I sit at my dining table and stare out the window. There's a bar across the street, and I look down at the people entering and leaving.
I count them. 3 in. 1 out. 5 in. 2 in.
I sigh.
- Are you envious?
"Isn't it 'jealous'?"
- Envy is wanting something others have. Jealousy is fear of what you have being taken away.
"Oh, you're right. It is 'envious'."
I looked down at the bar and counted a few more people. 1 in. Another.
They begin to shout, so loudly that I could hear then even with my window closed. I don't know if they're upset or excited.
The light of the bar seems so warm and inviting, especially for someone like me sitting in the darkness.
"Maybe," I admit. "Maybe a little envious."
- You could join them.
I let out what might be considered a bark of laughter.
"Do you remember my vow?"
- I do.
"Then that's that."
...
Another dream. Another picture. Another month.
"This uniform. I've seen it before." I study the girl in the picture. "Was it 12? Or 7?"
- Neither. It was 3.
"Ah." I frown. "3. The all girls school."
- That is correct.
It wasn't a question, but [It] seeemed to hear the slight uncertainty in my voice and answered me.
"All girls school," I murmured. A blurry face surfaces in my memory, then fades. "I'm starting to forget."
- Is that bad?
"No, not necessarily." I grab my helmet and the keys for my motorcycle.
"Hey," I call out.
- Yes?
"Let's go visit them when this is done."
- I thought you said it wasn't bad to forget.
[It] prodded me.
"It's not," I reply. "But it's worse than remembering."
...
The girl has short brown hair. She lives alone. Every morning she walks to school by herself. She sits quietly in a corner of the class. She doesn't smile much, but when she does, her dimples reveal themselves. And she plays basketball.
"How long is sports practice, usually?" I ask [It]
- Geberally two hours.
"So until 5:30..." I lean back on the bleachers as they begin their drills on the court. "Might as well get comfortable."
...
"You were wrong."
- We were both incorrect.
I glare at the clock. It's half past six, and the students are just beginning to clean up. The girl is dripping with sweat, but she seems to be doing the most work to put everything back in order.
"They don't even play that well."
- They are actually number one in their league.
"Shut up."
...
"She's not alone."
- That seems to be the case.
The girl walked back with two others from the basketball team. She was the last to leave the gym, but the other two waited for her outside. They chatted casually, enjoying the cool evening air.
"Not completely alone," I corrected myself.
The girl walked a few steps behind the other two, who walked side by side. She spoke little, but she was sometimes asked a question which she would answer plainly. The other two laughed and poked fun at each other, including and also excluding the girl who trailed a few steps behind.
"Alone yet not alone, kind of like us, don't you think?" I asked [It].
- I fail to see the basis behind this comparison.
"Then let me ask you a question. Am I sane?"
- No.
[It] responded promptly.
"How do you know?"
- No sane person could do what you do.
"My thoughts exactly."
I watched as the girl and the other two parted ways. She waved, and the other two waved back. They walked down one road together, and she walked another road, to her house, alone.
"So if I'm not sane, then how do I know you're real?"
- So you believe me to be a part of you?
"It's possible isn't it? A crazy man, talking to himself. Thinking that he is the sole person responsible for saving other worlds. Justifying murder through his deranged conversations with an imaginary companion. Isn't that being alone yet not alone?"
- I see what you mean.
[It] paused for a few minutes, then asked me.
- Do you wish to give up?
"Give up?"
- Give up being insane. Forget about your imaginary companion. Stop believing you're the only one who can save the other worlds. Return to society and live a normal life. Then you won't be alone.
I watch the lonely back of the girl get smaller as she walks away.
I shake my head. "I can't do that."
- Even if all of this is just your delusions?
I couldn't answer.
...
"Hey," I call out to [It] with a shaky voice.
- Yes?
"Suppose there was a trolley that would hit all the inhabitants of another world.
"Suppose there were three girls, two of which lived happy and fulfilling lives with their families, one who is always alone.
"Suppose there is a lever that would divert the trolley to kill those three and save half of a small world's population.
"Suppose I alone am allowed to decide whether or not to pull it.
"Question.
"Should I pull the lever?"
I didn't wait for [It] to answer.
"Fuck."
I look at the three girls who safely crossed the road during my minute of hesitation.
- The others weren't supposed to be here in the morning.
"Fuck."
- You still have two weeks.
"Fuck."
- You should try again again tomorrow.
"Fuck. No, I can't do that."
- I can make the other two forget about her.
"No. Don't do that."
- Then what should I do?
"Fuck. No. Don't do anything. I can't let my resolve waver because of this. Even if it's five or ten or a hundred. I will pull the lever."
...
That evening, I felt a slightly bigger bump as I drove the truck.
Three corpses lay in front of me. I dialed a number, and the sirens came.
Some people came up to me, crying and screaming. I clenched my fists and didn't speak. I looked at them and burned their faces into memory.
...
I have three places to visit today. Two of them are swept clean and covered with flowers. A man and a woman were crying in front of one. I remembered them, but they couldn't see me. Even if they could, they wouldn't recognize me.
I apologized to both graves. They didn't have to die. I decided their deaths. I wanted them to die so I could continue living.
There was one more. A much smaller stone than the other two. It wasn't far from the other two, but it was empty and isolated.
I'm sorry. I hope you do better in your next life.
...
I grabbed a bottle of wine and poured myself a glass. I settled into my seat and looked down at the bar across the street.
They were shouting again, in the bar, this time in anger. I could hear the beginnings of a fight.
I grabbed my glass of wine and swirled it. The wine shimmered in the faint moonlight.
[It] spoke to me first.
- Do you remember your vow?
I nodded wordlessly.
I looked at the wine. Such a beautiful red liquid, filled with promises of forgetfulness. That is why I swore never to drink.
I walked over to the sink and poured the wine down the drain, then returned to my seat.
I looked down at the bar once more. "I think I might be a bit jealous as well."
- What do you think they will take from you?
"My resolve."
- ... I believe you don't understand the meaning of jealousy.
"Shut up."