Conscious (short story)

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"I know, it's difficult to understand. But just try to listen."

Edward, distracted by the dazzling view from the cliff, answered, "Fine, whatever."

"I gain my essence from words. For every word printed in this 'book', I grow deeper."

Edward carelessly threw a stone into the deep valley. "So how do you make these new words?"

Anthony shrugged. "There are many ways. One, I can talk. Every word I say is written down."

"Then why don't you just talk and talk?"

"Because," said Anthony, "if I say something relevant to the plot line - well, you don't understand that yet. If it's something important, it's written down. But if I just repeat a word, 'look', fifty times..."

Anthony proceeded to recite the word "look" fifty times.

"See? I said fifty words, but it only counted for nine."

"I still don't see what you're looking at," said Edward, gazing into the empty sky.

Anthony shifted his feet in frustration. Was he the only one who knew? "Edward, there are many other ways to make words. But they all have something in common. They all must be somehow important."

"Important? How do you know what's important?"

"Well, apparently, this conversation is important. But we've only been talking for about ten minutes. If we were to leave and meet again in a week, and nothing 'important' happened in that time, only a few words might pass. Here, let's try it. I'll meet you here in one week, around sunset."

"A whole week? What will I do in the meantime?"

"Nothing 'important'. I'll tell you more next time."

One week later, Anthony met with Edward. He was a little late, but Anthony didn't mind. Saying that he was a little late, and the ensuing explanation of the word count, was twenty-seven words.

"Are we allowed to be 'important' now?" asked Edward, just as perplexed as before. As instructed, he had given little thought to his friend's new idea. "What's this 'importance' thing you were talking about?"

"This secret is my greatest power, and my greatest fear. Important things are," and here Anthony lowered his voice, "dangerous things."

Now that interested Edward. "Dangerous things?"

Anthony nodded gravely. "The only subject people want to read about is danger and violence. Action, that's all they want. If we provide it, we get words. If we don't, we get a phrase. 'They lived happily ever after'. Something like that."

Edward listened to the night wind whistle through the valley. "So?"

"How can you be so shallow?" snapped Andrew. "I am talking about the very essence of our existence! Don't you even care?"

Edward was startled by his friend's sudden energy. "Yes, of course I care about your new philosophy, Anthony!"

"My new philosophy...? Don't you see that I will never have peace again? If I am to live, to truly live, then I must live in fear. Every action must lead to a greater, more powerful action. And that, to another."

"No rest for the weary, eh?" joked Edward.

"What alternative do I have? The only way to keep this book going is to have some sort of conflict. You need a good guy, and a bad guy. But even that ends. Once the good guy wins, the book ends. That's it."

"Then the sooner it ends, the better."

"Not at all," said Anthony. "My only chance is to either become the good guy, or the bad guy. If I become the hero, then I must never win. If I become the enemy, I must never lose. Everyone else is just a satellite, rotating around these two central characters."

"Characters?"

"People, Edward, people. Every person is a character."

Edward nodded blankly.

"There are no great villains in this land. But a hero always arises to meet a challenge. And so I confront my only choice. I must become the enemy."

"Meaning what?" asked Edward, increasingly concerned by his friend's detached tone.

"Really, it's for the best. Eventually I'll be destroyed, as I should be. I'll deserve it, by the time this story has played itself out. But it will save this country. Our land can finally gain some recognition. My exploits, and those of the hero, and all the minor characters, will make thousands upon thousands of words! This world will survive!"

"Anthony, my friend, I still don't understand all of what you are saying," said Edward, finally listening closely, "but the little I do understand is troubling. You cannot bring good by evil."

"I'll try my best to merely outlast the hero," Anthony smiled ruefully. "I'll only steal and destroy that which I must. Even a few murders."

A push, and Edward disappeared into the darkness.

Anthony stood alone on the clifftop. "Farewell, old friend. But you have not died in vain. Your death is the trigger event for our history! Thousands, maybe millions of words!"

As Anthony predicted, Edward's death triggered a spree that devastated the world for years on end. A hero finally arose and stopped Anthony, and the land lived happily ever after.

In less than a thousand words.

 

I also appreciated the Goose tribute. Truly, no one has better played a skinny geek navigator than Anthony Edwards in "Top Gun." And, like Anthony, Anthony Edwards went on from his notable imporant role (Goose vs. discoverer of the nature of prose) to being evil (becoming a liberal pipsqueak who regrets he ever did such a violent movie vs. killing Edward).

Deep, GM, deep.