4.5) The Atlas Paradox

Atlas watched as Mary brought back two cups of boba tea to their table at a tea house she had spotted from far above. According to her wishes, he had carried her down from the rooftops and walked inside.

“Here. This one’s for you,” she said as she handed him one of the boba teas with an unopened straw. “It’s Taro. Taro milk tea. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

Atlas took the tea, then looked up to see her waiting for him expectantly to drink up. He took the straw, poked the top of the cup, and sipped. Once again, the taste was unlike anything he had consumed since his return to Earth…

…But his body remembered a similar taste. Yes. This recognition of the taste was evidence that he was once human–no, perhaps he had become human once more, now that he had remembered the most important piece of himself.

“It’s good,” he said without her prompting. “Thanks for the drink.”

She sat down across him.

“You’re very welcome,” she said with a smile, then stabbed her own cup with the straw and began drinking with a giddily silence.

His brain seemed to have slowed down ever since Mary had begun smiling. His past identity–evidently that of an idealist–seemed to have been satisfied with the results. And now he felt at peace. He still didn’t remember any specific details from his past life, but he didn’t care. This felt right. He had remembered the core of his identity: the belief that humanity fights for a better world, and that he too, would fight for a better tomorrow.

That must have been the reason why he had chosen to carry the sky, all those years ago.

And now, he felt that there was nothing left to do yet enjoy these quiet moments by the girl who allowed him to remember himself. It really did feel like this was his ticket to a new life. His chaotic mind had been silenced, now that he had rediscovered himself.

Yet something felt wrong. He had regained his humanity, yet now the chaotic emptiness was replaced with a heavy feeling in his chest. His emotional high was gone and was replaced by what could only be described as a nauseating feeling. What was it?

“... You know, Atlas.”

“Hm?” he said, brought out of his thoughts.

“You’re really good at ignoring the elephant in the room."

“Uh… There’s an elephant in the room?” That was his honest attempt at a joke, but perhaps there was an unconscious, ulterior motive behind it.

“Oh, quit it. You’re doing it even now.” she spun her cup, trying to get the tapioca pearls uncluttered at the bottom. “You’re avoiding telling me who you really are.”

She leaned forward, placing her intertwined hands onto the table. “Listen. Be honest with me. What are you? An alien? A god? Or are you secretly one of those Leviathans?”

“... What’s a Leviathan?” he asked.

“Basically real life superhumans, kinda like you. But they don’t actually have powers–they possess tools referred to as anomalies that they carry everywhere. One of them has a watch that allows them to teleport anywhere they want, another one has an axe that can cut anything in half, and another one carries a sword that can absorb and redirect kinetic energy… but I don’t think you’re carrying anything. Unless you are?”

He took another sip, then took his head.

“So you’re an alien. Like Superman.”

“No.”

“Then what? Don’t leave me in the dark here.” she said, taking a long sip from her cup.

He also took a long sip, trying to think of a way to explain who he was, to her and to himself. Piecing together memories from his hazy years of existence to his first meeting with Julian, he could answer her with the following information: he was a man who wielded infinite power to hold up the sky. In the end, there wasn’t much else he could say.

“I am… Atlas,” he said. “The man who willingly held up the sky.”

She blinked, staring at him without taking her mouth off the straw, then began coughing after forgetting to breathe.

Atlas spoke, concerned. “You okay?”

She quickly nodded, walking to the nearby napkin dispenser, pulling out two napkins and coughing into them, then walking back and sitting down across the table. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat.

"Sorry. It was so sudden that it sounded stupid."

"Oh," he said flatly. Admittedly, he thought that was a sign of her being impressed.

Mary cleared her throat again. “So your name wasn’t just random.”

He nodded. “Yes. I chose this name because it felt right.”

She spun her straw once more, perhaps out of nervousness. “This… this changes everything. It means you alone have the power to save… everyone. The entire fate of humanity depends on your choices.”

He couldn’t tell if she was taking this as good or bad news, but it seemed that she was desperately trying to articulate her words while avoiding saying something.

“... But if you’re here, with me, does that mean you’re taking a break? Or… no, something doesn’t seem right about this.”

She rubbed her chin with her knuckles. “The world is in a massive state of panic. Judging from your beliefs, you would have found a way to reassure the rest of humanity somehow. That you were just taking a break and people don’t have to worry. But you haven’t. And I can’t figure out why.”

She took another sip, and he, the invincible man, was feeling anxious.

“Atlas, have you… given up?” she finally asked.

He crossed his arms and leaned back on his seat, looking out the window.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said.

She was right. He had given up. That’s why he left his solitude and returned to Earth. But afterwards, he had regained his humanity. And now, he no longer wanted to give up because he had remembered why he fought.

But now, he knew what the cost of that battle against the universe was. And in a tragic and paradoxical way, the very cost of fulfilling his ideals was none other than those same ideals. His identity. For his ideals, he had sacrificed his ideals. In those thirty-two years, he had lost everything that made him who he was. And now that he had regained it, he now was faced with the dilemma of giving it up once more. To endure pain and suffering and lose everything, again.

And he didn’t want to lose it all again. It was just too much. And he knew that the end of his battles was another failure. He would fail and the sky would begin falling once more, and this would repeat until his will finally crumbles and kills everyone who lives in that future. And it would kill him, too–his life was guaranteed to end in his own failure.

“Atlas,” Mary called to him.

“... Yes?” he whispered, only half-listening.

“You don’t have to do it.”

He frowned. “But this means going against my own words… of fighting for an ideal future. It goes against everything I told you.”

“No, it doesn’t. Don’t worry about anyone else–or me, for that matter. Think about you. If you’ll be happier if you don’t take up the sky again, then don’t. That’s not going against your beliefs–that’s just choosing your own vision of your life.”

She continued. “Listen. Nobody would want to be in your position. Nobody would blame you if you don’t want to kill yourself for everyone. At least I wouldn’t. And you’ve already done more than anyone can. You’re the reason the entire world existed for another thirty-two years. You’re the reason Julian and I were even born in the first place. You’ve done enough.”

Atlas closed his eyes, trying to organize his chaotic mind, remaining seated for what seemed to be a short eternity. His chest was heavy, as if the entire world was anchored down to his heart.

And though he did not want to admit it, he eventually came to a decision.

“... Don’t tell Julian,” he whispered. “Don’t tell anyone. Don’t let anyone know. Don’t give anyone false hope by telling them who I am.”

She nodded with a soft expression on her face. “Not a word. I promise.”

He took a deep breath. Perhaps it was momentary relief, perhaps it was guilt.

“And… a favor, Mary.”

“Of course,” she said.

“... I want to spend more time with you and Julian in the upcomings weeks,” he whispered.

She blinked, clearly surprised by what he wanted to do, then spoke with a gentle smile. “Consider it done. We’ll have lots of fun.”

“But Julian might not be very comfortable.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“He found me off an alleyway. He wasn’t exactly honest with you about me being his friend.”

She blinked, then snapped her fingers. “That’s right…! He lied to me about you being his friend, didn’t he?”

“He was nice to me despite considering me a stranger. You have a good brother,” Atlas said.

“Well, then I’ll think of a way to comfortably squeeze you into our little team. We’ll be a trio at the end of the world. And who knows? Maybe if he gets comfortable enough, we’ll take you to our home. You can meet our parents.”

“... I can’t meet your parents,” he said.

“Why not?”

“The more people I see… the more my heart aches,” he said, pushing his forearm onto his chest.

“Ah... I see. I understand. Then let’s stick to just the three of us for now.”

She leaned forward and whispered softly. “We can think about the rest as we go, okay?”

He nodded.

She leaned back on her chair and looked up to the ceiling. “Now, what kind of a wacky lie should I make-up to convince him to be comfortable with you…?”

“He has a list of activities he wants to fulfill,” he said, thinking back to the bus ride. “Perhaps we can help him.”

“Oh? Okay, then we can use that to our advantage. I’ll just tell him you’re MacGyver.”

“... MacGyver?"

“Heh heh. Just you wait. I’ll think of something that immediately makes him comfortable.”

As he watched her begin rambling about the crazy and funny lies she could make up about him, he still felt a perpetual sadness in his heart. Mary was fated to die. And she would have to spend the remaining three weeks of her life hanging out with the man who chose not to save her. It was impossible to tell how she truly felt inside.

“... I’m sorry,” he said.

She paused her babbling; her gentle expression turned noticeably somber, yet seemed to cling onto hope. “No, don’t say that. You make it sound like we can’t have fun at the end of the world. Three more weeks or sixty more years… does the amount of time dictate how meaningful it is? I don’t think so. So let’s focus on making the best of the time we have left. Okay?”

Atlas didn’t reply.