12I-2 Creative Writing
14th Wave Hee Gu Kang
2011. 03. 14
The Void and the Men
The Japanese swordsman was exchanging courteous bows with the American cowboy.
The Australian hunter was swearing loudly at the Chinese cook, voice rising infinitely.
The Mexican dancer was laughing broadly at a joke the Egyptian architect had just made.
The Indian mathematician, who alone had remained solitary and silent, spoke: “We cannot possibly coexist like this. We need someone to lead us.”
“The seven lost people . . .” breathed the Chinese cook, still seething and glaring at the Australian hunter, “We’ve been stuck here like this for hours now. We need a solution.”
“We need food. We’re hungry.” said the hunter irritably, “Cook for us.”
“There’s nothing to cook with!” the cook snapped, firing up at once.
“We need rules first.” said the Japanese swordsman firmly, “Rules are highly valued in the arts of Kendo.”
“Yes, yes, and for rules, we need a proper leader.” said the American cowboy with dignity, “Leaders are pivotal to all groups, including us cowboys, of course. Proud, brave Americans!”
“But there’s nothing here. We don’t know where this place is, or why we suddenly came to be here. Why us? Why now? Why?”
“Yeah, I was in the middle of an annual performance!” said the Mexican dancer with obvious annoyance and bemusement, “I was having the time of my life back there. The queen was going to award me a prize!”
“Our priority now is to find our way out of here.” said the Egyptian architect, “I need to complete the design of the pyramid I was working on with my coworkers.”
“Wait a moment. Wait a moment.” said the Indian mathematician, “Did you say pyramid? Pyramids were built hundreds and hundreds of years ago! Don’t talk nonsense.”
“Pardon?” said the architect, looking heartily astonished, “We’re building multiple pyramids right now in our country!”
The mathematician looked thunderstruck. The hunter shook his head.
“And a Mexican queen . . .” hissed the Chinese cook, “Mexico has no queen.”
“We do. Monarchy replaced republicanism in the year 2083. Well, there’s no more of those old ideas of democracy or free market in any country now, I heard. People had had enough of freedom when the sixth Nuclear War killed two thirds of the world population.”
“Nuclear?” chorused the cowboy, the swordsman, and the architect, “What’s that?”
“Wait a moment.” said the cook slowly, “You folks don’t know about nuclear weapons?”
The three shook their heads. The hunter shook his head again.
“I’m starting to grab the gist of the situation now.” murmured the mathematician, stroking his chin, “We seven were taken not only from random locations, but also from random time periods. I came from the year 1989.”
“1887.” said the cowboy.
“2014.” said the cook.
“I don’t know what those numbers mean.” said the architect. The swordsman nodded.
“1962, I reckon.” rasped the hunter.
The mathematician looked excited. “Good. What a union! I wonder who did this to us. We’re in . . . a void!”
They all looked around. Yes. They were standing—or floating; they couldn’t tell—in literal nothingness. Their surroundings weren’t merely black, but literally non-existent. There was no sunlight, no mountains, no horizon, no ground, no air, no . . . anything. There was nothing. They couldn’t tell if they were in a small room, on an expansive plain, or in midair. Around them was boundless nothingness, and there was no escaping the cursed predicament.
“It’s hell living without a hero.” said the mathematician abruptly.
“Someone needs to be the hero.” said the cook, nodding to the Indian.
There was a moment’s subdued silence, then—
“Me.” said a voice.
With a flourish, the swordsman drew a dagger from a strap around his waist, and threw it at the cook with surprising agility. It hit him squarely on the forehead. He toppled. The architect, who had been standing right beside the cook, flinched a little, but before he could do anything, the cowboy had discharged his rifles two times, killing the swordsman. The hunter was eying the swordsman with disdain.
“Two down.” breathed the cowboy, “That Chinese bloke was right, though. We don’t have a hero here. A leaderless group is bound to be driven into violence.”
“So it is.”
The Mexican dancer suddenly pounced upon the cowboy, and before the American could defend himself, had smacked him around the head, knocking him down. The dancer snatched the rifle out of the cowboy’s hand, but the hunter killed the dancer with an accomplished shot from an old-fashioned handgun. The cowboy got gingerly up to his feet, and said, “Thanks.”
“Useless idiots,” spat the hunter, and blasted the cowboy’s universe away with another shot from his handgun, “Why kill the cook? Why kill the cook?”
The mathematician and the architect looked puzzled. The hunter directed his gun at the two surviving people. They raised their hands in desperate defense, but the Australian mercilessly shot the architect down. The mathematician cringed ever more.
“Any mathematical discoveries you haven’t yet disclosed?” shouted the hunter, pushing the muzzle of the handgun into the Indian’s chest, “Any mathematical discoveries you haven’t yet disclosed?”
“Err . . .”
“Tell me! Now!”
“No. There’s something I’ve been working on, but I haven’t finished—”
“Farewell, then. Another failure.”
BANG.
* * * * *
“Got anything, Mark?”
“Yeah.” said the Australian hunter as he emerged from the lopsided stone gate, “It was a bit unentertaining this time, though. Only one of the selected was from the future.”
“Was it a he or she?”
“He. He was a dancer from 2083 Mexico. Monarchy will return to this world after the sixth Nuclear War, from what he said.”
“Good . . . So, there’ll be another Nuclear War after the fifth.”
“Suppose so.” said the hunter, sitting roughly down onto a stubble, “Your turn this time.”
“Yeah.”
The second hunter got up from his stubble, and dragged his body to the gate.
“When do you think will humans abandon the law of strength?” asked the hunter as his colleague was about to disappear back into the void.
“Never, I think. We’re a bunch of barbarians. The most brutal race ever to walk on Earth.”
With that and a small whoosh, the second hunter disappeared into the gate.
