The Secret Sea - (Chaptered Version)

11*

"The one with the most drive holds all the power," says Steven, "but only certain people have the capacity to lead."

"Are we still talking about trains?" I ask, taken aback.

Steven laughs and repositions a few toy firemen. "Real people aren't much different than these plastic figures. They need someone to give them purpose, to shape their world. Without a strong leader they're frozen in place. Useless."

"I hadn't pegged you as a fascist," I blurt, before remembering I'm nearly a foot shorter and fifty pounds lighter than my generous host.

Steven leans closer. "Fascism could be considered a form of mercy in a world where fear is the only constant. Maybe it's better for a singular entity to shoulder such a burden. Aren't we all tired of being afraid?"

"Give people some credit, they're braver than you think," I counter, wondering how this lecture evolved from a pack of plastic fat people. "We all endure a world of shit on a daily basis just to survive."

"Simply surviving inside this broken society isn't something to cheer. When was the last time you actually witnessed justice being served? Did you know the majority of violent crimes and murders go unsolved?"

I swallow. "I don't know if I—"

"It's laughably easy to die. All it takes is a bad roll of the dice. Why do you think the villain always gets caught on detective shows? It's not for the sake of a good story—just another comforting lie to pacify the masses."

I shrug. "Yeah, well, I suppose the truth can be depressing."

Steven continues. "In truth, it's been utter chaos since the day we started walking upright. The false comforts of a plastic utopia have left us blind to the constant bloodshed around us, but deep down we're still nothing but scared animals." He twists the general store 20 degrees to the left.

This doesn't sound like the Steven I thought I knew. Not the easily controlled puppet Eve has wrapped around her finger most of the time. "Pretty grim outlook, man."

"I'm just being realistic. We need a true leader...one with the balls to shred our shared delusions and allow society to finish collapsing." Steven lowers his hand and flicks the milkman into the canyon.

"Finish?"

"The rule of law is insanely fragile. Do you really think the people policing our neighborhoods or teaching our kids or writing our laws truly feel confident in what they're doing? No. They're all riddled with self-doubt and making shit up as they go along."

"Not you," I say. "You're one of the top contractors in the state, right?"

"Honestly, an uncomfortable amount of the projects I've overseen are riddled with catastrophic flaws. Confronting the architects and inspectors could ruin my good standing in the industry, so fear keeps me silent."

"Jesus, that's heavy," I say. I polish off my beer and set it in the middle of Main Street. "So what do we do? Reject society and run away to start a hippy commune?"

Steven doesn't laugh. "Sadly, there's no escape. We're already drowning. Like I said, someone has to be brave enough to endure the flood and shepherd the change."

I smirk, desperate to lighten the mood. "If you want an authoritarian, you should consider your wife."

Steven shakes his head. "No. Tim, it's you we need. Your potential is limitless."

I burst out laughing. "You must be joking."

"No," says Steven, dead serious. He's stopped blinking and it's making me uncomfortable. "You may not know it yet, but you have the power to reshape the world."

"Uh, no," I protest, taking a step backward. "I just want a decent job and a place to paint."

"Your canvas is a lot bigger than you've ever imagined. Those blue paintings of yours are part of a larger whole...a prophecy. You need to accept the truth."

"Steven, you don't know me...at all."

"She does." Steven grabs a rusty sledge hammer sitting in the corner and lifts it over his shoulder.

"Who, Eve? What the fuck, Steven!" I say, retreating.

"We're tired of waiting, Tim. She's tired of waiting." Steven rears back and swings the heavy hammer, obliterating the pipe above his head. Water rockets from the broken water main. It's up to our ankles in seconds.

I rush to the stairs. Steven intercepts me and pushes me backward against the model railroad. "No more hints."

"What?" I'm on the verge of hyperventilating. Steven is smashing more pipes. Water is up to my waist.

Steven guards the stairs, his expression flat as I struggle toward him again. He shoves me roughly into the canyon, smashing it. "Accept your fate."

"No!" I gasp. The water is at my chin. I feel my heels lifting. My face is pressed up against the bare boards of the ceiling. I'm blind and my lungs are burning. A panic forces open my mouth and gritty water floods my chest.