The Scalian Legacy

Jack was still pacing while Horace calmly sat and watched him.

“Why won’t the admiral see me?” Jack hated feeling so anxious, but he sensed that he needed to convince the human leadership that he was genuine, so that they would take this threat seriously. “And how can you stay this calm? You know what danger all of us are in?”

Horace answered in an even tone: “I learned a long time ago to distinguish between the times when I can positively contribute to the outcome and when I should let others do what they need to do.”

“You know, you sound a lot like my father.” Jack smirked as he tried to settle himself. He sat on the bed again. Then a thought crossed Jack’s mind. He hadn’t really asked Horace much about himself. “So, how old are you anyway?”

Horace smiled. “I’m one hundred and two years old.”

“How long do humans live for nowadays?” Jack asked.

“You called us ‘humans,’” Horace said. “Interesting, well, our average life span is now about one hundred and eighteen years. We’ve managed to extend life by replacing or regenerating just about every organ, save one.” Horace pointed to his head.

“The brain?” Jack asked.

“Exactly. Our essence is in there, and thus, it’s the one thing we haven’t figured out how to replace with something artificial, or to regenerate safely, and eventually, it fails. Some have lived as long as one hundred and forty-something years, but I don’t have the desire to go for that long.”

“Why not?” Jack asked. “Humanity is obviously driven to go on as long as they can.”

“The problem with getting old is that you see everyone you love die, and the losses wear on you.” Horace grimaced as his tone lowered. “I’ve already seen more death than I would ever have wanted to.”

Jack decided to pry a little, since Horace had opened the door. “Were you married?”

Horace smiled gently. “Yes. To a beautiful and lovely lady. I met Cheryl in college and I just knew she was the one. We built a long, wonderful life together.” He then stopped and looked away from Jack before continuing. “She died in my arms after a Scalian bomb destroyed most of our house.” He paused as his eyes glazed over from being lost in the past. “I stayed there for hours, hoping that another bomb would come and finish me off so that I could be with her, but none did, and I was left alone.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack replied solemnly.

“We were married just shy of sixty-one years,” Horace said, but he still wasn’t looking at Jack. “It’s difficult to put into words what it feels like when you lose someone that’s been a part of you for so long.”

“I can imagine.” Jack’s tone sobered as he thought of Ellen.

Horace patiently waited as Jack started pacing again. Horace seemed to know to let the moment linger. As the moment dragged on, Jack’s anxiety built up and the emotions began to well up within him. In spite of himself, Jack began to speak his thoughts aloud.

“She was so caring, compassionate, brilliant, and beautiful,” Jack began. “I fell in love with her immediately, but she barely noticed me. I did everything I could to impress her, and finally, it worked.” He smiled, thinking of Ellen for the first time in a while. “We were married for only four years, but I felt like she was part of everything I had and did.” The smile disappeared. He stopped pacing and slowly sat in front of Horace.

“It had snowed that morning,” Jack continued, with a noticeable swallow. He was now facing Horace, but he seemed to be looking beyond him. “I told her to come home early, but she worked until after dark, as usual.” The tears began to slowly accumulate at the bottom of his eyes as he swallowed and pressed his lips together. “She shouldn’t have even been working anymore. She was seven months pregnant with our first child, but she was so… stubborn.” He blinked. A single tear came down his face. “The police told me she and the baby had died instantly. There was nothing they could…” His voice cracked and he choked up. He took a deep breath to compose himself and looked away from Horace.

“I’m so sorry.” Horace put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. Jack turned just slightly to focus on Horace’s hand on his shoulder. It was still as rough and uneven as before and yet now seemed quite human to Jack.

The two just remained in silence for a few moments, until Jack was ready to go on.

“Why? It’s so senseless!” Jack raised his voice as he let the anger out. Then, he calmed down again and settled back into his previous depressive state. These sudden shifts in emotion bothered Jack, but he couldn’t seem to control it. “How do you move on from that?” Jack asked, not really expecting a reply. “How do you muster up the energy to pour your heart into anything else again? How have you dealt with it?”

“I find that your belief system has a lot to do with how you handle tragedy,” Horace said. “If it can console you in some way, it helps you move on.”

Jack looked at Horace pensively and remained silent, giving Horace permission to continue: “I don’t know that I believe that there is a god or some higher being out there, but I do believe that there is synergy to the universe. As such, I believe you can eventually find a purpose in anything and shift your focus appropriately. The key is to continue looking forward, always searching for that purpose.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before, but often what humans do is rationalize a purpose. You conjure up purpose where it doesn’t exist, just to meet your needs. But the reality of what happened is still there. The tragedy still occurred. You’re just making yourself feel better about it.”

“That may be true at times, but what if it is? Aren’t you better off and healthier with such an attitude than constantly focusing on the tragedy? Isn’t it better to find a purpose, even if self-created, to help you overcome the situation? Wouldn’t you be more productive and better off for it?”

“Yes, but living a lie at the same time.” Jack scoffed.

“Living a blissful lie or living a depressing truth. Not sure which I would take. However, before we go down that existential track, why don’t we look at your situation more closely?”

“What about it?” Jack said.

“If you had not gone through what you have gone through, would you be here today?” Horace asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Would you have gone to the jungle if Ellen had not died?” Horace asked more directly.

“No, assuming all went well with the birth, I probably would not have left my first born behind to traverse the rain forest, especially when he was still so small.”

“That’s what I thought.” Horace began again. “And if you didn’t end up here, what would be our collective situation?”

Jack thought about it. The implications began to sink in. If he hadn’t lost Ellen, not only would he not have gone to Brazil, he would certainly not have performed that crazy stunt to try to get Robbie and Marcelo freed. That meant he would not have come to the future with the Scalians and would not have provided future humanity with a warning that they would otherwise not have had. His tragedy may have given humanity a chance at survival. Chills ran down his spine as this realization hit him. Ellen’s death may have been a pivotal moment in human history. It started a domino effect, leading to this.

“Humanity would be completely blind to our impending threat,” Jack finally answered, stunned at his own reply.

“It sounds like purpose to me,” Horace said with a smile. “Or do you think you have rationalized this?”

Horace’s insights made Jack rethink his situation completely. Jack couldn’t understand how he hadn’t seen this before. He looked upon Horace with admiration. While he would always mourn the passing of his wife, just as Horace had predicted, giving it some deeper meaning provided him with comfort and a sense of purpose that he had not felt for a long time. “No, I don’t,” Jack finally replied. He quickly added, “Thank you.”

The conversation then turned towards brighter topics. Jack talked about life in Boston, and how it varied from life in Brazil. Horace listened with great interest at the real-life accounts of the daily trials of twenty-first century humanity: the global, national, and local politics, the culture, the technology, the struggles. No topic left Horace uninterested.

Jack then asked more about life in the fiftieth century and Horace shared how life had changed or in some cases remained quite similar.

They talked for another hour before a fatigued Horace bid Jack a good night.