this moment. He began to turn from his thoughts to his senses. He felt the cold mist against his skin as he flipped up his collar and pulled his lapel in to keep in some of the heat. He looked up to see geese flying. He stared at them trying not to think, trying to take the moment in. He noticed their symmetry, grace, and speed. Once they were out of sight, he began to look at the world around him. While recognizing how little of the world he had seen and how much less of it he was looking at right now, he tried to fathom reality. 

So much was happening right then, in that moment. People were being born, people were dying. Lives were being lived, and time was passing. He thought of his father and worried for his safety. Facts are out there in the universe and no one knows them. Some people may be the only ones that know certain things. With all the hustle and bustle of his little city, he was amazed to try and conceptualize and visualize a nation of cites, a world of nations, a galaxy of worlds, and a universe of galaxies. All the while he was unsure about the why. In his science class, they loved to try to explain how. Walter found it amusing how confident the teachers were at setting their current theory as an absolute while considering past scientists fools for believing otherwise. Walter had learned not to question them out loud, but the fabric of reality does not change every few generations, and yet his teachers seemed to be okay with being wrong quite a bit.

Even if science could answer the reason the how, Walter was not content with its inability to explain the why. The scope of the existentialism came into view for Walter as he realized as far as we could tell, humanity was the only consciousness out there. He found it ironic that the only thing complicated and aware enough to know things, doesn’t know why it is here, what happens when it dies, or what reality is made of. Despite all his skepticism, Walter had learned to assume that all things were knowable, things just took time and effort. Massai certainly didn’t know all things, but because he thought he could know some things while also positing that he could be wrong, he was able to know more than anyone else ever had. It wasn’t just practical knowledge of what is out there and how does it work, it was a deeper sense of knowing that seemed to just compound on itself exponentially. 

The amazing thing about Massai is he had amassed such skills, he could learn things with his eyes closed. Rather than looking around the world and seeing how it operated, he could take what he already knew and work it out in his mind to find new information. Walter was attempting to do so now, but he just kept finding himself coming back to his idol and how much he respected him. Walter then felt a tightness in his chest and realized he was anxious. He recognized it came from what he called “looking at the void.” All the nothingness and so much somethingness were horrifying, so he thought back to his beloved Massai. 

When Massai would talk about this void, he was always so calm, hopeful, and curious about the mystery. Walter tried to summon the mentality of the mentor he never met to make sense of how to stay well in the world he was in, while his mind tried to discover new ones. He closed his eyes and tried to just take in the peace while he also pulled in a cold breath. 

His serenity was torn from him when a familiar sharp voice called after him. 

“Hey Walt, long time, no see.” Walter turned around to see Tucker. 

“Why on earth would you be back here Walter? Don’t you know this is my park?” Walter took a deep breath and tried not to let the rage run through his body. 

“Wow Walt, that sure is a nice uniform you got on. I guess they must treat you pretty good over at that rich kid school. You know, I think we both know you are a poor dirty kid like me. I don’t know how you got in with that rich gang, but we both know you didn’t fit in.” Walter would have taken this more to heart, but he never fit in anywhere he went so school was nothing special. 

“You know life out here for the rest of us is pretty rough. After my Dad died in the war, my mom had to pick up an extra job and I almost never see her anymore. The nice part is now I get to do whatever I want. In fact, you wouldn’t happen to have one of those nasty bars on you would you?” Walter stayed quiet. 

“Well, I bet if you did you would keep it in that little bag of yours. Let me see it.” 

“No Tucker. I can’t.” Walter remembered back to a quote where Massai said to not return violence for violence but to be a bad victim and not let them think they are winning. 

“I will not give it to you, but I would be willing to split it with you.” 

“Split is with me? Walter, I bet you rich kids eat breakfast and lunch. I haven’t eaten much in a few days. Just give it to me.” 

“I will give you two/thirds and I will take the other third.” He didn’t mind giving all of it, but couldn’t let Tucker feel like he coerced him more than he was being given a gift. 

“How about I just take all of it!” Tucker yelled as he reached for the bag. Walter jumped to the side while clutching his bag and tripped over Tucker’s right foot as he plunged down and hit his head on the post that held up the swings. Lights flickered as all the blood in his veins rushed in ready to go to battle. He hunched over and felt his head. At first, he thought he was okay, but then as he felt his forehead, he felt moisture. As he brought his hand within view, he saw his own blood. He twisted back up to see Tucker. He was pale and had a look of horror. “Are you okay Walt? Please be okay! I didn’t mean it.” Tucker then looked around then yelled, “I didn’t mean to.” to a passerby before running off. 

Walter clutched his face while trying to control his emotions. This wasn’t the first time Tucker had messed with him, but it was the most extreme yet. While trying to adjust to the pain, he clenched his eyes and tried to forgive Tucker. Though hard to do at this moment, he tried to forgive Tucker. He remembered what Massai said in the matter. “A villain is just a victim that lost their way.” He tried to bring into his mind's eye, a young Tucker in tears just having learned his father passed away. He thought of Tucker when he wasn’t trying to look tough, feeling the sharp pain in the stomach that comes from hunger. He thought of how Tucker must see himself and his future. As a natural result of these visuals, Walter felt compassion for Tucker, all while feeling the pain. 

He recognized this was not a one-time thing. He would need to keep forgiving Tucker every time he felt anger rise up or when his head ached. After applying Massai’s technique for forgiveness, Walter then became aware of his responsibility. He knew that when he comes to the park, this type of thing is possible. He first found it cost-effective as the time to think was priceless. He also comes here kind of hoping Tucker, one of the other struggling kids, or even a gang member would be there to push him around. He loved practicing how he responded to their taunts and shoves. There was something about the persecution that also seemed to put him in the same social circle as the greats, even Massai. 

Massai had a decent helping of opposition. Not only did he not let it beat him down, he somehow chose to let it beat him into shape. Being reminded about the gangs and the danger, he lifted his face from his hands to make sure none were going to take advantage of the situation. He looked around to see nothing but the gray fog. As his eyes adjusted from the blunt force trauma, he noticed that in the fog was a figure, perhaps the same one Tucker called out to. As he looked longer, and his eyes focused he realized it was the homeless man that knit the government issue blankets into a cloak. Walter could not see his face because the cloak had a hood that came over his face. 

The cloaked figure just sat there, presumably staring at him, but Walter could not see his eyes. Walter sat up a little and brushed off the pieces of grass and some of the larger splotches of mud. 

“Can I help you, sir?” Walter called out. The figure in the fog remained silent. Walter cocked his head and tried to figure out if what he was seeing was real or if his blow to the head did more damage than he thought. 

“Do you want food? I have a nutrition bar. I wouldn’t mind sharing it with you.” Slowly the bottom corner of the cloak moved towards him as a foot pushed it and started walking it's way over to him. As the shape became more than just a contrast in the mist and found its way to him, he started to notice how large it was. The person under the cloak, if it was a person, was large and had broad shoulders. Walter would have been more concerned, but there was something methodical and hypnotizing about how the shape seemed to glide towards him softly. Whatever was under there seemed to be at peace, and Walter felt it too. 

The shape stopped one step from stepping on him and seemed to look down. Still, with the cloudy sky behind him, Walter could not make out a face. 

“You’re not going to hurt me are you?” Walter asked the shape. No sounds came from the shape as Walter began to wonder if it could speak. 

“What do you want, my money? I don’t have anything.” The form of a person just stood there towering over him. 

“I know you are a friend of Martha’s. You were kind to her. I don’t think you will hurt me.” 

“And why do you think that?” A deep and smooth voice flooded from under the hood. 

“Well, if you helped her you are a good person.” 

“Maybe so, but don't bad people have friends?” The shape said. Walter inched back a little. 

“I guess so.” Walter admitted. “But, I try to think the best of people.” 

“Now why would you want to do that?” The voice asked. 

“Well, it seems to be more in line with their nature.” 

“Is that so? If people are so good, why are you lying on the ground? Is it really your experience that people are good?” Walter thought back to all the gangs that stole and preyed upon the weak, he thought about the government officials that took his dad away, and he thought about Tucker. 

“Well, it is less about being correct and more about being right.” 

“Is that so?” The voice asked. 

“Yes sir. Even if I am wrong, I would much rather be trying my best to give people the chance.” 

“And how do you view yourself, my young friend?” The voice inquired. 

“Well, I work hard to think of myself as good.” 

“And does that work my friend?” Walter went quiet. He didn’t know the answer, but not from lack of trying. 

“I guess I’m not sure, but I hope so.” 

“So, you have a nutrition bar for me?” 

“Yes, I do.” The side of the shape moved out into an arm’s sleeve. From the sleeve protruded a hand. The hand was outstretched and yet the palms were pointed up as if to say, they had nothing to hide. Walter’s now cold and muddy hand grasped the hand of the figure. He felt a strong pull upwards that was graceful and yet clearly demonstrated the power of the person under the gray shape. Once he was on his feet he said, “Thank you.” 

“Why do you say thank you?” The voice asked. 

“Well, you helped me up.” 

“Maybe I was just doing that in order to get my bar.” 

“Well if so, thank you for fulfilling your side of the transaction.” Walter said with some annoyance from all the figure's questions. Walter reached into his bag and pulled out the bar. Being careful not to touch the bar itself with his now dirty hands, he opened the wrapper part way, broke it in half, then stretched out his arm. 

The shape slowly protruded the same handout and grabbed the half closest to itself. Walter’s eyes had now adjusted and the shape now had a dark background of buildings behind it rather than the brightness of a dark sky. However, now its head was pointed down as it slowly took a bite from the bar. One bite, and then another, until a quarter of Walter’s daily rations, were gone. The head then tilted up just enough for Walter to see a smiling mouth. 

“Well, are you going to eat your part?” The voice asked. 

“You are a skinny young man and probably need it.” Still fired up from the fear, Walter shoved the bar in his mouth and chewed, though he was so nervous he forgot to taste it. As he ate it, the shape with a smile was silent. After he swallowed the last half-chewed bite the smile talked to him once again. 

“So tell me, why did you share the bar with me, but you would not give it to that boy? Was half the bar really worth that cut and bruise on your face?” Walted felt his head again. 

“I don’t mind the sacrifice, I just don’t like being a victim. Plus, if you were standing there long enough to see me get shoved, why didn’t you help?” The voice breathed in deeply. 

“Just because there is a problem, does not mean you have to fix it.” Walter was furious. That was the most foolish thing he had ever heard. If only Massai could hear this stupidity. 

“Plus.” The voice said with some level of lighthearted teasing. “I was curious as to what you would do.” 

“Oh yeah? Did I live up to your expectations?” Walter snarkily asked. 

“Well my friend, did you live up to your own?” Walter felt that same sense of guilt that comes from a life that is trying to justify itself. 

“Well, what’s it to you?” Walter barked. 

“Well my friend, it seems to mean a whole lot to you.” Walter was dumbfounded. Every moment of his life was spent trying to make sense of itself, trying to find goodness, and trying to act on it. 

“I... I guess so.” He let out.

“And how has that worked out for you my friend?” Walter thought for a moment. 

“I guess, maybe I have made progress, but I can’t tell. I don’t know what to do next or where to find out. I have a book about Massai. I hope when I read through it the second time I will figure that out.” 

“A book you say? About Massai? You really think you could find something so profound in something so simple?” Walter was hurt, his hero and greatest possession were hurt all in one. 

“Massai is a good man!” He said. 

“Maybe so, maybe no, but are you?” 

“I don’t know! I don’t know! I am trying, but I just can’t tell!” Walter blurted out. The shape sat there as Walter felt his breath heavy and intense. Once Walter began to relax the shape smiled again. 

“Well young friend, I would love to talk with you. Come with me.” The shape turned to walk without waiting for an answer. 

“I have things to do.” Walter said. 

“What things? To read your silly book?” The voice said as it turned back. 

“How do I know I can trust you?” Walter called out at the shape. 

“I thought you said people are good.” Walter was clearly not going to win the argument. 

He felt anger at the shape and its probing questions, but he sensed a deeper feeling. Every day he watched characters in a play written by no one walking past him, totally accepting the script they were given and never questioning what it was all about. This shape seemed to inflame those questions in Walter, but at least for once in his life, someone was talking about them. Something Walter had never felt before surged in his chest as he felt his feet carry him forward. 

“Hey wait up!” He called after the figure with a smile. 

Chapter Four

He had walked behind the shape for some time as they found their way deeper and deeper into the side of town law enforcement wouldn’t go. However, something about how smoothly and confidently the shape moved seemed to make him feel safe. As the buildings became taller and more rundown and the day became later, it slowly grew darker. Finally, they came to an old hotel which, judging by the ornate design, must have been something special back in the day. Like many things in Walter’s world, it was now just a shell of what good was there. 

“This is it.” The voice said after the long traveling silence. 

The shape reached up and grabbed a bar that led to a fire escape. With ease, the figure pulled itself up and began to climb up. 

“That doesn’t look very safe,” Walter said. 

“Neither does following a shadowy figure into an alleyway.” The voice said back. 

“I don’t know if I can make it up there,” Walter said. 

“Some people climb ladders every day, but few people get hit in the head every day. You should be tough enough.” 

As before, Walter ran out of arguments and began to hoist himself up to where he could put his feet on the bottom rung of the ladder. Putting his sleeve above his head sent small clumps of now partially dried mud falling into his black hair as he continued to lift himself higher and higher and higher, once again just trying to keep up with the smiling apparition. With each pulling up of the arms and pushing down of the legs, he moved with great speed but was still getting left behind. He clenched the muscles in his face the same way he did when the cruel kids in the neighborhood would push him around as he continued to try and propel himself upwards and onwards. 

He would look up to make sure the tail of the stranger's cloak was still in view, and then back down to make sure his feet were placed correctly. On one rung of the ladder, he saw it was bent and snapped off. Having to pull himself now the distance of two was more of a stretch for his body and his will. Finally, he looked up to see his specter associate lean to the right side of his ladder as he stepped off and into what Walter assumed was a window sill. He watched the area closely to make sure he didn’t pass his vertical destination. With bravery that can only come from a young man trying to prove something, his short legs made the far step with much more effort than the much larger phantom frame. 

He jumped down from the window sill to a worn wood floor as he tried to let the breath, which he didn’t realize was so tasked, normalize. Walter looked around to see piles of books neatly stacked despite their age and condition. The floor was surprisingly clean for being in an abandoned building as if recently swept. In fact, the dirtiest part of the room other than some dust on the books and the one large desk, was Walter and the mud on him. To his right he spotted an old bed with an ornate red oak frame with a surprising contrast of more government issue blankets. Walter’s head jerked from looking around the room to look at the man as he spoke. 

“Well my friend, welcome to my humble home.” After a moment of Walter taking it in he said, 

“It sure is brave of you to live here. There could be gangs anywhere.” 

“How do you know I am not a part of the gang my friend?” 

“Not possible, all the gangs around here are white, and I could tell from your hand that you are not.” 

“So that makes me safe?” 

“Well, it doesn’t make you my biggest concern.” 

“My friend, you have nothing to fear. As you may have noticed from the candles and books about us, there is no electricity here to be stolen. Where they have no power, they do not go.” 

“So you live in a place so bad, not even the gangs will go there?” 

“Well my friend, if you want a goal no one has, in my case a safe place to live, you need to do what they would not do. As I said, it is humble but it is home. In fact, please have a seat.” Walter hadn’t seen a seat in his first inspection but looked to make sure there still was not one. 

“Where should I sit?” Walter asked before the man in the cloak went about stacking two opposing piles of books just right, they formed a sort of low chair with a back and arms. The stranger then grabbed the blanket of the bed and placed it on his literary furniture design so the words would not be so cutting. 

“Please, have a seat.” Walter sat down as asked as the other makeshift seat of stories was sat in by the stranger. Both breathed for a moment as they took in the ambiance of the moment and still a few more breaths from their climb. In the adjusting silence, Walter began again to look around. He began to look at the volumes that made up the furnishing. He spotted a faded red book with gold lettering that read, “fear and trembling.” 

“I have heard of this book.” Walter said. 

“Hearing of it is nice, but reading it is even better.” 

“Well, I guess I’ll have to add it to my list then.” 

“Tell me my friend, would you mind if I spoilt the theme for you?” 

“I guess not.” 

“Have you ever read the Holy Bible?” Walter scoffed. 

“No, I have not.” 

“Well, you should. It does a lot to teach about why so many people have thought so many ways. Anyway, in it, there is a father named Abraham who is tasked with killing his son from God.” 

“That is sadistic.” Walter replied. 

“Maybe so my friend, but it is not that simple. Here this man Abraham has his two greatest roles as father and follower pitted against each other and he has to make sense of what to do.” 

“And what does he do?” “That is for the Holy Bible to tell you. In the book you hold by Kierkegaard, it isn’t about what he does, but what it is like for him to grapple with this.” 

“Well, that sounds absurd.” 

“That is exactly right! Here he is trying to make sense of the absurd. Why do people spend so much time making a life they will die from? Why does morality often pit two ethics against each other? Why from all the effort of learning do we know how little we truly do and can know? This is the idea. Where we fail to have absolutes and rather have only absurds, we still have to grip onto something.” 

“I am sure it is a great book, but you can make things black-and-white as Massai did.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“When he was here, the world was in order.” 

“Perfect order?” 

“Well, no, just better order.” 

“Aww so this Massai was not this definition of the perfect you believe in, but just did a good job for a little while?” 

“No, he was more than that?” 

“Then why did he not do more than that?” 

“He did so much.” 

“If so my young friend, then why is the world as it is now? If he were as wonderful as you say, why did the world go right back to its nonsense with even more fervor.” Walter had no answers, he was just angry. 

“Massai was a great man, and my hero! I don’t mind you asking me questions to make me think better, but don’t you dare attack my hero!” 

“I guess you are right. It isn’t fair to slander the dead.” 

“He isn’t dead!” 

“Oh so worse, he gave up?” 

“No! He just... He just... I think one of the governments locked him up.” 

“Maybe so, my young friend. I guess back to our friend Kierkegaard, would you like to learn more about the absurd and how to make sense of it?” 

Walter sloughed back in his chair as he did at home when he argued with his mother, but despite the efforts of the blanket, his spine hit a particularly protruding book. He tried to not act like he was hurt and put his chin in his right hand as he thought. 

“Well, if learning about the absurd helps me know the absolute, then yes I will.” 

“No my young friend, we cannot just learn that which gives us what we want, but that which changes what we want, and furthermore, who we are.” Walter’s chin went back to his hand. He knew there was something this stranger knew that he needed to do. He knew he was not satisfied with either the world around him, how they thought, or even what he could think of himself. He knew whatever he did, he needed to commit. 

“Yes. I am ready.” After a moment that seemed to be able to fill a life, the hands of the large figure moved towards its barely visible smile as it grasped the sides of the hood and gently set it back on his shoulder. As the sunlight found itself strained and diffused through the clouds, and bouncing around until it came through the window, it found its way off a face. From that face, it bounced back to Walter’s eye in a familiar way. He had seen those large brown eyes, that large button nose, and that smile before. He knew in the same instant the light showed to his eyes, where he had seen that face before. It was the face he saw on the lightbox when he was little. It was the same face he saw in all his books as he read them with amazement. It was the same face he had seen a million times in his mind's eye as he talked out all his troubles and questions with that face. Now, that face was sitting across from him. 

“What... How... Why...” 

“My young friend, try finishing one of your sentences.” Walter tried to but all around his face began to be white as he felt himself growing weak. The former shape now a man sat up and put both his hands on Walter’s shoulders. 

“Don’t go anywhere young man. Don’t forget to breathe.” Walter felt himself come back to his body to find his breathing was rapid and erratic, his blood was racing through his body, and his hands were clenched. 

“Is... Is it you?” 

“Well, my friend, I guess if you asked anyone if it was them, they would have to say yes out of lack of context.” 

“No, I mean, are you him?” 

“I am him, if he is me, who is he?” 

“Ma... Mass... Massai.” 

“Ah, yes my young friend. Am I Massai? No I am not. Massai is a name. I am me and this me has a series of sounds it is called after. Those sounds are Massai.” Walter began to hear that rich voice with its timbre, accent, dictation, and inflection he knew as if each frequency synchronized with his heart's beating. It became clear he had changed his voice previously. 

“Massai... Hello sir. It is so good to meet you. I knew you were alive. I am your most devoted follower. I have read every word you have written and most of what you have said that was written down.” 

“That sounds like you enjoyed it and I am glad, but tell me; you may have read all my books, but have you realized all your thoughts?” Walter was perplexed. 

“Sir?” 

“Well sure it could be good my young friend to know everything someone else said, but as you, it is more important to know what you have to say. Do you know what you have to say?” 

“I think so sir. I want to make the world better like you.” 

“We can get to that later. But, why?” 

“The world is so broken and people are so worn down. Now that I found you, I can help you get out of this. The great Massai shouldn’t be dressed in rags.” Walter stood up as he felt himself get louder. 

“We can do it. I’ll help you. I have a small fund I have saved up. It is not much, but it is enough for you to get to the capitol and talk to the president.” Walter started to wave his hands around and pace as he did when he obsessed over something. 

“You can then go and have another summit with them, followed by an announcement to the world you are back, then Mars. You could work out peace between us. You could bring down all the corruption and oppression.” Walter began to really work himself up. 

“We could crush all the violence, hatred, and greed in the world. We could save humanity.” As his last declaration came from his lips, and as his pacing led him to face the wall, he realized something didn’t make any sense. The thought was so dark, bleak, and unfair, he felt it in his stomach. 

“Wait... Massai, where have you been?” In that moment either the clouds grew thicker and light didn’t bounce its way into the room, or something in Walter became dimmer. 

“Did someone capture you? Are you on the run? Were you biding your time?” Walter put the bottom of his fist on the wall with the window as he tried to stay off all the naysayers that found their words echoing in his mind. 

“My young friend, I am here with you.” 

“Yes, but where have you been?” 

“I have moved around quite a bit. Here, there, and a few places around them.” 

“And you were hiding from someone?” 

“No, in fact, I have never faced up to myself more.” 

“I... I don’t get it.” Walter turned around as he tried to keep his voice from breaking the same way he did whenever his mother talked about his father at war. 

“You, you left us?” Massai met Walter’s gaze with an expression of empathy and yet silence. 

“Why?” Massai’s kind eyes still said some, but his voice remained silent. 

“Speak to me! Why did you leave us?” Walter sat there breathing so violently, he felt his shoulders rise and fall with rage. 

“Do you know how bad things have been for us? Not only has Mars declared war on us, but even that wasn’t enough to keep the countries here on Earth from fighting. There has been ongoing war, violence, and brutality. Good people were caught in the crossfire. When I was a kid, we used to take the dog for a walk and give him treats. After you left, I remember a time where my parents had to get rid of the dog so we didn’t have to eat it like the neighbors. Mom and Dad did their best to feed me, but I would sneak into the closet and eat the dog's treats. All the kids up and down the block were not as lucky as me. In the dire circumstance, most of my friends moved away so their parents could be exploited by the same war machine you could have stopped. My uncle died in the war along with many close friends. You could have stopped it, and you did not. Why didn’t you? Answer me!” 

By now Walter’s voice was cracking with violent rage as he felt his flushed face must be red. He stared at that face that was his symbol of hope, now a totem of betrayal. Those same brown eyes stared at him, but unlike how they were portrayed in the pictures, they weren’t bold as they looked out into a vision. Those eyes that were supposed to be all seeing, were sad. Walter sat there unflinchingly staring into those same eyes he always wished he could see out of. As he did, noticed the right of the two eyes began to well up with tears as the other followed suit. Then a tear leaving behind a trail left first the right eye, and then the next. 

“My friend, I am so sorry.” 

“Oh great! You just be sorry. That will fix all the broken lives and shattered hopes.” Massai stared back at him as another tear from the right eye followed the trail of the last tear. Walter began to shift from obsessive passion to guilt as he did when he went on to his mother about how the world should be. Just like that, however, he said nothing. Finally Massai took a breath and spoke. 

“To explain why would take a moment, of which you don’t seem to be keen on taking. But, the reason doesn’t change the pain you and the world have felt. My heart hurts to know all that I have otherwise seen, and to know how you were affected my friend, it hurts my heart.” Walter began to feel rage from the effort at sympathy. 

“You have no idea how broken this world is and how destroyed people are.” Massai took a breath, closed his eyes, and opened them with more peace. 

“My friend, there are roughly 200 billion galaxies in the universe. In our little galaxy, there are roughly 100 billion stars. Each of them precious, beautiful, and divine. During the course of our conversation, it is probable that at least one of those stars has gone supernovae. This is final. That star will never exist again in that way. Parts of it may combine into beautiful new stars, but it will never be the same again.” Massai then abruptly went silent. Walter stared at him in curious anger. 

“So?” He asked. 

“Well my friend, this teaches us three things: Perspective alone can make sense of much, things exist in a state of finality as they will never be exactly where, what, and when they were again. And, there is nothing you can do to stop those stars from exploding.” 

“Yes, but you could have helped these people.” 

“Maybe I could have, but I can tell you are taking a burden on yourself you can not control. It is good to assume responsibility and to take power over one’s circumstance, but when that circumstance is out of one’s power, one suffers with no way to ease the pain.” 

“Who cares if I hurt. The world is hurting.” 

“Yes, but it is a big place with a lot of people. There will always be someone hurting. We should care and do what we can, but we can’t do what we can’t.” 

“So, I should just give up like you?” 

“Maybe so, maybe no, but what you should do is not forget that while you try to understand a complex world and all its dilemmas in simplified versions in your mind you can think of, you are still Walter. No matter what happens outside this room, a thousand years ago, or a thousand more to go, you are still here, with me, safe.” Walter’s breath slowed as his knit brow furrowed while his eyelids dropped and he tried to make sense of what he was thinking, while he also tried to figure out what he was feeling. 

“My friend?” Massai said after a meaningful moment of silence. 

“You are not my friend. I don’t have friends.” Walter barked as his hands lifted to his face. 

“And why not my friend?” 

“Don’t call me that! Life is not something to waste with light socializing. It is painful and people are broken. Even if there was someone good enough to trust to where you could be friends, you would lose them.” 

“And so it is better to have never had a friend?” 

“Yes.” 

“What would the world be like if everyone thought like that my young friend?” 

“I said I am not your friend. First off, people would spend less time being distracted by people and focus more on things of depth and solving world issues.” 

“Wouldn’t a friend help in those efforts?” 

“They could, but mostly people just get caught up in their own social lives and how they react to them rather than things that matter.” 

“And what matters?” 

“Fixing issues and making sense of a complex world.” 

“And why do they matter?” 

“Because when I go to die, I will have made sense of my world and made it better.” 

“Without friends, how could you feel the difference made and understand how that depth affects others?” 

“You don’t get it. I would rather suffer alone and make sense of my world.” 

“And a noble cause that is my noble friend. However, I have found that sometimes we give up on the ideal and rather focus on one side of it. Perhaps a life well lived will live up to both goals naturally.” 

“No, you would have to pick a goal.” 

“Yes, however sometimes good things happen when you get lost in goodness and quit trying to force them to be so.” Walter’s rational disposition was clearly fading as any bias he tried to force out, crept in. He realized he felt the way he did not from rational or from reading any books on the matter, but from his life experience. His head lowered as his voice followed. 

“People leave. You try your best, but they always leave.” Massai stood up and glided across the worn wood floor. 

“May I put my arms around you?” Walter kept his head low as it nodded. Massai’s scratchy wool hooded cloak engulfed him as his large frame towered over him. Walter felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time. After Dad left, Mom would quit trying to fight Walter to give him hugs. He forgot what it felt like. His mind started to race with thoughts as he let them slow back down and just took in the moment. Massai then loosened his arms and stepped back. 

“My young friend, why do you think people always leave?” Walter’s firm tone was changed for a shaky one. 

“I guess, that is my experience.” 

“And how well do experiences dictate the future?” 

“Pretty well I guess.” 

“Pretty well if the situation is the same, but Walter, I don’t think you will let it be the same. I know it can be tempting to think your little world is the entire world, but sometimes it helps to live outside of yourself.” 

“What do you mean?” Massai walked to the big window and looked down. 

“That is your house isn’t it?” Maasai said, pointing far to the left down the street. 

“Yes it is.” 

“Close your eyes. What color is the door handle?” 

“It is a brass color.” 

“And the drapes in the windows?” 

“They are Grey I think.” 

“And how many panes of glass are on the house?” Walter tried to reason it out in his mind, 

“I don’t know.” 

“How could you not know? You live in that house.” 

“I guess I never thought of it.” 

“And yet, despite you having never thought of it, or even if you quit believing it was so, the number of panes in the window are still the same.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“My young friend, how can you say you know all about the human experience and what all people are like when you don’t even know how many panes of glass there are on your home?” 

“Well I can also read books and learn from others what the world is like.” 

“And they know? Then you are just back to seeing things from a point of view. Now it is just someone else’s where you do not know why they believe that.” 

“So what?” 

“My young friend, there are many people with many notions and all the vigor to back them up. All the while, reality is outside of them being unknown.” 

“So I am wrong to feel the way I do about people?” 

“You are right with what you know and believe what you should as what you are, but it can be much more to find out what is outside of you.” Walter began to think on this as his hands were raised back up to his face. 

“My young friend, I would love to talk to you again and learn with you. It will not be easy. It will require both of us to live outside ourselves while also taking care of our inner worlds. We will have to be okay and even excited about being wrong, making mistakes, and valuing things poorly, all in the effort and in the name of knowing more than we could.” 

After a moment of thought, Walter said, “That makes sense. This could really help with my goals.” 

“Maybe so, young friend, but if we do this, we have to do this for the sake of knowing rather than to achieve a goal. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to realize our goals need to be changed.” Walter realized that if he said yes, he may have to let go of his tightly clenched belief, and if he did, he didn’t know what would be left or what he could know. He realized if he didn’t he would miss out on a life otherwise not lived. 

“Well, I still may hate you for abandoning us, but I need to learn what you have to say.” 

“That is okay my young friend. Hate comes from hurt, which is healed by perspective and understanding. Don’t think that I am here to teach you either. You will teach yourself and me to have a conversation together.” Walter nodded his head as he tried to come to grips with the absurdity of his situation. 

“Very well my young friend, I will see you tomorrow. Good luck climbing down.”

Chapter Five

Walter’s tired left hand gripped and massaged his right shoulder after he jumped from the last rung of the ladder and back onto the bad street. Looking down the alleyway, he saw the streetlight that stood near his home as he walked briskly back through the dark fog as that familiar light acted as a beacon. As he got closer, he spotted Martha lying on the ground wrapped tightly in her expertly made wool cloak. She was wrapped up tightly, but even with a bowed head, Walter could see her face which formed a slight, but pleasant smile. He wondered how she could be smiling when she lived in such a broken world and worse, didn’t have a home to protect her from it. Walter had felt miserable for years with much more. Perhaps what Massai said was right. Even though Walter and her shared much of their worlds, Martha was always so much happier. Walter realized that whatever she was feeling that always caused her spectrum of smiles, came from something he did not know. He realized he did want to know what that was. 

Hearing the brass knob turn, Walter’s mother dropped her readings in a flash and jumped up to make sure at least part of her family was safe. As Walter walked inside covered in dry dirt and looking roughed up, she walked towards him. Not wanting to disenfranchise anything other than him reading his books and thinking, she tried to not come across accusingly. 

“It is late,Walter. Are you okay?” 

“Yes, Mom, I am fine.” 

“Why are you covered in mud?” 

“Me and some boys were playing a little too rough.” She raised her eyebrow as if to call him out for socializing with the other boys, but she knew Walter would never tell her what was really going on. 

“Do we have anything I can ice my head with? I walked into a sign pole earlier.” Without calling out his clear lie, she ran and grabbed their weekly ration of government issue “assorted vegetables” before he put it against his temple. After holding it there for a moment, he walked over to the window and looked up, down, right, and left. 

“Nine.” Walter said.

“Excuse me Walter?” 

“There are nine pieces of glass that make up this window. I never thought to notice it.” Her curiosity kept her silent. 

“I am starting to wonder about all the things I did not notice.” 

“Like what Walter?” 

“Well, I am starting to wonder if Massai is so great after all.” 

“Why would you think that?” 

“If he was so great, he would have never left us and would still be fighting for us.” 

“Maybe he is dead.” Walter felt the irony for a moment. 

“Yes, maybe so. But I am starting to wonder if he really ever had anything to teach us.” Walter’s mother had hoped for years he would quit obsessing over Massai, but just to drop him so fast scared her. 

“I guess we won’t know, but you better get off to bed and let me wash that uniform.” 

“Thank you Mom. Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight Walter.”

Chapter Six

Walter’s eyes opened to see his prized school uniform lovingly cleaned and placed on the chair next to his bed. As a ray of morning light found its way through the clouds, towering buildings and the window, it lit up the clothes in such a way he could see each dark blue fiber. It had clearly still had some abuse, but the dirt was masterfully removed and placed there. It was magnificent. 

In his simple and frugal little world, he had realized how often he had overlooked the small things that meant something. How often had his mother cleaned something for him, prepared food, or tried to put on a brave face after all her own fears and labors. The ray of light lit up not something that needed to be perfect, but something that was made better by someone he cared about. 

Walter was still wary of people and their intentions, but at least one person, at least his mother, really cared about him. He sat up as he saw his previously prized book about his old hero. He slowly sat up as he tried to come to grips with the day before. He wasn’t trying to think out thoughts, but rather trying to come to grips with something that happened. Normally good at judging the goodness of something, he was not sure what to make of Massai. He tried to work out if the good that Massaid did, outweighed the good that he neglected to do. Could he be angry about not what was, but what could have been? Those things that Massai did were nearly irrefutably good, but to have given up? 

Walter glanced up at the small shelf above his desk that housed his clock. He noticed in his efforts in thinking, he must have worn out himself enough to sleep in. Grabbing his uniform and throwing it on viciously, he ran down the stairs to see his mother. 

“Walter, are you okay? You never sleep in.” 

“Yes Mom, I am okay.” 

“Here is your lunch.” He grabbed it with a quick smile of gratitude, he twisted the brass door knob as he looked at the window and ran out. He began to think about all the things he had never thought about, but found it hard as he still couldn’t think of them. Perhaps, he needed to see the world out of new eyes. Eyes that didn’t know everything and just took in information to act on, but eyes that needed to see what it didn’t know. He ran to Martha as his footsteps startled her and she turned from looking despondently the other way. 

“Good morning Martha!” He said while out of breath. 

“Well aren’t you in a hurry young man?” 

“Yes, I have to hurry to school. I am late.” He opened the bag his mother gave him to pull out a nutrition bar and place it in her wrinkled and shaky hands as her sunken cheeks formed a smile. 

“Thank you as always my boy.” 

“Don’t mention it. It is the right thing to do.” 

“Well young man, I think so too. However, you did it, and I think that counts for something.” He smiled as he realized perhaps there was something about how he acted on his duty he felt that said something good about him. Or maybe it said something about how he felt about her. 

“Martha, the man who gave you this cloak, did you see his face?” 

“My boy, I can’t recall if I did or did not.” She said with the same mysterious smirk she always did. 

“Well what do you think about him?” 

“Well, he helped me out, so he must be a good man.” 

“That doesn’t matter. Everyone helps someone at least once in their life.” 

“I guess that tells you my boy, who I think is a good person.” 

“Well, I talked to him and found out that even though he has done some things that are good, but he has also failed to do some very important things as well.” 

“What is your point my boy?” 

“Well, is he a good person if he didn’t do those things?” 

“Do you know why he didn’t do them my boy?” 

“I do not.” “Then I guess we can’t say. Maybe the reason he didn’t do those good things is so something even better could happen.” Walter looked down at his mostly cleaned shoes as his right hand stroked his chin. 

“I can see this worries you. It can be tempting to spend too much of a good life stressing about why people do or don’t do good things. What has helped me most, is just knowing the fact they made the choice they did is for a reason. What I do know, young man, is you can control how you respond to this. Now, we have talked about this before, what is the one thing that you can give without limit and without knowing?” 

“Mercy.” Walter parroted Martha from before. 

“That is right.” Martha said as her sky gray eyes smiled back at him. 

“Worry less about why or why not this friend of ours made certain choices, and concern yourself more with how you respond to him.” Walter’s hand reached his chin as he thought more. 

“Young man, you better go.” 

“You’re right, I’ll see you later!” He said as he turned and went back into his anxious run. 

“Welcome back, class.” Miss Higby said as Walter rushed into his seat next to Hank. 

“So yesterday we covered the early part of Massai’s life from his upbringing to when he first started to influence the world. We are now going to talk about how he affected the world. Now, does anyone know who Zuke is?” Miss Higby looked around the room but let her eyes rest on Walter, whom she was surprised didn’t raise his hand.

“Well, Zuke was a political figure that rose to power during Massai’s time as his contemporary. Before Massai there were many sub-nations and then the different colonies on Mars. Once Massai came about, there was less of a distinction. Zuke hated the non-centralized power that Massais used. He believed people were inherently bad and needed a strong and large state to control them.” Walter hated Zuke and his party. He hated them with such a fiery ire he didn’t feel like listening to more about them as he was so unsure about one ideology he did like, or rather the person that brought the ideology to life. Walter still didn’t understand why Massai gave up and let Zuke take over. He didn’t understand why a man who was a symbol of hope had to leave the spotlight where his mere presence could inspire. It was so unfair, backwards, and unjust, Walter felt sick. How was it, the evil, as Walter saw the Zukean party, won and that which was good faded away. What type of world was this, that this could happen? Walter zoned back in time for the subject matter to begin to change. 

“Despite Zukean’s ideological attacks and the shame tactics that came into play, Massai stood strong. When asked asked why he didn’t play Zuke’s level and sink to his level, Massai said he didn’t want to win the game that Zuke was playing.” Walter was impressed with Miss Higby. 

It was not always safe to speak out against Zukean ideas, but she didn’t mind sharing her thoughts as she was passionate about what Massai stood for. Walter felt terrible that Miss Higby didn’t know that Massai had left all of them alone. He wanted to tell her that what she believed in was a lie or at least now is. He wanted to tell her not to be hopeful in a myth or feel safety from a character that never was. Walter watched her tired eyes as she went from talking about Zuke to talking about her hero Massai. Her face lit up under those dim lights as it formed a smile and her tone picked up energy. She was so happy and had hope, hope in a lie. Walter always held truth as one of the highest values and virtues, but now he was torn. Miss Higby was at peace and felt a reason to not give in because of something that was not the case. Would it be better for her to have the truth and lose all hope, or to continue in her delusion. As Walter sat there he saw her smile crease its way up again. 

“Massai stayed true to his value and mission without ever centralizing his power beyond persuasion.” Miss Higby taught 

“He stood strong and naturally deterred the Zukean party right up until the death of his beloved wife Dzidzorli. It is unknown how she died but it was clear it affected Massai greatly who said 

“To lose my dear Dzidzorli is like to lose the sun, every morning waiting for it to rise and every evening waiting for it to set.” By this, he means that she was such a vital constant in his life, to be without her would be so unfamiliar as to be without the sun. 

Walter had always rushed through the part of his old hero’s life where his wife died. He was always so caught up in how he felt about losing his hero, he never thought how that hero felt to lose his wife in depth. They had been married for many decades and with how much Massai loved, he must have loved her in a way that couldn’t be measured, if love could be measured. That must have torn him apart. Walter began to realize maybe a man he saw as the closest thing to deity still bled. Maybe the world still needed more, but perhaps Massai had no more to give. Maybe the unbreakable was broken. 

It could be that the man who gave more than any other Walter knew of, gave all he could. Walter sat back in his chair as he felt the anger at the lack of justice in the world be slowly replaced for the mercy and grace he had for Massai. He still wasn’t sure of all the details, and it was hard to just let go of so much pain, but he closed his eyes and felt compassion. He felt forgiveness for Massai based on him turning out to be the same weak and incomplete specie as himself. It dawned on him that the same as he saw out of eyes, heard out of ears, and felt out of hands, Massai does the same. It would follow that Massai would also feel all the loss that Walter feels. In his mind, Massai went from a towering perfect being that failed him, to a human just like Walter who was doing his best. Walter felt forgiveness in his heart and let go of a little bit of his own hate he had been carrying for awhile. 

“Well that’s it class. Thanks for listening and I will see you tomorrow.” Walter realized he had missed the entirety of class. 

“Walter, are you okay? You usually are quite invested in my class especially on the day I am covering your hero.” 

“Yes Miss Higby. I am sorry. I just had some things to think about.” 

“Well, did you at least learn something?” 

“Yes I did Miss Higby. Maybe the most I ever have.” Walter then smiled and turned to walk out. 

“Wait up Walter.” Hank said. You okay space face? You seemed to zone out of most of class.” 

“Yeah I am fine.” 

“Yeah, clearly you are. Tell you what, I am heading home to play cards with some friends, you are invited.” 

“Thank you Hank, but I have to go.” Walter turned and ran without waiting for a response. 

He made his way down the worn concrete steps of the school, past the park he spent time thinking, and into the bad side of town. He had learned if he went fast enough and looked stern enough, he would usually be safe. He came to the abandoned hotel and stared up at the bottom rung of the ladder. He cocked his head, took a deep breath, and jumped up. As He climbed he counted each floor he passed. 1...2...3..4... Then he came to the broken wrung in the ladder and had to pull his now tired body twice the amount. The floors kept passing by as he felt like passing out. 10...11...12. Finally, he came to the window well with the piles of books inside. 

His eyes adjusted until he could see clearly into the room to see a dark shape  resting on the books. As he could see clearly into the room, he saw it was Massai in his thick cloak with only his hands visible as his hood covered his bowed head. Not sure on what was socially appropriate if Massai was sleeping, he slowly stepped down from the window sill and looked across the room. As Massai stood still, he looked down to look through the reading list of his former hero. 

“Hello my friend.” Massai’s deep voice bellowed from under the makeshift cloak. 

“You told me to come back...” 

“And I am glad you did.” Massai interrupted before lifting his head up. As Walter looked down on a face that symbolized what good could be found in the future, he found that same brow knit with concern. 

“Please, have a seat.” Walter silently and slowly sat down and settled himself. As he looked back up into those deep brown eyes, that seemed to bore themselves into his soul. 

“I am glad you came, my young friend.” Walter wanted to correct him again, but something didn’t seem to be right. Those eyes seemed to not only see something, but to say something other than what they expressed from the angles of the skin around them. 

“Massai... Is everything alright?” 

“My young friend, I guess that depends on who is the one that is judging what is right and what they know.” Walter thought for a moment. 

“What is the difference?” 

“There is a difference between what is what we experience.” 

“And how do you judge things?” Massai smiled a bittersweet grin that seemed to try to console Walter from what he was about to say. 

“In my case, it seems to be that reality is good, the future bright, and people good, but something about what I am makes it hard to feel that right now.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“As you know from reading my words my young friend, the goal is to know what truth transcends each of us as we all have it in common as it is a part of our plane of reality. However, It can be hard to realize what is the case when you are experiencing something very strong.” 

“I still don’t understand.” 

“My young friend, if I managed to finally discover that perfect sentence that had the secret of the universe and how we relate to it, and I tried telling it to a toddler who was hungry, it wouldn’t matter how perfect that sentence was. That child would just be thinking about how much they wanted to eat.” 

“So what you are saying is, in our effort to know what is, we also have to keep in account what we are and what we need?” 

“Exactly my young friend. Now, at least with that young child, he could understand most of the words in that sentence, but a baby would not even be able to understand the words outside of the intonations. A child may understand more words, and a young adult even more, however, the words would only have the significance that the words meant. As one becomes older, words like “hope” and “peace” become something more than vocalizations of simple concepts. They realize themselves as real ideas as we develop relationships with them.” 

“So it is not just what the words mean, but the context behind them?” 

“That is correct my young friend. A part of the adventure is to know the world that is out there and the world that is inside us. Additionally, the other side of that coin is to gain a sense of meaning to the questions we can answer and even more essentially those we can’t. As we find ourselves unable to answer those questions that make up what we are, we can find solace as we refine and redefine those questions and realize the magnitude of their implications.” 

“Okay, so as we as we make sense of ourselves and our world through context, it helps not only find truth but find meaning where we can’t know everything in the moment, how does that relate to your... To that look in your eye?” 

“Well, I still haven’t told you how we get that context through experience. I am sure it is something all people are familiar with, and you yourself may have an extra special relationship with.” Massai then went silent as his solemnity and deep gaze made Walter hungry to know the answer to the question he did not know to ask. 

“So, what is it?” 

“In a vital memory you can’t recall, you went from a safe warm place to a cold and bright world full of sounds and feelings. As your mother then held you in her arms, you screamed and cried. As you got older, you realized your body needs sustenance that you did not have so you sobbed. As you got older, maybe a first day at school, you felt a horrifying separation from the one being that you clung to as all you knew. You’ve fallen and skinned your knee. You have had people disappointed in you. You have seen people suffer and realize you could do nothing about it. You have realized how massive and horrifically unknown the world is as you realize how small and incapable you are. You have found, despite your best efforts, how weak you are. You have beaten your brains against the questions that make up your existence. Then you were told these experiences were nothing more than something to be ignored as you waited and hoped they would end you and you would find some happiness. However, something you spend a large part of your life feeling has to have some meaning of its one rather than just being the lack of smiles and sunshine.” 

“Suffering.” Walter muttered as the words fell out of him. Massai’s consoling smile returned and faded again. 

“Yes my dear friend. Before you ever cried, joy was pointless. Before you were in fear, peace was lifeless. Before you were anxious to your core about if the nature of reality was good, hope seemed meaningless. Each bit of goodness is given contrast by that which we may want to call bad, but in reality, is our stern tutor; suffering.” 

“That seems to make sense, but then why not just starve oneself, surround oneself with violence, and never feel joy. By that logic, they would become the wisest.” 

“Ah, you disagreeing shows me you are grappling with the idea. That is good. The thing about suffering is, we don’t choose when it comes, how long it stays, or what it teaches. Its that one friend that gives that advice you don’t want, but need. Over time it will start to not online like a black ink pen, mark out the boundaries of what is, but it will start to clarify what we are.” 

“So may I ask what you are being taught?” Massai’s head lowered and rested for a moment. He raised it back up and when he did, warm tears poured down his cheeks as from bright and yet dark brown eyes. As a moment of silence passed, Walter pushed the words passed the fear and his vocal chords. 

“Dzidzorli.” Walter said as those eyes were covered by their lid and stream of tears not only found their way to the corner of his eye, but streamed from the center in their plenteousness. 

“Yes, my dear Dzidzorli, my love, my joy, my happiness.” Massai clenched his eyes up as more tears flowed along with his jaw trembling. 

“As far as everyone else is concerned, she is no more than a stranger they never met. To other animals, she is just another beast. To the earth, just another inhabitant. To the universe, she is only an infinitely miniscule singularity. But, to all that I am, she will always be most of what it is. As I was saying earlier, it isn’t just what is out there, but who and what we are that relates to it. There may be great things to know, wonderful things to believe, and powerful ways to act on those things, but as far as what I am can feel, all I know is I miss the half of me I choose to be.” His eyes again broke that profound contact as his right hand covered his face. 

Walter watched as the man who took the place of the God he didn’t believe in broke down in tears. Someone so strong, so weak. His hero, now reduced to crumbling at memories. Walter felt as if he should be disappointed at the weakness, but he was not. Something about the raw authenticity of someone feeling so openly and honestly seemed to exude a level of confidence and heroism nothing else could. He saw his humanity, and somehow through that, had a glimpse of his divinity. Walter stepped out of the character he had built for himself and played another role he seldom had for his mother when his father had to leave. 

“I am sorry. I don’t know what to say, but I am sure this hurts.” Massai looked up and smiled again with a little less consolation and a little more peace. 

“Thank you. You are a true friend. I will miss her for as long as we are apart. I will have to handle how I feel about her and how much she isn’t there for the rest of my life. It comes in waves and the force of the wave varies. I have learned that how I respond to it needs to change as well. All through it however my young friend, I have better understood where I end, and where the world begins. It has also become clear to me, the nature of all the people out there who hurt as well. Every bit of pain I have ever been fortunate enough to know has taught me to connect, care, and have compassion. For whatever reason, this strict teacher is in our lives, and we have to realize they have a role, or at least they are going nowhere and we might as well learn what they have to say.” Massai then took a deep pull of cool air flowing in from the gray sky as his eyes closed and a smile that came for no reason other than its own desire crossed his face. 

“Thank you for being with me my friend. I have had to learn the hard way that I can be an influential and truth seeking human, but I am still a human. As such, I have needed to make sure I am aware of such, and take time to enjoy and be with my own humanity.” 

“Well, I am sure it will get better.” 

“I am not too worried about that, my young friend. To exist is so much more than running from pain to whatever version of happiness seems to be the most powerful at the time. I am at peace with how this feels.” 

“I guess that makes sense. It is like you told me when you first met me in the park, just because there are problems, doesn’t mean you have to fix them.” 

“That is exactly right my young friend. I don’t want to fix how I feel about her. If I did, it is either because I quit loving her, and chose to love her forever. The other way is to forget her, but why would I want to forget the thoughts I have most precious and the majesty of the person who gave them to me?” 

“That is respectable. It is better than copping out to an idea of religion.” Massai stared at him in a blank expression that was as inquisitive as it was confused. 

“What do you mean my young friend?” 

“Some people instead of dealing with their problems just make up a god and believe in that instead.” Massai’s smile peaked as he had a sense of humor in his eyes. 

“Is that so?” 

“Well yeah, it is an inferior way of dealing with that strict teacher as you said.” 

“And why is that my friend?” 

“You don’t have to workout that fact that one day we will die and there will be nothing left afterwards.” 

“Wouldn’t it be harder because you have to plan for another life after being worn out?” 

“I guess so.” 

“Isn’t it harder to believe in something than to be that person who points out how silly it is to believe?” 

“I guess so.” 

“I wouldn’t say it is easier to not believe. Whether or not it is right, it is at least more labor intensive.” The smile on Massai’s face stated what Walter wasn’t ready for his ears to hear. 

“Wait, do you believe in God?” That smile peaked again with a charming twinkle in his eye. 

“Hold on, how could you believe in God?” 

“A lot of praying.” 

“No that is not what I mean. I have read everything I could of yours. You always seemed to be anti-religious.” 

“Ah, I seemed to be so. I left ambiguity for people to read in what they needed.” 

“What? No.” Massai smiled again. 

“My young friend, do you not?” 

“Of course not. There is no reason to believe in God.” 

“Is there any reason not to?” 

“So many bad things happen in the world.” 

“You do bad things as well as I my young friend, and yet you seem to be sitting in front of me.” 

“Yes, but God is supposed to be perfect.” 

“And what is perfect.” Walter’s face scrunched up as he tried to think of the definition. 

“People can’t even make up their minds about when and if it can be right to slaughter others. I think it would be much to assume we know what perfect is.” 

“I am sure us suffering can’t be from a good God.” 

“You climb that ladder well.” Massai said as he pointed out to the window. 

“You must be healthy and workout.” 

“Yes, I am in Junior armada training in school and I do well in physical training.” 

“What is your favorite thing to do?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe push ups.” 

“Ah, so do you think the muscles in your arms are ever mad that you would ever make them work, let alone force them to tear themselves up as they rigorously and seemingly pointlessly strain themselves.” Walter smirked. 

“I know for a fact they don’t like it. They can hurt quite a bit for a few days.” 

“And yet as the one that knows more, you know for them to strain themselves is better for them.” Walter took a moment to think of his retort. 

“Even if there were no moral reason to disbelieve, there would be no fact to believe.” 

“Sure my friend, but in reality, all the other practices of science and math can talk around issues, but there is no test they can use to identify what there is not a God.” 

“Even if they couldn’t prove there wasn’t a God, that doesn’t mean I should not believe there isn’t a God.” 

“Of course my friend, but I don’t want to tell you why one should. I do not want to convince you to believe in God. I just wanted you to know it is not foolish to believe in something more than oneself.” 

“But the idea of faith is so weak.” 

“Is it? How do you know your teacher hasn’t lied to you about everything you know, or your senses tell you the truth, or even if you are real?” Walter thought in silence for a long moment. 

“You don’t and you can’t. You have to choose to believe reality is real and you can know things about it. I then choose to choose to believe in God.” Walter was stumped and visibly unhappy.

“Don’t worry my friend, I am not trying to prove why you should, but helping you understand why I do.” 

“Well, honestly, I think you are wrong.” 

“Good, I was worried you would agree with me too much. I just want you to know that someone can come to a divine conclusion and not be a fool. I also want to let you know it brings me a lot of peace. Even if I am under a delusion, to know that my sweet Dzidzorli is waiting for me...” Massais eyes misted over as his cheeks closed them as they rose for a smile. 

“My young friend, there is so precious little we can know. WIth the unknown being what scares us, this can horrify anyone that looks into it. Even the thought of a being that transcends this can make life bearable.” 

“That doesn’t make it true.” 

“That is true. But oh how you hope it would be.” 

“That seems like a lazy way to handle all the suffering and the unknown.” 

“Maybe so, maybe no my friend, but everyone has a God. Some people decide to make that God a divine person who cares about them. Others make it their family, their work, their entertainment, or even their anger or fear.” Walter stayed quiet knowing this was a topic he was strong willed against, but was sacred to Massai. 

“To be human is an intensely extreme experience with many inputs of people, sights, thoughts, and sound. To make sense of the massive idea of all that exists, people have to come up with a big story and everything they see, they fit into that big story.” 

“That sounds foolish.” 

“Rather than foolish my young friend, it is necessary. We need to be able to have an idea of how the world works and what the character of us is like. The trick is to always be ready to adapt your story to make sure it doesn’t have any major lies.” 

“For example, with the Zukeans, they see the story is everyone is evil and they need to control us.” 

“Ah, is that their big story, or is your big story about theirs? One way to tell the difference is to ask yourself if they would appreciate your explanation of their idea. Do you think they would?” Walter thought for a moment. 

“They would probably not.” 

“I would agree. What do you think they would say instead?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“They would probably say that humans have a dark side they can’t control and that is inherent to their nature and something they can not choose to avoid. Because of this, the Zukean regime sees themselves as the ones that will save people from their own evil nature.” Walter could not help but feel anger. He hated the Zukes and their ideology and now his hero was sympathizing with them. 

“Now my friend, I am not saying they are right, but I am saying that if they were right about human nature, it would make sense how they respond.” 

“So you are saying they are not that bad?” 

“My young friend, no one is bad. Where I differ from them is I think people are at their core good and therefore can choose well what to do with their lives.” 

“So you disagree with them?” 

“Yes, but my ideology of seeing people as good applies to them. I see them as good people who are responding to a world full of pain and confusion the best they can. You, of all people, should understand that.” Walter’s anger rose. 

“What do you mean?” Massai smiled with a look of jest in his eye. 

“My young friend, you seem so sure that the world should be one kind of way. You don’t seem to be too worried about how others think the world should be.” 

“Okay, maybe I have some flaws that I need to work out, but I don’t want to control people.” 

“Are you sure? If you have the same position that I did, can you honestly say you would only influence people in a way that empowers them to choose as they will, or would you want to change what choices they have access to?” Walter bit his tongue sensing the irony in a fiery retort. 

“Well, honestly, I can see myself wanting to control how others act, but I’d like to think I would let people make choices for themselves.” 

“And what if those choices affected others?” Walter didn’t know what to say.

“That is my point my friend. I disagree with Zuke, but he has a strong case. What he is trying to say is, others use their choices to limit others freedom and therefore they need to be controlled. He has a good point that only a moral person who doesn’t want to fight the steep grade of the higher road of liberty would be tempted to glide down.” Walter finally thought of what he should say. 

“Okay, I may be wrong in that regard, but I want to be right and I am willing to do what it takes.” Massai’s smile was now expressing pride in Walter. 

“My friend, what a great way to be. The trick is never to have access to all truth and handle that truth with perfect action with an absolute objective and goodness in mind. The point is, when you find yourself thinking, acting, or being something other than what you know is right or as you find out more, make a choice to change. I didn’t make you state that you wanted to change. I simply helped you think out loud as you came to the conclusion that you needed to do and be better.” Walter became somber and in his newfound humility found the barrier of his pride torn down as he was tempted to slip past a question he had for a while. 

“Massai, I have been trying my best to do that for a while, though I know I have more work to do. However, I have had a question for a while now that has been weighing on me.” Walter Passed as his eyes darted down and his confident persona left him as he had to be nothing more than himself. 

“Massai, am I good.” Massai kept smiling back at him as nothing but silence greeted Walter’s ears. Walter’s worst fear came to pass. Massai, being a kind person, did not want to hurt him by telling him how flawed, incomplete, and past saving he was. 

He felt his chest and the connected breath grow tighter as his depth perception shifted and he doubted now just something he saw, but the very thing that was doing the seeing. Massai clasped his hands as he leaned forward and met Walter’s previously broken gaze as he seemed to not search Walter’s soul, but wanted to speak to whatever core of him was there to listen. 

“Walter, you are good.” Those words brought Walter back into the moment as his breath was eased. 

“Not because of what you do, but because of who you are.” Walter’s curious eyes scrunched up at the thought. 

“So, I just happened to be good? What if I happened to be bad? Could I change that?” 

“Well no one ever starts bad my friend, but if you ever find yourself bad, you get to choose who you are. You could simply just choose.” 

“So if I choose to do good, does it matter what I do?” 

“Well of course. You get to choose who you are, but you will need to build a case for yourself. If you just try lying to yourself, you will know better and catch onto your lies.” Walter’s introspection returned at the possibilities based on Massai’s idea. Massai started in with a proverbial principle to explain the idea. 

“A good tool isn’t just good when it is stretched to do something it isn’t designed to do, but when it is something that can. Make yourself into that.” 

“So, tell me if I am hearing you right. Basically, I can assume I am good as I go about trying to better?” 

“That is a great way of putting it. After a while you will start having lots of evidence and then you will start acting as the person you have come to know. If you are going to at least play the game of life needed to try at the process, you have to at least think you are worth that experience, and all the learning and adventure that come with it.” Walter’s barriers fell as the next question came to his mind. 

“If I am being honest, I have struggled with thinking I am better than other people. How do I know how good I am compared to others?” 

“Since we just decided lying to ourselves is bad, it would make no sense to tell yourself you are as good as everyone else when you have spent your whole life trying to be your best self and they have done so only in part. In that case, you would measurably and objectively have put in more effort. However, we also said that part of what makes us good is what we inherently are. By definition, that would include all people. Therefore, all people have an extreme underlying level of goodness that is equal. They then spend their lives investing that goodness to receive dividends or losses.” Walter nodded as he thought of some examples of morally profitable people. 

“However my young friend, that would only be if we could look at it that simply. People are wonderfully complex. Let’s look at the case of our mutual friend Martha. Most people would assume she has invested in her character less than the average person. You and I, knowing her better know only the exact opposite could be the case. It can be tempting to try to fit all our fellow humans into a few categories or even one or two. However, people are complex and dynamically adapting constantly. If you finally managed to know someone completely, they would have changed by that point. As I said earlier, the adventure of being alive is to try to make sense of the outside world as we make sense of the inside one while we use one to make sense of the other. So, if we don’t really know what we are, why can we be so sure we know so much about others?” Walter began to realize how little he knew about other people. 

He saw them less as beings that got in his way and he was in competition with, and more as these colossal and towering beings of mystery. He realized how little he knew about even the person he knew most, his own mother. He had spent his whole life with her, and yet so much of who she really was and her thoughts seemed to be nothing but conjecture Walter could assume. 

“How does someone really know someone else?” 

“That is the trick my young friend. We will need to step outside of ourselves and how we assume others are to really see them. Try to take all aspects of what makes up someone. What were the choices, and what were made up by their environment or nature. Try to see them as they are, rather than how our lenses tint and shade their character.” Walter tried to make sense of what this would be like, but then realized if he came into the experience assuming what someone would be like, that would detract from truly seeing them. 

“How much of someone can I know?” 

“As much as you have effort, curiosity and time for.” 

“And what will happen when I see people truly as they are.” 

“You will love them.” Walter was taken aback by Massai’s absolute answer. 

“What do you mean will?” 

“As you truly know what and who someone is, you will naturally love them.” 

“And what if what I find out is bad?” 

“Then you will love them with sympathy rather than for their merit. Love is in part a natural response to truly knowing someone. The other side is to choose to act on that love.” 

“What about all the people that know their spouse really well and still want a divorce?” 

“Then they do not really know them. They know how they feel about that person. If they were to dig into knowing more, they would fall into love into the depth of that person.” 

“So then what is it to be loved?” 

“My young friend, have you felt loved in this conversation?” Walter didn’t like to admit it, but he did feel a sense of belonging and good grace with Massai. Not being able to own up to his experience with words, he shrugged and then nodded. 

“And how have you felt seen my young friend?” 

“Quite a bit.” Walter mumbled with a little more bravery. 

“I have come to know you Walter and in that and as something that is also trying to make sense of themself, you feel a greater connection than anything else could. As I have to come to know you, it is my natural reaction to care about you as something that has value outside of what you do for me. You, to me, are with the concern based solely on who you are. That is not something you can get out of.” 

“What if I did something evil?” 

“I would either know there is much more to you than that, or I will at least love the you I know now.” Walter was never comfortable with being told he was loved and sought to change the conversation. 

“And this experience of knowing someone and being known, how does this help us make sense of ourselves?” 

“To start with, we will start to see patterns in their thought and behavior we can realize in ourselves. Maybe you feel a tremendous amount of anger for failing to make a good choice over and over again. If you find someone you love does that too, it is harder to hate yourself for it. Then as you talk with them, they will at some point tell you what they see in you. But if you have the confidence to own their compliments, and the courage to take their criticism, you can learn a lot.” 

“What do you mean by criticism?” 

“Every now and again you may walk past a mirror or look at yourself as you prepare for the day. However the people you love most will naturally see parts of you that you can’t and in greater detail. If you are humble enough to take their input, you can do much growth.” Walter stared at Massai as he tried to think of an example. 

“I have a friend who continually makes the same mistakes and is surprised by how it affects him the same way.” Walter was talking about Hank, but felt using names would betray confidences. 

“If he were to listen to us, though uncomfortable, would he be able to overcome it?” Walter inquired. 

“That is right my young friend. We can use others to make sense of ourselves as we do so for them out of a love for them found from our efforts in doing so.” Walter had always found himself as the tortured intellectual who was above love. However, maybe for him to be the wisest he could be, he may need to love and be loved. 

“If I am being honest Massai, this probably means I am going to have to change a lot about my life.” Massai leaned in again and lowered his tone, volume, and brow. 

“Good.” He said as before his smile returned. 

“At no point do I expect to know all things. I simply hope you try to know as much as you can and commit with all you have to all you know.” 

“But what if what I know is wrong and what I end up doing is bad?” 

“Then find that out, change your course, and forgive yourself fast. That is the beauty with coming to love people as they really are rather than how you want to see them. When you find something within yourself that you don’t like, you can still know that you are worth caring about and are still good.” Walter saw some hope for himself and some mercy from his previously unrelenting judgements on his own character. 

“That is comforting.” Walter said. 

“Look at how you related to me.” Massai said, making Walter uncomfortable by leading out of the Elephant in the room. 

“You thought you knew me from books written by other people and quotes taken as short moments in complicated dialogues. When you found the real me, it was shocking to find what I was really like.” 

“That is true.” 

“But as you have known the real me, you have found I am more than a character in your mind, and rather someone with a mind of their own.” 

“But those words you said were everything to me.” 

“And for them to have been is wonderful, but for them to be used for something more is better. My words talking about goodness were only talking about something that is better to do. It is easy to talk about a life that is worth itself, but to live that life is a different endeavor.” 

“So I should spend less time reading and thinking about what kind of person I should be?” 

“Maybe, or maybe instead you just go out there and enjoy being a good person more.” Massai’s lexicon of joy took Walter off guard. He had always seen goodness as the more difficult thing worth suffering through rather than something that brought joy. 

“What do you mean enjoy?” 

“One should be good as an extension of themselves rather than for joy, but is the natural result of goodness.” 

“Then your own life is a bad example of that Massai. You have spent all your years trying to be good, and yet, you live here.” Walter said as he gestured around the old hotel room.

“And who says I don’t have joy? Yes my dear Dzidzorli is not with me and I am not revered as I was, but joy is not an emotion that comes from an easy life, that would not be a good enough reason to live. Rather it is the meaning and the goodness found in existence in a way that can’t be taken away.” 

“I would have thought you would have said happiness is the reason for our being alive.” Walter said. 

“If you remember when I talked about suffering, I said if that was the meaning of life, it would be sad that our meaning could be taken away from us from something as simple as a bad day.” 

“So instead we try to build up this other joy that can’t be taken away?” “Yes, and that comes from a life lived making sense of the inner and outer worlds as we find goodness is both.” 

“And in your opinion, what is goodness Massai?” 

“Opinion? I think too many people have opinions, my young friend. I try to find truths where they are. I may be wrong, but until I know otherwise, I will stand by those truths.” 

“Okay fine, then what is goodness?” 

“Goodness? I think it would be difficult for me to share an answer we are still working out the question to. I do know, whatever it is, it exists outside ourselves as a fact we live by, and yet in our efforts to make sense of the inner world, we will find much of it there.” 

“How can we build the perfect society if we can’t even say what perfect is?” 

“First off, we can say what it is, we just need to be ready to reassess later. Secondly, perfect for what exactly? What does the perfect society look like?” 

“There would be no crime, no oppression, and no poverty to start. It would be a clean and organized place moving towards the future.” 

“And how would you do that?” Walter realized the only way to do so would be to control people’s choices and Massai seemed to know Walter was coming to grips with the idea. 

“This perfect society you speak of may be possible, but from my experience, people need problems. They need mountains to climb, nights to wait through, and storms to weather. Even if I could click a button and remove all suffering, I would not click it. If I did so, it would remove the danger from adventure, the longing from love, and the pain that contrasts peace.” 

“So you think people should suffer instead?” 

“I think people need the chance to live out their story without me or any state getting in the way of that. I am sure you have seen this before, but people are notorious for trying to fix an issue by using a method that has its own issues. They will then use other methods with their own problems until finally a small issue is much larger. We need look no further than the ecology of this planet. To take the toil out of labor machines were created to do the work while we grew unhealthy. We then would synthesize the action of work in gyms while we kept changing the makeup of the machines to not have such a detrimental impact on our world to then find the new machines cause even more damage. Just because there is a problem...” Massai stopped as he looked into Walter’s eyes. 

“...doesn’t mean we have to fix it.” Walter finished as Massai then nodded. 

“If we could simply accept our work and our hurt as we bravely work through them and find how this builds us, we will quit having to fix issue after issue as each compound.” 

“So if the goal is not to have the perfect civilization, what is it?” 

“To allow people to attempt to build the best they can out of themselves as they also make sense of their inner and outer world. I have been saddened to see how seemingly good goals and governments stopped in people’s individual efforts to make sense of their world as they built themselves. As far as I can tell my young friend, if there's anything of highest value I know, that is it.” Walter then felt how cold his toes were from sitting in that room as he then realized he hadn’t been paying attention to how his body felt. 

He then realized how tired he was and how sore his body was from sitting there. He also was made aware of how overloaded his mind was with things to think about. He then turned to see that the sun that allowed him to find his way here was long set. 

“I am so grateful for this conversation, but it is late and I had better go.” As he stood up, Massai did as well. 

“May I hug you?” Walter nodded without enthusiasm as Massai wrapped his arms around Walter. As Walter stepped towards the window, Massai’s deep voice chased after him. 

“Walter, I am sorry I talked so much. I want you to know I have worked hard to know what I have, but I may still be wrong.” Walter smiled as he stepped to the side of the window and started the long descent down as the city lights refracted off the clouds and reflected on windows to mildly illuminate his descent. 

Chapter Seven

Walter’s now more worn shows hit the pavement as he crouched to embrace the landing. He then stood up and with a sense of newfound wonder for the world, began the walk back home. Each step forward moved Walter from where he was to where he was going. He couldn’t help but proverbially sense the changing direction of his life. He had learned so much from talking with Massai, but more than that, he learned how to think better. He wasn’t given answers, but he was given tools to redefine his questions and specify what he desired to know and how he would know it. 

He rushingly made his way through his dystopian hometown until that window pane and brass doorknob were in view. After twisting it, he stepped inside to see his mother sitting looking out that same window with red, puffy, and moist eyes. Walter was taken aback from the contrast of his hopeful deductions to the heavy atmosphere of the horror of the unspoken. 

“Mother, what is wrong?” 

“Walter, please sit down.” He did as she asked in a cautious and slow manner just in time to see the side view of her mourning was no better. Walter knew his mother would cry, but she always waited until she thought he was sleeping or in his room. 

“Walter, I have some bad news.” Walter stayed locked onto eyes that were hurting too bad to meet his gaze. 

“There might be a better way to tell you this, but I have been racking my brain to think of it and I have not figured it out. Your father is dead.” Walter sat there as he felt himself grow distant from his body and the room. 

He didn’t seem to connect to reality and felt as if not only was this moment a dream, but maybe all the moments he had ever known. While still not feeling the reality of the moment, he thought of a response without feeling. 

“No, I talked to him the other day.” His mother began to cry more. 

“Walter, he is gone.” 

“No mother, that can’t be. He was just an engineer. He wasn’t in combat.” 

“He was working on the propulsion units when a torpedo hit.” 

“No, he can’t be dead.” Walter went from not feeling anything, to feeling only panic. 

He felt his body contract as the back of his neck grew hot and his breath ran rampant. 

“He can’t die. He can’t.” Walter’s mother’s silence did a better job of driving home to the point than anything she could have said. 

“No mother, it can’t be. I need to talk to him. I need to tell him I am sorry I wasn’t a better son. I need to tell him I wish we could have spent more time together.” She only folded forward more as she cried deeper. 

“No mother, this isn’t right. He is supposed to come home and we are supposed to be the perfect family. That is what is supposed to happen.” His mother only stayed silent. 

“Mother, talk to me!” He yelled despite trying not to. 

She curled over until her hand covered face was nearly in her lap as her body shuddered with violent grieving. Walter couldn’t bear to look at her a moment longer and so turned to run to the stairs. After racing to the top, he slammed the door and aggressively sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands just like his mother. He realized how aggressive his breath was, but not before merging into the highway of racing thoughts parading through his mind. 

He wished he could isolate one thought and think it, but there were too many coming too fast. All of them were abrasive and obtrusive as they were full of road rage. He tried to ride out the process, but couldn’t help but get caught up in each one as it flew by in such a way, it seemed to leave a face full of dirty exhaust in his face. For starters, he knew he should be down there comforting his mother and not isolating himself. He hated that he always distanced himself from her and wished he was brave enough to go downstairs and give her a hug, but here he was causing her more hurt just like he always seemed to do. He wished he could be different and be better, but here he was. He wanted to be her hero and run to her aid, but like the weakling he felt he was, he couldn’t step out of his own hurt to aid her in hers. Here he was, in the middle of making the same mistake in the moment it mattered most, and feeling powerless to do something different. 

That thought sped off out of his view, just in time for another hit-and-run in his mind. How could his father do this? How could he leave him? Didn’t he know how badly this would hurt? Couldn’t he see Walter and his mother needed him? Walter felt bad for these thoughts, but they were not ones he wanted, and yet here they were crashing into him. How could his father leave him behind? Walter’s father always taught him to be strong and do what was right. 

Before his father was drafted, Walter was beaten up by kids his age. He didn’t want to come home to his Father to see his disappointment in his son's weakness. Despite Walter’s small legs attempt to sneak him upstairs quietly. Walter’s father heard the steps and found him bruised and shaky. Against Walter’s assumptions at the time, he father grabbed and pulled him in for a hug. Walter could almost smell his father’s aftershave and the smell of industrial grease from the propulsion units as he recalled the moment. His dad then let go and grabbed Walter’s small hands and taught them how to form a fist. He showed Walter how to swing his momentum into a punch. He then ran his fingers through Walter’s dark hair as he told him to be strong. Walter then remembered how he turned the table on his persecutors. He remembered the time he punched Tucker back shortly after learning his new proactive defense technique. It dawned on him he wasn’t so innocent in their antagonistic relationship. 

He thought of all the times father would stumble through the door hunched over in pain as mother cleaned up the dirt he tracked in on his engineer boots. His face was dark with stubble and soot as he would close his eyes and pull a few breaths of air. He was amazed how could always look excited to see Walter as Walter would jump on his lap and ask questions about Massai. Walter had grown to find his interest in Massai as an intellectual one, but he had forgotten until now, his simple and uneducated father was the one who taught him the basics of life and introduced him to his hero. In that way, perhaps his real hero was never the one he heard about, but the the one who told him about the stories. 

Walter’s father was not one to be vulnerable or talk about the sensitive parts about being a human, but he was strong and seemed to show Walter what a person should be like. Maybe his idol should have been the genetic and familial over the societal and philosophical. Whatever should have been, Walter knew it was over and now is all there was for him. As his spirit tried to find the strength to stand back up after being bombarded by those thoughts, the thoughts came faster and faster until the only way Walter could see to survive the moment was to explode into a rage that showed his thoughts his control and power. 

Standing and rotating at the same time, he grabbed the side of his mattress and threw it against the wall next to his bed. The mattress bounced back down after hitting the wall, so he shoved it back against the wall. Now without his father to show him how to form a fist, he curled his fingers in and with his right hand, slammed into his mattress as the blanket fell to the ground. He then hit it harder with the same fist, and then after a moment, with his left. Then came the right, followed by the left until he was slamming his fist into the mattress with consistent and rhythmic fury. 

Across his mind danced all the things he hoped for and never were. A hero to look up to, a complete family to look forward to, and a bright world to look around for. The cruel dismissive irony led him to crash his fists into the mattress with a greater intensity of both speed and force until the bed sheet crumpled off the corners from the abuse and fell as he moved his hand back to let it fall. He then went back to his violence with renewed vigor. With each pound, he felt his shoulders and arms begin to grow weary as his knuckles and curled fingers began to bruise and sting. Nevermind that, if he couldn’t have his father, his hands couldn’t have their peace. He wanted his body to feel a portion of a fraction of the pain he held within him. 

As he continued punching, he felt his body begin to sway and lose its violent focus. He clenched up every muscle in his body as his brow came down in anger and his head bowed. He almost wished the bed would fight back so he could feel some vindication and some more pain. With each passing punch, he began to realize his clenched body was not breathing and he was dangerously close to passing out. As the thought of his tired body falling to his side and gashing his head on his desk came to his mind, he didn’t fear it. If there was risk of something he may have wanted in this, why not continue. 

He began to push harder and harder with each punch as the rage boiled over within him and he let out a warcry scream he didn’t know his young voice had the depth to shout. As he couldn’t go any faster with his punches, even the violence of the beats became a stale distraction. While continuing to punch he turned himself to his desk to see how organized the pen, notebook, and and few volumes he owned were. They were in direct contrast to how he felt. They were so ordered and planned out rather than the randomness of how he felt and even of his father’s death. They were so organized and purposeful in their placement. He recalled having placed them there himself. 

What a strange twist of events. He spent his whole life trying to make order out of his world, but here he was now feeling a destructive rage. In his mind came all the examples of how chaotic the world was. Nothing could just be how it was supposed to be. His hero couldn’t be his hero, his society was collapsing violently, and his father was no longer in his life. All the chaotic randomness seemed to swirl around him in whirlpool pulling him into an abyss. He felt in his mind, his hand reaching up and gripping onto the nothingness and pulling himself out. He pulled with all he had as the watery tornado kept sucking him in as his real body kept punching. 

“NO!” He screamed as his worn arms went limp and he fell to the ground and felt his inner self break free of the torrent of nothingness. 

His mind quit racing as he sat there and felt his breathing. A moment that could be lived in forever passed before he looked over at his desk. His whole life, he tried to make order from the chaos as there seemed to be so much of it. He felt he had failed so much, and Massai had helped him realize he didn’t need to white-knuckle this endeavor, but it was still right. He may not be able to fix the world around him, the world within him, or even bring his father back. What he could do was try to make order out of the inner world and then to be okay with the outer world after his efforts to change it. This didn’t make his pain go away, but feeling a sense of control from knowing what could do about his pain brought him down from a runaway cycle of suffering. He knew he did not win the war on this one, or maybe even a battle, but he took back some territory in his mind and came up with a rough plan of attack. 

As he was on his knees, and based on what Massai said, he wondered if there could be a being out there that knew where his father was, if he was anywhere at all. He wondered what would happen to him on the day his world eclipsed this one. Would it cease to exist, or would it continue on? As he was already bowing, he began to speak. 

“God, I don’t think you are there, but if you are there, and if you know where my father is, if anywhere at all, please take care of him.” 

Walter then felt a sense of silliness at his gesture of faith, but then owned up to his effort to make sense of his world even if it was wrong. He then ran his blood dampened knuckled hands through his thick dark hair as it had fallen in his face. He knew he was still so small compared to the mountain of grief before him, but he took some steps today, and was ready to climb. He gently placed his mattress down on the frame, made his bed and climbed in. His eyelids shut him off from the world out there as he felt a little less horrified by the one inside himself.

Chapter Eight

Walter faded into consciousness after a dream of sweet nothingness he could not recall as he left his eyelids draped over his tentatively tearing eyes. He brought in the moment as he took a long pull of the cold and wet air that found its way into his bedroom. He felt his thin and torn wool government issue blanket do its best to stay the cold, but still he found his extremities stiff and cold. He ran his hand from his face to his legs which he rubbed as he curled into the fetal position. He wouldn’t be jumping out of bed eager to start a day when now he was not so sure if he wanted to be here for it. 

He knew the thought he didn’t want to think, but it had to be thought. “Dad?” The word slipped from his mind and past his lips. He shuddered at the involuntary nature of calling on someone that could not answer him. He began to work out in his mind and come to grips with his father no longer being in his life, but it all felt so wrong. His stomach churned and seemed to try to return the dinner he didn’t have as the same thought came to his mind. “Dad is gone.” 

Feeling this way about the man made him want to call him on the glass and tell him how much he loved him, tell him he was sorry, and tell him he would take care of his mother. He wanted to see his dad's olive skin and constant stubble no matter how recently he shaved. He wanted his dad to tell him to be tough and that the world needs tough people. It all felt so painfully ironic that no matter how strong his father was, it didn’t save him. It felt wrong that Walter’s symbol of good and one of his few ties to his humanity was now torn from him. 

Whenever Walter went out into the world, whenever he did something new, whenever he tried to carve his character out of his being, he always knew that his father would play the role of the character in the back of his mind. His father’s presence gave Walter a confidence and boldness that was his strength to enjoy. Now it is gone. His support, the one in the back of his mind, his great hero like a towering heroism had collapsed and with it, Walter’s world. He let the feeling chew at him until it seemed like it may swallow him whole. 

At the moment he went from being chewed up to consumed by the feeling he whispered to himself. “No. My dad helped make me, and I won’t let that fall apart.” Walter’s brow clenched as he chose before he knew how he was going to do it. He decided he would become the man he had envisioned. He loved his father and even Massai, but this was now about more than them. He was going to build himself into who they saw in him. He was going to be the saving grace to the broken. He was going to find the truth he didn’t now know to look for. The grief like icey flames burning him alive didn’t leave, but he began to see how maybe, just maybe, something could be okay one day, and maybe even great. 

Such a moment like that understanding a day like that contrasted how horrifyingly confusing this moment and day were. He thought he had wallowed in his misery for long enough and turned to his thoughts to make sense of the worlds in and out. If his father’s armada was attacked, it meant that Mars had gone from a threatening and cold contention to a violent and firy war. It would now be official and all hands would be on deck for it. He began to realize how this was going to affect the rest of his life even with his father not there. His mom could get drafted and him as he came to age. Both sides of the war felt like inevitable avalanches of hatred and vindication. They both had their claims to retribution in the name of justice and Walter would be lying if he said they didn’t both have a convincing case. 

He found the wars foolish and silly but simultaneously was aware that he had often been more concerned about righting wrongs from the past than trying to do more wrongs to show how badly he was hurt. The words Massai spoke began to make partial sense to him. The past injustices caused by both parties were an issue and even still affected people to this day, but that did not mean they had to fix it. He decided that if the world was going to go to hell, he better not take it lying down. 

He opened his eyes and sat up. It was clearly later than he usually slept in, and he was probably late, but for some reason, he was not worried about it. It is hard to worry about the details of brushstrokes on a canvas that is on fire. He breathed for a moment and then leaned forward and kicked down, lifting himself up. He looked over to his desk with its organized writing utensil and books. It again stood in direct contrast to the chaos around him that seemed to try to find its way into his inner world. 

He breathed in as he accepted the chaos and then decided he would make sense and order out of this outside world. A simple smile couldn’t but cross his lips as he felt a sense of control in the onslaught of seemingly meaninglessly randomness around him. He got up and threw on his prized blue suit, but this time he was not concerned with putting the buttons on the cuffs in the tightest position, tightening his now grease faded shows down, or even putting on his tie. 

He grabbed his bag and ran downstairs past the kitchen where usually at least a meager meal would be found, but his mother was not there. He walked past the kitchen to the small living room, where his mother was hunched over with her face in her palms. 

“Mother?” Walter inquired before her face rose and she looked up to see her stubborn, but beloved son. A smile of consolation in her bravery came to her face as Walter lunged down falling into embrace with his mother. She cried as he held her in his arms. Though this was a sensitive and vulnerable moment, Walter had never felt a sense of what it meant to be a man until this moment and being brave for a woman in pain. 

“I love you mother. I know this is difficult for you, but life will go on and we still have each other. I will always be here for you mom.” 

In that moment her crying went from the tears of the fearful and confused, to the more faithful tears of someone simply mourning with no fear for the future. It was hard for Walter to say those words, they were not in his previous program for going through life, but Walter was starting to write new code for how he operates. 

“We will get through this Mom. Take your time and know I love you.” His mother would have been surprised if she wasn’t so carried away by how much those words meant to her. She smiled as her concerns turned from her own to her son. 

“How are you holding Walter?” 

“I am hurt and miss father, but I have reason to believe the future will be bright and we will be okay.” 

“I am glad to hear that Walter. Now, where is your tie?” 

“I have some things to take care of today, and I figured today would be a good day to not wear one.” 

“Whatever you say.” She said with a chuckle freeing her from agony for a moment. 

“I have somewhere to go, mother. I love you, be okay while I’m gone.” 

“I will Walter.” He walked past the nine pane window that reminded him of all he didn’t know as he gripped onto the brass door handle reminding of what he did. 

“Wait Walter, here is your lunch.” He grabbed the bag from his mother before hugging her again and stepping into the gray. 

Martha came within sight as he saw her taking what little clothes she kept in her small carpet bag and shoving them in deeper as she tried to zip up the bag. 

“Need some help Martha?” Martha’s anxious eyes met his gaze as she realized it was him and let down her guard. 

“Of course young man.” Walter kneeled on the bag, pushing the contents down as he began to zip it up. 

“Are you going somewhere Martha?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“Anywhere but her?” 

“May I ask why Martha?” 

“You may have heard, but the war just became active and hostile.” 

“I have heard.” Walter said without trying to draw attention to his loss. 

“With that, these young Zukeans are becoming restless and harassing everyone they deem as undesirable.” 

“Why would they do that?” 

“They think that we are just a detractor to the war effort and we get in the way.” Walter was horrified to see a human being as being seen as nothing more than something to get in the way, rather than what we build the way around. 

“That is horrible.” 

“It doesn't matter now.” Walter finally got the zipper to close all the way. 

“Now that you have my bags all ready to go, I am going to wait to meet up with a friend, but I am hopping on the transit down the road past those light poles, a little after dark and will be gone.” 

“Do you want me to see if I can fit your cloak made by that stranger in here?” Walter said as he pointed to it sitting by her side. 

“No, I will be wearing that to the transit station to stay warm and hide my appearance from the Zukeans.” 

“Will you ever come back?” Martha smiled a semi-toothless grin as Walter couldn’t help but find some majesty in her wiry gray hair and weather worn face. 

“I am going far away, young man. Where I go, I will probably not be able to come back.”

 The thought of saying goodbye to someone else right now filled him with hurt, but he chose to focus on the love he had for Martha. 

“I am so grateful for every conversation we have had out here Martha. You have changed my life.” Martha giggled. 

“You kept mine going with all the food.” 

“Speaking of which,” Walter said as he reached into his bag and pulled out both of his nutrition bars. 

“These are for you.” 

“You can’t be serious. I can’t take all your food young man.” 

“You have to take it, you have no choice.” Martha smiled a teasing smile that showed he won as she slipped the bars in her pocket. 

“Young man, if I may before you go, you are so bright and directed in your life. I just wanted to tell you to not be too shy to look around and enjoy your wonderful little life. See that is the secret Walter. Everyone’s lives are so wonderful, they just have to see how they are.” 

“I think you are right Martha.” 

They both smiled as words didn’t cut what needed to be said, so they took in the moment. Walter stooped down and wrapped his arms around Martha as they held each other in their arms. They finally released in time for Walter to see a tear fall down Martha's face. She looked up at him with teary eyes, a shaky voice and a trembling lip trying to form a smile. 

“Young man, I have gotten to see you grow up into the man you are today. I have seen your big heart from when you were little, your powerful mind, and now you're combining those together.” Walter smiled as he knew a moment couldn’t last forever and still be a goodbye. 

“I love you Martha, goodbye.” 

“I love you too, my boy. Farewell.” 

Walter turned from the direction that led to the school and crossed the street to the area where Massai was. He found his way through the traffic torn streets now empty as broken glass from buildings and windows passed him. He came to the old fire escape and began his ascent. Wrung after wrung passed as Walter was now getting confident in his technique. He came to the window and stepped into the room, sitting down on the window sill not knowing what to do. 

Massai was sitting cross-legged on the ground with his forearms placed on his knees with his relaxed hand’s palms pointed upwards. Walter felt bad he had no way of warning Massai of his premature arrival, but he was here now. He sat there as the social pressure slipped by with each deep breath of Massai’s breaking up the otherwise swelling silence. Moment passed after moment until Walter began to follow Massai and inhaled deeply as he felt everywhere that breath touched. Each breath passed until thoughts faded and Walter was no longer a thinker thinking, but a being being. Finally, Massai pulled one especially long and deep breath before stretching to each side and opening his eyes. 

“My friend, shouldn’t you be at school?” 

“No, not today.” 

“No school today?” 

“No, I just didn’t want to go.” Massai was amused. 

“Well what makes you want to be here instead of being there? Why not be at home?” Walter’s face became stoic and solemn as a man's face does when they are trying to decide if it is safe enough for them to be honest. 

“My friend, what is on your mind? It seems to be heavy.” Walter tried to think, if he should say what is on his mind, how he would say it. He thought about saying how he felt or maybe to give Massai a background on what is going on in the world and telling him the news. He bounced back and forth between the two ideas, liking neither option until he blurted out. 

“My father was killed.” After Walter realized what he said, he looked all up and down Massai’s face to see how he would respond as tears started dripping from his face. Massai’s face stayed simply at peace with a slight smile as Walter began to question what he said and how he said it. Massai’s face then tightened in consolation as he stood up and walked towards Walter. When he came to the window, he wrapped his long, wool cloak clad arms around Walter as he pulled him in for a hug. Walter almost found the absurdity of having three hugs in one day, but was too caught up in how safe he felt to let the inner world and the outer world tough. 

“I loved him.” 

“I know.” Massai said as he hugged him more. 

“I wish I could have done more as his son.”

“You did”, Massai said as he hugged him still. 

“I wish so bad I could bring him back.” 

“I know my friend.” Walter soaked in the warm and scratchy hug as he felt a sense of safety and peace. He thought of Massai missing his dear Dzidzorli and Massai’s parents. Massai may not have been his perfect and absolute idolatrous hero, but in that moment, he connected to him in his similitude of losses. He noticed Massai didn’t feel the need to tell him he knew how it felt, although he did. He was just there for Walter. 

“I just don’t know how to feel about this and how to feel about my father.” Massai let go as his hands stayed on Walter’s shoulders as he looked into his eyes. 

“I would say your father is a great hero if the worst thing about him and the worst thing he did to hurt you was to not be with you anymore.” Walter realized how that emphasized all the goodness of having his rough father that he just assumed as a given rather than notice it with gratitude. 

“That makes sense. I’m still sad though.” 

“Perfect. Be sad. Be sad for as long as you need. And then when you are not sad, be happy you were once sad because you loved someone so much. And when you are sad again after that, be okay with the grief not being dealt with in a moment. You didn’t love your father for just one moment, so it makes sense grieving him will take a few.” Walter still felt some shame for feeling the overwhelming grief he was feeling now despite conquering it a few times before, however, he found some solace in Massai’s words he didn’t have the energy to validate and went off trust. 

“Please, have a seat.” Walter realized he was more worn out than he previously thought as he was led to his little pile of books that made up a chair as he sat down on the blankets that eased the blows of the corners of the books. No sooner had he sat down than he met gaze with Massai. Massai’s deep brown eyes seemed to search his soul while they also eased it. 

“So tell me my friend, what is on your mind.” 

“What do you mean what is on my mind? My dad just passed away.” His question was only so rhetorical, and yet, Massai did not answer. 

“I told you how I felt, what else do you want to know?” Massai stayed silent as Walter felt a sense of discomfort and even desperation. 

“I’m sad and angry I guess.” Much to his ire, he was met with only those brown eyes and their occasional blink. 

“What do you want? Do you want me to say something philosophical and profound? It’s hard to think when I feel this way. Obviously, a large part is I am sad my dad died, but it seems this has opened up something else inside me. It seems to remind me of what has been bugging me before and this was just another example of it as it was shoved my face.” 

Walter went silent hoping Massai would ask him what it was, but there were only those eyes that seemed to see him for all he was as the ears to the side of him, heard all he said. 

“I have felt this sort of feeling my whole life. I keep feeling like something is wrong, but if it was, I could not tell because everything seems to be wrong. It’s like trying to measure how damaged the world is with a bent ruler. Everything seems so fleeting and short term. Everything just seems to end. I look at myself growing up and becoming more of a man, but all I can see is the ending of my childhood and then an end to adulthood and life. And then what? Everyone seems to think they have the answer. You and all these churches seem to think there is a God and He has some great place to take us after this.” 

Walter paused for a moment to see if Massai took his taunting bait, but as he suspected, he did not. 

“Even if one of you were right, people believe so many different things, how would I know what to believe? I think they are just lazily trying to take away this feeling I feel. I don’t mind going without or even pain. I have gotten used to not having enough with my mother and me and I have gotten used to the boys at school taunting me. I am used to bad news. I am okay with sadness and anger, but what I really don’t like is the shere nothingness. What is the point of me feeling this way? Is anything going to come out of all this? Is there at least an end to this? I would at least be comforted by the pain of knowing there was no meaning, but I am horrified to see that there does not seem to be any good reason for all that has happened. 

Not only do I not know, but I don’t know where to start and no one else does. Everyone just goes about their busy lives never looking up and realizing the irony of the only thing known in the universe that knows it exists and can learn things doesn’t even know why it is. I’m sick and tired of wondering if there is any purpose to all this while also trying to make my way through my dose of pain. Losing my dad reminded me that I am something that doesn’t know what it is, why it is, or even how it is as I stare into the nothingness. In my mind and dreams, all I see is the blackness. It is what precedes this and follows it. It wouldn’t be so bad if I know what the point was of me being here. 

I am not even sure what to do while I’m here. I am so scared that no one else feels this way. I am scared I am the only one that realizes something is wrong with all of this. I am scared by how many great people there are that have put their minds to the void and have no answers. Not only do I not know the “Why” for me and this world, I don’t even know what this world is all about. I am scared.” 

Walter felt fear constrict his chest and grief clenched his face. 

“I don’t understand what’s going on and I don’t know how to and it scares me.” 

Walter’s eyes began to tear up just in time to come into his hands to hide his face as he wept bitterly. Walter felt the gaze leave him as he heard the moving of the cloak and a firm hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see those eyes. No words, no answers, no consolation, but they seemed to do better. They saw him. They seemed to see the void through Walter and all the fear was seen. Every bit of fear seemed to be validated. The hand gripped tighter reminding Walter where he was. Looking into those eyes, Massai spoke. 

“Walter, my friend, what you are experiencing is real and powerful. I wish I could pull you from it and tell you there was an answer. If there is, I don’t know it. However, I think you found where people like you and I thrive. We don’t run from the blackness or wish for a light to illuminate the darkness. We dip into the void and build something out of it.” 

Walter realized what a towering character Massai had. He seemed to have spent his hours looking into the void, and was comforted by what he knew about himself that nothingness’s edge was lost. 

“For now my friend, focus on what you can control. You only lose when you lose control.” 

Walter realized how much of his fear came from not feeling like he could influence his destiny, and he still knew he couldn’t do too much, but what little he could do, made him feel a power that made him feel like staring down the void. Walter’s shoulders shrugged as Massai’s massive hands let go of him. His eyes fell as sleepiness overcame as he was made aware of how much the grieving took out of him. 

“My friend, you need to rest.” Massai grabbed a blanket off the bed and draped it over Walter. He felt no reason to respond as he closed his eyes and braced for the void, but was at least comforted to know someone else knew what it was. 

Chapter Nine

His eyelids cracked just enough to make sure light was still there before closing them again as they adjusted. Working his way to where he could open his eyes, he saw the bright light from the window and a dark shape in front of the window. His eyes grew accustomed to the light as he saw the figure was Massai with his cloak and hood over his head while his arms were behind his back in such a way, his left hand grasped his right wrist.

On the far side of Massai from Walter was a vibrant magenta that faded into a bright blood orange with clouds peppering the sky. He stretched for a moment and walked towards the window. As he got closer, the window opened up to show the magenta’s fade to blue and the sunlights shards of yelling. Massai slid over from directly in front of the window to the right so Walter could sit at his left. Walter took his place as he watched the last few frames of the sun slip behind an abandoned warehouse as the sky faded into darkness with ease. 

He looked out over the hell hole of a city he resented all these years, dreaming he could run away, fix it, or at least not have it be so dirty, but here it was in all its ugliness, and yet, here it was in all its beauty. That sunset didn’t seem to have any answers it could give Walter, no words to say or truths to tell, but it seemed to say something. It wasn’t the type of thing that Walter could frantically scribe down in the margins of his books for later. This was the type of thought that you can’t think about. It was the kind you just had to be there for it. And in that moment, here wasn’t such a bad place to be. It didn’t seem to dispel or prove anything wrong he was concerned about before, but it least reminded him, there was something more. 

He stayed there gazing off without a word next to his hero as the sun not only had slipped away, but all its rays were starting to fade away as he saw a few of the brighter stars and planets off in the sky. Walter knew better than to think they were anything other than massive balls of gas and dust, and yet, they also seemed to have a wordless thought to share. Even as light left, darkness had its own sprinklings of light. All Walter had to do was step toward the window to see this void still had something that he could see. 

Walter looked up to his refound idol as he saw those same bright colors caste upon him as he marveled how at peace he was. His breathing was steady and intentional as his posture was relaxed and yet powerful. Walter couldn’t help but see him with the same eyes he had as a child as his powerful hero that seemed to transcend his humanity to be great, but now Walter knew he didn’t deny who he was, but had worked with it. Walter couldn’t help but realize the mystery that was his friend as he wondered how he could, even fractionally, become like his hero. What made his hero into who he was? What did he do to be like this? Who was he really? 

“Massai?” 

“Yes my friend?” 

“May I ask a question?” 

“You just did my friend.” Walter felt a sincere smile cross his face before continuing. 

“May I ask what made you?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“The story is that you went into the world and went from a man named Massai to the great Massai. What happened out there?” 

Massai’s eyes closed for a moment as he smiled while inhaling a deep breath. 

“I haven’t told anyone that story but my dear Dzidzorli. What makes you think I would tell you?” 

“I don’t think you will, I just hoped you might.” Massai smiled again as he told a story that had only ever graced his mind and the mind of his love. 

“Nothing built me. I built myself. I was a very angry and broken young man. Everyone has their own struggles, but growing up in Ghana, we had an extra helping. The war affected us greatly. After my parents...” Walter stopped as Walter was wowed to see how the memory of them still hurt him. 

“Well, after they were no longer with us, I had to take care of my family.” Massai said with some emotion in his voice. 

“I tried my best to care for them, but my heart hurt so bad, not just from the loss, and pain, but from that void as you put it. I tried to make sense of my life and get out of my pain, but I just never could. Hurt turned to hate and anguish to anger. By this point, I was becoming a young man and trying to find my way in the world. I was skin and bones, but the bones were big and there was a little muscle in there. Wanting to feel in control of my world, I became rage and fury. I would find people I felt deserved my wrath, and I would smite them. It was usually just people that tried to take care of us scared kids. I was walking savagery and ferocity. 

One day, I was confronted by my siblings where they told me what I had become. I argued at first, but I was well aware. Finally, my sister said, “We don’t need another monster like you.” I ran outside with nothing in my arms but a cloak very similar to this one.” He said while looking down and smiling. 

“I was a fast young man and took off in a sprint into the forest that was next to my village and just ran and ran and ran long past the point where my breath couldn’t keep up and my heart had pumped all it could. I thought I could survive out in that forest from how I was raised, but I was not so sure I wanted to. I ran and ran trying to outrun what felt like it was behind me as it dawned on me, it was inside me. I ran more and more hoping the movement, noise, and pain would hide me from those thoughts about all that was, all there wasn’t and how little I knew about it. I ran and ran, and then ran and ran. 

I was coming up a small incline with a tree next to it, when my tired feet were caught by the root as I fell down into the burnt red Ghanaian dirt. My mind caught up with me as I raised my head from the ground to see a Black Mamba, the most deadly snake in Ghana, directly in front of my face. I tried my best to calm my breath as I just stared back at him. His stare back at me was cold and lifeless, yet capable of striking me at any time. I knew if he bit me, I would have no chance with my rapidly pumping blood to get to help. I just sat there as he stared at me. I knew when he struck, that would be it. I would quickly start dying and then what? 

That same question I was scared of answering someday wanted answered now. I then looked back at my life and character and it all seemed so strange. My perspective was completely different. I saw myself, the world, and what I could have been with more clarity. I realized how often I got caught up in the day to day ruts when there was an interesting thing I could have been doing other than focusing on myself. I realized all I did wrong, and what little I did right as I braced for death. 

The creature stared me in my eyes, before turning and slithering, and though he did not strike me, he struck my heart. I realized that though my little scaly friend didn’t kill me, I had died. That I was, only was. I was now there, as me. I was a new me. I realized that though I had died, this beast granted me life again. I had the chance to live again. And as such, I did not want to spend the rest of my life chasing after things I could not catch or reaching for that out of grasp. I decided to devote the rest of my life to living a life that could only be lived when it was the second one I had. 

Time was precious and things needed to be done. People needed to be loved. Thoughts needed thinking about. Hope needed to be wished for. Peace needed to be sought after. Joy needed to be felt. I knew at that moment, though not as clear as I do now, that I would never fully reach my goal, but I wanted to spend every day of this second life I had for what could be done with it with no more fears or pain of what could have been.” Massai went quiet as the sentimentality and sunset danced across his brown eyes. 

“Do you think you accomplished your goal?” Walter asked with sheepish reverence. 

“I know I did what I could to try what I should.” 

“So I guess my question is, how did that make you?”

“Make me my young friend? You miss the point. I made myself. Everything about me was something that started as a thought that made its way through my will, to my actions, to reality. I chose to be me.” Walter thought about what he could pull from this for himself. 

“So let’s say I wanted to build myself, how do I even know what type of person I should be.” Massai turned to see him before turning back. 

“I think you already have a guess and are doing a great job. You may find a better person to be later and you can change that then, but the only way to know that, is to have been this person for a while.” Walter realized all about himself he was trying to push out to move on to the next step was partially necessary for him to ever know where to step.

“And how do I live again if my life isn’t at stake?”

“There comes a point in all great human’s lives when they choose to let the old them fade away as they build up a new character with new strengths to take on the story that is before them. It is a serious thing to sit down and think about.” Walter planned out in his mind how he would sit down and think through this as he let himself pass as a new version of him was born. This time, he would design this person on purpose. 

“And then what is the rest of my story?” 

“The same as all the other greats, my young friend. You go on an adventure full of peril and victory.” Walter looked forward to the rest of his life and realized this wasn’t the simple life he saw so many live. 

“That sounds scary.” 

“It is scary. However, to be alive is to open the possibility of death, to be a hero is to have an adventure to go on, and to be strong is to confront our weakness.” 

“And how do I start this adventure?” 

“Well there needs to be a clear beginning. If people looked back at your life, they would see one sort of story. As you sit down and make sense of yourself, you officially put pen to paper in a new book you get to control.” 

“What about the parts I can’t?” 

“They make the reader relate to you.” 

“So what you're saying is this is a character I can write?” 

“Yes.” 

“What about all the people that live terrible lives pressured by their own biology or their environment?” 

“That is simply the setting for the adventure, they still get to make it. That is the debate I had with Zuke all those years ago that led me to where I am today. As I chose who I wanted to be, I believe people could be. He thought the contrary and from that thought that those parts of people they could not choose were parts of them and started to weigh them as less valuable.” Walter looked at his olive skin color to realize what Massai meant. 

“That which we can, we should build. That which we can’t we should realize as nothing more than the random setting for the story. No one should ever be held responsible for that which they did not choose.” 

“What about an uprising that went and stopped the Zukean from spreading his ideas.” Walter said with less surety, wishing for an echo chamber and instead wanting to know. 

“And then what? We can be the ones that build up a system and tell everyone how to live their lives after hurting people to get to power? I’d rather spend my life trying to be the right character than trying to make other people into the right character. There have been lots of people trying to make their version of heaven on earth, but it just turns into a hell that they put all the people who don’t agree with them in. Even if I had a button that I could push to make all the world's problems go away I wouldn’t because...” He went silent as he looked over at Massai and smiled. 

“Just because something is broken doesn’t mean you have to fix it.” Walter followed up. 

“That is right my young friend. I of course wish no one pain and wish all well, but I would much rather hope for all people to have meaningful lives over ones free of pain. If I could go back, I would not wish away any of my past. Being able to say this regardless of what was, is real healing. Knowing this, I don’t need to destroy the world to eliminate pain. I’ve come to appreciate pain. As I said before, if it is so prevalent in our lives, it has to play at least some kind of role.” 

“I can see that in my life.” 

“I am sure you can, my strong young friend. You have worked to make sense of your life, not as a society or state, but as yourself. As you think as only you and no one else, it makes sense that thinking, morality, and choice starts at the individual level and then we can choose to work with people on a larger level.” 

“That makes sense.” 

“It is harder this way because it puts the responsibility on you and I to do what is right rather than coercing others with the rest of the masses to do as we think.” 

“I guess forcing people like that would get in the way of their efforts to live their stories.” 

“You are wise above your years my friend. Yes. In the end, that is the goal. For some reason, us thinking beasts are down here existing. It makes sense to me to play out our role that was given of being human while trying to write what of our character we can.” 

“What does it mean to be human?” 

“You have been one for fourteen years my young friend. I am sure you have your thoughts. In the woods I realized what it meant to be human and you may find this familiar. I felt like I was standing between nothingness and a reality I couldn’t make sense of. One scared me with all it was and the other horrified me for how much it was not. And yet, being between hollow nothingness and overwhelming somethingness, I managed to make some sense of myself as I saw beauty in the void and absolution to either side. That is to be human, but to find one's humanity comes from knowing that others are standing between that same void and reality and wanting to do something to make that experience better for them. 

You have to learn how to step outside yourself and see through their eyes, but you will find them trying to make sense of themselves and being stuck between these two great phenomena. When you see this, it is harder to hate others, to judge them, or to leave them without your aid. As you know this, and know them, they will think of you as being confident and knowing what to do and say, but all you just see is what they are trying to piece together. Then you can start to lead them with what little you know, to discover things themselves. People tend to crave anyone that points out a direction to go and many bad people prey on that, but it can be used for their good too.” 

“And then what happens after this life? Are we still stuck between the void and this world?” Massai smiled and chuckled for a moment. 

“You want me to look behind the curtains and ask God? You want me to tell you the answer to the question that has illuminated the thinking mind with beauty? You want the answer to the question that we chase after for all our days? I am pretty sure there is one, but I have no way of knowing what it is right now. What I do know is between the void and reality, the chaos and cosmos, the pain and the meaning, I have become someone I am happy to be. I think the story can justify itself when the main character has become more.” Massai turned back to look at Walter as again saw that magenta sky he didn’t know could be in such a dark place flickering in Massai’s eyes. 

“I think I am understanding. I agree with you.” Walter said. 

“I am starting to see what you are trying to say and I think you are right.” Massai’s smile fell slightly as a sort of bittersweet smile left his face as if he were about to say goodbye. 

“Do you agree with me, my friend?” 

“Yes, I think I do.” 

“Then it seems to me you have learned all you can from me. I am sorry, my young friend. I want you to know I have a lot of thoughts from a life worth living, but I can be wrong. I don’t want you to think I know everything or even that I am right. I have a lot of thoughts that are problematic when you look at them in greater detail and see their inconsistencies. Please spend your days questioning me and don’t think I have the answers.” 

“Then what was the point of this conversation if I can’t think the same as you?” 

“To think for yourself in the conversation. I have lots of thoughts, but in reality, I know surprisingly little.” 

“What do you mean? You are so wise.” 

“Everything I know about this world could be untrue if this world weren’t real and even if it was, I could have viewed it wrong and all my thoughts have counter thoughts that can be argued for too. In fact, I know very little.” 

“So then what do you know?” 

“I know I am grateful I exist and I am happy you do too.” Massai put his left hand on Walter’s right shoulder as Massai smiled followed by Walter’s as the sun dipped far enough down that its rays could not be seen and the stars took their place over the backdrop. The air was cooler as Walter took in a deep breath. 

“Does this mean goodbye?” Walter asked with some emotion in his voice. 

“This means that your story keeps going and you need to step up to your role.” Walter was now turned, facing Massai as a tear welted up in the corner of his eyes and found its way down his cheek. 

This tear was different from all the ones that were shed before. This one wasn’t about grief or fear. This tear found its way from his brown eyes because of how grateful he was for Massai. Massai reached his arms out to the side as Walter lunged into a hug that he did not hold back from. He held his hero in his arms, happy he was his hero once again, but happy that he was more than just his hero. Walter soaked up every moment of that hug as he knew that which was unspoken. He knew what the rest of his future would be and that Massai would not be in it more than a memory. 

He was okay with Massai being nothing more than a memory, because he had learned how to live in his inner world. Walter took a deep breath, and with it a smell. After a moment for it to register, he realized it was smoke. He stepped back from the hug as Massai realized what the smell was as well. They both stepped back while Massai looked down and thought for a brief moment. 

“I think I know what is going on.” He said as he turned to the window and gestured for Walter to follow. 

“Don’t let them see you, but try to look out.” Walter peaked his head out the window and saw men below in black hats yelling obscenities as they ran out of the building. 

“I see a whole bunch of people down there.” 

“Black caps?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh no.” 

“what does that mean?” 

“They are the Zukean Black Caps. A lot of what you hear about being “gang violence” is just them causing chaos so that their party can come to party.” 

“What did they do?” “They lit the building on fire to get rid of those they consider undesirable and point to the current government being too weak to handle the problem” 

“Is there anyone else in the building?” 

“No, I am the only one who lives here my friend so we have no one else to worry about.” 

“So we just climb down and outrun them?” 

“Not quite my friend. They went down there to beat anyone who tries to escape to death.” 

“Why would they do this?” 

“It is quite the thing for a good being to make sense of why bad people do what they do.” Massai then went quiet and put his hand on his chin as he thought profusely. 

“I have an idea. There is a way that we may be able to sneak out through a hole, if the fire did not get to it yet. I am going to go down there and see if we can make it out. I will come back and get you. Please stay here and stay safe.” Walter looked with fear into Massai’s eyes who smiled with a sense of running into the unknown. 

“I love you Walter.” 

Stunned with fear and now this emboldened his tone as he said. “I love you too, Massai.” Massai threw open the door and ran down into the smoke with his heavy cloak covering his face so he could breath. Walter was then stunned how quiet it was. For how perilous his situation was, there were no sounds but the yelling of the men below. How could he just sit here while fate was gaining on him? How did he know if Massai was coming back? If Massai saw a chance to get away, but knew he would risk his life to come back and get Walter, would he? What if Massai tried his best, but died in the process? He shuddered to think of his hero dying just like that. 

A moment passed and the silence deafened and the feeling of being trapped encroached on him. The smoke began to billow through the room at a greater speed. It started to dawn on him that he may not make it out. His mother would never know where he was or how felt about him and would be left with grieving her husband and now her son. He might really die and yet and had left so much unsaid. He thought of how he was to the kids at school. He thought of how tightly he gripped onto ideas over people. He realized he should have spent more time talking with Martha, calling his dad, or helping his mom. He started to feel tired of who he had been in his life and realized, though it was good, it was someone with blinders who didn’t see what he saw now. He had so much more to live for and a life to live. 

The smoke flooded the room as he covered his fearful face with the lapel of his bluejacket. When he realized the coarse fabric didn’t allow for air to pass through, he grabbed another cloak Massai had made, and slipped it on with the side covering his face. The smoke continued to billow in as he found his way to the window looking for a breath of fresh air. The men were still standing there waiting for him to come down. Walter didn’t know if it was better to die from the fire or their violence, or if one of them was more moral than the other. 

He sat down on the pile of books that was his throne for a while. He came to grips with his death. It hurt his heart to be so young, but he couldn’t choose it, and therefore was not responsible for it. He decided his hero may have left him like he did before, or died like he thought he was. He was now alone and trapped. It was his time and he accepted it. The smoke kept flowing through the room and out the window until a faint orange light came behind it as it grew in brightness. Walter now knew this was his time. He looked back on his life and how wonderful it was. He was grateful he got to be alive. 

As he faced the fire raging in the hallway, time slowed as his mind gave him a chance to look over his life. He realized how beautiful it was. He saw his own character. He saw the plot of his story and realized the villains weren’t so bad. He closed his eyes as they burned from the smoke. He was grateful he got to meet his hero, even if he let him down in the end. Walter then realized he was at peace, and ready to leap into the void. 

He opened his eyes one last time to see the flames that would claim his life. He then looked down to admire the body he took for granted. As he did, he saw a flickering light to his left arm. He turned to see on his right armrest made of volumes of books, a black book with silver lettering that danced with the reflection of the flames. With his last words to read, he read, “The Will to Power by Friedrich Nietzsche.” With his last thoughts he could think, he thought about the will and all it could choose. He thought about what it meant to take power or control of life. He realized that not would he die, but he already did. The Walter he knew had accepted his fate and was now no longer with him. He had made many choices in his life between options few or plenty. Now however, he was going to have to make a choice that carved a new option into reality. 

He chose to live as this new person. He chose to forgive Massai for abandoning him. He chose to fight with all he had. He chose to do what was needed. He chose to be the hero. With force and fury, he stood to his feet and with passion and yet peace glided to the window. He looked down at the men who would soon take his life, as he knew they couldn’t. He would either give it, or he would live. He embraced the thought of the hero making his match when all the men below turned to one side of the building took off running towards the building as they yelled. Fate had a plot twist in its story. 

Walter realized, there was at least the potential of him making it out of here alive, as someone who had just died and been reborn. He threw off the cloak as he wondered how Massai climbed in that thing and made his way down the rungs of the latter as the first flames began to lick the pile of books that was his world for a while. He made his way down with a speed earned by making this climb a few times before. He heard the men down below yelling before hearing striking and smashing. It was a sound Walter was glad he had never had to hear before; the pounding of the human body. His heart sank as he wanted to vomit and cry knowing someone was being beaten below him and around the corner. It then dawned on him, it may have been Massai. His heart began to break knowing his great hero was about to die for the second and final time. 

Whoever was taking the abuse was at least distracting them well enough the Black Caps didn’t round the corner to see Walter. He finally made it to the bottom and landed on his feet and started running toward the street as a place that was his heaven burned with hellfire. He ran until he got to the road he lived on as he realized what Massai meant by running to death. Before turning right to head home, he looked to the left for a moment to the road that led out of town. 

Passing the second to last light post was a shape moving away from him. His eyes still stung from the smoke as he winced and tried to see better. It was that same familiar government issued blanket stitched into a cloak. Right as he realized what it was, the shape he could not make out anything other than the cloak, faded from the illumination of the last light post and was off into the distance. Walter took a moment to take a deep breath as he felt a reverence for the moment as it slipped away.

Chapter Ten

Walter’s now dirty hands from the rust and dust on the fire escape gripped the brass handle as he looked at the nine pane window and all it meant about what he did and didn't know. He stepped inside to see his mother with messy hair sitting on the couch. 

“Walter, you are okay. I was worried about you. It’s late.” She sat up as she looked at him. 

Walter smiled before jumping forward with arms outstretched and hugging his mother. 

“I love you mother.” He said as his arms were around hers as her surprise had not given her enough time to hug him back. 

“I... I love you too Walter.” She said, as Walter let the moment pass without a thought. 

“You smell smokey, what happened?” 

“Oh it's a long story, just know I am okay now.” He hugged her for another moment as her arms wrapped around him as they had when he was little. 

“I love you mom. I am so grateful for you. You have given me a wonderful life. I am here for you and I will keep you safe.” These words weren’t forced from Walter’s lips with duty, but were ones he was glad to say. He stepped back as he left his hands on his mother’s arms. 

“Mom, I love you, but I have had one of the longest days of my life.” He said as he noticed how shaky he was. 

“Of course Walter. Get some rest, I am happy to see you.” He let go of her arms as he walked towards his bedroom. He made it to the stairwell when his mother’s voice called out to him. 

“Hey Walter?” 

“Yes mom?” He said as he turned around. 

“I know with your father being gone...” She shuddered and lowered her gaze for a moment before looking back up and looking at him again. “Things have probably been hard for you. It has been on my mind that I am worried about some of the things you have said about your idol you have learned about since you were a young man. His words and teachings always made you know what to do, and I’m just... I am just worried about you not having your hero in your mind to make sense of this right now, so may I ask, is Massai your hero and teacher, or a fool and coward to you?”

A real smile crossed Walter’s smokey face as memories danced across his mind, a tear welt up in his eye, and emotion in his throat. 

“Neither mom.” Walter said as he beamed with joy and gratitude. 

“Massai is my friend.”