Season 1, Episode 3 - The Ring Dings XV - "The Secret Origin of Roman Julian, Part 2"

----------------------------------------

Roman knew the three Cambridge High students took a particular back-alley through Kendall Bridge on their way back to the dorms from the arcades in Squanto Bank Shopping Complex. With the night sky above him, Roman also knew that this pathway, which went through a few a few seedy bars and below a bridge near the bank of the Charles River, would be quiet and most importantly, unwatched.

Roman sat below a tree, its leaves rustling above him with the warmth of late spring. He took another beating for not finishing the landscaping, he took another beating after that for good measure, but now, now was the time to even things out.

Below leaving that night, Roman finished another training session with the man he simply called Sensei. The man in the white trenchcoat was certainly a good teacher; Roman knew he genuinely cared for the well-being and education of others.

Roman struggled to describe it. Or maybe not really. In this industrial society, man was a cog in the uncaring machine known as the state and its society. But his Sensei...he understood the individual. He understood every individual.

And the power he possessed! Roman flexed his hand in the darkness. He only had a fraction of Sensei's power...but thanks to his teachings in the last week, he had grown in strength ten times over.

The lessons didn't even involve techniques or practice. His after-school lectures with Sensei involved matters of the mind, matters of the heart, and a dash of Stoicism and Nichiren Buddhism for good measure.

"One day, the individual shall have the same power as the state," Sensei explained in an abandoned shack along the Charles at their first session. "Because the individual shall become the state. There won't be a struggle between the desires of the state and the desires of the individual because they will become one and the same. Truly. But that can only arise when the individual has control over himself. We, as modern society, lack control of ourselves. That's what allows the state to gain control over us. But if we all become strong – culling the weak in the process – we shall become a people with total self-control. And when that day arises, the state will become a true collection of individuals."

Roman listened with rapt attention. "I have no power to change anything," he said.

"Yet," Sensei answered. "First, you must gain the power to change yourself."

"How?" Roman asked. "My life's not my own. I go to school, I go to work, I get pushed around, I'll work until I die."

"That's the prevailing attitude," Sensei said, "But that doesn't mean the correct one. Tell me, does the government control your mindset?"

"My mindset?"

"Can the government control your thoughts?"

"Well...they try to."

"That's the point. Try. They won't succeed until you let them. Our first lesson will be regaining control of your own mind."

"How do I do that?"

Sensei smiled. "I admit, the feeling of lacking control due to being pushed around as you say, that's a natural feeling. But you must overcome it. Life may push you around, but your mind shall remain your own. Overcome that feeling with your own willpower. Your time may be theirs, but your mind is your own."

Roman didn't understand. "And how do I do that?"

"We'll start simply," Sensei said. "Deep breaths and meditation. While you may not speak freely in public, you may think freely in your own mind space. And once everyone understands that, we may all work to regain our ability to speak freely."

Sensei sat cross-legged on the dirt floor. "Close your eyes. Focus on your breathing. Your breathing is your own as well. Breathing may very well be the biggest proof of your control. It's proof that you are alive. Focus on it. Let thoughts drift and pass. Focus on owning your breathing."

Roman shrugged and sat cross-legged as well. He closed his eyes and took deep, steady breaths.

Am I supposed to be feeling anything? This is all a waste of time, isn't it? What the hell am I doing? Why am I here with a strange guy in a rundown shack talking about political theory?

"I bet your wondering why you're here," Sensei supposed.

"You're not wrong," Roman answered.

"Why are you here?"

"I have nothing better to do."

"Really? Did that abstract 'nothing better to do' will your feet to my shack today? You had no obligation to be here. Who made you take that first step?"

"...I did."

"Of your own free will and power?"

"Of my own free will and power," Roman realized.

My own free will and power.

The loud sounds of conversation brought Roman out of his reflection. Down below him, about to pass below the bridge under the cover of darkness, walked the three Cambridge High students, the tall Frederick in the center. Roman frowned as he listened to their conversation. It concerned material things, a watch Frederick would ask his father to buy for him, a girl who gave one of them the phone number to her dorm.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Don't they see we're in the midst of a struggle for civilization itself?

As the three passed directly below the bridge, Roman rose and slid down the grassy bank, arriving on the walkway behind them. His sudden movements made the three turn around; they were completely under the bridge, a wide stone construct that covered them in pitch blackness.

"Ah, look who it is," Frederick snickered. His two followers laughed. "Got something to say?" he taunted.

Roman did, in fact, have a lot to say. He learned a lot in the past week. From Plato: how the soul was indominable. From Marcus Aurelius: how it's disgraceful for the soul to give up while the body was still strong. And from himself: how his own soul was strong, how every step belonged to him, from the brain's commands down to the muscles and tendons of the knee. His soul was his own as well. School could tell him to go a particular class, work could tell him to go to a particular customer, the government could tell him to go to a particular rally, but each individual footstep, each thought, each grin or frown or his sight of the way birds glided over the trees, that was his own.

Did those three understand that? Could they understand that? Could they begin to understand how to take the first steps toward a new world of their own creation?

"I'll give you guys a choice," Roman said, his voice firm with strength. "You aren't awake. Fully awake. You're sleepwalking through a dream, and unless you join me, that's how you'll die. You'll go through life without ever making the grand realization, the Satori, that awakens you. I'll make this offer once."

Roman extended his hand. "Join me."

Frederick and his friends shared weird glances, then Frederick shrugged. He strode over toward Roman and extended his own hand – just to smack away Roman's.

"What's gotten into you?" Frederick questioned, staring down at the shorter Roman. "We beat you so hard you lost your senses? Join a cult or something? They say the poor are particularly vulnerable to demagogues and populists."

"This isn't a class thing," Roman explained, still calm. A week ago, he would've gave in and cowered, but his emotions – those were his own as well, no matter the circumstances the world may offer him. "This is a human matter."

"Human?" Frederick looked back at his friends and the three shared a laugh. "I'll tell you what this is. I don't care for you. I don't care for gutter rats who stink and sleaze their way out of the Neponset ghettos into my school. The Cambridge High administrators open up their school to the poor, for what? Because you have potential? Do you really think you have potential?"

Frederick leaned on Roman's shoulder. "Cambridge High recruits from Neponset and the other slums as a marketing ploy. Nothing more. Oh, we'll take your best and brightest, and you'll take our products and services. Half of the neighborhoods in Neponset are owned by Squanto Bank now. Oh, but you made it, didn't you? A poor kid who made it big. It's all PR and it's all marketing. Nothing more. You think they give a shit about you at Cambridge? They don't. You're there just to make the checks a little bigger, make some people feel better about themselves."

Frederick pointed a finger in Roman's face. "I have potential. People from real families have potential. You have nothing besides the things we give you."

Roman took the verbal assault mutely, replaying his last conversation with Sensei before heading out that night.

"What will you do with them?" Sensei asked as Roman gathered his things.

Roman flexed his fist. "I'll talk with them. And I'll see what they have to say."

"And if they say something you don't like?"

Roman smiled. "Then they'll be among the culled."

Roman nodded and left the shack. Outside, he took a deep breath, taking in the moment. The moment was his and his alone, after all.

"Take care, Roman," Sensei called out. "Take care to recognize that all individuals have the potential to take control of their own lives as well. The same goes for the three students. You must very carefully consider the consequences of taking control of their lives as well."

Roman nodded confidently. "Thanks for all your help, Sensei."

Taking control of their lives.

I offered, Roman thought on the river bank, Frederick taunting him. I offered them a way out. They have no control over themselves. They're blinded by the greed and prejudice of modern society. Manmukhs. Slaves to desire, blind to the world beyond. I was too, and I got out through education.

Roman smirked and flexed his fist. Unfortunately, they're among the people who can't be educated.

Frederick shoved Roman to the ground. "Are you do anything about that today?" he asked.

Roman smiled. "From now on, I'm going to do something about that every day."

Roman reached into his pocket and clenched his fist, a spark of Rddhi appearing in it.

Dozens of holes suddenly appeared in Frederick's body. He looked down, unable to comprehend what happened. He stumbled around as blood streamed out from multiple spots in his chest, thighs, and arms. He looked at his friends and tried to reach out, but he collapsed on the pathway.

The two friends breathed heavily, shaking. Dozens of similar holes appeared in the taller one; he collapsed weakly, crying to his death.

That left the last one. As Roman rose and approached him, he stumbled and fell on his back.

"Please, please," he begged. "I always thought Frederick went too far-"

Dozens of holes appeared in his head. His body went limp.

All was quiet below the bridge.

Sensei appeared on the other side of the bridge. He looked over at the carnage.

"Sensei?" Roman asked. "You were here too?"

"I wanted to see what you would do," Sensei answered. "You don't seem particularly distressed."

"This...this is power," Roman answered, looking down at his hands. "This is what it means to have control of your life. Of your own destiny. Or rather...this is the logical next step. Once you've organized your own affairs, it only makes sense to organize the affairs of others."

He nodded at his Sensei. "Because we know, right? We know how things work. How they should work. We should uplift all those who can be educated...and destroy those who are hopeless."

Sensei nodded. "These three were pitiful." But he looked at Roman sternly. "This shall be my last lesson for tonight. We are the next step for humanity. Because you're right. We do know better. We have a duty to educate those who are willing, and to destroy those who are not."

Sensei looked at the dark waters of the Charles River. "But heavy is the head who wears the crown. We have a duty to society and civilization. We should not treat controlling the destinies of others as a plaything. You must think very carefully before taking any lives. Once you take them, that's it. There's no coming back. Do not take our responsibility to ensure a better tomorrow lightly."

"I promise, Sensei."

The two looked at the bodies.

"Let's clean this up, shall we?" Sensei proposed.

----------------------------------------

"Tragedy out of Kendall Bridge," Reed's radio dutifully reported as she lazed around on her floor. "Three Cambridge High students were found dead in the Charles River this morning. Due to the high alcohol levels in their blood, it is believed they fell into the river late last night and drowned. Police haven't ruled out foul play, but the initial autopsies report no signs of a struggle or bodily wounds..."

"Boring," Reed mumbled. She reached up to change the radio station, but the knob was just out of reach.

Her arm fell back to her side in defeat.

"Goddamnit..."