the last question

I came across this sci-fi short story, The Last Question by Isaac Asimov. I just finished it and would like to respond a little bit on it.

Spoiler alert! I mean I'll try not to spoil anything...just go read the story first lol

I think it's beautifully written and weaved, the way Asimov did. The progression with the oneness of the question and mind worked out quite well because it reflects some common, yet unanswerable questions we have ourselves. I guess over the course of the different scenes I hoped for an actual answer from the AC but about half way through it's clear that it wasn't going to actually give an answer, because hey, we don't know the answer ourselves either.

An interesting part was anticipating how the characters from each scenes arrived at that question, and also how AC's answer varied slightly every time the question was asked. I feel like there is something in its wordings, but I don't see anything that really stood out. Maybe I'm just missing it >.>

In any case, however, the ending was the best part of the story. It tied everything together so perfectly and delicately. Best twist I've ever read in a long while.

Just go read it if you haven't, absolutely loved it :)

a jar of...

I started up the ignition, the car rumbled a bit as I feel the car coming to life. Sarah's sitting in the back, her seat belt on, with a little red hat and a pair of plastic sun glasses.

We started to head back home, and she was still looking at the sunset. The route back was along this river that leads out the city. The sunset fell right on the horizon over the river. It was truly breathtaking. Sarah's eyes rests on the descending sun until she wandered off to dreamland.

It was still before dinnertime when I pulled into the driveway. I picked Sarah up and left her in her bed. "I'll let her sleep for an hour as I get dinner ready," I thought. Looking around the room, the room was slightly messy. We left to see the sunset earlier when I called her from her room, and I didn't realize she had somewhat made a mess with all her toys lying around. I began to pick up her toys when some unfamiliar toys caught my eyes. There was also the box she had before the adoption that was opened in the corner of the room, so I figured that those unfamiliar toys were from that box. I felt it was better for her to leave her past behind, so I told her to keep the box in her closet. I guess she opened it anyways. She seemed fine, though, so I didn't give it more thought.

Among the toys and stuff animals, however, I noticed this small jar with some money in it. The jar had a label on it that reads, "To Buy Love" written in red crayon. It appears to have about two bucks from the weight of quarters and dimes and nickels and pennies.

My heart sank. What could have made her think of making this jar? I couldn't think of anything, so I simply went over to Sarah and gave her a kiss on her forehead before I went downstairs to fix up dinner. While there was no question about me asking her about her jar, I felt really uneasy and dread the answer she may give. I stopped myself from overthinking and planned my meal course instead.

sunset (short story)

"The sun's going away!"
"It's just the sunset, dear. The sun is going to sleep. You'll see it in the morning again, don't worry." 
"Where does it sleep?"
"Well, it sleeps on the other side of the world, kind of." 
"....Okay. The sunset is pretty."
"I know."
Her eyes were sad but had a hint of spark in them.
"...Can we follow the sun so it never goes away?" 
That struck me. I didn't know what to reply, exactly, or how to comfort her.
"Well, we could. But we can also come see the sunset tomorrow, if you want."
"I want the sun to be this pretty all the time." 
"Me too." 

distanceIV

I decided to take a break, a vacation. It almost felt like I'm picking back up a break that I stopped enjoying a while ago. I mean, right now life seems to be just for work and work and some meaningless hang outs and work and more work and sleep and trying to keep yourself alive and enjoy life. Do we do all this to prevent ourselves from losing ourselves in our lives? From losing our lives? Why do we do all that we do? What's driving us to do all of these?

Hannah, you would know, right? You told me already. You were afraid. You were afraid that people won't be afraid of losing you. Your parents...I've met them. I'm really sorry. I tried to be there and do as much as I could then, but it wasn't enough. I lost you, and it was my fault. Please don't be afraid anymore, because I was afraid of losing you. I don't know if I am still, because now you're gone, and I can't do anything about anything.

I should have stopped the car. I shouldn't have listened to you. I'm sorry I couldn't save you.

No one even thought it was my fault, but it was, I was the only person who could have stopped it then, but I didn't.

You were so afraid that no one would care. I could feel it even before you told me. "Just once, you know, I want someone to be afraid of losing me."

What the hell did your parents do to you.

I haven't driven in 2 years. It's still too much for me. Just being in a car is bad enough. The memories flood back each time--the tears, the crying, the car that ran that red light, me slamming on the breaks, the force, the impact, the tumble, your bloody face, my smashed arm, the deformed cars, the flames, the dead look in your eyes. It all replays in my mind, over and over again, on repeat.

Why did I live? Why did I go with you, so at least you have someone there to be with you.

I think I took her for granted, and I hate myself for that.

 

distanceIII

Time is a funny thing.

That day at the library...was it just a dream?

I got a few pages down. I think I need a break from life. I decided to go out to dinner with a few friends, out of campus, just to breathe the different air outside of this memories-infested place.

But I can't remember anything without you.

We went to this thai food place, with dimmed lights and rather uplifting music. Sounds really Asian actually. The food was great, however, even though we ordered the typical dishes like fried rice and pad thai. But isn't that what we want to order when we go to a Thai restaurant? Why would you go there if you didn't want fried rice or pad thai. Heh. Stop arguing, people.

The sun had just set not long ago by the time we're back on campus. It's a Friday and people do stupid things on Friday; that's always a given. Never assume that the dorms will stay decent after a Friday. It's always to expect the worse so when it comes you can notify someone to clean it up. Or you can just clean it up yourself.

Pardon my analogy.

Half of my friends went out drinking, partying, all that fun stuff. I decided that I didn't want to stay alone so I asked a few people if they wanted to have a movie marathon or whatnot. I was lucky to find a few people.

There goes my night. Four movies in a row.

And yea, we did so many of these. But I can feel that I'm slowly putting away your love back into a different spot with all my secrets. Somewhere not all that obvious, somewhere like a treasure box.

****

I slept way past lunch time. I got up and decided that the weekend isn't worth the work, so I left with a few granola bars towards the library to drown myself in books.

It was actually sunnier than I imagined. The rays were delightful, as if I lifted up the curtains to my room and let sunlight seep in for the first time in so long. In two years.

 

distanceII

****

I looked up. Stared at my laptop. Screen's off. Checked my watch. 2:43am. Hm. How long was I asleep for?

The desk was clean. No traces of her. Her touch still lingers in the air. It's there but it's not there. My shoulder feels light. I feel cold.

I miss you.

Screw this, I'm heading back.

****

Looking at the ceiling, I know I'm supposed to be working on schoolwork, but the sound of the heaven touching the earth is soothing enough for anyone to drift into nothingness.

Everything started to feel dizzy. I drifted off, trying to feel her touch.

****

It's Saturday. Rain went away sometime overnight. I imagined the air to be fresher than it was last night, more breathable. My mind's awake, my body not. I shuffled in my bed, tossed and turned, trying not to be awake. Roommate yelled at me, it's 2pm. Yea, sleeping cycle.

I'm not even hungry. But I decided to get out of bed. Grabbed some cereal and jumped on my laptop to work. There seems to be nothing better to do than to drown myself in work, something that completely numbs me. Easier said than done, the final thought seems too far away to be fathomed. I think my roommate said something, but I have earphones on, and I don't care enough. I'm going to power through this.

I find a piece of you in every song I listen to.

distanceI

Backpack's still soaked, but I grabbed it anyways.

The other bed's empty, I suppose I'm late again.

Ran out into the rain, I believe that I could still make it. I tasted the rain, it seemed to be reminding that I should at least grab something to eat in the morning. Just like what she would have done. Just like what she would have told me.

The clouds seem to be in a odd mood today. It's quite dark but then there's a hint of sunlight somewhere in there. I wonder if I can ever be like them. She would like that.

I should have brought an umbrella. She wouldn't like this.

Running didn't make that much of a difference in the rain; it still took a good 15 mins for me to get to the first class.

I didn't want to go, but I should if I want to keep up with work and all that. Backpack got more soaked, and so did everything in there. The four corners of my notebook changed color, and I decided to go with pencil since my pens pretty much all exploded. Classes went as usual. Someone mentioned something about souls. I left for the library.

I walked with a friend with an umbrella. My breathing felt more settled--not from the running but from knowing that she'd want me to stay dry. She wouldn't want me to catch it like she did. But hey, how's the view up there? I bet it beats the hell of out mine down here.

I stuffed myself on the higher floors, in one of those less comfortable chairs, so I could concentrate on my thesis. I look out the window and saw the rain drops.

It still feels like it happened yesterday.

Why did you run out in the rain and didn't come back? I was too late. I'm sorry.

I looked at the date. It's been 2 years. Come on. Snap out of this.

I rested my head on my left arm and felt the texture of the desk. We were here two years ago, remember?

I closed my eyes. I started to doze off.

Some words became to form on the desk, stroke by stroke. They seem to be written in white-out or chalk.

"It's Hannah"

Something felt different. It's Hannah. Wait, what? Those words...is that her? I snapped out of sleepiness and unzipped the front pouch in the backpack, looking for my white-out. Damn I swear it felt like forever to find it. I wrote under her words:

I miss you, where are you?

I waited. I wanted to see her smile, to hear her laugh, just, her. Slowly, words became to form again, stroke by stroke, letter by letter. I could hear my breathing, my heart beat. All the memories hit me like rain.

"I love you"

I know you do, Hannah, please, where are you?

"Do you love me?"

I started to write. I scribbled hard on the desk. Nothing came out. I panicked. Please, not now, don't let my white-out run out. Please no. Please. I started shaking the white-out pen as hard as I could. I could feel that my tears are coming out instead of the white-out. I ended up stabbed the pen on the desk, and spots of white-out would come out.

I didn't know what to do. I ended up writing her a dotted heart.

She didn't reply.