Tipping the Scales

This idea has been kicking around in my head since I became convinced that there are darker things afoot in this world than you or I can see.  I had originally thought it would be a dialogue of sorts, but this character had to do all the talking.  Oddly, it was in Dame Judy Dench's voice.   So, here it is.

Tipping the Scales

I’d like to be able to tell you that it was your imagination.  That’s what I’d like to say.  I could still say it but I doubt you’d believe me because if you’d believe such a thing you wouldn’t be here. You’d have already told yourself and you would not be sitting here, across the table from me, drinking your coffee and pretending that your life isn’t falling apart at the seams. 

First, let me tell you that you aren’t crazy.  You’ve experienced something that most people don’t and since it’s something you have been told can’t happen, you probably think you’ve gone around the bend and down the lane.   Well, stop.  You aren’t losing your mind, but if you listen to me you’ll gain some knowledge.  Usually, I’d get in big trouble telling you the secrets of the mystical beyond as it were but I don’t think we’ve got anything to lose. 

I’m old.   Much older than I look, actually, and it’s getting harder and harder to maintain this form, such that it is. I’ve decided that the boobs are going to droop and the hair is going to gray and the face is going to crease and that’s the way it’s going to be.   I’ve decided that the thing you’re here to talk to me about, that’s the last one for me.  There are too many of Them and not enough of Us and because there are so many of Them with their facebook and smart phones, it’s nearly impossible to create another one of Us.  It’s easy for Them, though.  So very easy.

Them.  You know, those creatures who feed on the souls of the already vulnerable.  Well, I don’t know what you call Them, but I call them the Suckers, for lack of a better word.  That’s what they do.  They suck.  They start with someone who’s already a little bit broken and they take and they take and they take until the slightest suggestion is enough to bring forth unconscionable acts.  The poor thing is so empty it creates a vacuum and when They stop sucking and push something nasty back the other way, well, it takes over the person’s whole being doesn’t it?  Like a marshmallow in the microwave it expands and fills them up until there’s nothing left but anger and insanity.  That’s a lethal combination. 

Oh, they’ve been around a long, long time.  As long as we have.  As long as humans have, perhaps even longer if the anti-social behavior in some species of animals was studied a little closer.   They’ve had different names down through history.  Demons is the most popular I think, but They’ve nothing to do with God as you humans understand things.   I’m not saying there’s not someone in charge, mind you.  There’s an agenda of sorts.   I just don’t know how the powers that be are going to address this problem of not enough of Us and too many of Them.  The scales have tipped and when the scales tip, usually the solution is a fairly drastic one.  I won’t be around for that, though.  At least I don’t think so.

That’s a fine question.  Who are we indeed?  Well, we’re not angels so you can put that idea out of your head right now.  We are without names, actually, because we can’t really be described. 

Look, when someone does something that appears to be heroic they can never explain why , can they?   Any “on the spot” news interview you’ve ever seen has someone who ran into a burning building to save a baby or pulled a puppy off of the cracking ice or chased down an old lady’s purse.   Do you know what their answer always is when they're asked why they did it? 

That’s right.  It’s “I don’t know. Something just told me to do it.” Am I right?  Well, that's Us.

You see, to create another one of Us there has to be a strong wave of belief, and that’s just not happening anymore.  Yours is an instant society.  Pictures or it didn’t happen, isn’t that what you say?  Too few humans are willing to believe a fantastic story without photos or video, and therein lies the rub. 

For one of us to be created, we can’t be seen like you can see a flower or see a bird.  Only perceived.  Out of the corner of one’s eye or a whisper in one’s ear and your world, well, it’s just too plain noisy for us to be noticed most of the time.    You all live in your own little places and your own little spaces and there’s no evening campfire or rocking chairs on a porch to talk about what was felt and noticed and let the stories come together where a pattern develops.  The common experiences are… noticed.  The internet doesn’t allow for it either, sadly.  These things must be shared face to face, not a picture with a quippy caption.   

We can’t be formed if we aren’t noticed.   “Noticed” and “seen” are different, by the way.  

When everything has settled and you’ve had a chance to think, really think, about how if things had happened any other way, it could have been so much worse.  That’s us. again.  And don't feel guilty, it’s natural and completely understandable that you, collectively I mean, not you specifically, would flee from and explosion or turn your back to not see a child hit by a car.  Your first duty to your species is to survive and it’s that part of your brain that kicks in when things go awry.

We cause some of you to run the other way. Toward the blood and the broken glass and the gun shots.  Let me tell you that those who do run toward the danger aren’t better than anyone else, and they’d tell you the same thing.  They do it, because we compel them to.  We compel some of you to stand barrier while those fools picket funerals they have no business sticking their nose in.  We compel some of you to shield a woman you don’t know from falling glass or jump onto the tracks to rescue someone who’s fallen just before a train rolls in.  That’s Us. 

How’s it done?  Another good question.  It’s different for each of us.  We work things in the way that suits us best.  For instance, I’m not one to do the whisper in your ear thing. It works well for others, but more of a nudger.  I push here and push there until they do what I want them to do.   I used to be a little more subtle, but like I said, I’m old.  Too old for subtle, anyway.   One of us, a handsome fellow actually, is the master of the subliminal.  You know, he once left a fortune cookie message for someone three days before she was meant to fall asleep on the train, get off at the next stop, and discover an abandoned baby?  He was good.

Look, what I’m telling you is that what you’re feeling is completely natural.  You noticed something the other day and you’ve got no one to tell about it.  Share your experience with others who were there.  Tell them what you saw.  Tell them that you saw a man run toward a situation that could have gotten him killed.  And then listen while they tell the story of the woman who took off her Dolce & Gabanna scarf for someone to use as a tourniquet and then offered her expensive Range Rover as a makeshift ambulance.  She could have jumped in and driven for the hills, you know.

And listen again while another tells the story of a man who told three little girls about an island of unicorns  while EMT’s worked on their unresponsive mother. 

Listen again and again until the pattern develops.  What pattern?  Ahh…here's my master plan.  Bad things happen.  We can’t do anything about that, because we’re not allowed.  That’s their territory and we can only manage what happens after.   If, and only if, you and your fellow humans can continue noticing the heroes and the small ways you found to love and care for eachother even as strangers, there will be more of us.  And more of us means that we will equal or outnumber them. We'll have tipped the scales without the "intervention", so to speak.  Are you with me?

Good.  Me?  Oh, don’t worry about me.  I’m not going to die in the classic sense of the word…I’ll age and then pass into a  different form.

No, not a ghost.  A dog.  As dogs, we can so the same sort of thing, but we have to let our tails and tongues do the talking. It's easier in a way, really.  I wish I could choose, but I have little control over what sort of dog I will be.   Frankly the best I can hope for is a shaggy mutt in the average family with 2.5 children.  I shudder to think that I’ll become one of those tiny barky things or God forbid, a poor pitbull destined for the ring.  Come to think of it, those tiny barky things all seem to think they're pitbulls anyway...

Them?  Yes, of course.  They move on, the same way we do.   No, not as dogs.  I would have thought that would have been obvious considering the shape this discussion has taken. 

Thankfully, their powers are gone, but the attitude remains.  They, my dear, become cats.