2.5) Only People Can Care

Julian sat with Atlas on the relatively empty bus, in an effort to get Atlas off the streets and somewhere safe for the night. In the end, the homeless shelter was the only place he could send him–he couldn’t give a stranger he found off the streets so much of his trust, especially when that stranger could clearly overpower him if he wanted to.

Then again, even now, the man who sat next to him didn’t feel like a homeless person. He was starting to think that Atlas was actually some kind of college athlete that got drunk and ended up on the street. But that didn’t make sense, either: Atlas didn’t reek of alcohol. In fact, he didn’t smell like anything. And he wasn’t even dirty. He was almost sparkly, not from sweat, but from the apparent high quality of his skin.

It was strange. He was almost inhuman, yet he exhibited no hostile behavior. He was almost like a docile dog who just did what he was told to do. As if he had nothing better to do. Was he just someone who forfeited the rest of his existence in the face of the apocalypse? Was that what he was doing in the alleyway? Giving up?

Julian felt a need to ask.

“Say. I have something that I’m curious about.”

“Yes?” Atlas responded without turning his head away from the window.

“What are you… what are you going to do with the rest of your life?” he asked carefully.

“Nothing,” Atlas responded. “Nothing at all.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, confused. “What do you mean nothing? You have three whole weeks left of life and you want to do nothing?”

“I just want to sleep.”

He sighed. “You gotta be joking. Aren’t there things you want to do?”

“Not really...”

Julian crossed his arms in disbelief. Atlas was giving him so little information that it was impossible to even try and lecture him to rethink how he thought. It wasn’t really his business to pry, but seeing someone so blatantly have no desires for the future made him uncomfortable.

“... And you, Julian? What do you expect to get out of the rest of your life?”

He blinked at the sudden personal question. And in that instant, Julian realized that he didn’t know what to do with the rest of his life. In a way, Julian was no better than Atlas. In fact, perhaps Atlas had more things figured out–at least Atlas knew what he wanted.

But surely, surely, there were things Julian wanted to do at the end of the world.

Julian took out his phone and opened his notes. For a few moments, he drew blanks, but after typing “skydiving with friends” onto the blank note, ideas began flowing out from his fingers.

Atlas interrupted his thoughts, staring into his phone. “So skydiving was your idea. Not hers.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

Julian mumbled as he continued typing. “Grilling on top of a tall building with friends… walking to the end of an aqueduct with a friend… bringing Mary back home to Mom and Dad…”

He turned off his screen after listing about twelve things in total. “Well, there you have it. I could probably think of more things to do, but I’ll stop here for now. I’ll just add things as I think of them.”

“It seems that a lot of these are group activities.”

Julian looked at Atlas, then looked back down onto the phone. “Huh. You’re right. I guess so.”

“It wasn’t intentional?”

“No, I guess not. But maybe it means something. Still, it’s gonna be hard to do most of these. I wonder how I’m gonna get people together.”

Atlas didn’t respond, instead staring at him.

Julian spoke. “Okay, look, I always have trouble making plans. It’s not like I’m a loner.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“And that’s why I’m saying something–because you're just staring at me." He sighed and fidgeted with his phone. "I’m actually an introvert like you, you know? I also prefer not to say much, so if you literally say nothing and I also say nothing, we’ll all just sit here without talking."

“Okay.”

“Yeah…”

Julian’s brain paused. “No, wait, you’re supposed to try harder, not give up.”

Atlas sighed. “Very well. Here’s a question: if no one wants to do these things with you, then what will you do?”

“Uh… well.” He rubbed his chin with his knuckles. “Actually, that’s a good question.” He wasn't expecting Atlas to be capable of quickly producing such contemplative thoughts. It was almost as if Atlas had the question already prepared.

“Are these activities not doable on their own?” Atlas added. “You can camp alone, walk alone, skydive alone.”

Julian scratched his head. Maybe objectively, there was no difference between doing these things with others or without others...

... But he just wouldn’t care if he did those activities alone. Skydiving alone wouldn’t be fun, camping alone wouldn’t be fun, walking alone wouldn’t be fun. These just weren’t activities he enjoyed alone. And perhaps that was okay–but it felt that he was losing something by doing it alone. As if what he was putting into the activity was not being returned in full. Perhaps, to him, the activity itself wasn’t reward; the reward was being able to share the experience with someone else.

Julian slowly opened his mouth, trying to articulate his answer. “Atlas, I think… the only thing that can truly return the care you give to the world is another living being.”

Atlas quietly stared into Julian’s eyes, then looked back into the window, putting his elbow at the bottom of the frame and staring outside.

Julian continued, undeterred by his silence. “And you asked me what I would do if no one wanted to do these things with me… Well, I don’t mind just spending the rest of my days with my family. Even if it turned out that all of my friends didn’t care for me, I still have my parents. I still have Mary. And I’m sure they’d put up with my antics at the end of the world.”

Atlas continued looking out the window. Julian couldn’t tell if Atlas was satisfied with the answer he had reached, but from seeing his reflection, Julian could tell that Atlas looked a bit melancholic. Julian decided not to say anything more, unsure whether or not he should press the topic without knowing how the conversation was affecting Atlas.

He turned his phone on once more and stared at the bucket list. Most of these were practically impossible for him to do in the upcoming weeks. Same for the other ideas he had in mind.

Still, Julian Everhart continued writing his bucket list of things that he wanted to do before he died. Maybe, just maybe, his fleeting wishes would mean something, one day.