Good And Evil
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In every man's life comes the point when he asks himself, "What Am I Even Doing With My Life?"
Or, life feels plain meaningless. The excitement one feels as a child discovering new things, all gone. And now, life just feels mundane.
Jack, too felt the same way. As, A physics professor, he earned well. But often felt drained and empty.
With every batch, the students changed, but his field remained the same. With every new batch, he would teach the same things, again and again.
Reminiscences would often engulf him, as remembrances of time when he fascinated little things like—how a bullet gets fired from a gun—how does the clock's tick match the 24-hour cycle—the mechanisms of a steam engine, would often pass by his thoughts.
He sat on the chair as he graded the papers when a gush of air entered through the window.
The Moon had risen.
Jack stopped his pen. He gazed into the Moon for a while. Then, he stood up looked down upon the sheet. Then towards his room. A cleanroom—clock with a pendulum hanged in the wall, two shelves filled with books on the right. On the left, A work table bristled with mechanical tools, like screwdrivers, a hammer, pliers, tubes, gun barrel, etc. Only books and thesis papers lied on the table by the window, where he currently sat. He felt suffocated looking at his workroom.
He sighed.
Deep In his heart, he felt a sense of emptiness. A void unfilled.
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On the empty streets, he strolled. He wanted to escape. Escape from the suffocating feeling, escape from his daily routine, escape from his tedious life. That's why he was here.
Qaewell city flourished in human resources. With the industrialization in Steam resources, the city bloomed. But as the city flourished, gambling, drugs, slave trades also flourished. Many lost their inheritance in loans. Some lost in gambling. Some just came from a destitute family. These people gathered on the east side of the city. The officials named the town 'The Heim Town'. The Birth Place of Jack.
From the university, it took to 30 min, to arrive in a carriage. Jack roamed the streets. After all this time, he wanted to look at how the place changed. Most people quivered because of the frigid atmosphere. Jack remained perfectly unhindered as he wore a long black coat. Along with a small inner coat and a white shirt. On his head, he wore a small black top hat and, on his right eye, a golden monocle.
The pungent smell of the smoke, the discourteous people, the beggars, it was all the same.
His, eyes along with the moonlight, also reflected the look of disappointment—a blighted Hope.
'Change' He thought was the problem. Maybe, as someone who rose from the slums, he could not adjust to the affluent lifestyle. Perhaps, the lack of Belongingness gave birth to the gaping pit on his chest. But he had misunderstood.
The filthy stench of smoke repulsed him. The slobby people repulsed him.
He felt no sense of beginning on this horrendous atmosphere infant it nauseated him.
Bang!
Just when all hope seemed lost, he heard a gunshot in some close ally. For the first time, his heart skipped a beat.
Why?
He asked himself.
As someone with a gun license, he had heard plentiful gunshots before.
So, Why?
The very fibre of his being felt the sense to follow the noise.
Answers
He sought answers.
Was it because his life felt threatened?….
He walked.
If so, why, rather than running away, he walked towards the noise?…..
He walked.
Why did his heart skip a beat?…
He rushed
Why?….
For the first time, he saw a corpse.
A corpse.
A dead man on the side of a dark ally. A man—back by the wall, legs stretched, abdomen bleeding, mouth wide open.
His leg took a step back. Then, his mother's word echoed through his mind, be a gentleman, she said.
He grasped his hat with his thumb and index finger. Then, took three steps near the corpse.
Standing behind a set of values and believing in something displays loyalty in a man. A true gentleman will follow a moral code with others' best interests in mind.
Jack examined the pulse to check whether he could still be saved or not. The man was dead. Life no longer present in his eyes.
His heart skipped a beat.
The sight of blood, a dead body, a dead man.
His heart skipped another beat.
Click!
That's when he heard the sound of a gun's hammer clicking. The metallic feeling passed through his hat to his head.
"Slowly Stand, and move inside the ally," The man said, as he pointed a revolver to Jack's head.
Jack's heart did not skip a beat. His frame firm, he stood up while raising his hand in the air. The man's eyes slightly bulged as he realized the height difference between him and Jack. Jack stood 6'1" tall. Now, he pointed his gun, a bit upward, towards Jack's lower head(occipital bone)
"Move!" The man said with a croaky voice.
Jack's faced the other side all this time. He gazed into another side of the ally, towards darkness. The sight of the corpse imprinted on his mind, his heart lingered for answers.
Does He Not Fear Death?....
He took one step.
Was He that tired of his life?…...
He took another step.
No... that's not it.
An inexpressible sense passed through his body. He felt so close, like being one step from finding that one piece he felt missing from within him, his entire life. But he just could not put his head around it.
"Turn around, and hand over all your valuables!" He demanded.
On his neck, he felt the gun slightly quivering. Jack also noticed the man's croaky voice.
"Resolve—" Jack finally spoke as he turned behind. "—you do not have it."
The man took a few steps back, his body still shivering. Jack noticed his small frame and rugged clothes. In front of the 31 years old Jack, the man in front was not even a man, just a boy, barely 17 or 18.
"Don't test me!" The boy said with a shuddering voice.
Jack understood human nature. People would have little compunction about a stranger dying outside of their presence, but could they themselves kill someone while looking them in their eyes? It would at least introduce a degree of hesitation.
If the robber was determined to murder Jack, he would already be dead. And the robber would have taken his belongings from his dead body.
Jack, at full tilt, let down his arm and seized the pistol.
--
The boy's hands covered in sweat barely knew how to hold a gun. He found the pistol from the corpse of a woman in some alley.
Agitated by hunger, he roamed the street when he saw a guy, well dressed, come down from a carriage, and wander the streets. For orphans like him, the only way to get through the day was to rob or beg. ,
So, he followed the rich man.
But, now, regret had taken birth in his heart. He lost his footing and stumbled onto the ground. His heartbeat increased, he felt difficult to breathe.
He realized, panicking won't do any good. But his body did not listen. It shook. He wanted to run, run from this situation, run from his lifestyle.
He turned back, with his quivering legs, and stood up, attempting to run.
Bang!
Throughout the alley, another sound of a gunshot echoed.
He fell to the ground. Excruciating pain passed down his right leg. He screamed. He cried.
Someone... help….he crawled, reaching out his hands to the light at the ally's end. Desperately, slowly, he crawled.
Click!
The boy realized….this was the end.
--
Meanwhile, Jack wondered, the moment he seized the gun, any threat to his life ceased to exist. So, Why?
His breathing regular, his heart rate standard, no sign of shivering, no sign of hesitation.
Click!
Without even realizing it, his finger had pulled back the hammer. He had no reason to do so, but why did his body desperately crave to pull the trigger.
His pupils widened, as again, his mother's words passed down his ears, Jack, be a gentleman.
He realized. He recalled,
"Professor, A man unaffiliated with any parliament is not allowed to conduct such research."
"Professor, funding for individual research is not allowed."
"Professor, the law does not allow-"
"Professor, you cannot-"
'Defiance' That's was what it was. What Jack so unconsciously craved. Since birth, to survive, to adjust. Jack strove to be an ideal citizen. That was what the government wanted. That was what society wanted. And he was good at it. His words reflected humility, gentleness, and charm. His actions never defying the qualms set by the society for a gentleman to have. His interests, his hobbies all contributing to other's needs.
In the end, those acts were nothing but a facade. A false image.
Now, Jack understood. There was never a missing piece. It was asleep. The facade, he created had caused a part within him to undergo slumber.
The slumbering piece, now, desperately wanted out.
Bang!