3.5) Idealism I ~ Promise of a Greater World

That day, it was Abigail who quietly followed Victor after school. She quietly walked behind Victor, not sure how to engage him in a conversation. She hadn’t properly conversed with the boy in her entire life, after all.

Then, Victor stopped walking, causing Abigail to slightly stumble and catch herself from the sudden change in speed.

The boy nervously opened his mouth. “Um…”

“Yeah?”

“Are… you going to beat me up, or something?” His hands were fidgeting with the strap of his backpack.

Abigail blinked, then laughed. “What? Of course not. No, no… Uh… Well, I just wanted to follow you.”

“Why?... Are you going to kidnap me?” he asked.

“What? No, dude, I was just, well,” she scratched her head. “I was just curious about you.”

Victor’s face lit up. “Curious? About me?”

“Ugh, don’t make it say it twice, you wimp.”

“W-wimp?” Victor fidgeted, and Abigail cringed, knowing what usually followed.

She sighed. “Okay, you’re not a wimp. God, you’re so weak.”

“W-weak?”

“Enough. I don’t want to make you cry, okay? That’s not why I’m here. I want to hear you talk.”

Victor’s face brightened again. “Really? No one seems to want to hear me talk.”

She sighed. “Maybe they’d like you better if you stopped interrupting the class whenever you disagreed with the teacher.”

“O-oh… No one’s ever told me that… Thanks for letting me know.”

Is he stupid?

***

Eventually, Victor brought her to a park.

The ferns were overgrown; the drinking fountain had spider-webs stretching across them. It didn’t look like anyone visited the park frequently.

He creaked open the gates, and ran to the nearby swing set and threw his backpack down.

Abigail stood still by the gate. She didn’t exactly want to go into such an open, exposed space. And she felt stupid as she imagined spending time with this boy at a swing set. She was thirteen; old enough to not use swings to pass the time. At least, that was what she believed.

Still, there was a new, strange feeling within her heart that prompted her to go forward. So she did; she walked up to the swing set and put her bag down, and took her place on the seat next to his.

Then, he spoke. “I… always wanted to come here with someone.”

“Don’t make this weird, Victor Truman.”

“I… I mean it, though. I always wanted to sit here in this swing next to someone who wanted to talk to me.”

“I never said I wanted to talk to you. I said I want to hear you talk.”

“You would have to ask me what to talk about, and asking me means talking to me, so…”

She shot him a glare. “Save it, smartass.”

He quickly nodded.

She sighed, then looked up at the orange sky. It seemed that the day was coming to an end, and she didn’t exactly want to spend more time with the boy than she had to.

“Just tell me one thing, Victor.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Why did you do it? What was the point of bothering the teacher to the point you got him to admit that he didn’t like what he was saying?”

“Well, it’s because…”

As Victor paused, she turned to look at him, tired of waiting for answers. “Because what?”

“... Because I knew that he, too, wanted to be saved.”

“What?”

He spoke gently. “Deep down, everyone wants to be saved. Even you, Abigail.”

She frowned. “You don’t know me.”

“But I know enough about human nature to make this claim,” he said, gently rocking his seat back and forth.

Idiot. Saying things like that doesn’t make you sound more mature.

She sighed. “But you don’t really know how bad things are in reality, do you? And besides, even if you were right, it’s impossible for everyone to be saved.”

“You’re right, Abigail. I get that. But still… I don’t think it’s wrong for me to believe that things should be different.

Victor leaned forward on his swing seat, resting his chin on his interlocked hands. “Should we just… accept others’ suffering just because it’s impossible to change the world and help everyone?”

“Well, yeah. If it’s impossible, why try?” Abigail said, seeing it as a black and white problem.

“You say that, but… can I, Victor Truman, live with the fact that I abandoned any and all hope of changing the world? Will I be satisfied with that? Can I be happy, ignoring the suffering of others?”

Victor closed his eyes. “No. I just… can’t. I can’t tell myself that this is how the world should be. It is what it is, yes, but telling myself to accept that it should be this way…? I just can’t.”

Victor looked up and turned his head to Abigail. “I may be too young to understand this world, but… I can’t tell myself that this is how the world should be. It should be something else. Something more beautiful. Something that causes less pain–something that causes more joy…!”

Abigail did not speak. She was stunned by his sudden burst of naivety, and was too curious to interrupt his thoughts. And he sounded so passionate and engrossed about what he was saying that she would feel stupid if she retorted now.

“The world shouldn’t be this way. We shouldn’t have to hate or kill anyone–anything. We shouldn’t have to destroy lives to continue living. There should be no predator or prey. Our actions and inactions shouldn’t cause suffering to others. The people who live hellish lives should not have to suffer, wondering why no one helps them from above… while you and I should be able to enjoy our school life without looking around and realizing that we’re living in a world built on others’ suffering.”

He clenched the chains of the swing. “And I know I’m not the only one who feels this way… I can’t be. My dream must be something that is inherent in our human hearts. Something that cannot be completely denied. Deep down, I know that all of us want to live in a brighter world. Deep down, we ourselves want to be saved from this dysfunctional world. Deep down, we must believe that it should be different.”

Victor let go of the swings, gently slamming his fist into his heart. “This must be right, yes…? I’m not wrong, am I…? Because my heart tells me that I must be right.”

A moment of silence passed. Abigail kicked the sand below the swings. For a moment, it felt as if she was listening to an adult–or rather, what she imagined a mature adult to sound like.

“Should… should you really be dreaming something this big at our age?” Abigail asked, her hesitance clear in her voice. It was out of character for her to acknowledge someone else’s apparent maturity.

“... Maybe the reason why our world is so screwed up is because kids like us don’t dream big enough,” Victor responded.

Abigail unconsciously stepped a few feet back, then allowed herself to swing. A few moments passed as Abigail gained speed. It had been years since she ever used a swing, but her body seemed to be relaxing, perhaps out of old habit… or perhaps because of the world the boy made her imagine.

“Is this what you really think, Victor? Or are you just saying this to try and be some kind of messiah?”

“I’m serious. I just… I just don't want to see anyone suffer or cause suffering. Is that wrong?”

“I don’t think you’re wrong, but how are you going to approach carrying out this dream of yours?” Abigail asked, already thinking ahead.

“Well, I don’t know. I don’t… know,” Victor said, sighing, frowning, and pinching the bridge of his nose. “How can I? I’m only twelve…”

Abigail slowed her swings. “Well, looks like you need help.”

“Yeah, I guess so…” Victor looked down at the floor.

Abigail hopped off the swing, landing cleanly on the sand as the seat continued rocking back and forth. Then, she walked in front of Victor.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to lend you my help.”

“... What?” Victor asked, as he looked up at her.

What am I saying? she asked herself.

What he believed in was everything she had stopped believing in when her childhood was ripped away from her. But… for some reason, something in her heart seemed to resonate with what he was saying. As if he was right, and there really was a small hope in everyone that yearned to be rescued.

Abigail stretched her hands out, and tried to speak cooly.

“I believe in your dream, Victor. I’ll be your comrade in arms.”

“J-Just like that? I barely know you, you know.”

She blushed. “Look, don’t make this awkward. What can I say? Maybe you’re right. Maybe everyone, deep down, would agree with what you’ve said. Because I sure want to see that world of yours with my own eyes.”

He nervously laughed. “Abigail Kovacs, blushing. If anyone from school saw you now…”

“Ugh, I just said don’t make this awkward.”

Victor stared at Abigail, his disbelief still not dispelled. “But you know this dream is probably impossible, right? There’s no way we can reach an outcome where everyone is happy. Some might even consider me insane.”

“But like you said, Victor: we can believe in it. Are you really backing out now that someone actually heard you out and wants to help you?”

Victor blinked, then slowly stood up from the swing set. He stared at Abigail’s hand, still outreached in place and awaiting Victor to allow her to share that dream.

Slowly–but firmly–Victor took Abigail’s hand.

“Then it’s a promise, Victor Truman.” She closed her eyes. “Hmph... You should be celebrating. You’ve finally gained your first ally in your futile war. You’re off to a good start.”

Then, Abigail smiled for the first time since she had been robbed of her youth, and a wave of warmth washed over her as she reopened her eyes. It was as if his naivety had dragged out her own innocent self back from the void–a part of her which she had assumed to be lost for good.

Victor blinked in surprise, perhaps stunned by the sudden change in her demeanor. Then, his eyes softened as his eyes met her own. “Okay. I promise. Let’s do our best to make this world a better place to live in, for everyone… and for us.”

And as long as that promise remained etched in her heart for the difficult years that followed, Abigail Kovacs would never need any other reason to strive for a better world.