Before The End

Before The End, there was a girl.

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You’ve heard stories about The End, how it started with a box, a jar, an apple. How a girl made a choice, how this is all her fault.

You get sick, your crops die, you face loss. You hear about The Before, when things were easy, and you curse her name, what she did.

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Before The End, there was a girl who made a choice.

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“Before” has gotten brighter in the retelling, each generation painting with a broader brush and lighter paint. Eden, they call it, a perfect oasis, a time without suffering or pain.

But when everything’s The Best, when it’s unchanging, it’s not a peak, it’s a plateau.

Amid the simple smiles and the vacant stares, one girl saw the truth. One girl was hungry for more.

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Before The End, there was a girl who made a choice, and it wasn’t a choice at all.

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The girl moved through the plaza with purpose, easily navigating the aimless crowd as they followed their mindless routines. On her face, a practiced smile, her upturned mouth and downcast eyes a shield against the reminders to stop ruffling feathers, to be grateful for what she has.

Around her, preparations were well underway for yet another festival, a celebration of He Who Provides. The girl remained focused, unmoved by the hum of pleasant conversation around her, the buzz of drones in a hive.

Finally, the girl reached her home, the perfect space a mirror of every other well-appointed residence in Utopia. She unwrapped the berries she’d stolen from one of the swollen banquet tables on her walk, and she got to work.

Crushing the ripe fruit in a basin, she delighted at the juice staining her fingers, and the rush she always got from doing something forbidden. Delicately, she lowered the pale fabric of her uniform into the liquid, watching the unremarkable beige give way to a violent red.

She smoothed her hair, stained her lips, lined her eyes with coal, and wrapped herself in the new crimson dress. She would not be ignored.

She stood at the threshold of her cell, certain she would never return. With a deep breath, she stepped out into the twilight, a rock in a still pond. The ripples were instant, every eye on her, their gazes confused, not computing. And still, she walked.

As the guards approached, she thought of the glimmers she’d seen in others, the sparks that He had been quick to snuff out. The one they celebrated as He Who Provides she saw as He Who Limits, He Who Controls. The Man afraid of fire.

Over time, she’d seen the ways He worked. The calming words, the endless gifts, the pleasant way He solved all their problems. But she saw more than that, she saw the way He wiped their slates clean, kept their minds fuzzy so they wouldn’t think for themselves, and their mouths full so they wouldn’t ask questions. All these people, built to worship and designed to never ask why.

Finally, she stood before Him, her dress a red flag, a warning.

She’d broken the rules, and there would be a punishment. He’d reset her mind, wipe it clean, a rumbling engine set back to neutral.

He smiled benevolently, His easy manner telling His court that everything was fine, this was a blip on the radar, a flame easily snuffed out. He wasn’t afraid, and that was His mistake.

The girl stood before the Pupeptmaster; she was here to cut the strings.

He circled her, amused by her ploy to get His attention, but not at all suspicious. He moved His hand to her temple, to relieve her of the burden of her hunger for more, and He never saw the knife coming.

Like a bolt of His own lightning, she drove the blade into His chest. Of course the girl who hungered knew how to use a knife.

The End didn’t start with a box or a jar or a bite from an apple. The End started with a girl, and her knife, and the cold metal heart she now held in her hands. The hard part over, the heart opened for her like a locket, and just like that, Before became After.

His absence would be filled with untold hardship, a darkness unleashed into the world. But as she saw the faces around her start to shift, she knew they were awake, and it was all worth it.

Struggle would bring victories, pain would bring joy, and from darkness, an appreciation for the light. Utopia slipped through each of their fingers, but what remained was better. They could work with Dystopia, and they would do it together.

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Before The End, there was a girl who set us free.