Knowledge is Power (Prompt for Sudden Fiction Tournament Arc)

In a living room darkened for ambience and dirtied with cans of beer and fast food, laid a couple - a gruff, tan male in plaid and a blonde, slender and sweatpants-laden woman - on a couch. They were enjoying themselves as the movie neared its end – one of buff actions heroes, explosions and maniacal villain organizations.

For them, this was a fine Saturday night. Their kid was asleep, the house was quiet, and what was a long-awaited date was going well. They didn’t want the moon and sun to exchange hands; the night felt eternal, as it should be. To shut their eyes meant that night will depart and light will arrive unto a day where Bibles and exalted singing will take root and wash this moment into the depths of their memories. It was inevitable, sure. Mere men cannot stop time, but once consciousness reigned, they should continue. A moment like this must never end.

This was the climax of the film. The enemy had their backs against the wall. Their secret plan for world domination was about to be thwarted by the noble hero. He was a man that was blessed with a pronounced jaw, great aim, and a little luck. He had it all. The dastardly group of villains had no choice but to run away. There were other days to commit evil while the world remained oblivious. They shouldn’t let this be their last.

Resistance wasn’t enough for the great hero. The contraption that should’ve enabled their victory could not be taken with them. Their getaway copter would fail to fly with something so heavy. Instead, self-destruction was the only way. As the hero got close to the contraption, they began evacuations. But with mostly key personnel onboard, they flipped the switch.

The hanger where their contraption for world domination rested was no more. A hulking piece of metal could be replaced, but not their intellect. The ability to rule the world was in the equations and formulas within their skulls. All those of lesser stature that believed in the cause, in the power and riches they should’ve obtained, were burnt and blown to bits.

And for our action hero? His luck had run out. He suffered the same fate as those he had killed. His attempt to save the world was successful, but it came at a price: his life. Our hero should’ve known better than to think the enemy would never sacrifice their own. Of course, they would. Those with bad intentions had no morals.

Melancholy brought his compatriots to bawls and tears. They couldn’t accept he was gone. But once the blip indicating his location vanished from the screen, only the worst came to mind. Being alive was an improbability. This was not a movie where the hero walked away unscathed from danger.

This was the end. And as the credits rolled, the dear husband prodded his wife to remain awake. The next title was in queue – a western. Westerns weren’t as popular as they were in the past. That was the type of content their parents indulged in when they were younger since that was all that showed on television. But now they had choice, and with that choice, they decided that they weren’t in the mood for a western. There were supernatural and horror elements, but that wasn’t enough to prevent removal from the watchlist.

With it gone, there was now a gap that had to be filled. As the female lover grabbed the remote, knocking over cans and displacing stained napkins as she did, her husband went to the kitchen to get some more pizza. Closing the fridge with a box of pizza in hand, a sharp noise heightened his senses. He glanced over his left arm to see that the garbage bin had fallen over. A badger must have been spooked while rummaging through it and ran away. Unfortunately, it was his fault. He should’ve shut the back door hours ago as the last person to use it.

It could’ve been worse. A bear could’ve been the unexpected guest that entered. And with his fear of anything large that has fur and claws, that would’ve been a scenario that resulted in animal control and lots of cowardice. But that was not his reality. How fortunate. But now he had to pick up trash that trailed from the trash bin next to the door that led to the lawn at the back of their house. There was so much scattered across their backyard of flower beds and hedges, time was lost to him and his wife had to play mini-detective to find him outside with a garbage bag in one hand and a banana peel in another.

She decided to help him. But first, she needed some gloves, but she couldn’t find any. The cupboards had pots, pans and ingredients that would make for some good Chinese or Mexican food, but not the sanitary gear she sought for. What her husband said about not seeing them were true. Normally, he doesn’t search properly for what he wanted or needed and she has to find it for him, but he was right this time. Her outbursts of frustration were not on him, but where the gloves could be. This predicament called for improvisation, where small plastic bags would have to substitute for gloves. She took some from the drawer close to the stove and tried giving some to him, but he explained that while he had the same idea, his hands were too big for them and there weren’t any larger sizes for him to use.

“I’m almost done anyway, but thanks for the offer.” His softness came out as he bent over and threw in the final piece – a wrinkled water bottle – into the bag.

“Just wash your hands when you’re done.”

He began to walk back inside but she stopped him.

“You have to use the hose attached to the standpipe. You can’t go in the kitchen to wash your filthy hands!”

He conceded.

“I’ll bring some hand soap for you. Give me a minute.” In what felt like a second, she returned with one of the aloe vera kind. With a few taps of the dispenser, the substance fell gently to his palms where he rubbed them together and proceeded washing them with a stream of water.

“You shouldn’t touch the tap. Your hands aren’t clean yet.”

“Maybe you should stop overreacting. A couple of germs never hurt anyone. Plus, my hands are basically clean anyway.”

She sighed at how he was right. She did overdo it at times.

Holding back her typical disdain, she let him turn off the pipe.

With that detour now behind them, they could now go back to the movie she had chosen for them to watch next.

But something distracted him – the night sky. He couldn’t look away. His wife wondered what could be so special about tonight and saw that the moon was in a saturated red.

“Like we forgot that there was supposed to be a blood moon tonight.” He had long paused the shaking of his hands to flick away moisture.

“They did say that on the news.”

“Yeah, they did.”

“All this longing for some alone time really made us forget something this big.” She placed her arms on her waist. “You know, maybe we should go up on the roof. Maybe we’ll catch a shooting star or satellite zipping across the sky.”

With cheerful laughter, they rushed inside, past their kitchen and living room, up the stairs and through the hallways until they stopped at a dead-end where a ladder faced them. Above it was a trap door, and with the pull of the handle, it revealed a space rarely occupied, one of dust, spiders and sealed cardboard boxes. All that was left was the push of the sole window and they were on the roof.

There they were, sitting under the majesty of the moon, eliciting a terror of apocalypse. But that was just nature being nature; doing things that baffle the human imagination. However, to complain of such a sight would be foolish. This night was one of peace, and where others were doing the same with their personal handheld devices giving away their elevated locations. They were one of many taking notice of this phenomenon.

“You think we’ll see a shooting star tonight?” She said in childlike splendor. “Or maybe a satellite?”

"Satellite? I don’t think the government wants us regular folk to see their satellites. They would rather keep that as invisible as possible.”

“You never know. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“Maybe we will.”

“Mom… Dad… Why are you up here?” Their slick-haired and gap-toothed nine-year-old son, Devonte, was woken up from their loud shenanigans and now stared at them from the window.

“Stay right where you are, Devonte!”

“Okay, dad.” He rubbed his eyes as he stood.

“I’ll put him to bed. Don’t worry about it.” said his wife.

“You sure?”

“I’m his mom, aren’t I? Plus, I’ve been working later than normal recently, so you had to tuck him in when I’m not able to do so.”

“Well, okay then. Just know that I’m waiting for you.”

“I know you will.” She pecked his cheek and went off with their son to his room.

***

“Are you ready to go back to sleep, Vonte? It’s been over thirty minutes and you’re still awake. Kids shouldn’t be staying up this late.”

“Almost.” His room was one where posters of athletes and superheroes, toys and books of knights and princesses dominated. It was one where curiosity and ambition bloomed. Even from his sheets, he exuded this quality. “Sleep is what makes a good president."

“President, huh? Becoming president is a lot of work.”

“I know. But I’ll get there as long as I work hard.”

“You might need to work harder. A C-minus student doesn’t get to be president.”

He folded his arms and formed a frown.

“Don’t act like that. You know the road to your dream is long and hard. It involves a lot of studying as much as you may not like that. Look at me. I have my PhD in robotics and now I’m the co-founder of a start-up company that’s projected to have a billion-dollar market cap in two years. Those in government have the education to justify their position. Your father is an electrician. Don’t you see that to get anywhere of importance in this world, you need to have what’s required.”

He didn’t let up, preferring to push his head into his knees to ignore the words he heard a thousand times before.

She got up and went to the door with her finger on the light switch. “Just make sure to go to bed for me, okay?”

“I will.”

She flipped the lights off and closed the door with the expectation he will keep his promise.

PLLLING!

Her message alert rang off. It was her husband. He stated how sunlight was appearing over the horizon. Their movie night was coming to an end. She told him to meet him in the living room so they could clean their mess. He hurried back to help her knowing they had church in a few hours.

They were making swift work of the pigsty they had created once they reunited. The television had to come off, though. It was annoying as background noise. Its ability to provide joy and relaxation quickly faded. The wife picked up the remote to turn it off, but it still remained on. Her other attempts in doing so failed. It resisted her best efforts.

Her husband then tried but to no success. He checked the battery compartment to see what was wrong, but something was staring at them from the screen.

It was an eye. 

Its lashes, retina and everything else was visible to them. The now blackened background of the television couldn't hide its prominence. It watched with a casual stare, not paying mind to the persons that feared it. Before screams could be uttered, they went frozen. This was one of its powers, leaving them drooling from the lips and slightly hunched over. Besides this, there was another ability of grander potency that went beyond the body. In seconds, the memories of its existence were gone. They were left as ignorant as before and continued with what they were doing prior.

Sunrise peered into their home, blanketing them in orange and red tones as they finished tidying up so they could get ready for Sunday service after ten cups of coffee.