Jackal
Just something short and (hopefully) meaningful. I'm interested to know what you think. Also Confucianism is a form of Quietism, basically that there is a natural order to the world and for humans to fit in to this order they must accept their fate. What ever that maybe.
When he arrived at the edge of the town, the effects of the ever closing star were clear. Unsaddling his landspeeder, the tan wolf let it power down and watched as the dust settled around his feet. The Landscape was flat, dusty and rocky, little vegetation grew and few animals roamed the plain. It was still getting hotter so he continued towards the town, he reached it by midday. Time was short; life could not be sustained much longer. The ramshackle buildings stood alone for miles, contrasted against the blue sun. They were completely isolated, completely oblivious. No one left. No one came. Until now. No white wash or plaster remained on the splintering, wooden planks. Society had broken down here, long before the end had begun.
Jackal could feel the ground heating beneath his paws, to an uncomfortable level. He squinted at the star as soil blew up into his face, getting caught in his desert coat. He was panting heavily; he was not the only one. The inhabitants were of all shapes and sizes, desert foxes were incredible diverse. They must have known it was the end, that nothing could save them. They did not stir as the alien walked among their streets, however, deep set eyes, surrounded by dark circles, followed him hazily. Everything was dry, dehydrated, nothing remained.
Then they surprised Jackal, they went up to greet him. They were not discriminatory towards his foreign presence. Despite their dire circumstances, despite their leathery skin and rugged appearance, they were friendly. Beneath the foxes thin, wiry hair and narrow faces, they smiled. They began to talk to him, told Jackal how life would begin and how it would end. They invited him to a meal, he did not refuse. They lit fires and danced, the equally weathered wolf danced too. It was calm before the storm. As an officer, he was not meant to do anything beyond observe, but Jackal was beyond that, he had formed a bond with these simple people that he would never forget. They would live on in his mind.
The night was hotter than the day; it did not go dark at night. It was over. The desert wolf left the desert foxes. Different organisms from different planets that shared the love of the wasteland called home. Life was a struggle, survival was a struggle, and they would not want it any other way.
What has happened to them now?
They are dead; their homes are destroyed, burnt up.
They are all dead.
Nothing could have been done, nothing was done.
We observe, document, analysis, never preserve.
Life is precious, we should save it, but we do not.
We are not heroes, we are not villains. We are curious, as those people once were. We try not to feel, to detach from emotion, but we cannot, I cannot. We will die soon too-we do not want to but it will happen, it is happening. There will be no one to remember, no one to _observe_us. We are trying to avoid the inevitable, it draws exactly that closer. Jackal? He knew this too and he had accepted his fate. Confucianism is not a joke; it is honourable We all live until we die, we all die eventually. If you are not alive then you are dead... so live.
Do you Live?