Coming to Terms with the Inevitable - PART 2

(Continued from part 1)

A low pitch double-ring filled the air, disrupting the mood with the force of a fire alarm. Though nowhere near as loud, for Xin it held the same impact. The sound was familiar...too familiar. Though he'd lost count of how many times he'd heard it. Was that 171th time or the 213th? Didn't matter, the sound was loathsome, it made the fists clench, the heart ache, and gave rise to a rumble that made him want to scream and cry all at the same time. He'd have let it out in a booming slam upon the desk, were it not for the gentle hand that held it, and the warm touch of her forehead against his own.

He breathed deep for a few moments, "What’s the result?"

"Do you have to ask?" she replied with a sympathetic giggle and smile.

No reply was given. He leaned on the desk, head resting against his hands grasped together as if in prayer. Yinmei stood at his side, rubbing his back.

She eyed the clock in the screen's right bottom corner, "There's about an hour and twenty left before mother's final dinner. Want to try again?"

Xin let out a breath, "I don't understand it, we've extended the average lifespan to a hundred and fifty years. Built ships that can fly, landed on both moons, developed a means of communicating instantly over vast distances, and even found a way to fertilize the wastelands beyond Mother's barrier. And with this program, we developed cures for cancers and diseases that had plagued us for centuries. When science and magic work together there should be nothing we cannot do. So why can't we find a way to give mother just a few more years?"

"Perhaps there's just something to life and death beyond the understanding of magic or science," Yinmei answered. "But you've never been one to let something like that stop you before. So will you continue to try?"

'Why, the result would just be the same.'

"I don't know," he sighed while leaning back in his chair, arms hanging, and head laid back like a defeated rag doll. "What do you think I should do."

"I think you already know what you should do," she replied falling back into a lean against the desk.

"And why do you think that?" he inquired with a sad and force smile.

She measured herself for a second before responding, "When you and Junsen first set out to try and find a way to extend mother's life, I hoped and prayed the spirits would guide you to success. Not just me, but Hino, Ming-Lee, Yunsho, Ling-shi and hundreds of thousands of others across the country, all hoped that you'd succeed." Her smile faded, eyes looking straight out the window at the shimmering sakura tree. "But not long after the project began, I came to realize there was one person who didn't share that sentiment. Even though the whole thing was being done for her benefit."

Her words caught Xin off guard, "Wha—what makes you think that? How—how do you know?"

She chuckled at his at his reaction, "Because I'm her daughter, just as you're her son, and we notice things about her that others do not. Like the slight snorting sound she makes when she laughs out loud," she giggled, "or how easy one can read her emotions when she's really into a book."

"Or how she rolls her eyes when she hears people extol her as a goddess, or sighs after talking to a priest during a visit to a shrine," Xin added, a somber smile forming on his face.

"There's also the glimmer she gets in her eyes whenever she smells Yunsho baking sweets, or how her forehead wrinkles into a soft V, when she gave us spankings." The Dark Elf grinned mischievously, "You're especially familiar with that, along with the stinging feel of her hands."

Xin cringed, "Don't remind me."

She giggled at his expression. "There's other things. The warmth of her rare smile, the gentleness of her embrace. The softness in her voice when she comforts us, or the sternness with which she lectures." Her smile softened, and a somberness entered her voice. "And yet despite all that, there was always this weariness in her eyes. A sad longing in her voice whenever she spoke of her first children, or other loved ones she'd lost to the throngs and tragedies of time. But more recently, the relief in her face each time she learned the treatment simulations failed. You noticed it too, didn't you?"

"Of course I did. I just—," he sighed. A feeling of helplessness and regret washed through him and turned him mum for a few seconds, "As a kid I was just a ball of trouble for her, between my pranks and the fights I got into at school I was just one big useless burden. But despite it all she was patient with me, continued to be there for me. I'm who I am now because of her. She gave me a future, and I just—" His eyes returned to the holo-screen. "I just wanted to do something for her, to thank her. But at the same time I could never imagine a life, a world, without her."

She took his hand, "I know how you feel, Xin, and as much as I would like mother to stick around, nothing is immortal, and mother she's—"

"I am tired Xin," a voice suddenly echoed through their minds.

Xin shot up, the chair pushed back by the sudden momentum, "Mother?". He looked around instinctively for her. "How long have you been listening?"

"Long enough," she answered, a slight chuckle in her voice. "Xin, I have lived longer than many of my kind should have. After the Great Cataclysm. I thought myself the last of my kind, and sought to preserve whatever I could of our knowledge and civilization. If for no other reason than to keep me from going mad with loneliness. If not for the children I found during those years I might very well have ended my own life…"

As the words flowed into his mind so too did memories of times both foreign and familiar. A telepathic record played with the clarity of a flawless mirror, giving witness to a woman, Xin almost didn't recognize. The tawny-brown tint of her skin was same, but the hair, while straight was chestnut, the pointed-ears were shorter, and the eyes, while still a pale green, looked to have dried into indifference by a wind of sorrow and solitude.

As the record played on, she journeyed through arid wastelands, and the crumbling remains of moonstone metropolises seeking and gathering the chargers of libraries into a wagon pulled by a tired mind fueled tentatively by a will to gather and preserve. The simple act holding as a shield against the endless hammering of madness and loneliness, that grew heavier with each day. Until the day she took in a gaggle of orphaned humans, the children of former slaves seeking refuge amongst the remains of a legacy lost to deprived desires. As the two interacted, her the cold dryness in her eyes was warm and moistened as she slowly came to love the young orphans, and later their children, and grandchildren, as they built what would eventually grow into the capital of a prosperous nation.

"I have watched this nation rise from the small band of children I found huddled near my campfire, to the great country it is today. I have done all I can to help it grow, as one might help their children and grandchildren grow. I have seen it struggle through droughts, famine, plague, and war. Seen its prosperity shine and dim. I have watched so many people live, grow and die, so many, many times. And I am tired. I know the pains of loss all too well, but I also know such pain can be soothed with the help of those closest to you, and those closest to me are you and your siblings, the final children I have raised, and the ones who know me better than anyone else today. I know how grateful you are to me, but you need not repay me. Just watching you grow and mature into the man you are now is thanks enough. But if you must give me something, then join me and your siblings for one final meal. Yunsho cooked everyone's favorites, including night berry pie, and I know how much you enjoy night berry treats. Better hurry, or I may just eat them all myself."

For a moment Xin stood silent, his eyes turned to the screen. The text heralding the results of the simulation were still plaster on it. He'd seen them over a hundred times before. So much that one would think he'd become numb to it, but looking it at still caused his heart to sting. Stepping closer, he closed out the message. Then stared at the screen for a few seconds.

'She's my mother, I don't want to let her go…' he thought. A sigh escaped his lips, and a sad smile took form. 'But I guess some choices, are just inevitable.'

With a few final clicks the computer began shutting down. Yinmei walked to her love, and placed a comforting hand on his back, as he leaned over the desk, a tear trailing down his cheek.

"So, what else did our little dwarf brother make with night berries?"

"Let's just say you won’t be needing that little flask in your desk."

He nodded. Then stood straight, "Alright," he bit his lip, and wiped away another tear from his eye. "Give me a few minutes to change, and you're driving. I'm not really in the mood."

She gave him a caring smile, "That's fine," she embraced him, his head falling into her shoulder. "It will be alright."