“Exercise strengthens our bodies,
Thought strengthens our minds,
Struggle strengthens our humanity.”
- Father Abraham
Ryan was performing push-ups when the door opened, silently.
He had spent his time doing as Father Abraham wished, keeping his mind trim and his body toned. It would do no good to ignore his counsel, and he had nothing better to do, anyway.
He had long thought about what he would achieve. He would start locally, under the guidance of Father Abraham, of course, to rid the world of the cholesterol that clung to its arteries.
He grunted, ignoring the pain in his arms. His mind was too preoccupied.
No longer would he feel ashamed to be human. Instead, humanity would come to revere him as their salvation, as the one who turned it all around. Ryan, the Savior.
He would bring them back from the brink of self-destruction. He would preach to them, and they would listen. They would come to realize their errors, and a new age of blissful enlightenment would arise.
A form walked without noise from the doorway to the bed and stood above Ryan's sweating body.
The sound of a pistol being cocked reached his ears.
He heaved his body into an ungraceful spasm as he endeavored to turn his torso around to face the source.
Two dark eyes glared down at him, eyes that saw beyond the superficial layers of human defense, and into the very heart.
He was not sure whether to speak, fight or wait. The gun that had been cocked was not pointing at him, but at the bed. A strong female hand held the grip lightly but surely, an expert in such matters.
He turned back to the eyes. They were set in a beautifully carved face, framed by black hair and wrapped in smooth, dark skin. For a moment Ryan found himself lost in a bubbling sea of fear, curiosity and wonder.
“I am Kahira, your handler,” she said.
It was a shame that her voice did not match her looks. Too many cigarettes had passed their treacherous chemicals through her lungs, rendering her voice rough, grating.
“I've been sent by Father Abraham to assess you. Understand that my time is precious, so I will not repeat myself.”
Ryan continued to stare at her, keeping the gun in his peripheral vision. Kahira watched him for a few seconds, as he panted on the floor, before holstering her weapon.
“Get up,” she said, standing straight and placing her hands behind her back, “Speak only when asked. Give your thoughts honestly. I will commence the evaluation.”
Ryan stood, panting from his workout. He fished around for a shirt to put on.
“Remain as you are,” ordered Kahira.
Considering she was armed and he was not, he obeyed.
“You have questions, I know,” she said, “It's natural. Know that whether you get them answered or not is none of my concern. Sit on the bed.”
He did so. She pulled up a chair.
“The Directors have philosophies different to those of the Vigils,” she said.
“I know. That is why I am here.”
“Be silent and listen! A member with a different viewpoint from the standard is not only dangerous to us, he would be dangerous to humanity, for in causing grief to the Directors you may cause grief to the wider cause. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” nodded Ryan.
“Good. As such, I wish to see how you view the world, and if the Vigils have polluted your mind too much to recover.”
“I can assure you they have not.”
“I shall be the judge of that. Answer me frankly, answer truthfully. Don't pretend to know what I am looking for in your answers, just speak what's in your mind. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“I'll begin. In what way is humanity more important than insects?”
Ryan tilted his head back. So many ways.
He chose his words, “Capability in thought, in actions. We can dominate our environment rather than let it dominate us. Insects, by contrast, are diverse to cope with different, but specific environments. To that end, an insect cannot alter its environment for the betterment of its kind, for doing so would destroy any specialization it has toward that environment.”
“So you say that an insect is less important than a human because of its relationship to its environment?”
“Well, yes. That and that we are more complex. We can understand and conceive of a great many things. We can appreciate the world around us. We have abstract thought, and debate and discussion.”
“Communication, then? Intelligence? Cats are intelligent creatures, are they not?”
Ryan nodded reluctantly.
“Are cats more important than humans?”
“Certainly not!” said Ryan.
“Why? They are intelligent. And they can manipulate, to an extent, their environment to suit themselves.”
“But man is rational.”
“And so he is. So let us concentrate on our two cases, what is more worthy of life, a cat or an ant?” she asked.
Ryan dabbed his head with a towel, pensive.
“A cat.”
“Why?”
Ryan scratched his chin, “There are many ants. The loss of one ant is insignificant compared to the numbers...”
Kahira interjected, “So it comes down to numbers, the importance of life?”
“Well, it is not that, I mean...”
“So say what you mean!”
It was a good thing that Ryan was sweat-soaked from his workout, because he was starting to perspire heavily.
What did she want him to say? All this nonsense about ants and cats. It smelled too much a like a lesson from the Vigils.
“The cat also has a longer life, can perform more tasks, and interacts with the world.”
“Any other reasons?”
Kahira took out a smooth, white cigarette and lit up. The smell of smoke trickled into Ryan's nostrils.
“Intellectual capacity. A cat can be taught. An ant only follows instincts or pheromones, blindly performing a predefined task.”
Kahira smiled darkly, “Have you ever tried to train an ant?”
Ryan laughed, happy for any break in the seriousness of Kahira's appearance. She continued to stare as her smile drained away.
Ryan stopped laughing with a cough.
“Er, no. No I have not,” he admitted.
“So on what basis do you place your authority that a cat can be taught, whereas an ant can't?”
Ryan thought it through.
“I do not,” he said at last.
“Yes, you do. You must have a basis otherwise you would not have arrived at the decision to bring it up,” stated Kahira, taking another drag.
She puffed out a lungful and leaned closer, “So let's hear it.”
“Well, I, um, I have never seen or heard tell of an ant being trained. They are small, unintelligent creatures. Each ant performs in the same way, does the same thing as all the other ants,” said Ryan, scowling, “They are not individuals and cannot be treated as such.”
Kahira nodded, sucking slowly on her fumes. The end of the cigarette glowed briefly, before returning to a mottled gray. She spoke, letting puffs of smoke issue as she did, “An ant lives as part of a society, but the society is stagnant. Yes, it exists, and it grows, and it shrinks. It does what it must to in order to survive. But the society never progresses. As you have mentioned, each ant behaves like the next one, and the one before it. Nothing is ever different. No adaptation to a sudden change is foreseeable, since that would require a different behavior, something that an ant is incapable of doing.”
Ryan smiled inwardly, glad that he had made the obviously correct choice.
“The cat is an individual, and is smart. It has the intellectual capability to learn, to figure out ways to catch its prey,” continued Kahira, sounding disinterested with having to have the conversation, “It can catch birds and mice and insects, and it can live off scraps, or befriend a human for food.”
“But the cat is less worthy,” said Kahira, tapping her ash on the floor.
Ryan's stomach did a twist. His disappointment showed on his face.
“Why?” he asked, needlessly.
“The cat is selfish. It's a destroyer. It will find the easiest path, and take it to the detriment of its character. Yes, it's intelligent, but only to the amount it needs to be in order to find a better way to do less. Cats are domesticated, lazy and greedy.”
Kahira closed her eyes and cracked her neck. Ryan took the opportunity to dare and look at the rest of her body. She was trim, muscular. The definition of her deltoids showed up plainly in the evening sun coming through the window.
She went on, “The ant, the ant knows its place in the society. It is a builder. Its actions are for the group, not the self. It may not be capable of individual thought, not that we know of, but in terms of its contribution to sustaining life, it is just as important as the ant behind or in front of it.”
“If part of an ant's nest is destroyed, or relocated, the workers continue to perform their duties in order to bring the nest back to a point of stability, in much the same way a body heals a wound not to better the original limb, but return it to its original condition. If this flow of thought is followed, it can be shown that the ant's nest is, in and of itself, an organism, a sentient, intelligent being that adapts to its surroundings not through individual endeavors but through all parts working in cohesion.”
Ryan ventured a remark, “Ants? Cats? Are you not a Vigil?”
Kahira squinted through the smoke. She stubbed out the cigarette on the end of the bed.
“I'm not a Vigil. Their ideologies are not so different from ours, at least from first principles.”
“They believe in stagnation, inaction...”
“They believe in balance!” hissed Kahira, clearly annoyed, “They are the ants! They keep the human organism in a state of stasis, relying on past methodologies to keep the status quo. They regulate and stifle, metering out advancement as they see fit so as not to upset the grand Fundamentals. We, however, we seek to push the pendulum.”
Kahira pointed to the window. Ryan came and looked.
“Outside, in the streets and in the alleys, in basements and in bars everywhere there are people. People with ideas. People with imagination. These people are repressed, Ryan. They can't further their dreams into realities for lack of money, lack of resources, lack of... of power,” said Kahira.
She turned back to Ryan, “Tell me, now. Why? Why do they not have power?”
“They lack power because they lack motivation. They are but cattle, chasing fodder and sleep,” huffed Ryan, “Their most glorious achievements are determined by how much they own, or how many others they have had sex with.”
“Certainly not all of them...?”
“As good as!” said Ryan, standing up and starting to pace.
Kahira leaned back and watched. Ryan thrust his finger in the air as he paced, “Show me one achievement, one advancement to the human race that was not ultimately conceived from greed or lust or hatred.”
Kahira prodded him, “But certainly there's still a motivation, otherwise these advancements would not have taken place?”
“Yes, motivations. Powerful motivations, coming from the base self. Lust, money, food, sleep, fame, pride. Invent something to make life easier and no one has to work anymore. They have machines that do the thinking for them. Sure, they have been made by human hands, inspired by human minds, but they are used to stunt the very brains that created them!” yelled Ryan, losing his cool, “It is a sick joke. We are not animals, yet every step forward drives us back to our slovenly roots!”
Kahira sighed, “That's a very bleak outlook on the situation, Ryan, but I am afraid it’s very close to the truth. The human organism must not just thrive, it must move forward, it must better itself, but it cannot do so while it sits idly, wallowing in comfort.”
She gestured for him to sit back down. He did so.
“It is a sad state of affairs, a being with such potential, such amazing ability still chained to the sub-ideal state of animalism. In many ways your words ring true, that every step forward is used to plunge us further down the slippery slope of progress. But what can be done?”
Kahira looked at him steadily.
“Answer me,” she cooed, “What action must be taken to halt the slide and bring humanity back to life?”
Ryan looked up, sweating still. Kahira matched his gaze easily.
“It must want to live. It must struggle again. Laziness and greed has taken hold,” he said, “Cut out the dead flesh and leave it to rot! The healthy minds will fill the void!”
“And how many healthy minds did you destroy, Ryan? Derailing the train, killing indiscriminately. Is that a human trait?” asked Kahira, pointedly.
Ryan's face went pale.
“I did not wish to kill them, but as with a cancer, some good tissue may be cut out with the bad,” he muttered.
He brushed off some ash that had fallen on his arm, sighing, “It is the price that must be paid to purge this earth of the dead heads.”
“I wonder, are you willing to pay the price? If it came to it, would you sacrifice yourself to pay for the resurrection of humanity?”
Ryan wearily nodded.
Kahira smiled briefly. “I will take you to Father Abraham. You will meet at last.”
“When?”
“Now. Put on a shirt, clean yourself up. Show him the respect he deserves,” said Kahira.
She stood and walked to the door. Ryan watched as the light from the window played across her defined arms.
“And Ryan? Do remember to tell the truth.”