Homer made a point of sending the guards away upon getting back to the office. Homer tried to make it sound natural. That the Rainbow Shirts had undergone a great tragedy, and that Homer wanted to be alone. That they needed to be alone. Homer was lying, of course, but it was a very well-intentioned one. Homer knew that there was no changing fate now. When Homer had finally recovered enough to find out what happened that night after losing consciousness, the enormity of what had happened was unescapable. Homer's warning had not been heeded. Either through Barack's own pigheaded stubbornness, or acting on their own volition, the twelfth division had chosen to engage Jerry Shankar.
That alone would have been bad enough. Homer still had no idea what Jerry Shankar's plan had been, what the purpose of the baiting was. But the disappearance of Esther Okerye signaled something far more ominous. People were assuming that Esther was dead, that some horrible fate befell Esther the same way it befell the twelfth division. But Homer knew Esther. Homer knew that Esther was too smart to fall afoul of any of Jerry Shankar's tricks. That Esther had been there that night. Responded to an emergency call. Homer's emergency call.
Homer poured a drink and plopped in the chair. Homer didn't even like liquor, was the obscene part. It slowed Homer down, helped with nerves. And that was what Homer needed right this minute. A reprieve from Homer's own inevitable death.
"I know you're here," said Homer quietly. "I don't expect you to come out, or reveal your location. You're expecting a trap. As well as you should. But it's fine. I don't have any words for you. Nothing to convince you to stop what you're planning to do. I just want you to listen to my last words, and accept the gifts I have to offer you as my last apology."
Homer stood up, still holding the little shot glass. Homer refilled it, and started walking around the office in circles. The sun had come up. It was still early morning. Homer had wanted to die watching the sunrise. It wasn't much, but it was something.
"I've tried to excuse myself for what happened," said Homer. "I told myself, it couldn't be helped. There was no way it could work out. But the truth is, Esther, I made a mess of everything. I should never have agreed to let you join the Social Justice Army. I probably should never have agreed to join the Social Justice Army. This whole project was doomed, even before the Great Blackout. We were all in it for the wrong reasons. We didn't even know what those reasons were. We were just fighting for our own righteousness."
Homer leaned against the window and started lightly tapping it. Homer briefly considered opening the window, before remembering that it was locked from the outside to keep people from jumping out of it. What kind of horrible place was this, Homer wondered, that the architecture was designed to keep people from killing themselves?
"Your sibling was a good person," said Homer. "Your sibling deserved better than what I did. We should never have abandoned Oregon. That's what your sibling was fighting for, I think, right until the end. To change my mind. To get us to help those people. In a less insane time Jill Smith could have saved the world. I accept responsibility for everything that's happened. I don't expect your forgiveness. I'll pay the price for my own foolishness without having to get your hands dirty.
Homer opened up the top dresser drawer. It had a digital lock tied to personal ocular identification and a passcode. After removing the flash drive, Homer broke the lock in such a way as to make it seem as if it had been broken into. In reality, such a lock was only vulnerable from the inside, and couldn't be moved to a location where it could be fully destroyed without having to drag the whole desk with it.
"This," said Homer, holding up the flash drive, "is the sum knowledge of my lifetime. Every detail, about every member of the Rainbow Shirts. All of our donors. All of our suppliers. If you wish to destroy us, you can. I only ask that you spare the ones with enough sense not to try and fight you. Barack is at Trump Tower holding an emergency meeting. All the division heads will be there. You can kill them all in one fell swoop. It's horrible for me to say it but...in the new world, they'll be no better than bandits. I only wanted peace Esther. And I suppose I'll have it for myself. But the rest...I leave it up to you."
Homer put the flash drive on the desk. Then Homer picked up and activated the laser sword. Homer finished off the last of the gin, and knelt down on the floor in front of the desk. Eyes closed, Homer shoved sword through stomach, wincing in pain all the while. Homer wondered how long it would take to die like this, then heard a sigh from the showers.
"Homer," said Esther, stepped out with a second sword. "That's not how you commit seppuku. You need a second person to cut your head off."
"I'm not trying to commit seppuku," said Homer. "I just want to suffer in my last moments. Leave me in peace."
"No I won't," said Esther, taking an ornamental sword off of the wall. "It's just so stupid. You know what really gets me about the whole Social Justice Army thing? How dumb it all was. I'm forty-three years old Homer. And so are you. Why did we waste so much of our precious time on this world playing dress-up?"
"I wanted to make the world a better place," said Homer, starting to go into shock from the pain.
"Well I didn't," said Esther, raising the ornamental sword high above. Homer could see it glisten in the rising sun. Homer was sure Esther had enough strength to make a clean cut, even if neither of them had any idea how sharp the sword really was.
"I do thank you though," said Esther. "For admitting that you were wrong at least. Not for the right reasons but hey, no one's perfect. Goodbye Homer."
Eyes closed, Homer braced for impact. In the brief moment where Homer, now fully decapitated, felt bewildering sensations those last thoughts were only, well, this isn't so bad.