8.2) The Price of Complete Honesty

As Julian was taking his extremely late “morning” shower, Mary sat on the dining table, holding on tightly to the scarf that Abigail had lent Julian. Mary had understood what Abigail had meant, so was doing her best to keep the scarf warm in preparation for what’s to come.

Meanwhile, Atlas stood by the window of the living room, staring out to the sky. From where she was sitting, Atlas resembled a father who was leaving on a long trip overseas. He simply stared and stared, and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. But she knew that it must have been quite a burden. He would have to take on the weight of the world until it crushed him. That was his role in this apocalypse.

Then, she chuckled, looking him up and down.

Atlas turned. “What is it?”

“Are we really going to send you off dressed like that?”

Atlas looked down at his blue T-shirt and beige shorts. “What? This is what Julian originally bought me.”

She shook her head. “Maybe. But it doesn’t look very heroic. Shouldn’t you be in some kind of a cool uniform or something?”

He shrugged. “It’s comfortable. And no one’s going to see me. It’s not very embarrassing.”

“... I suppose not.”

As if he had nothing more to say, he turned back to the window. And Mary realized that her own coping mechanisms were getting in the way of saying what she really needed to.

But she didn’t have much time left with him. Atlas and Julian were planning on returning to the place they first met; she had decided not to follow, wanting to give Julian his own moment to wish him farewell. She had a feeling that neither one of the men would be completely honest with themselves if she was there.

And in the end, Julian was the one who had allowed for all this to happen. He was the one who had brought Atlas and Abigail into her life. So she felt that it was right for Julian to be the one who sent him off, just like how it all began.

That meant she had to say what she wanted to at this very moment, but nothing seemed to come to mind. Perhaps she as a person was simply cursed to have difficulty expressing her true feelings.

She hugged the scarf tightly. The clock continued to tick. Mary stared at the ceiling, wondering why nothing was coming to mind.

Then Mary shook her head, realizing why it felt like there was nothing left to be said: they were avoiding the horrible truth that awaited them. As usual, they were avoiding the elephant in the room.

So Mary finally said what she was thinking. “I can’t believe how hopeless all this is.”

Atlas turned his head, his voice already sounding concerned. “Don’t say that.”

Mary snapped. “No, this is horrible. I know it and you know it. We just sent off Abigail like everything was going to be fine, but we’re never going to see her again because she’s probably going to die somewhere all alone.”

Mary rubbed her face. “I mean, Jesus Christ, what is this? What is wrong with this situation? Why are we going to die? What kind of a sick joke is this?”

“Mary…”

She continued, not giving him a chance to explain himself. “You heard what Victor said, right? We’re going to die because there’s some ‘Lovecraftian asshole’ out in the universe who wants everything to die!”

She shook her head. “No, that’s besides the point. I can’t believe this–I’m dying right as I regain my will to live? Julian is dying right as he is beginning to crawl out of his shell? What kind of a sick joke is this?”

Mary sighed, then rested her head on the table. She could hear Atlas finally walking away from the window to try and comfort her, but she didn’t care.

Her life was done.

Atlas whispered, standing over her. “Mary, if you really want to live that badly, you can escape on your own. I can hand over the power to you. The rest of us can manage.”

“But I don’t want that!” she yelled silently. “I want to continue living in this world! With these people! With you, Julian, Abigail, my parents…! It’s not just about living, it’s about wanting to be me! Mary Everhart!”

Atlas sighed, then sat across the dining table. It seemed that for the first time in his life, Atlas was unable to counter Mary’s logic. Perhaps it was because this wasn’t a moment of pessimism–it was a moment of unfulfilled optimism. She wanted to live longer, yet she couldn’t. This was genuine despair.

Mary whispered. “When Julian said he wished he had more time and talked about wanting to get married and raise a family, we joked about it. Thinking about it now, the reason we joked about it was because there was no proper answer we could give him, wasn’t it?”

She sighed. “The same goes for how we sent off Abigail. We basically gaslit ourselves into believing there was an afterlife, just to make her not feel so horrible.”

She squeezed the bridge of her nose. “The fact that we’re coping so badly should make us realize how screwed we are. We don’t have a good enough answer for how to deal with this mess that we always end up finding something pretty in the distance to point at and say ‘wow! Look at this pretty thing! Let's all forget about the fact that we’re all going to die in less than a week!’”

Mary leaned back on her chair and stared at the ceiling. But she wasn’t really looking at the ceiling–she was looking beyond it. Perhaps at this “god” Victor had mentioned. She wondered if the god was listening.

Eventually, Atlas gathered his thoughts.

“Mary. Do me a favor and stand up.”

“... Why? There’s no point.”

“Oh, don’t give me that. Do it because I asked you to.”

She stood up reluctantly and sighed. “Well, here you are. I stood up. Hope you’re happy.”

Then, Atlas walked over and hugged her tightly. He rubbed her back, trying her best to comfort her. And despite her overwhelming dread, she closed her eyes and sunk into his arms, allowing herself to try and feel better.

Atlas whispered. “Maybe you’re right. In the end, maybe we are coping with the fact that we will die. But the only positive action we can take in this situation is clinging onto those ‘pretty things’ in life. We have to focus on the good, not the bad.”

He gently pulled away from her and held her by her shoulder.

“Anyone in the world would become hopeless if there was a voice in their head that constantly reminded them that they were going to die. That’s just how it is, Mary. That’s why we don’t talk about it. That’s why people joke about death…”

“... And maybe there’s nothing wrong with that. So try to cheer up, okay?”

Mary weakly nodded. Then, she could hear Julian turn off the water in the shower and slide open the glass doors.

Mary sighed. “I guess that's it.”

“What do you mean ‘that’s it’? You’re coming with us to send me off.”

Mary shook her head. “I told you earlier. I want to give you guys time alone at the end of everything so you guys could have an honest farewell.”

Atlas chuckled. “Mary, I’m not going to leave you with this half-hearted goodbye. And besides, you just saw for yourself what happens when you’re too honest. So…”

“... In the end, none of us can be fully honest with each other.”