I wonder when I stopped to care. When have I surrendered. My vision is a blur and I hardly see a figure standing upon me. I lie in my own blood with two holes in my chest, ready to embrace death and feel nothing but regrets. Questions. Answers. They rise and sink so quickly...and pointlessly. It’s funny to feel such a torment of thoughts and emotions when nothing matters any more. I close my eyes but start to see clearly. What I see is my life. It runs before my eyes with most subtle details.
People used to say mean things to me when I was a kid. They kept saying I was a needle in the ass since I was asking way too many questions. I was cunning and curious, but in a bad way, too smart for my own good. But there were things I couldn't get, no matter how many times they were explained. Such as, why would older kids smoke if it’s bad for their health? Why do people dislike to study when it’s so interesting to learn something novel? Why would they hit me so often? Why would they act stupid? Why are they so weak minded and weak willed? I actually got my answers, but much later. If I was given a choice of what to eat, burger or an apple, I would choose an apple. I cared for consequences, you see. And I was only four. I came to conclusion that it’s me who is weird. This thought sunk in and became a red line of my life.
Life was not kind to me in an orphanage. Weak people tend to gather in groups under the idea of supporting each other. To me, it looked like they gave up on their freedom to follow whoever was stronger or lied more conveniently. I could care for myself, so I thought, and remained out of their petty struggle, books were more interesting anyway. You can guess what happens to lone bookworms, right? They get beaten. The older I grew, the harsher the beating got.
I started to live on the street after running away from an orphanage. No one missed me, neither did I. No one loved me, so I didn’t love too. Surviving was hard then, but it helped me to mature quickly. I learned how to set goals and how to reach them. I started to use weaknesses of others to earn money. Buy something generally useless cheap, wrap it in fancy taping, then sell it. This worked especially good with women. After seeing a twelve years old kid selling something glittering they were so happy to part with their money I almost felt bad for them. I was grateful though, since they allowed me to survive. Even more so, I bought my first flat at sixteen, founded my first company at eighteen, became a billionaire at twenty six. Two add two is three when you buy and five when you sell. I was always on the move, always learning something, working harder than anyone. I wasn’t happy, but I had no time to feel sad. Only by action could I prove my existence.
I looked at masses and frustration grew day by day .People tend to spend their evenings glued to TV, get fat because of their own laziness, tend to blame their problems on muslims, jews, terrorists or whoever is on the other side of our planet. Any psycho out there could buy a gun and start killing left and right, but what bothers general populace is so much further from real danger. They eat junk food, pollute nature, consume with no end….all that felt like pure madness. Don’t they feel like wasting their genotype? Thinking shouldn’t be that painful, right? I was forced to talk to them from time to time because of my work, but each time I encountered either idiocy, or meaningless blabbering about weather and such. The worst thing was, they always wanted something from me and newer wanted to give something back. There was no depth, no order in their actions. I felt insulted. By whom? By society itself, I guess. Silly, right?
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
In the end I took it as my duty to rob them from their money, I could use it so much more efficiently anyway. All of my income was spent on science and development of pollution-free technologies. Hundreds of billions, year by year…that’s what I call money well spent. I met few individuals with the same mindset. They were not friends, but people I could respect at least. That’s when I discovered how lonely I was. Another kind of questions started to appear. What am I struggling for? Is there someone who’s grateful for what I do? But there was no one.
I started to loose it after thirty two. Deep in my heart grew a trembling question I could newer answer….what was it all for? All my energy left without trace. I started to seclude myself only getting out to fetch few more books. One day, after returning from a bookstore, I saw a man in my room. He was holding my copy of “On the Road” by J.K.
“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Swift. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Waiting for me? I don’t believe we met before. Will you speak on behalf of someone else?”
“Both yes and no. A certain someone wants you dead, you see. I’m afraid I’m here to take your life. Don’t bother screaming or running away, you did well by secluding yourself, Mr. Swift. It’s been a bother to find you.”
“So how did you find me? And who that certain someone is?”
“Many companies and corporations suffered looses because of you and your….social activity. You have many enemies, Mr. Swift. The ideas you tried to implement are way ahead of their time, if you ask me. Your secretary kindly told us your location.”
“Stella? Did you hurt her?”
“No! Of course not. Quite the contrary, we paid her. She won’t need to work ever again.”
Long silence hanged in the air. I tried to think my way out, but couldn’t. Nothing has changed since the time in orphanage, as if I never left it. History is decided by few individuals that don’t give a fuck about consequences. Others have no will to oppose them, or wits to outbest them. There was but one thing left to do…
“I have but one question left. Who was I doing it for?”
“Who would you do it for, if not for yourself, Mr. Swift?”
“I’m not selfish.”
“Human are selfish, it’s in their nature. You should have been too. Aren’t you an odd one?”
“…”
“Good night, Mr. Swift.”
BANG
Pain. Regrets. I still don’t know if I did it all wrong. Maybe if I had another chance…Maybe then…….maybe…..
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PS. Thanks for reading! Tell me if his reasoning is clear. I wonder if his story is believable.