When The World Falls Apart

By Noel Hansen

The heat radiated from the sidewalk as Eric walked to the bus stop, creating a haze around everything. It felt like walking in an oven; Eric could feel the sweat evaporate from his forehead as it formed, the pools growing at his armpits and crotch. He felt sticky, he felt vile. When he reached the bus stop, he sat down at the far end of the bench in the enclosure, in the part that was covered by shade. He couldn’t wait for the bus to come, the bus at least would be air conditioned; he kept checking his watch and comparing it to the numbers in the paper schedule he had in his bag, as an act of willing the bus to come early for once.

Eric found the 21st century to be a miserable place. The world still refused to accept global warming as a reality, and it caused a shocking level of misery that was absent in Eric’s time. Back home, global warming had completed and already the planet had begun to get cooler. Humanity had adapted, though not without severe loss of life before they finally accepted what needed to be done. And not before mass extinctions wiped out 99% of all other species on the planet and made the seas completely toxic and uninhabitable. But humanity had smoothed things out in the end.

Regardless, Eric didn’t regret taking the assignment. It gave him a chance to see the world before The Fathers took over, and that alone had awoken such knowledge and desire in him, that he knew he would be forever changed by the experience. It was what led him to escape the rest of his group in the first place, to remove the tracking devices they had installed all over his body. To live here, in this mid-size city, working this dead-end job that he was on his way too right now. Even though his job didn’t pay well, and his living situation wasn’t ideal, he still thought the effort to escape was worth it. The ability to pursue knowledge, to think unimpeded, to express himself, to associate with whoever he wanted, to love whoever he wanted, that all seemed worth escaping the grip they had on his body and his mind. And in the end, it seemed like the only way to find what he was looking for.

After a few minutes, the bus arrived and Eric got on it. It was mostly empty, just a few other anonymous, innocent looking individuals. He walked all the way to the back, and sat down across from a man in a suit. This man was talking on the phone about some issue with payroll at his business. Eric just leaned against the window and closed his eyes, trying to relax for a moment before the work day started.

Suddenly, he heard a voice from across the bus.

“Repent, my son. Repent of your wicked ways”.

Eric looks around, startled, trying to identify. It sounded like the voice was being spoken nearby, like it was whispered in his ear. He turned right, and looked at the man in the suit. The man at the suit was facing Eric now, still talking in the phone. He didn’t seem to see Eric though, he appeared to be looking at some point behind Eric, but when Eric looked behind him to try and identify what the man was staring at so intently, nothing stood out.

All of a sudden, the other man's voice seemed to fade away, though his lips could still be seen moving in conversation on the phone. The voice came again from the man's mouth, though his lips were still moving and the words did not match his mouth movements.

“Repent. I know you have run far, but you are still loved, you are still valued, you still have The Great Task before you”, the voice says.

Eric stares at the man saying this, his expression unchanging. He remains silent, his lips pursed. He turns to face the front of the bus again. This has happened before. They can send him messages and he can reply back, but they can’t find him now, he made sure of that. And they can’t force him to do anything. They might desperately want to, but they can’t. He removed the pieces that would allow them to, he made sure of that as well. He couldn’t get rid of what they sent with him, he might not even know how it all works, but he is damn sure they can’t do anything more than this.

Eric gets off at the next stop, his heart racing. He could feel panic set in on the bus and got off, needed to get some air. He knew it could make him late for work, but he had learned to always leave with time to spare for circumstances like these. The buses ran pretty regularly at this time of day, so he had no concerns about getting another one later on when he had calmed down a little.

He leans over in front of the bus stop and puts his hands on his knees, panting and dry-heaving. After a few minutes he collects himself and stands up, but his heart is still racing. He decides to take a walk around the neighborhood. He knew it would make him sweatier, but the neighborhood he stopped in had reasonable tree coverage and a small breeze had picked up, so he felt it was worth the risk of showing up to work with minor pit stains on his uniform.

He turns away from the main road and walks down a side street. The street is lined with town-houses made of brick, with trees and shrubbery out front. The road is narrow, with cars parked on the side of the street lengthwise, and quiet. Eric figures this is probably a busy neighborhood in the evenings and on the weekends, he can see remnants of sidewalk drawings from children's games, as well as sports and grilling equipment in the small yards in front of peoples homes. It seems like a nice place to live, and seeing this installs within him a deep yearning and sorrow that he has trouble connecting to any particular desire he has. He just knows that he wants something he doesn’t have, a feeling that this area conveys to him that is missing from his everyday life.

He comes to the end of the block and crosses over to the next one, the street still quiet while its inhabitants are away at school or work. He hasn’t seen anyone else out here yet on his walk. He looks down at his phone to check the time and then suddenly runs into someone else.

“Oof, sorry!”, he exclaims once he regains his balance. He notices the person he ran into sitting on the ground, looking slightly dazed. He helps her up.

“Sorry about that”, he exclaims again. “I was just checking my phone and you came outta nowhere”.

“Oh its not a problem”, she replies, looking him up and down. “I was looking at my phone as well, so technically nobody is at fault here”. She turns to leave in the direction that Eric came from, but hesitates for a moment. “Sorry, do I know you?”

Eric looks at her, wondering what prompted this; though he isn’t annoyed, more glad for a chance at a normal conversation. “I don’t think so, not unless you frequent a used bookstore on the corner of 8th and Pine”

“Oh, there is one there? I didn’t realize!”, she replies, her face lighting up. “I am a big reader, I will have to check it out sometime. I am always on the hunt for something new”.

“Oh we have a great selection there, lots of older books and lots of hard to find books too, its a really great resource. We get students from the university coming in all the time because of it, but we also keep a healthy catalog of classics as well”, Eric replies, a little taken aback by this woman's enthusiasm, but feeling encouraged by it.

“Oh wow, I will definitely have to check it out sometime then! There is this one old book I have been looking for a while that I haven’t found, it's about this author who specializes in Gothic literature that goes to live on a farm and write his thesis and finds that his stories are becoming real. I have heard its great but haven;t been able to find it anywhere; it sounds like if any place in the city would have it, it would be your store”, she replies with a smile.

“I am not familiar with the story, but yeah I would definitely check us out”, Eric responds.

There is a pause as both just stand there, awkward grins on either of their faces, neither sure about what to do next.

“Well, I really do gotta get to work, but it was nice chatting with you. I guess I will see you around sometime?”, she says.

“Sure, I gotta get to work too actually”, Eric says, taking a look at his phone again to check the time. “Real quick before you go, what is your name?”

“Julia”, she says.

“Nice to meet you Julia, my name is Eric”, Eric says, waving at her.

“Likewise!”, she says, smiling a little and returning his wave as she turns away and walks down the street.

Eric turns and walks the other way, his heart going at a million miles an hour. He feels elated, but he doesn’t know why. All he knows is he desperately hopes he will meet Julia again.

Eric hops back on the bus and finishes his commute without incident. He gets off at the bus stop a block away from the store, and takes a few minutes to grab a cup of coffee at a cafe before heading into work. He doesn’t even like coffee that much, so he heavily waters it down with cream and sugar. He just notices that people expect employees of bookstores to always be sipping the stuff; they always seem to be more at ease and buy more books whenever he or one of his co-workers has a cup of coffee that they occasionally sip from.

 Eric nods to his co-worker Sharice, currently at the register handling a customer's order, as he slips into the back room and drops his backpack off at his locker. He checks his phone to make sure he clocks in exactly on the hour. He stands by the time machine and waits, checking his phone every 10 seconds until the final minute flips over. When it does, he quickly clocks in and heads to the floor.

He briefly chats with his manager when he gets to the front. The manager directs Eric to the backroom, where a new shipment of books has arrived and need to be put out on the floor. Eric heads through the aisles of the store to the back. The musty smell of old books fills his nostrils. It's comforting, nothing smelled like this growing up. He knows to many it evokes feelings of nostalgia, but to him the comfort comes from a different source. To him it smells like knowledge, like freedom. The fact that nothing smelled like this growing up only makes him cherish this smell even more.

The backroom is crowded, with boxes and boxes of books laying around, many of them unlabeled. Supposedly they are organized physically, with boxes of different kinds of books located in different labeled locations, however everyone who works at the store knows well that this is only sometimes followed. Behind all the boxes, in the back in another room is the rare book storage; that room is where the books valued at substantial amounts (in the store, that amount is one hundred dollars or more), are kept. That room is organized very specifically. The rare books is where the majority of the income for the business comes from, the store is a hub for collectors of all stripes, and the owner takes pride in their ability to hunt down whatever the customer wants. Eric has never been inside; the owner is the only one with the key to that room, they handle everything that goes in and out themselves.

In the corner of the backroom near the rear entrance of the building, Eric spies an unfamiliar pile of boxes. The pile has helpfully been labeled “NEW” via yellow sticky note applied to the box on top of the heap. Eric grabs a cart and loads the boxes onto it. He opens one box, to try and identify what it is he is dealing with. The first two books that show up appeared to be some sort of illustrated children’s guide to owls and a booking explaining a computer operating system (the operating system itself is nearly 25 years out of date). Eric sighs at seeing this; the box obviously isn’t organized, its gonna take him a while to get these on the floor.

Eric wipes the sweat from his brow as he takes the last book out of the box. “Liber Null” is just written on the side. Glancing through it, it seems to be some sort of self-help book, so he pushes his cart over to the self-improvement section to find a space to put it in. As he nears the location, he hears the bell at the front door ring. The previous customer in the store had left a half hour before, and his other co-worker had left a half-hour before that. He puts the book down and heads to the counter to greet the customer.

Perusing some of the books laid out near the register is the woman he had met earlier that morning. His heart stops for a second as he notices her. Why is she here? Does she want something from him? He mentally composes himself quickly, telling himself she is probably here for that book she had talked about. He straightens his shirt and walks up to the counter.

“Oh hello, nice to see you again Julia! Fancy running into you here”, he says, trying to be clever, instantly regretting it the minute the words come out of his mouth. What a weird thing to say to someone you don’t know, he should have just kep it professional.

She smiles when she hears him speak, a small giggle audible. “Oh you know, I was just on my way home and I saw that this place was near a stop for my bus. You had talked it up so much when we met earlier today, I had figured it was worth checking out”, she replies, gripping her purse in front of her, looking down briefly then looking back up with a smile on her face.

Eric can feel his face blushing. “Sure, like I said, this place is definitely the best store in the city when it comes to rare books, I think we do pretty well in the use book racket too. Is there anything in particular you want to find?”

“Oh, I can find it on my own, I think. Is there a guide to where things are in the store? All these shelves seem unlabeled”.

“Oh, let me walk you through”, Eric quickly suggests. “I do most of the stacking here, I should be able to help you find what you are looking for.”

She smiles and nods. At that, Eric leaves the counter and directs her to the first row of books.

Eric waves to Julia as she walks through the front door of the store an hour later. She smiles and waves back. After she leaves, Eric walks back to the front of the store, and opens his phone to look at the contact information for Julia that she put into his phone. He replays sections of their conversation over and over in his head, the way she laughed at his jokes, how passionate she got when she talked about her favorite novels. It is sweet and it is painful, but he doesn’t want to stop; he wants every detail of those memories etched into his mind like carvings in stone. Some part of his mind tells him that he will never have new memories to equal those moments; he knows that is a lie, a lie not even of his own making, but it is powerful nonetheless.

As the memories replay in his mind, he finds other, deeper memories pulling his attention, begging to be revisited with the same clarity. Memories that radiate pain and sadness. He doesn’t want to remember them, to taint this moment, but they have a strength that is difficult to deny. Memories of what was done to him, what he was made to become, the great and grand intentions for him…

He takes a breath and closes his eyes. Slowly he lets air fill his lungs and slowly he lets it leave. He concentrates on the breathing. It helps. The memories, both good and bad, slip from his immediate focus and go back into the recesses of his mind. He is sorry to see the good ones go, but he has also accepted long ago that it is a small price to keep the bad ones from coming back.

He leans over and places his hands on the counter, staring straight ahead. He wants to text her, but knows that would be gauche. He decides to text her when he gets home, to say how much he enjoyed the conversation, and to ask her out. He hasn’t been out on a date in years. Not since the last time, when what was done to him came out. He thinks maybe he has a shot now, that this time will be different. He got it out, he spent a lot of time making sure that he cut that part of him out, that weapon the Patriarchs put in him before they sent him here, the reason they want him back so badly. At least, he thinks he got it all out. He never feels he can be sure; at a certain point, he just has to trust that his efforts were enough.

The dinner was going well. He had chosen one of her favorite restaurants purely by chance when looking at the map, and the conversation had been lively and easy all evening. Eric looked over at Julia sitting across from him; she was stunning, and it seemed like she couldn’t stop smiling. He liked that, it made him happy that he could make someone else that happy.

“And THAT is when I jabbed him in the gut. Serves him right for trying to take my clock like that!”, she says excitedly, gesturing with her fork, a little piece of meat still on the end of it.

“Wow, I can’t believe you really dealt with your boss like that”, Eric exclaims.

“Oh I mean, I got fired anyway after it was all said and done, so it probably wasn’t the wisest move, but I still don’t regret it”, she says, putting the fork in her mouthing and chewing. “I mean, enough about me though. Tell me about how bullshit YOUR job is. How did you end up working at that place?”

“That is… Its difficult for me to talk about. I don’t think I have every told anyone the whole story”, Eric replies, his face going a little pale.

“That bad before, huh?”, Julia says.

“Yeah, I was just… in a very difficult place before”, Eric says, not knowing how much to reveal, hoping his caginess doesn’t turn her off.

“Ah, I see”, she says knowingly. “You know, you're not the only one who has been through some shit”

“Huh”, Eric replies, confused.

“Yeah, a number of other people have had to deal with something miserable and awful at some point in their lives. Most people really. And if they haven’t yet, they will sometime fairly soon. Its like a law or something”, she says, gesturing at the air with her right hand. “Take me, for example. I was raised by some real psycho fundamentalists. I grew up on what was essentially a cult compound in the middle of the wilderness. They said they were trying to survive the end of the world, survive the cleansing of the sinners. But really they just wanted to fuck around with guns and kill animals without the government breathing down their necks. They forced all us girls to wear skirts and dress extremely conservatively, we were never supposed to raise our voices. Sex was for procreation only, and it had to be between a man and a woman only. I was raised in that until I was 18, when I went to college. It wasn’t the craziest place, it was still a religious institution, but it was in the city. From there I met other people in the city who didn’t go to the college, and got exposed to more of the world. Lots of people go through stuff like that, or worse.”

“Yeah, I get it. I am just… Not ready to go there quite yet. Not ready to confront it, I suppose”, he says.

“I understand”, Julia says, though she looks a little hurt.

Eric excuses himself to go use the restroom. The facilities only have two urinals, one of which is already occupied. He grabs the open one, unzips his pants, and begins to relieve himself. As he does, the man standing next to him turns his head to face Eric. His mouth is parted in a casual grin, his teeth showing. When eric notices him there, he jumps a little; his mouth somehow looks a little too… full. The man begins speaking, though he doesn’t move his mouth.

“Repent, my son. Repent of your wicked ways”, he says.

“Oh come on, you had to do this now? I was having such a good evening too”, Eric says without turning his head, staring at the wall as hard as he can.

“My son you have strayed, but God’s grace is merciful. You can still return, fulfill your mission”, the other “man” says in return.

“I am not going back. I am never going back, you can’t make me”, Eric replies.

“Destruction only lies down this path. You will destroy all you love if you don’t return.”, the other says.

Eric ignores this. He finishes his business at the urinal, then goes to the sink and washes his hands. He walks confidently out the door of the bathroom. He feels invigorated. He sits down at the table, and smiles.

“Now, where were we?”, he says.

Six months later, Eric and Julia are having dinner at another restaurant. It has been nearly 6 months since they started dating. They don’t always go to fancy places when they go out, but Eric decided he wanted to treat Julia this time. He thought the nice food would offset the sobering information he is going to give her.

They sit down and order food and drinks without issue. Eric just sits there in silence for a second, unsure of where to begin. He figures the best way to begin is at the start.

“Okay, so remember all those months ago when you told me where you came from, how you were raised?”, he asks.

“Yeah”, she replies. “What is this about?”

“Well, I just wanted to tell you about my childhood. We have never talked about it before and I felt… Its important to me to get it off my chest.

You see, I came from a situation much like you. I was raised by a bunch of religious fanatics, trained day and night in the doctrine. I was part of a group of other children. We were all trained, really. They had… goals for us. They thought they could make us weapons. ‘Warriors of light’. After we were old enough, they sent us out into the world to accomplish our mission.

Only… Our mission wasn’t to convert some number of souls. Our mission was to go to the place and time they instructed, and to insinuate ourselves into certain groups. Once we were insinuated in the group at a certain level, well… They wanted us to kill ourselves and everyone around us. We were supposed to be suicide bombers, Jules. That is what I was raised from birth to be, what I was sent here to be. They want us to shift the tides of history in their favor, to what end I am not sure.

Only I couldn’t stand it. But I had no choice. They did something to us growing up that made sure of that; we couldn’t disobey, and certain failsafes were built into each one of us. The bomb was built into us, and was designed to go off when certain triggers were met. I figured out one of the triggers was that it would go off when we got close to someone, emotionally. I eventually figured out how to disable their ability to command me, but they still try to speak to me from time to time. I figured out how to disable the trigger, but I never figured out how to remove the bomb.”

“You didn;t go to a doctor for it? If its something they surgically put into you, you can get it removed”, she says.

“Its not something they implanted in me, its not something that can be surgically removed. Its somehow… a part of me. Maybe it wasn’t always a part of me, but it has grown up with me, inside of me, and now the mechanism touches every part of my existence, to some degree or another. Its not something that can be extracted at this point”, Eric says, sighing. “But I rendered it inoperable. I am certain of that at least.”

“Well, I mean that is a hell of a story”, Julia replies. “What now?”

“I thought it was worth mentioning. I wasn;t sure you would want to continue to be with me if you knew”, Eric says.

“Oh Eric sweetie”, Julia says, putting her hands over Erics. “Its gonna take a lot more than that to make me want to leave you”.

They both smile. Something inside Eric swells, so he closes his eyes and goes in for a kiss. Everything seems to go silent as he does. Only… When he leans in there, is no one there. He opens his eyes; Julia is missing. The restaurant itself, bustling just a moment before, is now completely empty. It is like they all vanished in an instant.

Seeing this causes Eric to burst into tears. For he realized that the bomb planted inside of him, a bomb that vaporises every living thing except him in 50 feet, wasn’t completely inert after all. Eric got the main trigger, but he failed to anticipate that they might have installed a backup trigger, designed to go off in case one of their agents decided to try and tell others about them.