Fountain of Youth

Part I

       It was a cold morning, I watched my breathe leave my lips like a spirit floating towards the ripening sun, as the trees in the dense forest began to take form and become individuals.  The birds were chasing the indecisive wind and everyone was asleep but me, my mind was restless.

       It’s a strange sensation when one looks back at what used to be, how memories can play like ghosts appearing and disappearing, leaving you and you alone to decide their existence. I've lived on this settlement for three years now. Today, there are two hundred of us, the population was five thousand when I first arrived.

       Many reasons can be given to leave this place. It does get lonely, every day can seem like an existential crisis as you fight with the ever painful "why?"  Food is sometimes so scarce and the pain of hunger so great that you begin to think of death playfully, and consider the nutritional quality and sustenance of human flesh. It is difficult, and one must truly believe in their reasons for staying or they simply won’t. When the night speaks its nostalgic whispers and time like a deceitful poet romanticizes your past, you have to know why.

       Before I arose I was dreaming once again of my mother, replaying the scene of the last time I saw her as she stood in front of the running sink by the window. I begged her to come with me, I told her that if she drank of that cup, nothing would be the same. She didn't listen. She turned and stared blankly into my eyes as if she were looking past me--as if she died with her eyes open--as if I were never her son, and time had already taken everything.  "I'm sorry Lee, but you must go...I'm not going with you."

       Thoughts can easily slip away if you’re not paying attention. To be honest, I have considered leaving many times, but there is no leaving, there is no-thing outside of this settlement for me or for anyone.

       This is home now.

        I saw John walk out of his tent and look contemplatively at the surrounding landscape as if he were always meant to be here.  He started  towards me.
     
       As the voted leader and one of the longest dwellers of the settlement he was our voice to the outside world.  There was a time when there were still people left to be convinced,  people that had not yet taken the fatal drink.  He was a missionary for a different cause, a prophet of life. But that time is gone, now we cower in appointed settlements and live silence.  We are the only ones left.


Part II

      As he approached I remained seated plucking grass from the ground.  "How are things?" he asked in an almost ironic way, knowing how 'things' were, I could only assume he asked this to see how close we were from breaking completely.  "I'm fine."

"They won't let up." He said with his head down and eyes fixated on the same grass.

"What do you mean?"

"The secretary is coming today, and from what I understand there's been a change in policy."

"What kind of change?"

He moved his gaze towards the clouds and watched a flock of birds practice formations in the cool morning air.

       That's one thing about this place.  Although it seems an island from the world it is beautiful, it is peaceful, it reminds you every day of what life is. "The kind of change that we've expected, I just didn't think it would arrive so soon."

       As the words left his mouth I felt a heavy sickness in my stomach, the same a suicidal jumper feels for that one second right before he makes the leap—not the anticipatory anxiety before the decision, but the morbid acceptance afterwards of a soul that has lost all hope.  I knew what kind of change he meant. I could see it in his eyes.

       The silence was a thick cloud casting over us, I searched my mind for something to say.  Before I could speak he asked, "You believe we're right, don't you? That this is worth it?"

        I could see the shame in his face, and the fear in his clenched jaw.  I read once that when the gods fall they don't just fall a little, they crash.  And we can make our feeble attempts to build them back, but it's never quite the same. I wondered if he was bracing for the fall.  He looked at me then looked away then back at me, waiting for my response like a child asking an adult something difficult, and the adult has to think on their feet to make up an adequate response in a timely manner.  I understood he was human, and had a right to the same fear, the same questions, but I would be lying if I said that his questioning didn't affect me.  I thought about the others, how they would feel if they saw this moment of weakness.

       I considered his question.  Was it worth it?  Ever since the Fountain of Youth was discovered I have been so against eternal life that I never opened myself to the cold possibility of the alternative.

       Somehow in the midst of chaotic thoughts something in me spoke aloud, "There's nothing else, but this."  He shook his head in tragic agreement, I don't even know if I truly believed it, but something in me did.

       I knew that if nothing died nothing mattered, that the ephemerality of existence made existence, and perpetual life would destroy everything that made life worth living.  I knew this.  But it's easy to believe something in the private safety of your own thoughts, but when big bad death calls you out in the middle of the night, and tells you the answer it wants to hear and yours does not agree, do you change it?

       I remember the first person I saw who drank from the fountain.  He was an old man with shaking hands and no family.  He transformed in front of our eyes to his younger self, virile and strong, and so to be forever.  He seemed content to arrive once again at youth, but something was lacking—it wasn't until years later I realized that it was his soul.  That is why John began the crusade against this fountain, and why many others including me, followed.  At first it was to prevent others from losing life by killing death, but by now, with everyone else gone except for this small band of humans, it's about saving ourselves.

       I wish I could have told him that, but I didn't and I couldn't.  I was too afraid to think, and after a moment more of silence he smiled and patted me on the shoulder, “You’re a good man. I’m going to go tell the others.”


Part III

       Ominous clouds of dust rose and darkened the noon sun, in its midst appeared thirty black vehicles moving in a single row. Their arrival interrupted John in mid-sentence as he and the rest of the group turned and watched with fear and confusion on each face, in each eye.

       When the cars came to a complete stop, men with weapons multiplied out of of them except for one, the Secretary held no weapon. And as he stepped out of the car he looked around in condescending contentment, like a nobleman who just purchased a peasants farm.

       He walked toward John with an outstretched hand at least ten feet away until he reached him. John returned the gesture as the Secretary spoke, “Good to see you as always, John.” John smiled and nodded his head, “You as well. I must admit, I’m surprised that you have visited us so soon.” The crowed watched in silent caution, the armed guards, stood with the stone faces of youth eternal.

“Well, you know as well as I do that when the Leader makes a decision, regardless of how hastily, I must send the message and ensure its implementation in equal manner.” John nodded.
“I see everyone is well cared for,” the Secretary said, as he assessed the crowd.
“As well as they can be, given the circumstances.”
“Perhaps we should speak in private, John.”

       As soon as he spoke these words, and God be my witness, three crows cawed in the distant sky in the bleak and heavy silence, and as the dust settled you could see their silhouette floating away into another place. In the ancient world the caw of three crows was an omen of death, and it required a lamb to be burned alive as propitiation--to send death away for a later time. That was a long ago, but one can’t help but feel like the lamb in this world, waiting to warm the cold chill of death.
John looked at the others and smiled, “It’ll be ok, just finish eating and I’ll return shortly.”

       They stepped inside of the tent and John offered the Secretary something to drink, he laughed, “That's the thing about being eternal, John, there’s little need for refreshment or pleasantries.”
“Why have you come here?”
“Our Leader has decided to make some changes, at first I’m sure they will seem drastic, but with time you and your people will understand that it is necessary,” he sat down. John still standing began to pace and become heated as if someone lit a fire inside of him.
“Well get on with it,” he spoke abruptly.

“Think of this, when the first human had the first thought, whenever and however it occurred, a concrete and visual thought, it began a cycle of consciousnesses that would burden every single person that was ever born from that point forward.
“Now to be fair, this created some positive affects. We began to express things such as love, compassion and excitement. But something was born that day, something dark and faceless, like the shadow of a ghost, fear. And ever since, mankind has struggled to suppress it, to free themselves from it.
“Tell me John, do you know what all fear has in common?” John stood in silence.
“Every fear from spiders to heights, and the night with its monsters--all of this linked to a common ancestor, death. What the Fountain truly provided us with, was the freedom from fear.”
“And love, and compassion” John added.
“Yes,” the Secretary said, “But you really don’t miss those things.”
“Why are you saying this?” John asked, “You know, you have known where we stand.”
“I know, but things have changed. The Leader sees it more crucial now than ever, that you and your followers join us back in civilization, with your families and loved ones, to drink from the Fountain. What you are too blind from pride to see is that this is for your good. Don’t you want to return home? Free from time and age, from death. No more hiding, no more running.”

       John looked at the ground silently for some time, then spoke, “We came here, because we would rather be afraid than loveless, would rather die than live forever, like a star in perpetual burn never to be relieved by the dimming of its own light.”
“You came here today, but why? Soon enough we will all be gone, our bones settled in the dirt with our stories and memories buried with us.”
The Secretary looked away in disappointment. He picked up the hourglass John brought from his old life, he turned it upside down.


“I've been sent here to make sure that it ends with you.”