Death Drive: A Short Story

A/N: I originally wrote this for a challenge run by the Creative Cafe, a Medium publication. Read this story at the original source here: https://thecreative.cafe/death-drive-711b9922dcfa

Clearly, I’m not the type that learns from their mistakes. As I stood underneath Heimdall Bridge in the middle of the night, wearing nothing but my pajamas and a hastily thrown-over cardigan, my first thought was “it’s June, but it feels so much like that cold December night long ago…” The circumstances were much the same as they had been the first time I got into serious trouble one night. Just like last time, I had sneaked away from home as my parents slept to meet a strange old man who had messaged me online, summoning me to this park. I know it sounds dangerous and stupid beyond all reason, but here I was anyway.

“So you actually came. Amazing. You may very well be the stupidest girl I’ve ever seen.”

He approached me from behind like a sneaky, hellish snake. At least this time I could run if I wanted to, I was only underneath a bridge, not being cornered against a wall like with the last man. His voice was so hoarse and inhuman that I nearly jumped out of my skin. If anything terrible happened now, it would be my fault alone. An instinctive fear paralyzed me the way it had last time, leaving me vulnerable so that he could’ve done anything he wanted with me. I waited for it to come, wincing in anticipation, but he just stood there and laughed at my pathetic condition.

“I understand that you are desperate and unloved, but I came here for a different reason. I have something to show you.”

I finally opened my eyes and turned to have a good look at him. I gasped, for he did not look like how one would imagine a monstrous antisocial creature governed by its baser instincts to appear. I know that looks can be deceiving, but he looked rather awe-inspiring and wise like an archetypal, enlightened sage. He didn’t have the corpse-like pale skin, soulless unblinking eyes, tattered clothing or crumbly-toothed wicked smile that the man who had been my captor for a night did. His countenance looked calm and peaceful, with an aura of contemplative, meditative silence. He had the longest, flowing white beard that wizards in legends do, and he wore red, silk robes. His skin was cacao-colored.

“You’re carrying a flaming torch.” I noted. The light from it was what had helped me observe his features. “That’s so old fashioned.”

“Well a flashlight just isn’t my style, but you look like someone who would be scared by a mere candle, maybe even by your own shadow.” I noticed that his voice seemed to come out normally this time and carried an alluring foreign accent. Something about him even reminded me of my own father, perhaps because everything he had said to me thus far contained some kind of insult in it and my father loves to remind me about how much of a disappointment I am to him.

“So why did you ask me to meet you here, in a park of all places?” I asked.

“Ask yourself, why this park in particular? What meaning does it have to you? You need to learn to search inside yourself for answers and not just rely on other people to tell them to you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, perplexed. Heimdall Park mainly just consisted of two hills for people to run around and walk their dogs on, or tobogganing down in the winter. Off to the side there were some swing sets and a jungle gym. The park was split in half by Heimdall Bridge, which the old man and I were standing under and which was part of a railroad.

“The train…” I muttered.

“The conductor wouldn’t be able to stop it fast enough if there were a person on the tracks in front of it. The easiest suicide method around. It’s a shame you’re too cowardly to attempt it.”

“It may result in injury instead of death, which is what I’m afraid of. But I am not cowardly. I think my death drive would help me overcome any fear I may have.”

“Death drive?”

“Come on, don’t tell me you’ve never been tempted to jump on train tracks before. Everyone is attracted to the thrill of danger.”

The sage looked unimpressed by my pseudo-psychological theory.

“Do you think, girl” he began “that human beings are like animals, governed by their instincts?”

“Yes they are.” I said. “I mean, look at me, I know that it was dangerous to come here and meet you, but I did it any way because my desire to not be lonely overcame my reason. I don’t have control over my actions or desires, they control me. That’s really how it is for most humans.”

He seemed amused by this. “Here’s the reason why I specifically asked you to meet me under this bridge. Look at this.” He turned around, allowing the light from the torch to expose a whole mural of graffiti. It was all poorly done and rather sloppy looking, with swear words and other obscenities. It was not the sort of thing that everyone would consider art.

“I think this stands as a testament to my earlier comment. The vandals who did all this are clearly the scum of the street. No one chose to be like them. Why would they? They were doomed to their path by socioeconomic conditions and their instincts.”

“You are wrong. Everyone has control over how their fate is spun. You could be successful, if you actually chose to try hard in school.”

“I want to try hard in school but I can’t. There are always other things on my mind and I can never focus on studying. The words do not register in my brain as I read them. I’ve tried.”

There was a knowing, erudite flash in the old man’s dark, obsidian eyes that silenced me, for it made me remember that he was much more intelligent than I was.

“Are you sure that you really have no control over your life? Look at what a mess you are. I bet if you tried harder to maintain your appearance, and worked to quit some of your bad habits, it would make you more attractive to boys your age so you wouldn’t have to talk to older men online like me to seek external validation.”

“But I will never be able to force feelings of attraction from them. That’s what I mean. Even after I put in all that effort, there’s no guarantee they’ll like me more.” I pointed out sadly, staring down at my ugly, tattered shoes that were caked with mud. When I looked up, I noticed that the old man had thrust his torch closer to my face and I could feel the heat. I jolted back, alarmed. The man had assumed a stone faced silence. I stared into the dancing flame, mesmerized.

Suddenly I entered another realm as I was in that dazed hypnotic trance. I saw myself studying hard and miraculously gaining entrance into a health sciences undergraduate program at a prestigious university. I was in a lab, preparing slides to put under a microscope. I had white lab coat over my clothes. It fit me really well and made me look professional. I started to view the microscope slides and adjusting the focus when a classmate of mine approached me. She had goggles and a high pony tail.

“Hey I just wanted to say congratulations on getting into that orchestra. I knew you would, being so good at the violin and all. Your audition must have slayed them.”

“I have never played a musical instrument in my life.” I opened my mouth to say, but what came out in the reverie was simply “thank you, Aspen. By the way, I’m free during lunch if you would like me to help you with your math homework.”

Math? What was going on? I’ve almost failed it three years in a row!

Moving forward a few hours, the vision showed me sitting at a table in the university’s lounge eating the healthiest Mediterranean salad. I didn’t even have a cookie or a piece of chocolate on the side. Somehow, I had triumphed over the vice of gluttony. The eager Aspen approached me, and soon I was explaining concepts to her. I had this really weird experience of simultaneously understanding and not understanding something, for in the dream I knew the math concepts really well, but I was aware that what I was experiencing wasn’t real. Yet it seemed so real! I could smell the content’s of everyone’s lunch around me. As I graphed a function for Aspen, I heard the sage’s voice, which seemed to come out booming over the PA system. It was very loud, but of course I was the only one who heard it.

“What do you think?” it asked.

I only needed to think a thought to reply to his words.

“How did I end up like this?” I asked, astonished.

“You took control over your life. You stopped acting like a child and took responsibility for your actions.”

“I can do math? I can play the violin? I can abstain from eating unhealthy things?”

“Yes. You’re a professional athlete now too. Women’s lacrosse team. You have practice after school today.”

“But I am the laziest person in the world.”

I was able to have this conversation with the elder at the same time as I was talking to Aspen and helping her with math.

“Don’t look now” she told me “but I think that cute guy a few tables away is checking you out, the one with the guitar. Maybe you should go say hi. You can talk about music.”

“Alright” I said to the sage after I eyed the handsome musician “now this is getting way too unrealistic.” He had the most radiant smile.

“Look at his hair” I told Aspen “it’s dyed rainbow colors. He is probably a homosexual.”

“No, no. He just likes to stand out.” She said.

“Do you hate yourself?” came the sage’s voice.

“Not in this… simulation or whatever it is.” I said.

“But right now you do, which is understandable. Let me tell you what happened that put you down this successful path. You see, you turned your self-hatred into a quest for self-improvement and decided to change everything you were. You knew your strengths lay in areas such as history, philosophy, and literature, but you decided to abandon these pursuits, which you deemed as useless to humanity, in order to pursue a medical degree. In university you remade your image. No longer were you considered nonathletic, untalented, or bad at math.”

“Where did I go from there?”

“Would you like to see?” He asked.

“Yes.”

The simulation flashed forward a few years and I gasped when I felt myself in a tight embrace. Only this was one I had willingly surrendered to. My amorous lover was kissing me enthusiastically, and it actually felt really good.

“Nestor, marrying you was the best decision of my life.” I said to him, running my fingers through rainbow colored hair. It was the student with the guitar!

“You are lying to him of course. The best decision of your life was to take control of it.” The sage said.

“Oh my gosh! Did you have to interrupt us?” I protested.

“It is important to snap you back to reality.”

“So he really wasn’t a homosexual.” I chuckled.

“No. Pansexual.”

“Oh. Did we have any children?”

“No. You told him you were against the idea of children. Nestor didn’t ask you for an explanation, but it was because you still had not completely conquered your self hatred, especially in matters of physical appearance, and you would probably have tried to murder your own children if they ever displayed any biological likeness to you.”

“My death drive would have projected outwards”. I agreed.

Suddenly the lovely vision gave way to a series of nightmares. I saw us arguing, yelling at each other, and spending the nights apart because we couldn’t stand each other anymore.

“This was definitely out of my control”.

“You are wrong, of course. After getting married, you reverted back to your old ways, believing that Nestor would still love you if you became a lazy, nagging wife who never helped around the house. You let yourself gain weight after quitting the healthy habits you worked so hard to establish before.”

“I’ve found someone else. They’re more honest and hardworking. I’m not going to continue dwelling on this mistake, even though it took up so much of my time.” Nestor said. He was referring to our thirty year marriage as a mistake.

When Nestor left me, I never found love again. The divorce process was stressful. One night, I had a heart attack and died in my sleep.

“Come on, tell me that the moral of that story was that I shouldn’t try to change myself. Instead I should try to accept myself for who I am.”

“That is not the only pathway of course.” The sage told me. “Look into the fire again.”

I obeyed, and found myself in a corporate environment, dressed in a black pencil skirt and white button down collared shirt.

“Really? I’m embracing who I am in these clothes?” I asked the wise man skeptically.

“That is just the dress code of your office. You work for the United Nations. You decided to follow your heart, which drew you to continuing to study more history and politics. You’ve always found other cultures very fascinating and alluring.”

I noticed that the mug I was holding did not contain coffee like I had expected, instead it was hot chocolate. I guess one thing I’ll never outgrow is my hatred of coffee.

“Look outside.” The elder instructed me.

A beautiful bronze statue of a man on a horse stood outside. It took my breath away. I had expected the building I was working in to be in New York city or some other drab American metropolis, but this was surely in one of those remote parts of the world that not many outsiders travel to. The city seemed to combine the ancient and the modern in its architecture.

“Any guesses for where you are?”

“The statue is of Genghis Khan. I must be in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia.”

“Bravo.”

I noticed how ethnically diverse my colleagues all were. I guess that’s the benefit of working for an organization like the United Nations. A friendly coworker approached me. He looked Middle Eastern and was dark skinned with shiny black hair and a short, neatly trimmed bear.

“Forgive me father for my sins…” I muttered, hoping the sage would not hear me, but of course he did even though he was completely unseen in that simulation.

“Yes, that is the one.” The sage confirmed.

“He is so beautiful, much better than Nestor.”

“I don’t think someone like you can afford to be picky.”

I ignored his rude comment and focused only on the Middle Eastern man, who was approaching me.

“Hello. My name is Mohammad. I heard we got assigned to the same mission.” He greeted me.

“You’re going to Mali too?” I asked.

“Yes. I can’t wait to visit Timbuktu. It has always been a dream of mine as it was one of the sacred cities of Islam.”

I decided not to mention that my favorite aspect of Mali was the Dogon culture and that I admired them for fiercely resisting Arab slavers and avoiding conversion to Islam as they practiced their ancient animistic rituals. I wouldn’t want him to think me an infidel.

“Amazing.” I said.

“See you there.”

“Would you like me to flash forward to your trip to Mali?” the sage asked.

“Yes.”

Well it turned out Timbuktu was magnificent. The mosque there was ancient and enigmatic. Mohammad and I went there together.

“I have to go now… UNESCO wants me to do some research at the archives.” He told me.

“When are we meeting again?” I asked.

“Tonight. I’ll send you the address of the hotel.” He said. As he parted, he winked in my direction.

“Oh my goodness!” I squealed.

“Don’t get too excited” said the sage.

“Oh, it can’t be as bad as what happened with Nestor?”

“I won’t spoil anything” he said “just watch. Now you’re walking through some bazaar in Mali, buying souvenir jewelry. See how you’re barely paying attention to your surroundings because all you can think of is Mohammad.”

Sure enough, I was at the stall of an old woman selling authentic Dogon necklaces.

“Are these from Bandiagara?” I asked her.

“Mali is one of the most dangerous countries in the world.” The sage reminded me ominously.

Sure enough, the whole area was blown up by a hidden terrorist bomb.

“Damn it!” I said. “The universe is cruel. It’s like it stole the man of my dreams away from me by killing me off just before I could get serious with him. Couldn’t it have waited a day or two longer?”

“That’s what you get for following the path of your heart and going off to a far away country.” The sage said. “Mohammad mourned your loss for a week, but then he moved on to another girl.”

“But I had no control over that terrorist bomb.”

“It was your choice to go to Mali, so your death was your own fault. Just like that incident with that messed up sadistic old man last winter.”

“There has to be something else.” I said, trying to change the topic from the mention of the unpleasant encounter.

“Of course there is. I’ve only shown you the two best case scenarios.”

“Best cases? Then what else is there?”

“For the last case I don’t need to tell you anything. It’s quite simple really, you don’t study, you don’t put it any effort for any kind of self-improvement, you don’t realize the importance of school…”

“But I do realize it! I just don’t have control over my focus or attention span. When the teacher lectures, everything just goes over my head!”

“You continue being stubborn like this, and then you return back a week later to this park, after you get the results of your final exam.”

“And?”

As if on cue, the earth began to rumble and I heard what sounded like a stampede of a hundred wild horses.

“You jump in front of the train that is now passing above us.”

“What if I don’t want any of it? What if I escaped from all three scenarios? It can’t possibly be set in stone.”

“How will you escape?”

“I can’t fail my exams if I never write them. So… how about I go into town and get a job, make enough money to buy me a plane ticket, and then join a monastery in a far off remote land?”

“Coward! You can’t just run away from your problems like that.”

“Excuse me but who are you to call me a coward?” I asked him “who the hell are you anyway? I bet you’re some good for nothing, unemployed, homeless simpleton who is too lazy to try to find a job.” I mustered up all my courage and pointed at him defiantly. There was a fire in my eyes as rage took over me, but the fire was drenched by what followed.

“Joke’s on you, actually. I’m a professor of computer science because I took control of my fate. Now, choose wisely, what will your fate be?”

I looked around at the graffiti. Above us, the train was still passing by. I noticed that there was a can of spray paint on the ground, left over by some teenage street urchin. I picked it up and added to the graffiti. The professor watched me curiously. “What is that?” he asked.

“It says mea culpa. It’s Latin for ‘my fault’. I don’t know what I’ll do from now on, but what ever it is, it’ll be my fault and my fault alone.” I told him.

The End