2.2) Who Am I?

Atlas didn’t feel the need to stay in the alleyway any longer. The bread the boy had given him was tasty–it was a better sensation than his body cooling from lying flat on the ground. There was no point in staying down when he remembered that there were better things out there.

So eventually, he stood up and began walking out of the alleyway and into the light. And for the first time since his return to Earth, he saw the blue sky. His mind could process every small detail of the clouds’ slow movement, with a second’s worth of information seeming to stretch into minutes or perhaps even hours.

It was the same blue sky that he had seen what seemed to be an eternity ago, and a wave of nostalgia washed over him, despite not remembering much of his past. Then, Atlas began walking in the direction that the boy had seemed to have gone.

Atlas couldn’t help but be impressed by the grand architecture of the city. The buildings shot up to the sky, standing like colossal monoliths–they seemed like unshakable pillars that the gods themselves had built and placed onto the ground, ignoring the uneven terrain.

Yet, it was so different from what he had known.

Thirty-two years…

He looked into a nearby window of a tall building, where there was no light inside. And within the darkness, he could see that an unfamiliar person was looking back at him.

The man dressed in shabby clothing had the stature of an Olympian, and his skin was slightly dark–but it was unlike any regular skin color. It was as if he was made out of bronze. And his hair was white.

Atlas moved his hand to his chin to think, and the man in the reflection moved accordingly. After a second of mild surprise, he realized that the man in the reflection was none other than himself.

Who is this? Who… am I?

He touched his skin, and he felt no warmth. He was cold. It did not bother him, but it seemed that his body was failing to radiate any form of heat. As if his body was not alive at all. In a way, it really wasn’t alive, in the sense that it could not be physically killed.

He touched his white hair that visually looked straight, and it felt wrong. His hair felt too strong and rigid compared to its soft and silky appearance. And his eyes were blue. Unnaturally blue, like the color of a bright sky.

He sighed, realizing that there was no way to figure out who he used to be. Even if his family and friends were still alive, they would not recognize this person he saw in the mirror.

To make it worse, the world itself was unrecognizable to him. Everything had changed, so he had no way of knowing what happened to the locations and people he knew in the past. And he wasn't confident in the memories he believed to have successfully retained from the past–there was no way to check if his mind had made them up in the thirty-two years he spent without interacting with civilization.

He looked away from the reflection, then continued walking in the direction he assumed the boy had gone.

He walked down a path where the shadows of the trees blocked his skin from the warmth of the sun. There, he paused in front of a sign that read: Please do not ride your scooters or bicycles! Please step off for the students on foot!!!

He looked around. There was no one here to read the sign besides him.

At the end of the path, the trees cleared up, and he was greeted by a vast field of grass to his left. It was obvious to him that the boy had not walked in the direction of the field, but he decided that it wouldn’t hurt to take a stop.

He climbed over the short wall, his body creaking as he did, and then walked to the center of the grass field, looking up at the sky once more.

In the end, the sky was the only thing that remained the same as he remembered it to be; the only thing that seemed to have waited for his return after all this time.

So, the question that now crossed his mind was whether or not he should care. Everyone from his time was either old and unrecognizable or dead. There was no time for him to rediscover who he was, or begin his life anew in this world. Everything was going to end soon if he didn’t return to that lonely place and pick up where he had left off, but he knew that if he returned now, nothing would change. His motivation to fight was gone: at his current state, he could only buy these people a few more months or weeks. And even if he somehow bought them a hundred or a thousand years, that’s all it was to him now–just a few more years for people to live and then inevitably die.

His power was infinite, but his will certainly was not. He had fought an unwinnable battle against the thoughtless collapse of the universe. He couldn’t defy that end result; the universe’s destiny was to end. All he had to do was give up and wait for everything to return to zero. Peace would automatically follow.

He took off his tattered clothes, tossed them to the side, and laid down, basking in the warmth of the sun.

Maybe he had done enough. Maybe all he needed to do now was to rest, and accept the end of the world as it is. There was no need to fight any longer. He had done enough. It felt too good to just lie here.

He closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep once more. But soon after, Atlas heard two pairs of footsteps approach him, the grass beneath them crunching in a rhythm. He didn’t react.

“So it is you,” Julian’s voice said. “I didn’t expect you to leave the alleyway and come all the way here in that state. But I’m glad I saw you. Look, I got clothes for you...”

Atlas didn’t open his eyes. “Thanks, but I’m fine just like this.”

“What? Aren’t you cold?”

“It’s quite warm.”

“Well, let me ask in a different way: aren’t you, you know, embarrassed?” Julian asked.

“What do I have to be embarrassed about?”

“You know, being naked in the middle of our football field?” Julian scratched his head. “Anyone could take a picture of you and post it all over the internet.”

“I don’t care.”

Then, Atlas heard someone else laugh. Out of curiosity, Atlas slowly creaked opened his heavy eyes and took a peek at the person who had accompanied Julian. It was a girl, wearing baggy clothes, who had a face reminiscent of Julian’s. And as his eyes met hers, neither one of them broke eye contact.

“Well, Julian. This one seems to be more peculiar than your other friends. I like him,” she said in an amused tone.

“You… what?” Julian asked.

Atlas watched as the girl laid down just about a meter away from himself.

“Wh-what are you doing, Mary?” Julian asked.

“Come on, Julian. It’s the end of the world. Just lie down and relax. Your friend here has the right idea,” she said. Then, she took a deep breath and let it all go with a smile on her face.

“Uh, no thanks. I’d rather not.”

“Fine. Then just stand there, while we lie here comfortably,” she said, closing her eyes.

“Oh, come on. You’re not making me lie down that easily,” Julian said.

Atlas gave one last look at Julian, who was stubbornly standing with his arms crossed, then closed his eyes as well.

Seconds passed. Atlas could occasionally hear Julian kick the grass impatiently and mumble to himself. Eventually, Julian let out a defeated sigh and lay down on Atlas's other side.

Atlas further relaxed, no longer being kept alert by Julian's movements. There was no need to fight any longer, he reminded himself once more. I’ve done enough. It feels so good to just lie here. So, so good…

And for the first time in thirty-two years, silence returned to his mind, finally allowing him to fall asleep.