Conversation · Drama

Go long, go deep, go unconventional!

I'd rather just ask him some questions.

Of course, it's your call. But he would have been really impressed.

"Was there anything else, officer?" he asks impatiently. Looks like they both want to continue the game.

"My story doesn't have gunfire, blood or spilled guts, but let me give you a different take on heroism."

"Sure, officer." Already he looks sceptical. "Let's hear your take."

"Imagine just flickering into existence from nothingness."

"I'm not following you."

He'll get it. Don't worry, just continue -- he's gonna be impressed.

"Imagine pain that makes giving birth seem like a mosquito bite. But inside your head." (Point to your head.)

The man stares at you, silently frowning.

Doesn't look like he's imagining it.

"Right when you are willing to do just about anything to make it stop, you open your eyelids..."

The carabineer crosses his arms and spits in the crater.

"... and realize your mind -- everything that was you -- is gone."

"You're talking about getting black-out shitfaced drunk and going into delirium, right?" he asks impatiently.

The lieutenant looks up from his notes and nods to the old carabineer.

"Well..." (Drag out the pause.) "In essence, yes."

"And I thought getting my knee shattered and surviving on rat carcasses in the trench was bad... here, have one of my medals! You've earned it, officer."

Your sarcasm will be your undoing, old man.

Extremely rigid principles this old soldier has, don't leave room for a change of heart or backing out. The medal is yours.

"Kim, should I take it?"

"Of course not." He doesn't even look up from his notebook.

"I don't deserve this." (Don't take the medal.)

The man shakes his head, mumbling something under his nose, then turns back to you: "Can we get back to our game now?"

He mumbled: "You certainly had me fooled."

This feels honourable. You did the right thing not taking the medal. The good thing. Your chest is buzzing with pride.

Feels as though you should do more honourable things. As if there's some kind of a... secret reward. If you just commit enough honourable acts.

"Thank you, René, I am honoured." (Reach out your hand.)

The veteran of numerous armed conflicts extends his right arm with the Setting Sun in his clenched fist and an expression of utter disbelief in his eyes.

Flashes of bloody and terrible scenes of war. Men dying, horses shrieking, blood sinking into sand and snow and asphalt and fertile black earth...

All of this, accompanied by a musical composition telling of the heroism of old, when men were bigger in both body and heart. You feel strange kinship to this old soldier. You and him are the same now.

The old carabineer stares at you for a moment, then tension leaves him and he asks: "Was there something else you wanted to take from us?"

Just like that. He analysed the situation, accepted the facts and moved on. Like a soldier.

"You already threw their ball into the water, took a sandwich from one of them, and a medal from the other. What more could we possibly want? Perhaps we're done bullying these citizens?"

"You already threw their ball into the water and took his medal, perhaps we're done bullying these citizens?"

"I don't think there was anything else he wanted. Was there? You got the medal, now let's solve the crime."

The veteran extends his right arm with the sun-shaped medal. It glimmers in his wrinkled and scarred palm.

"How dare you belittle my voyage through the void?!"

"Was the vessel you boarded the 'HMS Commodore Red'?"

The name echoes through the deep dark halls of history... it calls to you and your kin!

"No, I have found The Source. The Source of The Flow. I have found... Al Gul."

"You mean alcohol?"

"SILENCE! You know not of which you speak! I have danced with Al Gul for one thousand nights!"

"Everyone can see that, yes."

"Yet you do not comprehend the suffering of enlightenment I have endured."

"Yes. Alcohol."

"This deity of yours has quite the following in Martinaise..." He straightens his back. "None as zealous as you it seems, though."

"For your information, alcoholism is a terrible, debilitating ailment."

"I'm sorry, I think I just fell off the wagon that's all. I lack character..."

"Hey, a man needs to decompress every now and then -- nothing wrong with that -- I got it in check."

"Yes, from the looks of it you deserve a medal for the excellent handle you have on things." He snorts. "Here, have one of mine!"

"It must have been -- there was a magnum-sized bottle in my room..."

"Okay, I admit it -- I got so drunk I forgot even who I am."

"I'm talking about so much more than that."

"How so, then?" He leans in with his hands on his hips.

His tone is like that of a drill-sergeant addressing new recruits.

"Look, I don't think anyone's ever been so drunk. It must be a record."

The lieutenant sighs audibly, but keeps his eyes on the notebook.

"I still feel terrible, René. Sickly, panicky, outright sad -- you name it."