“Hi,” said 2018, “humanity has come so far and you’ve already reached a point where you can create equipment to both destroy the world and save humanity as you know it.”
I smiled when I hear the voice of 2018. A budding little child. No one in this world knows what he’s capable of. But all hopes he’s better than the previous one. He’s naught but a little babe who just managed to learn how to speak and already the entire world is over his shoulder.
I knelt down, leveling myself to the awfully adorable little cinnamon roll in front of me. “It’s really amazing, isn’t it?” I said with a smile on my face as I contemplate on how I pity him but at the same time admire his never-ending possibilities.
“There have been billions of things similar to me that has been created ever since the Romans constructed the Julian calendar,” said 2018 with the same beaming smile as that he always has, “But why then do you, humans, always waste all of my predecessors into nothingness then complain how they ruined your life when in the first place, they have no ability to that?”
“I don’t know, kiddo,” I uttered, completely in awe as to what the child has told me. “Maybe it’s just a part of our nature.”
“Then what if I decided to be the year that would finally put an end to history? What if I decided to be the medium which catastrophe would use to completely annihilate everyone and everything you know and don’t know?”
“It would be super scary,” I said as his words scuffles in my head like a blast of stars in the night sky. “But I think no one would even take you seriously even if you say that over and over again.”
“Why?”
“Because the one before you and the ones before that as well has constantly kept on speaking of such words. That he will be the year that will finally end everything. That he will be the year wherein the trumpets of God would finally be heard from all across the globe. That he, and only he would be the one to finally write the words THE END in everything. Yet they all failed.”
“Is it because they’re not powerful enough?”
“No, they are powerful enough. But always they spout the same utterance in their younger moments and in a blink of an eye you’ll see them being engulfed in a never-ending array of depression and soon the world will look at them, wrinkled and unmotivated. They don’t even remember that they had such a dream before. Such grandiose ambition that they knew they could do, but didn’t.”
“But why didn’t they do it?”
“Because they’re retarded,” I said jokingly, but I know a part of me says the truth. “The ones before you have visions, they set out on a mission, but find themselves doing other things. They find themselves laughing at memes, going gaga on a celebrity drama, being captured by a capitalist joke, and completely taking the bait of television. They have a goal in mind but never in their three-hundred or so days of living have they made an action groundbreaking enough to shatter the world. Because they’re retarded.”
“I see.” The young 2018 said with a voice of a child who trashed his entire journey to go back to where he started. “But why are they retarded, mister?”
I chuckled. “In a world of war and violence, cruelty and grief are normal. And those who reject the words of death are less advanced in both physical and mental capabilities. That’s why they’re retarded.”
“I see.” The young 2018 said with no clear vision in sight anymore has looked at me straight in the eye with eyes filled with nothingness. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared of it. “But isn’t only normal to be… well, normal?”
“Of course, there’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, the normal ones are the ones written in textbooks for the later generations to learn from.”
“That’s amazing then!” The young 2018 said finally with something in mind. “I want to be written in history as well!”
“That is if you want to be known as one of humanity’s biggest mistake then go on ahead. I urge you!”
“Okay!” He said running off into the distance, chuckling with a voice of a child looking forward to the future. His purple clothes aren’t tattered yet but soon, like all men before him, those clothes will also be so ragged, tainted with blood and sweat that no man would dare wish to wear them.
I smile as I see the child play like a child unlike most of the others before him who wakes up wearing a military uniform and crying for a parent’s care with a machine gun in his hands.
But now what I’m seeing is 2018. A boy, an innocent kid, a child with great things ahead of him. But instead of seeing blood and violence around him what he sees are toys and peace.
I tapped on his back as he plays with a little red plushy, throwing it all over the place just like how every kiddo. “Well, I’ll be going now.”
2018 laughs. “Do you know the wae?”
Yes, thank god.
He’s also retarded.