World War 4: Sticks and Stones

Ben: part Three

It was common knowledge before the war that regular nuclear radiation dissipates within the time frame of two weeks. But the meganuke abominations that had been created were estimated to create a fallout that could last more than a decade. The research stopped there. Nobody knew how long past a decade that the fallout radiation could last. Today marked year fifteen. Destiny was nearing a year old and her speedy growth was comparable to that of a bamboo rod. Of course, I had only heard that they grew quickly as I had never seen bamboo. After my mind made that comparison, I began to wonder if I would ever see it. My mind started to wander once again into the stars. I took my consciousness on a tour through the bunker and found a staircase. I climbed the staircase, breathing heavily after every step. I felt closer and closer to freedom. The tight bunker door showed itself to me at the top. I know that in reality, the door would have been tightly locked, but in my dream it wasn't. I turned the handle hand over hand. I ran out of breath. I started to turn back, but then the wheel turned itself for me as if it was ushering me forth. I accepted its warm welcome and pushed the door open. It was as if nothing had changed outside. The hot sun was blaring down on my skin. I looked to my left as I lifted my arm to see a bright tan color that had been erased by my time in the darkness. My eyes took just one second to adjust to the wide array of colors that showed themselves to me. For whatever reason, the bunker door took me outside into my neighborhood rather than to the living room of my house. Then the door disappeared behind me. I heard the faint chirp of birds and the unwavering laughter of children as I took a seat in the grass below me. I picked at the grass and took the longest strand that was near me. I stared in awe. I had never seen such a dark, yet bright green. I looked at it for a while and then I began to frolic through the grass. Every color that showed itself to me made me contemplate the complexities of the universe. Eliza appeared next to me and we laid perpendicular to each other and stared at the sky.

This. 

I awoke. With perseverance in my heart, I told myself that this was what I continued to live for. And then I realized that it wasn't. There was no deep green grass or bright blue sky, or blazing sun beating down on my tan skin. There were no birds, or possibly animals at all. This beauty, these complexities, this universe was gone. We had killed it. I was simply living so that my bloodline could live. So that Eliza could live, so that Destiny could grow into the reason that others would live. But never again would a person thrive. We were savages, cannibals, killers. I was enlightened. Everything we did was for our own selfish gains: to live. To live no longer for the betterment of the future, but so that we could live long enough to see our problems become burdens for our children and for theirs and, God forbid, for theirs and so forth. In the morning, I told Eliza of my dream. She told me that it was beautiful and that she knew that one day, we could see the world again from the perspective that we had lost. I told her that our world would no longer be like that. She knew, but she told me that dust and shadow could be just as beautiful as grass and sky if we were to use it to rebuild. She told me that the satisfaction of rebuilding our world was just as complex as that of the color of the sky. Then I asked her when we would be able to see the outside again. She told me that it was not up to her. She was right, but I wanted her to have an answer. 

I knew that it wasn't up to her because, in part, it was up to me. It was up to me and, of course, the council. Every month since the first decade hit, the council would vote on whether or not to send a brave soul to the surface to see if they could survive the radiation. Of course, if they couldn't survive the radiation, the entire bunker would be killed because of how quickly it can spread. This, of course, caused reluctance in voting for someone to be sent. There have been sixty votes since the decade hit and the council still voted every time to not send anybody. Recently, however, the votes had been scarily tight. I voted no every single time and continued to vote no. There were twenty five members of the council. Even though the arguments for and against opening the bunker were always the same, there were twenty five people required to argue during every single council meeting. Now that I had a child, my arguments were even more urgent, but were mostly the same as they always had been. "Fine people of the council... and Rosemary" I would joke and then I would go on. "I have met a woman who is the light of my life. She gives me strength and heart and she is my rock. I refuse to believe that I am the only one who has met someone like this. If those who vote to open the bunker are right, then as soon as the bunker is opened I will provide them with the most heartfelt of hugs, but if they are wrong, then they not only have the blood of that brave soul who opened the bunker on their hearts, but they have the massacre of upwards of fifty thousand human lives to account for. I see the positives in the arguments, I really do, but I have found a reason to live, my esteemed colleagues. I cannot take a gamble where the research does not tell me beyond a reasonable doubt that I and my wife and my daughter will survive and for that reason, I cannot support the opening of the bunker based solely on a hunch." I had no reason to believe that the council would vote differently today, but my daughter gave me a fight that I might never forgive myself if I lost. I held my breath in the same way that I did every time that the votes were cast. "Aye" was the first vote. My heart raced faster. "Nay." The vote was now tied. It was my turn to vote. "Nay" I said without hesitation. The vote dragged on for what felt like hours. It was now the final vote. My heart was beating through my chest. This was Rosemary's vote. I knew that she had been back and forth before the meeting on how to vote. My breath was being held to the point that I was turning pale blue. The vote was tied. However Rosemary voted would be the way that the council went. She thought for just a moment and in a way that felt like she was surrendering, she finally spoke. "Nay." All the breath that I had held came pouring out as a river. The vote had never been that close before.