I’ve always loved books that begin with a discovered letter, diary, ships log, etc. One night not long ago this short intro to an imaginary book jumped into my mind. I titled it “Penance.”
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Winnipeg, 15 March 2198
Dear Friends,
Recently I came upon what appears to be a short book, dated 2027 and probably self-published. It was found by a collaborator of mine, whose name I prefer not to disclose at this time, under the floor of a cellar in an long-unoccupied tenement in Kansas City. The book was in poor shape; most of the cover was illegible, ripe with mold. Much of the text was difficult to read due to water damage. The author’s name does not appear. That said, I think what remains may be pertinent to our research. Below you’ll find the Preface, which I have edited as best I could since many words were blurred and some antiquated.
I look forward to any comments you may have. For my part I will continue to make the remaining text as legible as possible.
With my best regards,
CBG
PS: Please do not pass this on to others until we discuss the content among ourselves
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This is a chronicle of guilt and penance; please do not be surprised or ashamed. The plague is now in its seventh year. Billions of people have died or been incapacitated. And billions more no longer know what “to live” means.
At the epidemic’s onset I was but a humble retiree. I had managed to save enough (I thought) to lead a decent, modest life in the time remaining to me. But like so many others I had erred. All of a sudden the world was turned upside down.
It became clear to me that the gods were displeased, and had taken the side of the richest among us. Why I do not know; perhaps they always had. Or maybe they saw that this planet could not survive and those most likely to endure and worship them were the wealthy. For all I know, they had always favored the rich and feared the transgressions of the poor. I do not pretend to read the minds of the divine.
I do, however, know that I played a role in what is happening to us today. For many years I ignored the gods, what I knew about them, their desires and their mandates. I refused to climb the ladder of wealth, power and ambition. Or one of family, social norms and acquiescence. In other words, I did not pay homage and chose to live outside to commandments of gods and conquerors.
Thus I became lost. Yes, I worked and contributed in small ways. I neither killed nor abused others. I sometimes turned the other cheek. Occasionally I was kind, I believe. But it is equally true that I lived a wayward life of temporary pleasures, searching for non-existent happiness, casual sex, self-indulgent pastimes. I tried to be good – the sex was always mutual and the searching never turned toward the dark arts.
In other words, I am like most others, like the hordes that have died. I am neither rich nor dirt poor, but I see now that my life has been inconsequential. I may have tried to be honest and dependable, but the gods demanded more. Why else would they do this to us?
Thus I reproach myself and repent for those who dare not, for whom penance is no more than proof of failure, a defeat they will deny to death do they part. I know not if my story will make a difference; I suspect that penance itself may no longer exist. I fear this small effort is futile but know not what else to do except to take a deep breath and continue…
