05-18-2013, 06:10 PM
Erroneous Cognition
Mild morning sunlight penetrated the various layers consisting of frail leaves and slim branches until it reached the soil, a soft mattress of homogenous grass. Many of these plants had only recently sprung up, and he knew that. Not only had he sought to accommodate at a spot which provided the terrain needed for his well-prepared deed, it also had to be a place he liked it in. After a couple of extensive foregoing excursions to appraise the surroundings, he had elected the one most fitting to his heedfully compiled criteria.
He found it paradoxical and contradictory alike, if not amusing, that his choice had fallen on this very spot. That place was full of life; young, inexperienced life; a vivid turmoil of airy movements. Light blades were softly blowing in the wind which made the smell of fresh, healthy soil tickling his nostrils. It was essentially a place of graciously divine creation. His deed, however, aimed at anything but creation. Therefore an equilibration was made, naturally. Because everything which was born would also need to perish at some point: an undeniable law of nature. He appreciated that, and it made him feel confident in what he was going to do.
A long-lasting and operose period of thorough planning had been dedicated to the execution of his deed which now was due to be carried out. The performance would only take a split-second, but had needed to be pondered over in order to become a success, devoid of potential sources of errors and miscalculation; every piece if the puzzle had to fit. If one was missing or was wrong, the thing as whole would be wrong and destined to fail. That was why these preparations were of paramount importance, he could not make decisions on the spur of the moment; this was in conflict with his beliefs and experiences, and never again would he rely on spontaneous decisions. In nature, too, there was a pattern, a preset plan of action guiding every happening and development to its very end, where it always fulfilled its objective.
Pertaining to the choice of appropriate clothing he had had his doubts. Eventually he had compromised by choosing something between sporty-casual and moderately elegant because making the appearance of an outsider would be most unfortunate; keeping a low profile was the method to be striven for. He applied that not only today, no, he arranged his entire life in that way, because the daily life among other people was a repetitive procedure, a superficial game which did not need to display him in his true nature, but rather in the manner he wanted other people to perceive him, that is, as an average citizen with no exceptional conspicuousness. Only in privacy he could live his life according to his wishes. However, due to absolute necessity and in order to execute crucial tasks, sometimes his true nature inevitably needed to appear on the surface, like today.
The plaza was still empty, so was the podium. The first people were to come in about an hour, if not even later. It was a nice place, celebratory, reverent. There were marmoreal paving stones placed in a square ship with symmetrical patterns engraved on its surface. Light gray columns surrounded the plaza from three sides; their design could very well remind one of ancient architecture. Solemn flags in bright, contrastive colors were tied to ropes which had been hung up between the columns. They happily fluttered in the wind, reflecting the morning sun’s piercing light in every possible direction. The entire edification had just recently sprung up out of the grass, and one could not miss its youth and naivety. It was a foreign body surrounded by nature, recently built with serving as an ambiance for the speech being its sole purpose. Regrettably, only few things could withstand man’s will and money, not even nature.
Like it always took him hours to find the most suitable alignment of all his extremities and the perfect position of essentially every fiber of his body before being able to fall asleep at night, it again took him a great amount of time to determine the best and most comfortable posture for carrying out his deed as well as to take into account possible unforeseen adjustments. Most favorably hidden from every side, especially from whence he expected the great mass of people to be soon located at, he waited, calm and patient, with utmost satisfaction that his projections and the course of action had so far been congruent.
Although he was completely calm and grounded, thanks to the long preparations which had included hours of solitary meditation, it somehow felt unnatural in a strange and inexplicable manner. Neither his body nor his mind fell victim to hectic and imprudent movements, yet he perceived a somewhat noticeable tension in everything he did and thought and it mildly bothered him as he deemed it a potential source of doubt. Doubt, a disruptive factor he had aimed to extinct during the last months, the one which contained the greatest amount of peril for his deed.
Never in his life had he needed to force himself to do something, simply because he refused doing anything without appreciating its avail and necessity. Sometimes it took him no time to see the point in something, and sometimes it took him long, like as for today’s affair. From belief comes the strength to accomplish one’s goals and tasks, he had been telling himself since his youth. As a result, he believed that this was the reason he’d been so successful at everything he had mastered so far in his life. This time it was just another procedure to test the strength and depth of his belief, like every time before.
It was probably going to take quite some time until the time was right, therefore he had to be able to stay in position for as long as needed without suffering from any mental or physical indisposition, whether it be the impedimentary obstacle of hesitation or simply a squeezed vain in his arm. A backup plan did not exist, it had never been necessary because he never made a serious mistake to such an extent that it would have affected the planned course of action. And since the chance of success was proportional to the amount of time invested in the planning, the chance of a fail was vanishingly small. Everything was perfect. One shot and all would be over.
One question had remained unanswered to date for him though: what was the people’s opinion about him? Although he evaded interpersonal interaction whenever it was possible, he inevitably made an impression on people he necessarily needed to talk to every once in a while. What concerned him was the possibility that others might suspect him to be a madman or some crazy psychopath who was keeping a low profile and generally refraining from drawing attention to his person in order to then, ultimately, unleash his insane plan of massive devastation. He indeed knew very well how others would probably picture him. Thus it was high time he proved the unjustified suspicions wrong.
Contrary to popular belief, death was not necessarily a bad thing, he had stated. As much as he loved life, death was a part of it and the ultimate fate of anything that had chosen to live. While he lay on the soft lawn he observed the lime-green leaves of the young oaks around him; leaves that were to perish at some point in the future, too. However, nobody knew when exactly their existence was to end. He loathed those nescient scientists who claimed to know one’s life expectancy. This was all utter rubbish, he had concluded. One could cease at any moment, whether it be through natural forces or as a result of intentional actions.
Every single being had a task, he thought while checking the time and then watching up to the sun which was still not very high. Some creatures were more intelligent than others, and with greater intelligence came greater responsibility and supreme understanding. Therefore, the tasks of the most intelligent creatures were the ones of pivotal meaning and importance and the ones which had the greatest impact on the universe. These creatures were, undoubtedly, the humans. However, many humans were, for various reasons, following a wrong direction aiming to accomplish a wrong task. Wrong could mean any kind of wrongness, whether it be morally wrong, ethically wrong or wrong in a peculiar situation. And if it was possible to stop one such wrongdoer from achieving his abysmal goal, it was to be done no matter the costs.
These were thoughts and images that flowed through his mind while he waited amidst the open shrubbery on the top of the small hill. Everything was familiar: the thoughts were experiments reasoned over multiple times, the images were extracts of past experiences well-kept in his mind, and the surroundings were a place he had accustomed himself to over the past weeks. He liked things being familiar; his life essentially was driven by habits. It was a great accomplishment that he had come to appreciate that fact, because having the ability to understand and change oneself required to know oneself. And that was his lifetime goal, to truly grasp his own nature.
Contemplations about goals and missions led him back to one of his most fundamental principles: The in-existence of perfection. Perfection did not exist in anything natural. Only the human mind had the capability to imagine a perfect thing. Alas no, again did he catch himself. They couldn’t imagine it, they didn’t even have the slightest idea of how it looked, felt, sounded. It was essentially just an illusion made up by the brain in an attempt to understand things it can’t, or to satisfy its everlasting lust for more, the maximal amount, the best, the greatest, the smartest… yes, he had declared war on superlatives long ago.
Sharp as his eyes were, he spotted the first spectator arriving on the plaza. From the distance he could see it was a middle-aged woman. She will not be the same person anymore when she leaves this place again, he quietly said to himself. Soon after came more. They strolled around the place, obviously showing more interest in the compound than the nature surrounding it. His resentment grew stronger, but he knew that key persons controlled the great mass. Dealing with the members of the great mass one by one would be pointless. It was the key persons who affected the mass which needed to be dealt with. Always start from the ground of the tower, he kept saying to himself. Tipping and pushing the top building blocks had no notable effect. The deeper you go though, the more will crash down from above.
Miens and facial expressions are what characterize humans. A face was the key to one’s personality. Maybe for other people the key element to ultimate insight was something else, but he could appraise somebody only by looking into their eyes, and only by that. He was very good at it too. He was certain he was. Perhaps it was a gift, maybe just a highly trained skill. Sometimes it felt as if it was almost as important as eating, drinking and sleeping; looking into people’s eyes, observing their faces. Emotions, thoughts, stories, fears: everything could he read out of people’s faces. When he saw these men and women down there a growing urge of having a closer look at them arose inside him.
Through biographies, publications, articles, TV shows and recorded public speeches he essentially found out all he needed to know about today’s candidate. Although he would’ve probably appreciated it, an eye-to-eye meeting or an interview would’ve been too dangerous. Nevertheless, the sources available to him provided enough proof and confirmation that this man was the lucky chosen one. He considered this his first official act of the year, his grand deed of spring. And it was to become a success, as every single one before.
While his thoughts drifted off to the far edges of his mind he unconsciously twirled a bullet in his fingers. Suddenly back in the reality as he knew it, he stopped twirling it and firmly clutched it in his closed fist. With the other hand he grabbed the second one which was lying in the grass next to his elbow. They were specially manufactured, designed to be as accurate as however possible, because today’s imperative was accuracy. Why two, he thought to himself. He would have only one chance, so why did he insist on acquiring two bullets. Two was an odd number anyway, the popular three would have been much more appropriate, just like in all the fairy tales; three tasks to complete, three foes to subdue, three mystical puzzles to solve in order to get your shiny reward, so why not three bullets? Perhaps because every part had only one counterpart, not two.
He looked at his watch and it became once again unmistakably obvious to him that time was a subjective quantity, since now, as he was eagerly yearning for the releasing moment to come, time passed slower than it usually did. Nobody but himself could reliably measure his time, and everybody perceived time differently because they would measure it in their way. Any devices not connected to his mind were therefore doing a horrible job attempting to measure time. Whatever they pretended to be measuring, it was certainly not time. With a slightly deprecatory look he glanced at the device. His watch knew nothing about time.
The plaza gradually filled itself with people and he could no longer resist the temptation to go for a short stroll down there to look into the men’s and women’s eyes. With great prudence and diligence he emerged from his perfectly hidden lair and descended from the hill on the side which was out of sight of the plaza. The soil crossed over from soft lawn to a forest track interspersed with fine-grained grit which led around the hill to the plaza. He was certain not to make a suspicious appearance. With a look of an ordinary, innocent citizen on his face, he made his way around the hill maintaining a mediocre pace.
The golden sparkling of a small pond located in a dimple next to the track immediately caught his attention. Not being able to help staring at the water surface, which was dazzlingly reflecting the sunlight, he stood rooted to the spot, obviously fascinated by this sight. Little did he know afterwards about the exact time spent glaring at the stunning spectacle, but the moment of release sure was unexpected and severe. “Astounding, isn’t it?” The voice appearing next to him all of a sudden scared him to death. This certainly wasn’t planned. He slowly shifted his head toward whence the voice came from. His neck felt as if he hadn’t moved it for days. Right next to him there stood an elderly man in formal wear, greyish hair and frighteningly fragile-looking glasses. It was not until the man’s face returned a slight smile that he realized he was standing face-to-face with his victim. “Indeed so.”
Panic? God no, there was no reason to. Actually, this was a very rare opportunity, the icing on the cake, even. In the long list of possible studies a random encounter such as this one was on top, which meant highly desired but hardly ever achieved because arranged personal meetings were s a risk way too great and he was aware of that. He now needed to make use of the art of appropriate interpersonal communication which in this case meant finding the thin line between expressing too much and too little interest if at all of course the doomed man was going to start a conversation.
“A marvelous sight.” The man broke the silence which lasted for quite a while. It took him longer that he’d have liked to admit to grasp what he was referring to. “Yes, mother nature displaying the finest of her grace and beauty. And in such an unimpressive place even…” He just couldn’t resist. Awaiting his opponent’s response, he appraised the consequences of his words and planned his next move. He felt time slowing down significantly, as if it wanted him to be aware that this was a memorable moment. “Unlike everything else in our universe, nature can candidly show its yeah well… true nature… no need to hide, to disguise, to dissimulate… to pretend… to fake.” The man took a deep breath and slightly turned his eyes away from the pond to get a glimpse at him. “What is your profession?”
There were people who claimed that everyone could find out whether someone was lying or not by carefully examining the mimic and the voice which allegedly was different when the person was telling the truth or just plainly lying. But he was no such believer because there were more pretenders in the world than anyone could’ve possibly imagined. And as much as he hated to do it, he’d need to tell this man a lie too. However, it would not be going to be a lie with ill-natured or deceptive intent, but rather a practical lie, that’s what he called those little, spontaneous lies he used to tell every so often. They were practical and convenient, nothing more. “Ornithologist, who happens have a weakness for both flora and fauna.” With a casual grasp he took the binoculars hanging around his neck and focused on a random tree behind the pond. He had taken his binoculars with him today in case the scope of his rifle would prove insufficient for his needs.
“So you must be a good observer, right?” The man raised his eyebrow in slight amusement. He glanced back and noticed the traces of tiredness in the man’s face. It looked used up and worn off, as if his face was constricted to unfitting masks all the time, but also in a way experienced… content… wise, even. He remained silent. “Your job is to observe things as they truly are, without prejudice or distortion. You better not look too much in my direction then, because as a man of my position-“ He looked down on his chest and adjusted his tie. “-you are giving your viewers an honest picture of yourself way too seldom.” He now started to slightly smile as well. “Well, I suppose it was your own choice to go that path.”
Folding his arms, the man turned his view onto the pond again, silently. For some odd reason his presence made him feel very calm. In great serenity he stood there with half-open eyes, inert, listening to their breath and the faint breeze only. “Sometimes you slip into things through a row of unspectacular events, but when they add up, you find yourself stuck somewhere you would have never believed yourself to end up in, and suddenly, people expect you to do things you never wanted to do, but you can’t just refuse, because you wouldn’t be able to bear with the humiliation. And the appreciation and… compensation you get in return are too tempting as well.” The man chuckled frankly. “Well, I might have exaggerated a bit after all.”
Although neither of them directly answered one another’s questions, he felt a strange sort of mutual comprehension between that man he had never met but studied so long and himself. That thought made him shiver in his mind, he was supposed to be the chosen one, the top candidate, the man with biggest impact, the source of greatest wrongness. “This pond would never do anything other than being itself, what it ever was and what it’s supposed to be for times to come. No fear, no temptation.” The man made an almost inaudible sound of approval, along with another smile. “Yes, I believe that this is what makes us human though. Our major fault however is our inclination toward lies, false pictures and impressions… to merely see this outer shell of our fellow men.” The man went silent, and then slightly turned his head toward him again. “Isn’t it?”
“One does merely have to be determined enough an observator to break through this shell and catch a glimpse at the soft core.” He didn't really know why he committed himself so much to this conversation. Although it being a risk, he was tired of superficial chit-chat he had been forced into on so many occasions, so that was certainly a reason. Other than that, the man was smooth to talk with too, he openly admitted that. He decided to use this unexpected opportunity to finalize his extensive studies on the man and to round up and reassure the picture he had drawn over this period of time. “It is difficult to reach to that core I believe. Deeper layers of the shell can easily be disguised as a false core. A man can show miscellaneous sides of himself without showing his actual one... it's all about perception...”
Again silence struck between them for maybe a minute or two. The word spoken with great cautiousness first had to take effect in the surroundings and inside their minds before another wave was appropriate. He hardly wanted to admit and embrace the strange feeling that befell him in the continuing presence of his victim. It was a feeling he had never been subject to while hearing his usually so energetic, even aggressive words which always carried a rudely reminding and demanding undertone. Not this time however, not at all. “I receive threatening letters almost every day, must look through these rants and flaming words of anger over and over again, and every time I pity these people because they get such a horribly wrong picture of me when they see me in the media. Not taking it personal gets hard at times and in moments like these I realize how far away from each other a road my life and job have taken me, one which inevitably forces me into acting as an exposed figurehead of an idea I personally cannot really concur with, leaving me in the open field as a speaking tube for what I am supposed to represent...” The man had to take a deep breath as his voice had steadily grown stronger. “Mere role-play it is.”
He raised an eyebrow in surprise over that unexpected rant of this solemn gentleman next to him. Neither of them looked at each other, instead, they kept glancing at the glaring surface of the pond. He didn't deem it necessary to say anything else. There was nothing left to say, actually. The curtain had been drawn and the mute and invisible spectators across the pond would remain still, speechless and astonished by the spectacle they had had the pleasure to attend to. And so he stood motionless, letting what was left of that queer vibrating field of energy he perceived take effect on him. Once it had all decayed, he felt the restless urge to move his limbs again. Then the grand man with the black, polished shoes and the pale blue tie next to him turned toward him and, to his great surprise, put forth his hand. “It's time to go back for me. Was nice to meet you.”
Dead in his tracks for just a moment, he willingly accepted the gesture of politeness. “Pleasure's all mine.” Again, that slight smile appeared on the man's face which looked as though he was in possession of some important knowledge he was unaware of. But most importantly, the man's eyes looked unreadable to him, fears, hopes, thoughts; everything remained unknown to him. Then, with his left hand tucked in the trouser pocket the man turned around and headed for the plaza in an upright posture. After only a few meters he stopped and looked back to him again. “And remember, let nothing deceive you.” The words hit him like a heavy blow, they echoed inside his body, tied themselves to his bones and pinned themselves to his mind. Confused, overwhelmed and stunned he made his way back once the man was out of sight. As he slowly but surely gained control over his mental state again, he accelerated his pace, a measure intuitively taken by him in order affirm supreme intellectual power over his consciousness. Though, as much as he tried to ignore it, the words “let nothing deceive you” kept reverberating inside him.
Diligently, he assumed his hidden position beneath the bushes again. He picked up one of the two bullets still lying in the grass and twirled it in his fingers. The silhouette of the man's face was still visible inside his head when he closed his eyes, just like the shape of the sun was burned in your eyes when you had looked at it for a few moments and then looked away and closed the eyes. 'Let nothing deceive you'. Wrapped up in soft and purified cloth, the magazine was still stashed in the case where all the other parts of the gun had been before. The advantage of his specially manufactured, 3D-printed sniper rifle was the fact that it could be put together from all its parts easily and therefore be transported most inconspicuously. He inserted the two bullets and attached the magazine to the rifle. 'Let nothing deceive you' kept echoing inside his head relentlessly.
After putting aside the binoculars, he reached for the rifle and started observing the scene through the scope. The plaza, now full of people eagerly awaiting the man's speech, looked even more out of place than before. Grey columns embraced a crowd of curious onlookers confined to their cramped space within the unnatural chunk of concrete. Equally unnatural was the man's fitted smile whose facial muscles looked astonishingly used to that kind of expression. He was surprised he had never noticed this before, actually. Still haunted by that shadowy figure, he didn't manage to fully gain control over his mind yet. 'Let nothing deceive you'. The crowd applauded in great cheer as the man finally stepped on the podium and, vividly waving at the masses of people, headed for the lectern. The great moment so long yearned for was getting closer and closer.
Feeling utmostly at ease, he gradually blended in with his environment again, physically and psychically. That feeling of polishing one's greatest opus brewed inside him, grinding and burnishing the last edges of a marvelous statue, adding and crossing out final words of a lengthy piece of writing. Oh yes, that pleased anticipation. And yet – 'Let nothing deceive you'. The man's voice persisted to remind him of these lines. Then the speech began. Though he did not hear what the man was saying, he could clearly see his lips move and the eyes alternately shift from the paper on the lectern and the people before him. The man sought eye contact, sought to ingrain them his flowery words not only through the ears, but also the eyes. He got ready to shoot. The plan and its execution had been flawless until the very end, everything was in order, was how it's supposed, how it was destined to enfold.
He was a deadly sharpshooter, supremely precise, efficient, remorseless, and able to yield the most with the least means. He had a great loathing for men who thought shooting was about holding a large automatic rifle and wildly firing in a crowd of evil foes waiting for the clip to run out of bullets and subsequently scoring ten percent accuracy. In order to check his progress, he kept trace of the hits and misses during his operations. The last missed shot he could not remember and even if he had wanted to know, he'd have needed the information to dig up some old, dusty file. Not only was it minimizing the expenses for the precious shells, but also pleasing and relieving every time he could add another '100%' to his list. He liked it tidy, neat, straight and subtle when it came to his most delicious business. Tentatively centering the crosshair on the tiny space between the eyes, he waited for the right moment to pull the trigger. His heartbeat accelerated moderately, his fingers firmly grasping the rifle to prevent them from trembling too hard. Everything was going to work out just fine, just a few more seconds, he thought, just a few more seconds.
The man wouldn't raise his head so he could get a clean shot at him. Every bit of him was focused; his muscles extremely strained. They could not maintain that level of tension for much longer without risking causing cramps and tremors. Then the man looked up straight into his direction, almost as if he knew he was hiding up there. The shadowy figure of the man overwhelmingly broke into his mind again, its resolution and intensity quickly growing stronger. 'Let nothing deceive you' echoed through his head again, rigidly. The crosshair was locked on the area between the eyes. He hesitated. He waited. Why did he not shoot? Instead, the silhouette of the man and his piercing voice were drawing more and more of his attention, but he was focused on the target, still. Unable to do anything against it, he felt his concentration being drained by those parasitical intrusions on his mind. He started to tremble and shudder, more and more. The heartbeat was now clearly audible and at a frighteningly high frequency. 'Let nothing deceive you'. His eyes suddenly blackened out. It was as if a massive wall majestically collapsed in a roaring bang.
Not sure whether he'd been unconscious for a moment or not, he opened his eyes again, finding himself lying on the soil, looking up into the vast sea of branches and leaves. He felt a perplexity and disorientation never experienced before. The first thought coming to his puzzled mind was that he must have been deceived. Mechanically, he disassembled his gun, put its contents neatly to their designated places and shoved everything into his backpack. Fulfilled with an incredibly comforting feeling of inner freedom and liberty, he stepped out of his cover and headed for the plaza, curious as to what the solemn orator in suit and tie had to say.
He found it paradoxical and contradictory alike, if not amusing, that his choice had fallen on this very spot. That place was full of life; young, inexperienced life; a vivid turmoil of airy movements. Light blades were softly blowing in the wind which made the smell of fresh, healthy soil tickling his nostrils. It was essentially a place of graciously divine creation. His deed, however, aimed at anything but creation. Therefore an equilibration was made, naturally. Because everything which was born would also need to perish at some point: an undeniable law of nature. He appreciated that, and it made him feel confident in what he was going to do.
A long-lasting and operose period of thorough planning had been dedicated to the execution of his deed which now was due to be carried out. The performance would only take a split-second, but had needed to be pondered over in order to become a success, devoid of potential sources of errors and miscalculation; every piece if the puzzle had to fit. If one was missing or was wrong, the thing as whole would be wrong and destined to fail. That was why these preparations were of paramount importance, he could not make decisions on the spur of the moment; this was in conflict with his beliefs and experiences, and never again would he rely on spontaneous decisions. In nature, too, there was a pattern, a preset plan of action guiding every happening and development to its very end, where it always fulfilled its objective.
Pertaining to the choice of appropriate clothing he had had his doubts. Eventually he had compromised by choosing something between sporty-casual and moderately elegant because making the appearance of an outsider would be most unfortunate; keeping a low profile was the method to be striven for. He applied that not only today, no, he arranged his entire life in that way, because the daily life among other people was a repetitive procedure, a superficial game which did not need to display him in his true nature, but rather in the manner he wanted other people to perceive him, that is, as an average citizen with no exceptional conspicuousness. Only in privacy he could live his life according to his wishes. However, due to absolute necessity and in order to execute crucial tasks, sometimes his true nature inevitably needed to appear on the surface, like today.
The plaza was still empty, so was the podium. The first people were to come in about an hour, if not even later. It was a nice place, celebratory, reverent. There were marmoreal paving stones placed in a square ship with symmetrical patterns engraved on its surface. Light gray columns surrounded the plaza from three sides; their design could very well remind one of ancient architecture. Solemn flags in bright, contrastive colors were tied to ropes which had been hung up between the columns. They happily fluttered in the wind, reflecting the morning sun’s piercing light in every possible direction. The entire edification had just recently sprung up out of the grass, and one could not miss its youth and naivety. It was a foreign body surrounded by nature, recently built with serving as an ambiance for the speech being its sole purpose. Regrettably, only few things could withstand man’s will and money, not even nature.
Like it always took him hours to find the most suitable alignment of all his extremities and the perfect position of essentially every fiber of his body before being able to fall asleep at night, it again took him a great amount of time to determine the best and most comfortable posture for carrying out his deed as well as to take into account possible unforeseen adjustments. Most favorably hidden from every side, especially from whence he expected the great mass of people to be soon located at, he waited, calm and patient, with utmost satisfaction that his projections and the course of action had so far been congruent.
Although he was completely calm and grounded, thanks to the long preparations which had included hours of solitary meditation, it somehow felt unnatural in a strange and inexplicable manner. Neither his body nor his mind fell victim to hectic and imprudent movements, yet he perceived a somewhat noticeable tension in everything he did and thought and it mildly bothered him as he deemed it a potential source of doubt. Doubt, a disruptive factor he had aimed to extinct during the last months, the one which contained the greatest amount of peril for his deed.
Never in his life had he needed to force himself to do something, simply because he refused doing anything without appreciating its avail and necessity. Sometimes it took him no time to see the point in something, and sometimes it took him long, like as for today’s affair. From belief comes the strength to accomplish one’s goals and tasks, he had been telling himself since his youth. As a result, he believed that this was the reason he’d been so successful at everything he had mastered so far in his life. This time it was just another procedure to test the strength and depth of his belief, like every time before.
It was probably going to take quite some time until the time was right, therefore he had to be able to stay in position for as long as needed without suffering from any mental or physical indisposition, whether it be the impedimentary obstacle of hesitation or simply a squeezed vain in his arm. A backup plan did not exist, it had never been necessary because he never made a serious mistake to such an extent that it would have affected the planned course of action. And since the chance of success was proportional to the amount of time invested in the planning, the chance of a fail was vanishingly small. Everything was perfect. One shot and all would be over.
One question had remained unanswered to date for him though: what was the people’s opinion about him? Although he evaded interpersonal interaction whenever it was possible, he inevitably made an impression on people he necessarily needed to talk to every once in a while. What concerned him was the possibility that others might suspect him to be a madman or some crazy psychopath who was keeping a low profile and generally refraining from drawing attention to his person in order to then, ultimately, unleash his insane plan of massive devastation. He indeed knew very well how others would probably picture him. Thus it was high time he proved the unjustified suspicions wrong.
Contrary to popular belief, death was not necessarily a bad thing, he had stated. As much as he loved life, death was a part of it and the ultimate fate of anything that had chosen to live. While he lay on the soft lawn he observed the lime-green leaves of the young oaks around him; leaves that were to perish at some point in the future, too. However, nobody knew when exactly their existence was to end. He loathed those nescient scientists who claimed to know one’s life expectancy. This was all utter rubbish, he had concluded. One could cease at any moment, whether it be through natural forces or as a result of intentional actions.
Every single being had a task, he thought while checking the time and then watching up to the sun which was still not very high. Some creatures were more intelligent than others, and with greater intelligence came greater responsibility and supreme understanding. Therefore, the tasks of the most intelligent creatures were the ones of pivotal meaning and importance and the ones which had the greatest impact on the universe. These creatures were, undoubtedly, the humans. However, many humans were, for various reasons, following a wrong direction aiming to accomplish a wrong task. Wrong could mean any kind of wrongness, whether it be morally wrong, ethically wrong or wrong in a peculiar situation. And if it was possible to stop one such wrongdoer from achieving his abysmal goal, it was to be done no matter the costs.
These were thoughts and images that flowed through his mind while he waited amidst the open shrubbery on the top of the small hill. Everything was familiar: the thoughts were experiments reasoned over multiple times, the images were extracts of past experiences well-kept in his mind, and the surroundings were a place he had accustomed himself to over the past weeks. He liked things being familiar; his life essentially was driven by habits. It was a great accomplishment that he had come to appreciate that fact, because having the ability to understand and change oneself required to know oneself. And that was his lifetime goal, to truly grasp his own nature.
Contemplations about goals and missions led him back to one of his most fundamental principles: The in-existence of perfection. Perfection did not exist in anything natural. Only the human mind had the capability to imagine a perfect thing. Alas no, again did he catch himself. They couldn’t imagine it, they didn’t even have the slightest idea of how it looked, felt, sounded. It was essentially just an illusion made up by the brain in an attempt to understand things it can’t, or to satisfy its everlasting lust for more, the maximal amount, the best, the greatest, the smartest… yes, he had declared war on superlatives long ago.
Sharp as his eyes were, he spotted the first spectator arriving on the plaza. From the distance he could see it was a middle-aged woman. She will not be the same person anymore when she leaves this place again, he quietly said to himself. Soon after came more. They strolled around the place, obviously showing more interest in the compound than the nature surrounding it. His resentment grew stronger, but he knew that key persons controlled the great mass. Dealing with the members of the great mass one by one would be pointless. It was the key persons who affected the mass which needed to be dealt with. Always start from the ground of the tower, he kept saying to himself. Tipping and pushing the top building blocks had no notable effect. The deeper you go though, the more will crash down from above.
Miens and facial expressions are what characterize humans. A face was the key to one’s personality. Maybe for other people the key element to ultimate insight was something else, but he could appraise somebody only by looking into their eyes, and only by that. He was very good at it too. He was certain he was. Perhaps it was a gift, maybe just a highly trained skill. Sometimes it felt as if it was almost as important as eating, drinking and sleeping; looking into people’s eyes, observing their faces. Emotions, thoughts, stories, fears: everything could he read out of people’s faces. When he saw these men and women down there a growing urge of having a closer look at them arose inside him.
Through biographies, publications, articles, TV shows and recorded public speeches he essentially found out all he needed to know about today’s candidate. Although he would’ve probably appreciated it, an eye-to-eye meeting or an interview would’ve been too dangerous. Nevertheless, the sources available to him provided enough proof and confirmation that this man was the lucky chosen one. He considered this his first official act of the year, his grand deed of spring. And it was to become a success, as every single one before.
While his thoughts drifted off to the far edges of his mind he unconsciously twirled a bullet in his fingers. Suddenly back in the reality as he knew it, he stopped twirling it and firmly clutched it in his closed fist. With the other hand he grabbed the second one which was lying in the grass next to his elbow. They were specially manufactured, designed to be as accurate as however possible, because today’s imperative was accuracy. Why two, he thought to himself. He would have only one chance, so why did he insist on acquiring two bullets. Two was an odd number anyway, the popular three would have been much more appropriate, just like in all the fairy tales; three tasks to complete, three foes to subdue, three mystical puzzles to solve in order to get your shiny reward, so why not three bullets? Perhaps because every part had only one counterpart, not two.
He looked at his watch and it became once again unmistakably obvious to him that time was a subjective quantity, since now, as he was eagerly yearning for the releasing moment to come, time passed slower than it usually did. Nobody but himself could reliably measure his time, and everybody perceived time differently because they would measure it in their way. Any devices not connected to his mind were therefore doing a horrible job attempting to measure time. Whatever they pretended to be measuring, it was certainly not time. With a slightly deprecatory look he glanced at the device. His watch knew nothing about time.
The plaza gradually filled itself with people and he could no longer resist the temptation to go for a short stroll down there to look into the men’s and women’s eyes. With great prudence and diligence he emerged from his perfectly hidden lair and descended from the hill on the side which was out of sight of the plaza. The soil crossed over from soft lawn to a forest track interspersed with fine-grained grit which led around the hill to the plaza. He was certain not to make a suspicious appearance. With a look of an ordinary, innocent citizen on his face, he made his way around the hill maintaining a mediocre pace.
The golden sparkling of a small pond located in a dimple next to the track immediately caught his attention. Not being able to help staring at the water surface, which was dazzlingly reflecting the sunlight, he stood rooted to the spot, obviously fascinated by this sight. Little did he know afterwards about the exact time spent glaring at the stunning spectacle, but the moment of release sure was unexpected and severe. “Astounding, isn’t it?” The voice appearing next to him all of a sudden scared him to death. This certainly wasn’t planned. He slowly shifted his head toward whence the voice came from. His neck felt as if he hadn’t moved it for days. Right next to him there stood an elderly man in formal wear, greyish hair and frighteningly fragile-looking glasses. It was not until the man’s face returned a slight smile that he realized he was standing face-to-face with his victim. “Indeed so.”
Panic? God no, there was no reason to. Actually, this was a very rare opportunity, the icing on the cake, even. In the long list of possible studies a random encounter such as this one was on top, which meant highly desired but hardly ever achieved because arranged personal meetings were s a risk way too great and he was aware of that. He now needed to make use of the art of appropriate interpersonal communication which in this case meant finding the thin line between expressing too much and too little interest if at all of course the doomed man was going to start a conversation.
“A marvelous sight.” The man broke the silence which lasted for quite a while. It took him longer that he’d have liked to admit to grasp what he was referring to. “Yes, mother nature displaying the finest of her grace and beauty. And in such an unimpressive place even…” He just couldn’t resist. Awaiting his opponent’s response, he appraised the consequences of his words and planned his next move. He felt time slowing down significantly, as if it wanted him to be aware that this was a memorable moment. “Unlike everything else in our universe, nature can candidly show its yeah well… true nature… no need to hide, to disguise, to dissimulate… to pretend… to fake.” The man took a deep breath and slightly turned his eyes away from the pond to get a glimpse at him. “What is your profession?”
There were people who claimed that everyone could find out whether someone was lying or not by carefully examining the mimic and the voice which allegedly was different when the person was telling the truth or just plainly lying. But he was no such believer because there were more pretenders in the world than anyone could’ve possibly imagined. And as much as he hated to do it, he’d need to tell this man a lie too. However, it would not be going to be a lie with ill-natured or deceptive intent, but rather a practical lie, that’s what he called those little, spontaneous lies he used to tell every so often. They were practical and convenient, nothing more. “Ornithologist, who happens have a weakness for both flora and fauna.” With a casual grasp he took the binoculars hanging around his neck and focused on a random tree behind the pond. He had taken his binoculars with him today in case the scope of his rifle would prove insufficient for his needs.
“So you must be a good observer, right?” The man raised his eyebrow in slight amusement. He glanced back and noticed the traces of tiredness in the man’s face. It looked used up and worn off, as if his face was constricted to unfitting masks all the time, but also in a way experienced… content… wise, even. He remained silent. “Your job is to observe things as they truly are, without prejudice or distortion. You better not look too much in my direction then, because as a man of my position-“ He looked down on his chest and adjusted his tie. “-you are giving your viewers an honest picture of yourself way too seldom.” He now started to slightly smile as well. “Well, I suppose it was your own choice to go that path.”
Folding his arms, the man turned his view onto the pond again, silently. For some odd reason his presence made him feel very calm. In great serenity he stood there with half-open eyes, inert, listening to their breath and the faint breeze only. “Sometimes you slip into things through a row of unspectacular events, but when they add up, you find yourself stuck somewhere you would have never believed yourself to end up in, and suddenly, people expect you to do things you never wanted to do, but you can’t just refuse, because you wouldn’t be able to bear with the humiliation. And the appreciation and… compensation you get in return are too tempting as well.” The man chuckled frankly. “Well, I might have exaggerated a bit after all.”
Although neither of them directly answered one another’s questions, he felt a strange sort of mutual comprehension between that man he had never met but studied so long and himself. That thought made him shiver in his mind, he was supposed to be the chosen one, the top candidate, the man with biggest impact, the source of greatest wrongness. “This pond would never do anything other than being itself, what it ever was and what it’s supposed to be for times to come. No fear, no temptation.” The man made an almost inaudible sound of approval, along with another smile. “Yes, I believe that this is what makes us human though. Our major fault however is our inclination toward lies, false pictures and impressions… to merely see this outer shell of our fellow men.” The man went silent, and then slightly turned his head toward him again. “Isn’t it?”
“One does merely have to be determined enough an observator to break through this shell and catch a glimpse at the soft core.” He didn't really know why he committed himself so much to this conversation. Although it being a risk, he was tired of superficial chit-chat he had been forced into on so many occasions, so that was certainly a reason. Other than that, the man was smooth to talk with too, he openly admitted that. He decided to use this unexpected opportunity to finalize his extensive studies on the man and to round up and reassure the picture he had drawn over this period of time. “It is difficult to reach to that core I believe. Deeper layers of the shell can easily be disguised as a false core. A man can show miscellaneous sides of himself without showing his actual one... it's all about perception...”
Again silence struck between them for maybe a minute or two. The word spoken with great cautiousness first had to take effect in the surroundings and inside their minds before another wave was appropriate. He hardly wanted to admit and embrace the strange feeling that befell him in the continuing presence of his victim. It was a feeling he had never been subject to while hearing his usually so energetic, even aggressive words which always carried a rudely reminding and demanding undertone. Not this time however, not at all. “I receive threatening letters almost every day, must look through these rants and flaming words of anger over and over again, and every time I pity these people because they get such a horribly wrong picture of me when they see me in the media. Not taking it personal gets hard at times and in moments like these I realize how far away from each other a road my life and job have taken me, one which inevitably forces me into acting as an exposed figurehead of an idea I personally cannot really concur with, leaving me in the open field as a speaking tube for what I am supposed to represent...” The man had to take a deep breath as his voice had steadily grown stronger. “Mere role-play it is.”
He raised an eyebrow in surprise over that unexpected rant of this solemn gentleman next to him. Neither of them looked at each other, instead, they kept glancing at the glaring surface of the pond. He didn't deem it necessary to say anything else. There was nothing left to say, actually. The curtain had been drawn and the mute and invisible spectators across the pond would remain still, speechless and astonished by the spectacle they had had the pleasure to attend to. And so he stood motionless, letting what was left of that queer vibrating field of energy he perceived take effect on him. Once it had all decayed, he felt the restless urge to move his limbs again. Then the grand man with the black, polished shoes and the pale blue tie next to him turned toward him and, to his great surprise, put forth his hand. “It's time to go back for me. Was nice to meet you.”
Dead in his tracks for just a moment, he willingly accepted the gesture of politeness. “Pleasure's all mine.” Again, that slight smile appeared on the man's face which looked as though he was in possession of some important knowledge he was unaware of. But most importantly, the man's eyes looked unreadable to him, fears, hopes, thoughts; everything remained unknown to him. Then, with his left hand tucked in the trouser pocket the man turned around and headed for the plaza in an upright posture. After only a few meters he stopped and looked back to him again. “And remember, let nothing deceive you.” The words hit him like a heavy blow, they echoed inside his body, tied themselves to his bones and pinned themselves to his mind. Confused, overwhelmed and stunned he made his way back once the man was out of sight. As he slowly but surely gained control over his mental state again, he accelerated his pace, a measure intuitively taken by him in order affirm supreme intellectual power over his consciousness. Though, as much as he tried to ignore it, the words “let nothing deceive you” kept reverberating inside him.
Diligently, he assumed his hidden position beneath the bushes again. He picked up one of the two bullets still lying in the grass and twirled it in his fingers. The silhouette of the man's face was still visible inside his head when he closed his eyes, just like the shape of the sun was burned in your eyes when you had looked at it for a few moments and then looked away and closed the eyes. 'Let nothing deceive you'. Wrapped up in soft and purified cloth, the magazine was still stashed in the case where all the other parts of the gun had been before. The advantage of his specially manufactured, 3D-printed sniper rifle was the fact that it could be put together from all its parts easily and therefore be transported most inconspicuously. He inserted the two bullets and attached the magazine to the rifle. 'Let nothing deceive you' kept echoing inside his head relentlessly.
After putting aside the binoculars, he reached for the rifle and started observing the scene through the scope. The plaza, now full of people eagerly awaiting the man's speech, looked even more out of place than before. Grey columns embraced a crowd of curious onlookers confined to their cramped space within the unnatural chunk of concrete. Equally unnatural was the man's fitted smile whose facial muscles looked astonishingly used to that kind of expression. He was surprised he had never noticed this before, actually. Still haunted by that shadowy figure, he didn't manage to fully gain control over his mind yet. 'Let nothing deceive you'. The crowd applauded in great cheer as the man finally stepped on the podium and, vividly waving at the masses of people, headed for the lectern. The great moment so long yearned for was getting closer and closer.
Feeling utmostly at ease, he gradually blended in with his environment again, physically and psychically. That feeling of polishing one's greatest opus brewed inside him, grinding and burnishing the last edges of a marvelous statue, adding and crossing out final words of a lengthy piece of writing. Oh yes, that pleased anticipation. And yet – 'Let nothing deceive you'. The man's voice persisted to remind him of these lines. Then the speech began. Though he did not hear what the man was saying, he could clearly see his lips move and the eyes alternately shift from the paper on the lectern and the people before him. The man sought eye contact, sought to ingrain them his flowery words not only through the ears, but also the eyes. He got ready to shoot. The plan and its execution had been flawless until the very end, everything was in order, was how it's supposed, how it was destined to enfold.
He was a deadly sharpshooter, supremely precise, efficient, remorseless, and able to yield the most with the least means. He had a great loathing for men who thought shooting was about holding a large automatic rifle and wildly firing in a crowd of evil foes waiting for the clip to run out of bullets and subsequently scoring ten percent accuracy. In order to check his progress, he kept trace of the hits and misses during his operations. The last missed shot he could not remember and even if he had wanted to know, he'd have needed the information to dig up some old, dusty file. Not only was it minimizing the expenses for the precious shells, but also pleasing and relieving every time he could add another '100%' to his list. He liked it tidy, neat, straight and subtle when it came to his most delicious business. Tentatively centering the crosshair on the tiny space between the eyes, he waited for the right moment to pull the trigger. His heartbeat accelerated moderately, his fingers firmly grasping the rifle to prevent them from trembling too hard. Everything was going to work out just fine, just a few more seconds, he thought, just a few more seconds.
The man wouldn't raise his head so he could get a clean shot at him. Every bit of him was focused; his muscles extremely strained. They could not maintain that level of tension for much longer without risking causing cramps and tremors. Then the man looked up straight into his direction, almost as if he knew he was hiding up there. The shadowy figure of the man overwhelmingly broke into his mind again, its resolution and intensity quickly growing stronger. 'Let nothing deceive you' echoed through his head again, rigidly. The crosshair was locked on the area between the eyes. He hesitated. He waited. Why did he not shoot? Instead, the silhouette of the man and his piercing voice were drawing more and more of his attention, but he was focused on the target, still. Unable to do anything against it, he felt his concentration being drained by those parasitical intrusions on his mind. He started to tremble and shudder, more and more. The heartbeat was now clearly audible and at a frighteningly high frequency. 'Let nothing deceive you'. His eyes suddenly blackened out. It was as if a massive wall majestically collapsed in a roaring bang.
Not sure whether he'd been unconscious for a moment or not, he opened his eyes again, finding himself lying on the soil, looking up into the vast sea of branches and leaves. He felt a perplexity and disorientation never experienced before. The first thought coming to his puzzled mind was that he must have been deceived. Mechanically, he disassembled his gun, put its contents neatly to their designated places and shoved everything into his backpack. Fulfilled with an incredibly comforting feeling of inner freedom and liberty, he stepped out of his cover and headed for the plaza, curious as to what the solemn orator in suit and tie had to say.