Full Circle, Downward Spiral

“Because I said so!” his superior screamed, and slammed the door behind him.

Jonathan sighed and slumped over on his desk. Outside the birds sang, the sun shone and the earth continued to turn, oblivious to the misery of the people toiling about on its surface. All the strife and abuse which caused a churning chasm in the human condition meant nothing to the World. Oh sure, their wars scarred her surface, but she always healed. On the cosmic timeline, mankind was a short-lived rash. Jonathan did not believe the optimistic foretellings of science fiction; he was utterly convinced that they would kill themselves off or poison the Earth until it was unable to support them any longer. But even after their demise, the Earth would continue, a little worse for wear but still alive.

So why had he bothered? Why did he think he could have improved his arbitrarily-assigned geographical location? Youthful naivety, he chalked it up to now. He had believed in the promises of the revolutionary leaders. His ardent belief and firm morality had carried him up through the ranks of the would-be government. And when the would-be became current and the current the deposed, Jonathan had found himself in a position of high responsibility. Or so he had thought at first. For the first few months, he had attributed his lack of effectiveness to the chaos of the turnover. But as time passed and he could achieve less and less, he finally understood: Only the names and faces of the government had changed. The nature of the beast remained constant. There was no improvement. Jonathan wondered if mankind was capable of it. Technologically, sure. Sociologically? It seemed they had reached their apex. You could knead the dough, fold it into itself all you wanted. The cultures within could even bloat it up. But without an external force, to catalyze change, it would remain an unbaked, useless lump.

Jonathan stood from his desk and limped to a glass case mounted on the wall to his right. Displayed within was the pistol he had once strapped to his thigh to take up arms against the old regime. It had been his stalwart companion throughout the revolution. It had gotten into this mess, and in a perverse way it could get him out. Maybe someday he would take that option. Every day he considered it. It wasn’t like he had a family to live for. He had spent too much time fighting and then laboring in his thankless job to meet the right woman. He did not want to being children into this… this condition anyway. He wasn’t going to prolong the slow death of the human race with progeny of his own.

His aide walked in. “Mr. Vice-President? They’re waiting for you.”

Jonathan resolutely picked up his cane and the necessary paperwork to oversee yet another useless meeting. Someday, some naïve, charismatic youth would relieve him of his office, and things would come full circle. He could not wait.