The metallic switch gave a satisfying click as he changed the frequency of their scanners. Red and blue buttons blinked across the ceiling of the cockpit as Meredith and Ezra stared into the vast empty void beyond their windshield. The two of them had been floating at their post for months on end. Everyday moving through the same arduous mental gauntlet on repeat. Calibrating the same instruments, eating the same food, keeping watch over the same shifts.
Clocks were arbitrary in regards to the darkness of space. More a habitual measurement for organizing chores and rest than anything else. They had just over four long months to face before their leave. Then a few weeks of allocated time to rejuvenate on a somewhat scenic moon colonized by their Community. More of a military base than a resort. A far cry from a real vacation. Too little time to normalize, not that normal meant much beyond being a different cog in the same war machine anyways. There'd be enough days to feast beyond their normal rations, and drown in hooch. Potentially away long enough to find, and convince themselves, of love. Whatever good that would do before they were sent off on duty again a few short weeks later, back to their station.
Despite being strangers before their service Meredith and Ezra’s lives were mirrors to both each other, and their respective parent's. Not that that was unusual for most people, especially from their Community. For centuries people's lifetimes had been scourged away in the Endless War between The Communities. It had claimed generations. There wasn't a single soul alive that hadn't been born within the throws of war. Under the threat of doom.
The Communities began as a beautiful humanitarian mission, laden in noble intentions. Colonizers from failed Earth scattering humanity throughout the nearest galaxies. Driven by curiosity and good faith. Perpetuated by the eventual necessity of leaving a plundered, dying planet. They moved under a banner of unity, proclaiming each planetary colony as a Community within the greater whole.
The friction of time and isolation led to the inevitable follies of man. Ugly echoes of the past spun the wheel of greed, envy, and violence. Historic lessons remained unlearned. The elite families and richer countries from Failed Earth once again claimed the more idealistic environments and planets. The poor remained poor, cattle to cultivate hostile lands, and search for resources. Left to their own devices a few Communities fell from the idolized connecting democracy to different forms of dominance. From unrest, to anarchy, to mafiosa monarchies, and authoritarian regimes. As centuries turned, animosity grew between Communities. It wasn't long before diplomacy collapsed, and tyrannical leaders seized total control. Unwatched and unregulated dictators birthed their own belief systems and customs. Once the tyrants had their fill of bending their own people they looked towards across the stars. To each other. Jealousy led to fear, fear to hatred, hatred to ambition. From a simple act of betrayal birthed a war. A war that consumed everything, every ambition, every society. When there wasn't a active front, soldiers lay in wait, hushed, holding their breath, keeping watch.
Meredith handed Ezra a cup of mud and followed his gaze. Their conversation was as old and stale as the light from the resting constellations watching from beyond their bridge, lightyears away. She sighed over her steaming mug, longing to be subject to the rotation of a planet. To experience the change of light in a day. Or at least a subtle shift in the scenery. A variation. As astounding of a view as they had, it had become as tired as their conversation. "Anything to report?" she ventured.
The query was met with a head shake. There were thousands of posts identical to theirs across their Community, keeping watch from different vantage points. It was their monotonous rigour that had kept the Community safe for the last few decades. Or so they were told. "No. i'm guess we should be grateful. Bored to death is a worthy alternative."
Meredith shifted in her cushioned seat, and aimlessly toggled the instruments nearest to her palm. Her copilot sipped in silence. She looked over and watched his green eyes shift back and forth. "Whatcha thinking about?"
A reluctant smirk creased his lips, and he glanced over. "i was thinking about Old Earth, and trying to remember how all this shit started." Meredith let his words hang. She gave him time to stare, and sip, and decide for himself whether or not he wanted to continue his thought. "i mean, how do we know? All these little histories."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, let's say hypothetically i went to a strange land. And wiped out everyone. Reported back and said there was no one there. That i had discovered paradise. Then because i have all the authority over the area, i control the press, even if i pretend that i don’t, and get to write the history books, and say exactly that. Then let's say generations pass and mass graves are found. How difficult would it be to have my agencies conduct studies and date the bones to centuries before i arrived? How easy is it to manipulate history when you control information? And with this war, what is the meaning? Of what truth? How did it even start, really? i guess i wonder if we're really the victims in this conflict, as we're told we are. If our enemy is in fact our enemy. What if we're the villains? What if the problem is ourselves? What if our leaders have been lying to us? What if our leaders believe lies they were told? i wonder if even our leads of command know the truth of why this all started. What all of this endless fighting is for? And we're only perpetuating meaningless conflict, over nothing more than control, and wealth. What if nothing and no one is as bad as they said. We still have the legends of Old Earth, the fabled battle of Troy. Still no answer to its truth. A war fought over the jilted Menelaus, husband of Helen of Troy. A wife in a marriage won over contest and commerce- not love. Stolen away by her soulmate Paris. And yet when we are told the story, despite the glaring themes, we are not taught explicitly of the dangers of pride and ego, and fallacies of unjust conflict. We are taught of "honour." Of cunning. Of heroes and strategy. You'd think after everything learned on Old Earth the fighting would end. How is it that after all these millennia we don't live in some sort of utopia by now? Have we not found all we need? Are we not cunning enough to support paradise? Is the reason as simple, and defeating as this is ultimately human nature? That we're wired for violence? Powerless to our whims and emotions? Maybe the violence is to fill the void of loneliness in the universe? A twisted way to medicate the disappointment of not finding any other life out here? When will it end?" Ezra gave a sheepish look to his mug, "Whatever, anyways, sorry for the rant."
It was a lot to take in. Meredith had been hoping for some childhood anecdote, or an exciting plan for their leave, some kind of sweet send off to start her shift, not a deep existential dive. The thoughts weren't foreign to her, she'd explored them herself countless times. The sad truth was the Endless War was far from the only recent conflict. The histories of each of the Communities were rife with civil upheaval and battle. Over turf, and thrones. Pride and power. At times it felt like the only thing that could bring these planets together, was combat.
Meredith pulled at the velcro on her jumpsuit, strapping her sleeves tight to keep the cold at bay. "Something always knocks Ezra." Her words were quiet. She didn't make eye contact. "No matter how far you try to run, how well you think you've thought of everything, every angle, every seal, every probability. Something always knocks."
"When will we figure this out?" his tired eyes pleaded to Meredith. "We have to figure out something. How do you get everyone on the same page? How do you get the word out to everyone? To simply treat each other better than you would yourself. Is it that hard? We can't keep fighting."
"i mean, Ez, people have been trying to tackle that for aeons. Countless stories, fables, religions based on ‘prophets’ spewing the same sentiment. At every attempt we stumble."
"If it's just our nature, then so be it. But i just can't accept that that’s it. The we’re helpless. We can do better, i know it. We need to change the rules. Don't be a dick. That's all. One rule."
"Are you not being a dick to yourself? i can see the torture in your eyes. Why subject yourself to such grueling thoughts with such unkind tones?"
"i mean, at least i'm not transferring my suffering to anyone else. i think thats the core of what i’m trying to get at."
"Sure, i’m jut saying that your inner dialogue needs to be more diplomatic. i feel like that's the solution for us all. Adjusting how we interact with ourselves internally. With grace, and patience. From there learning to speak to one another as we would to ourself. Understanding that its incumbent that we are the end of injustices. That we cannot pass on anything foul thats been cast onto ourselves. That we break the patterns with radical forgiveness, without reciprocity or justice, as unsavoury as that may be. i agree with you, as long as we aren't transferring our suffering to each other, and we're trying to contain it within ourselves, ultimately extinguishing it, we're on the right track. i think it begins with internal diplomacy.
The thing is there's always a bigger fish. Some other, more difficult, tormenter. Even if that monster is your own self judgments, like i said before, something always knocks. Guaranteed. You're always at war with yourself as much as you are with anyone else. And no matter what, i can't emphasize enough, trouble will come. Even in times of peace. Even if you're completely isolated, it'll be something out of control. Elemental, or perhaps your own stupid ego. But if there are others about, then there's always an offence on the horizon. Intentional or not. And when someone crosses the line too far, what happens? When the infraction is too big for routine forgiveness. Violence feels like the only answer. Then you hit them and they hit you back, and it becomes an exponential race of affliction. Escalating to the point where it begins harming innocents. Their families, and your family, and the families of your families, your dearest friend's families, allies, and so forth spiralling out of control. Until one side is decimated, or the pain of your sorrow is so overwhelming that you turn inwards. Go to war with your own emotions. And seek truce through conversation, and peace. Which is exactly where you should have started. Unless everything is laid to waste, obliterated, save one soul- it always leads back down to a single, constructive, conversation. A concession of acceptable terms, and compromise. i think more than anything we need someone to break the cycle. By someone choosing to avoid vengeance. Taking the burden of the undeserved devastation and sitting with it. i think thats achieved by having that brutal conversation with yourself at the beginning of friction, and that the comes easier with a practice of diplomatic internal dialogue. " Meredith distracted herself with loose thread on her sleeve. "Listen, i say this, but the truth is, i don't know how to move forward. i don't know how i could after all the loses. i just know thats the way, not how to walk it. But something is always coming. Through the darkness, through light, through times of peace and security, and through times of war. There will always be another affliction. One way or another. Be it external, or internal. Like it or not, for better or worse, we've chosen a life of suffering in one way or another.”
They fell to an uncomfortable silence. Enormity's weight bore down. Without a word, without a look, they reached each other’s hands in the darkness.
Thanks for reading!
Wazoo!
-Mr. Write