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X. Living the Farce of History

History repeats itself, first as tragedy, second as farce.  Karl Marx

Old Calendar: June 30, 2011
New Calendar: Day 10, Year 3 A.E.

The only thing that stopped me from looking at you, Scully, and saying "Et tu, Brute?" was the realization that youíd known for only an hour longer than me. Still, it was a staggering thing to face the fact that, no matter what Iíve done, no matter the weight of responsibility Iíve borne, after everythingÖwhen push came to shove, those closest to me think of me with less than a flattering perception: impetuous, self-destructive, a pallid, anemic soul at the mercy of my own emotions and traits.

Okay, thatís not entirely true, Iíll admit to overstating it melodramatically. But thatís how it felt, Scully, itís close enough. And Iím not stupid, I saw my own reaction, I examined it under the brutal light of objectivity. Iím not blamelessóI saw the shadow of my own swollen ego cringing away from the light. That in and of itself was enough to shut me up long enough to let the three of you speak. Or yell, as the case may be.

Good God, Scully, I actually rantedÖI havenít done that in years. Iím kind of ashamed to admitóbut at the same time, exhilaratedóI felt a kind of youthful rush, that rush of pure, unadulterated emotion the young arenít ashamed to let loose on the world. You know, the kind we "mature, responsible adults" keep locked up under threat of a loss of face and authority if we let it all hang out like that.

But there wasnít anything for me to lose at that moment, no face or authority, since I could see exactly what the three of you were thinking about me. And donít get all pissy on me, you know what I mean. Iím talking about respect, not caring. I know you care, Scully. But how much did you really believe in me at that moment?

Old Calendar: July 1, 2011
New Calendar: Day 11, Year 3 A.E.

Itís a beautiful, clear night tonight, one of those nights we get in abundance around the Corners. When I was a kid on the Cape, this was the kind of night I loved to slip up to the roof and lay on the eaves, watching the sky. Samantha always wanted to follow me, but I never let her come out onto the roof. I made her stay in the dormers, curled up on the window seat with her binoculars. I promised her when she was older, when she was 12, Iíd let her come out on the roof with me. And weíd watch the stars.

Kind of ironic, isnít it. Sam was quite the amateur astronomer, she had a real love of the stars. She was the one who knew all the names and where to find them. She taught me. Naturally, with my eidetic memory, I can still remember them. Thereís Cassiopeia on her throne, doomed to eternal rotation around the north pole, and her daughter, Andromeda, both brightest in the autumn sky. The Northern Crown, Corona Borealis, Ariadneís wedding crown; old Draco, the Dragon, winding its eternal way around the north pole, with Thuban, Alpha Draconis, which used to be the pole star about the time the Egyptians were building the pyramids; little Equuleus, the Little Horse, another of the oldest recorded constellations, written about by Ptolemy, but most likely discovered by Hipparchus. BoŲtes or Orion the Hunter, first mentioned in The Odyssey, and Ursa Major, the Great Bear, both fascinate me: theyíre two of those rare constellations that have represented the exact same images to widely disparate cultures and ages.

Then thereís my favorite, Eridanus, because of Star Trek. I used to wonder about Spock, and his Eridani home among the stars. And thereís Cygnus, Samís favorite, the Swan, otherwise known as the Northern Cross because of its shape. Itís just about at its transit now, in high summer.

Itís beautiful out here. The stars are more brilliant than they ever were back east. Here, thereís little else to dim their glow, and even without binoculars, I can see almost everything. Of course, it helps that my eyesight is better than perfect, thanks to the good doctors of the Consortium. And I guess I shouldnít leave out my genetic hosts, that greedy, devouring hoard that descended upon us 80 years ago. Itís always nice to know your forebears, isnít it.

I couldnít sleepóa frequent problem of mine. Thatís been one big reason I moved so far out away from the Corners. I wanted to be able to come outside when I was restless and see nothing but earth and sky as far as I looked. Of course, now I can see the two UNP undercover cars sitting at the perimeter of the property, guarding the two roads bordering my place. Theyíre very discreet, good agentsódonít go off and berate them, they canít help it I know theyíre there. No one can help it.

Jesus, I hate this shit, Scully. I hate it that, once again, assholes have taken over important positions and now threaten our newly formed global balance of power. I swear to God, we'll get them. I'm not going through it all again. And donít go having a cow that Iím writing this stuff down, eitheróitís encrypted, and only you have the key.

I do have to laugh at one thing, one outcome of this situation: seeing Alex and Walter working together and not killing each other. Itís great. I donít think thereís one damn thing I could have done that would have gotten those two into a harmonious frame of mind, so I have to be grateful for intervening fate, if only for that.

Why, you ask? Ah, well, Scully, Iíve never discussed some of the things from the past with you. Some things were meant to stay private, despite their inability to stay secret around me. You know, Iíve wondered more than once what another person would have done if theyíd woken up with thisÖtalent of mine. Would they have used it to better mankind in some grand and glorious way? Would they have used it to further their own selfish ends? Me, Iíve done little except try to fit in to this new world weíve created, and do my best to be a part of the rebuilding process.

Every time I exercise any extraordinary power, I canít sleep for days afterwardówondering if Iíve upset the balance of fate somehow by intervening in ways that fate never meant. I canít help but see the images burned onto the back of my eyes, the pictures of those who suffered down through the years because others usurped their power and made life-altering decisions in their place. Those men who took it upon themselves to take grave and pivotal actions which effected the entire population of the earth. And Scully, I live in abject terror that Iíll wake up one day and find myself having done the exact same thing.

You want to know why I keep Alex around? Iíve never discussed this with you; I hope you know how much I value your trust in me concerning Alex. Because of my mind rape of him, thereís nothing about him that I donít know. No thought, no feeling, no potential action he can take that I havenít already figured out and know about. Itís weird, Scully, but in some ways, I know him better than I know myself. In me, thereís still some dark places Iím afraid to look, but him? Nothing in him scares me. Or intimidates me.

Iíve seen what Alex needs, what he wants. Itís not bad, Scully, as a matter of fact, itís quite encouraging. Despite what weíve thought about him over the years, heís quite human, very much driven by the same needs and hopes and wishes that drive us. Itís mixed in there with a heck of a lot more crap from his past than the average person, but on the whole, he wants the same things we want: global safety and personal contentment. Heís been a damn good left hand, and youíre my right hand. Both of you are part of me, for different reasons, but still both a part of me. How could I function without either of you? I hope I never find out.

óAh, dammit, Iím blinded. The back porch light just flicked on and off. My eyes are going crazy from the flare of light. Guess that means I need to pack this in for nowÖWaltís up and looking for me. Well, he found me, and thereís some things I want to talk about with him. Deep in the night, in the dark like this, probably is the best time. Some things can only be spoken of under cover of the night.

Lifeís interesting, isnít it, Scully? Wonder what it will be like to come back 20 years from now and read these journals youíve got us keeping. I wonder what time will bring.

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