Sunday, October 31, 2010

Disillusionment Leads To Meaning

A short story by Andrew Stuck
. Damn it all. I hate this planet. The cold and the ice, the nearby asteroid field sending a constant barrage of meteors to hassle us; and here I am, sitting in a trench with my fellow Rebel troops, waiting to be slaughtered by Imperial forces. Damn it all. I don’t even remember what I’m fighting for anymore.
. I used to be a wide-eyed idealist like my fellow soldiers standing next to me. I used to be all for grand adventures fighting the bad guys all across the galaxy. But now I’ve been disillusioned. Ever since the Empire drove us out of Yavin, I realized this isn’t some sort of summer camp: this is war. People die. And I am fed up. As I watch a meteor streak across the sky, I remember the dreams I used to have about traveling the galaxy and seeing amazing sights that nobody had seen before. Well, now I’ve traveled, and I’ve seen horrific defeats and tragic deaths, and I realize that I do not want to fight anymore. For now, I am forced to remain here in this trench as the Imperial blockade has prevented all passage off-planet, but I swear that the first chance I get I am going to quit.
. I hear the sound of the first Rebel transport streaking through the sky overhead in their desperate attempt to escape the impending invasion. We are here to serve as cannon fodder to enable them to do so. I hear another sound, a rumbling boom, like thunder, signaling the entry of Imperial forces into the atmosphere of Hoth. Our time grows short. The Ion Cannon begins firing: that must mean the transport has gotten within range of the Star Destroyers. A call goes out announcing that the transport has escaped, and everyone but me cheers. Nothing can cheer me at the moment. Maybe if I had a pretty girl here with me, a special someone fighting alongside me, then I’d feel inspired. That’s going to be the first thing I do when I get out of here. I am going leave the Rebel Alliance, find myself a nice girl, and settle down to a happy life free of this damnable war. Yes, that’s what I’m going to do. The commander shouts something and we all assume battle positions. Imperial Walkers have been sighted a few kilometers away. We all tense up in waiting. The walkers approach. Feeling a twinge of despair, I sigh for all that I have not and cannot attain. I can see already there are several AT-ATs with a compliment of AT-STs marching steadily forward. They draw closer and closer, and then they fire! A furious hail of lasers blast all around us, snow explodes into the air, men and equipment are going down already.
. The speeders arrive! A strange, triumphant joy I have not felt in a long time fills me as I watch them soar overhead. Watching them, I almost feel re-enchanted with our cause. Watching fighters fly into combat has always had this effect on me. The death of several nearby comrades brings my head out of the clouds, and I return to our fruitless effort against these seemingly invincible enemies. Not even the speeders are having any effect on the walkers. I grow more and more certain of the stupidity of the Rebel cause, and more and more certain that I no longer belong here. I see a speeder flying in crazy circles around a walker’s legs, and suddenly it goes down! I overhear someone say ace pilot Wedge Antilles took it down by wrapping up its legs in his tow cable. Never would have thought of that myself.
. The commander foolishly calls for us to advance. We run forward under the cover of fighter and turret fire. One of my best friends takes a direct shot to the face and crumples up nearby. Sickened and despairing beyond belief, I dare not look at his charred remains. It would only make my situation worse. A blast from a turret shoots by my head and makes a direct hit on a walker’s knee, but it merely absorbs the shot.
. Still the walkers advance. I hear the call to retreat, and don’t waste a moment in hesitation. I’ve done my part, and I’m gone. A quick glance behind shows very few speeders still in the air, although I do see another AT-AT going down, minus its head. I return my focus on escaping. I must escape! Oh, how I desire to leave everything here behind, and live peacefully on some quiet little planet away from all this!
. To my utter surprise and horror, the massive shield generators suddenly explode in a gigantic fireball. A single hit from an Imperial Walker had destroyed them in an instant! There’s no hope now. The Star Destroyers will certainly begin planetary bombardment, and our remaining transports doubtless will not escape. Damn the Empire! They corrupt and destroy everything! Not even on a backwater planet like Hoth are we safe!
. And then it hits me. Nowhere are we safe. My dream of a life beyond this conflict can never come to fruition in a galaxy corrupted by such as the Galactic Empire.
. Morbid curiosity suddenly makes me turn around. I stand petrified as a walker turns its head and aims directly at me. I know it’s physically impossible, but I can see the laser approach me as it’s fired.
. And I remember! I remember! I remember why we do what we do! As long as the Empire dominates, we must fight them, wherever and whenever we can, until the day freedom is restored to the galaxy. This is why I fight. This is why I die. With a profound sense of honor, I stand at attention, straight and tall, as if receiving a medal. Pride pierces through my skull like a laser beam, and I am at peace.

1 comment:

  1. Here's an oldie that I actually posted on my Facebook a while back. Reviewing it now, I can see a few things I would change to the narrative flow (the narrator's mental turnaround seems a little abrupt to me now), but overall, I'm actually still pretty pleased with this one. It's not necessarily meant to be existential, rather, it's more about the loss and rediscovery of a motivating meaning in life.
    Reading it now, it really strikes me how apparent it is that it was a product of the time in which it was written; I definitely vented a little through this story. Whether or not life has imitated art since then, well, that's another conversation for another time.

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