LJIdol: 3 Strikes - Week 2 - What Really Matters
“Is there any way I’m gonna get out of this with honor and dignity?”
Perhaps not. But we are not Wash and Zoe. We have to think for ourself.
“I can't think of anything original. I'm only good in support.”
Neither are we Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Stop spinning coins. Trust in who we are.
“Nothing else matters.”
Nice. However, we are not James and Lars either. And something else does matter.
“What?”
Exactly.
--
Behind closed eyelids, Sam’s pupils began to act unnaturally, dilating and contracting with no apparent pattern, lateral and medial muscles tugging in opposite directions. Marbles jumping back and forth under a carpet of blue eyeshadow. When Sam opened them again, they regained focus, looking around, taking in each of the others in turn.
The huntress was on Sam’s immediate left, leaning against her chair, her face emotionless. She liked to work alone and was quiet and patient. Her previous assignment had lasted nearly six months, but one couldn’t argue with the results.
Standing next to her was the princess, in one-sided conversation as always. She knew what she wanted, and refused to wait for it to come to her. She had been nearly apoplectic while the huntress was on assignment and almost ruined everything. She was tireless and fierce but also unpredictable, and a force to be reckoned with.
To Sam’s right, sat the librarian. Meticulous and logical, he was as of yet never fulfilled. There was always more to learn and there were always more preparations to make. But he was never wrong, never took a misstep. Of course, he also hardly ever took steps.
Beside him, in contrast, danced the comedian. In other times he might have been called a fool, speaking unkind truths while entertaining those around him. His style so chaotic as to be almost outdated. Unpredictable was an understatement. His success rate wasn’t great, but oh the spectacle either way.
And across the way, never out of view, stood the shadowed one. Unknowable and yet so familiar. The darkness beneath the hood concealing raw power and a rather specific brand of morals. Sam shuddered at the memories.
So many options, so many possibilities. In the end though, one (or more) of them would have to get the job done.
It doesn’t matter who. There's no separation between self and other. There is no you, and there is not only me. And I am you. You are me. And we are all together. I can no easier prove this than you can disprove it. We are one. We are many. We are us.
“What are we waiting for? We should have started already.”
“Easy, your highness. We must take care to do this properly, be fully prepared so that nothing goes wrong. We need to research, and gather information, and test theories.”
“By the time we do all that, we’ll have to nothing to show for our work but a slow death by paper cuts.”
“That’s a little dark, even for you, Spook. But, you’ve got a point there. All big occasions need a set date. And a crowd. And advertising.”
“No need for all that. The right time will show itself, and then we will act. As long as we are watching for it.”
“I’m looking at the right time, huntress, right now!”
Sam’s eyes closed briefly and there was an audible sigh causing the discussion to pause.
It doesn’t matter when. Time is a fiction we create. A design of naive romantics and high-minded scientists. There is no right time of the night to get something done. It merely gets done or it does not.
“Can we at least all agree that this important enough that it belongs out on a big stage for everyone to see? This is huge.”
“Well, there’s no place like home. Our home is our castle after all.”
“Too dangerous. Too many potential bad outcomes. We don’t shit where we eat.” The huntress’ vulgarity punctuated her words loud enough to create a long pause. Eventually the shadowed one spoke.
“Then let’s try somewhere new. Somewhere we’ve never been. Somewhere where no one else will know who we are.”
“Now, let’s not get hasty. Surely, we can find a place that suits our needs perfectly. If we research careful…”
“Shut up!” came the group cry in response. The librarian stopped mid-syllable, then bit his lip and stared downwards.
Sam’s head shook slightly side to side.
It doesn’t matter where. This isn’t real estate. There is no “location, location, location.” Every place is the same as the next in this universe of connectedness. What happens here also happens there, and everywhere in between and without. To infinity and, where one can boldly go, beyond.
“Fine. But we need to at least be clear of the reasons we are doing this.”
“Because we want to, of course.”
“Because it needs to be done.”
“Because it’s going to be fun!”
“Because it’s the logical thing to be doing.”
There was a pause, as everyone waited for the shadowed one to speak up.
“What? Do we really need a reason?”
Sam smiled at that.
It doesn’t matter why. Everything doesn’t happen for a reason, but each thing happens for a multitude of reasons. Or for no reason at all. Sometimes it all fits together like pieces of a puzzle, revealing a deeper plan. Sometimes chaos takes control. Neither is better or worse, whether praised or not. Things just are.
Before the five figures could start talking again, Sam held up a hand, signaling with a tilt of the head that this was no longer a discussion.
And it doesn’t matter how. The best laid plans of mice and men, whether they go awry or as intended, are still merely plans. The reality of results, of the endgame, can justify any means. And where conclusions are more important than the hypothesis, the steps to get there are merely the number of roads we must walk down before we can call it the end. The destination is always more important than the journey.
“So, how does it end?”
“What do we do now?”
Silence.
“I need to know!”
“Does it matter?”
It matters what. What you feel and what you know and what you do, it is this that defines reality.
“This is the toughest decision I have ever had to make, but I was put here to make just these exact kinds of command decisions. So here it is...”
--
“Hello world. We are Sam.”