Soul Searching

[WP] The Superheroes arrive at the predicted impact site of the meteor, only to find the Villains already there. "We're going to destroy that blasted rock before it lands and there's nothing you can do to stop us!" a Hero calls out. "Stop you? We're here to help! We live on this planet too, dumbass"

*****

What are we, but leaves in the wind?

There were stories once, sung by the masses or known only by those who wrote them. Of guns and smoke, knives and high boots, artful games of respectful slaughter. Dozens of them, each catching light, before being lost to the confines of old history, buried deeper and deeper by the novelty of tomorrow.

Who were they? Great individuals, indistinguishable from gods. Maybe mortal, maybe not. Commoners didn't know, and neither did the individuals. Why had they been chosen? was there something meant for them? or was it simply luck? Another spin of a chaotic universe in the span it took to be born in a flash and vanish in a fiery heat-death?

They tried to make the distinction between good and evil at first. This power was good, this fight worthy, this one accursed. The attempt stopped the moment every side decided to call itself good, leaving us to wonder why they were so keen on murdering one another despite their self-proclaimed dedication to betterment and goodness in the world.

Ideals and values offered a more factual approach to the ever-changing politics of the gifted. Special or not, the needs and wants remain the same, those of humans born with imperfections and struggles.

One pervert would have been content sitting at home, surrounded by raunchy magazines and a computer with high memory. In the strength of body and mind, the Pervert would take it to the next logical step, and decide to make perversion reality. Build a harem, be they willing or not, and vanish on a remote island to enjoy the fruits of one-sided lust until the time came to renew the harem.

Of course, the Pervert would be opposed by the Holy, who saw the gift as proof God was still around and kicking, and the gifted should stay above the seven sins. When not running after the Pervert, the Holy would start crusades to spread the peaceful word of the Lord by sword and flame. After all, he was in the right, might as well go heavy-handed.

But then came the Ecologist, who happened to be a fusion between two who had once been called the Hippie and the Misanthrope, who had died in a feud and gave birth to a strange union in death. The Ecologist protected nature, by way of forcing humanity to remain confined in cities and using those who didn't comply as compost. The Pervert fought the Ecologist, as while the Pervert didn't mind some coercion to build a harem, they still considered live and let live an essential part of life.

Meanwhile, Democracy, Tyranny, Free-market, and Anarchy put thousands of scenarists across the world out of a job on account of writing better and more convoluted stories through the number of alliances and betrayals they undertook daily between them.

After the initial shock and delight of such gifts, the novelty wore off. No matter how special, humans remained humans, powers allowed them to do more of the same, except on a grander scale.

Then a chunk of the moon started to fall.

It is still unclear how it started if it started at all. Maybe it was always falling but decided it was a good time to finally impact.

On the eve of the apocalypse, stories suddenly became redundant. On the scale of the universe, what did it matter that the Pervert had a beef with the Holy? In a gust of wind carrying leaves, they would all be gone, and none of it would have any relevance.

And so it came that the Pervert retreated to his island to indulge in lust, that the Holy sunk into prayer, that Democracy and Tyranny lay down their weapons and recognized they stood for ideals that were about to be obliterated. Might as well enjoy the sight.

But it felt lacking, didn't it?

All those powers, helpless against a falling moon. They had no chance at all, so they believed. But the doubt kept nagging, in the back of their minds. Standing at the end of the world, the question remained, turning around and cackling madly.

Are you so sure?

Without a word, without an accord, they came. The Ecologist, Free-market, their shifting friends and foes, right at the spot of the future impact. In all likelihood, they would fail, and it would be done. At least, they would know.

What happened next is unclear.

The absolute end of the world became the end of the world as we knew it. The gifted died in their attempt. All of them. But the attempt succeeded, but the impact never happened. No crater, no shock wave engulfing the earth, only a slight burn where the mighty once stood.

What was it? An attempt to prove that the gifted could grow beyond petty and temporary ideals, rise above their station, and show the true colors of champions befitting the gift? A complicated ploy to be rid of them, to cease the glaring injustice of granting a few the abilities to choose for all of us? Or was it yet another turn in a chaotic and meaningless universe, until the next?

We do not know, and we likely never will.

No matter how high and mighty, a tremor in the universe could end all we know.

And as it could have happened, they burned, so we could keep on being.

Gazing in the abyss, we found sense and a sort of meaning. We are all but leaves, dancing in the wind.

And it is a fine life, to dance as we do.

*****

THE END