Good Morning, Clarence

 Good morning, Clarence.

    The words flashed on the computer monitor, its dim light casting a flickering glow upon the face of the person to whom it was addressed. Clarence groggily woke up, his eyes adjusting to his dark room. The sound the computer made while starting up had pulled him from his slumber. He glanced up at his alarm clock at the side of his bed. 2:21 AM. Early morning. He yawned and rolled out of bed, his skin feeling the cool, sleek metal of the platform bed that held his mattress. He shivered and pulled on his shirt, giving him protection from the freezing air. He rubbed his eyes as he made his way towards his desk, and stumbled into his desk chair.

    Clarence peered at the screen to get a good look at it. "Good morning?" he mumbled in confusion as he puzzled over the cryptic greeting. The bar at the end of the greeting flashed every half-second on the monitor. Suddenly the words PRESS ENTER appeared. Curious, Clarence complied, marveling over how odd this was. He put the slightest pressure on the keyboard, and the following words appeared:

        Good morning, Clarence,

    We would like to inform you that your death will occur quite soon. You have a minimum of twenty-four hours to live, and a maximum of two weeks. Any time in between will be the time of your death. We apologize for the inconvenience.

        Sincerely, Halcyon

    Clarence stopped moving. His heartbeat seemed to fall away, fade into a void of nothingness. His mind reeled. Time had no meaning. The world dissolved. And all the connections aligned.

–––

    Roughly two years before Clarence was born, the first of the letters appeared. It was in a relatively small, off-white envelope, and the letter itself was in an old-world type of stationary. It said the same thing that had appeared on Clarence's screen, except it said "Good afternoon, Robin." The girl, Robin, was seventeen, just one year younger than Clarence. Robin had initially reported the letter to the police, believing that it was nothing more than a sick joke that had gone too far. But when she was found dead twelve days later, they took the letter seriously. Apparently, similar letters via all forms of medium were being broadcast and sent and shipped everywhere. It was usually something normal, like a letter or text message, although sometimes more cryptic events happened, like what Clarence was experiencing now.

    Everyone's letter said the same thing, only the time and first name were the things that changed. All over the world, young or old, in any language, every letter was the same.

    And everyone always died.

    The world had been in a wild panic for the first few months, but soon people realized that things were happening that people couldn't explain. People who would die in their sleep naturally also received the messages. People who were already dying of cancer received the messages as well. After a year, the world pretty much accepted it as a normal thing. They called them the "Halcyon Letters," and while the investigation to see who was sending these letters, the mysterious Halcyon, was ongoing, the world had been speculating. Soon, they split into two core beliefs: Pro-Halcyon and Anti-Halcyon.

    Pro-Halcyon members believed that this mysterious Halcyon who could seemingly predict everyone's death at any time, was kind, that anyone who received the Letters was blessed, and should take advantage of these last few days of their life. It brought a whole new meaning to the phrase "halcyon days."

    Anti-Halcyon members, however opposed this viewpoint. They strongly believed that it was cruel to tell people that they were going to die. Pro-Halcyon candidates countered that people with illness often knew that they would die beforehand, and argued "Why would this be any different? It applies to everyone now." But Anti-Halcyon members still disagreed.

    One year later Clarence was born, and when he learned of the Letters he was always indifferent. He would make a choice once his Halcyon Letter came. But he never thought that it would come so soon.

    But now it had. He sat there at his desk, alone in the dark. The initial shock had passed, even though it took two hours. He had moved onto his family and how they would react to it. They'd lost his father when Rachel, his sister, was just twelve, and that was four years ago. Now.. this?

    Good morning, Clarence

    They would mourn while he was still alive, his sister and his mother. That was just the kind of people they were. They would spend as much time together as possible until he died, but it would never amount to the memories that they would never share. The memories that could have been.

    We would like to inform you that your death will occur quite soon.

    His friends, oh his friends. They'd miss him a lot. He was the smart one in the group, and they'd tease him a lot for his knowledge, but it was a loving kind of teasing. They loved him, and he loved them. They were so close...

    You have a minimum of twenty-four hours to live, and a maximum of two weeks.

    His extended family would mourn, too. His cousins never really liked him, but the adults and elderly would mourn him greatly. While he was never really around his extended family with the exception of his maternal uncle, they were all really close.

    We apologize for the inconvenience.

    He read the words on the screen again. He then read them again. After this, he read them again. And again. And again. And again. He read them and then he stopped reading...

    Sincerely,

    He decided then, which party he belonged to. Not everyone wanted to know when they would die. Some people want authentic moments before death. Not ones that were brought about by predictions of death. While some people wanted to know, Clarence didn't. Knowing of your death just brings more misery to you and your loved ones. And that's why he decided. He decided to be Anti-Halcyon.

    Halcyon

    The name bounced around in his head. Halcyon. It had transformed from a word meaning tranquility, peace, and calmness, to a word that meant death, loss, and misery. He closed his eyes, and the world dissolved into nothingness.

–––

    They didn't take it well. Rachel bawled. Clarence's mother tried to stay strong but she broke down too. He hugged them and didn't speak for a really long time. Later they sat and reminded each other of memories they shared. They cried again. They spent a lot of time, just the three of them, that day. That 24 hours of assurance, however, quickly dwindled. Clarence didn't sleep. He stared at his alarm clock. He wouldn't have to go to class tomorrow. Anyone who receives their Halcyon Letter is immediately, by law, exempt from doing any form of mandatory work. He thought about how he wouldn't have a future. He was going for a Chemistry major at his community college. He'd never be what he wanted to be. He'd.. he'd be dead.

    He stared at his alarm clock. Soon it was midnight, and he was thinking about how he could maybe look for Halcyon. No, that was ridiculous. He'd never find him. No-one ever did, although many have tried. He was just too smart. Clarence, with a sinking feeling, accepted the fact that he would probably never bring him to justice. It was ridiculous anyway.

    He stared at his alarm clock. 1:00 AM. He thought that maybe he could just end it all now. Suicide. He shook his head. No, he was going to die anyway. Might as well spend as much time here as possible. But he thought now that no-one who committed suicide had ever received a Halcyon letter until after they died, and the letter was different. He'd never seen one, but it probably said something along the lines of Dear [insert name here], We are sorry to find that you took your own life. Sincerely, Halcyon. Clarence bet that Halcyon thought he was funny, with his cryptic messages and false politeness.

    He stared at his alarm clock. 2:20 AM. One minute. One minute until he crossed the threshold. One minute until it was possible at any moment that he would die.

    He stared at his alarm clock. 2:21 AM.

    He fell asleep.

–––

    He woke up late that morning. Rachel sat in his desk chair, watching him sleep. Clarence smiled and sat up. "Hey, Rach." he said. Rachel smiled back sheepishly.

    "Hey." She replied.

    "What's mom doing?"

    "Making breakfast."

    "Really? That's nice. What's she cooking?"

    "Bacon, eggs, and waffles."

    Clarence laid down flat on his back. "That sounds good."

    "Yeah, I guess." She looked away from him. There was a strange glint in her eye.

    He narrowed his. "Rachel?"

    "Yeah?"

    "Promise me something."

    "..."

    "Promise me that you won't shut down. That you won't give up. You've got mom to take care of now. She needs you. You need each other."

    "..."

    "..."

    "What if I need you, Clarence?"

    "You don't. You're all grown up." He got out of bed and walked over to her. He knelt down and put her hand in his. She was crying now, not a sob or wail, but silent tears that slowly dripped down to her skirt. "I'm glad that I got to see you for the sixteen years that I did. I couldn't have asked for a better sister." She pulled him into a hug, and he didn't resist. They stayed there for a few minutes, until he finally pulled away. He wiped her tears with his hand. "It will all be okay." he said. She nodded, and while Clarence didn't know whether or not she believed him, he didn't believe it himself.

    "I promise." She whispered. Clarence looked puzzled, but then she continued. "I promise I won't shut down. I won't give up. I promise I'll take care of mom." Clarence smiled. "Thank you. That's all I want for you guys, is for you both to be happy." He stood up, his hand still holding hers. She got up as well. "I don't expect you to be happy when.. when I'm gone. But I want you both to be happy after." She smiled, and nodded. He knew her well. She was probably thinking that she'd never be happy in a world where he didn't exist. And he hoped she was wrong.

    "Let's get breakfast." he said, breaking the silence that had followed her promise.

    "Sure." she said softly, looking up at him. She was grinning slightly. Her soul probably wasn't as heavy anymore. They went downstairs and ate breakfast, and spent much time together.

    Most days after Clarence received the letter went like that. Wake up, talk, eat breakfast, and spend as much precious time together as possible. Each passing day, his mother and sister grew more worried that they would wake up one day and find him dead. One day, however, Clarence decided that he wanted to go to the park, by himself. Just to gather his thoughts. The swift autumn breeze blew the changing leaves off their branches. Crisp yellows and reds flurried around him as the breeze tickled them higher. He sat on a bench, admiring the scene. "I'm going to miss this." he said. It was true. Autumn was his favorite season.

    "I know." said a voice.

    Clarence stood up. Was this how it was going to end? No, it was just a man, facing the opposite direction, looking at a similar scene.

    "W-what do you mean?" Clarence asked.

    "I know," said the man,"That you're going to miss this."

    Clarence puzzled over this. Who was this man? "Do.. do I know you?" he asked tentatively. "No. But I know you." he said as he turned around.

    He was a normal guy, some small wrinkles on his face, a sign that he was older but not too old. His brown eyes seemed to pierce the very thing that he was looking at (at that moment it happened to be Clarence). His nose was an average length but very thin, and he had a very firm jawline. He wore a black trench coat, a short, black, top hat, and circular glasses.

    "What do you mean, you know me? I've never seen you a day in my life." Clarence said. He was slightly irritated. Who was this guy?

    The man grinned slightly. "I doubt that you have, but you've been selected. I've been monitoring you."

    Clarence was taken back by his statement. "M-monitoring?"

    "Yes, Clarence."

    Clarence took a step back. "H-how do you know my name?" He said. His voice was frail, like it could break at any moment.

    "Like I said, I've been monitoring you."

    Before Clarence could say anything, the strange man turned around. "Follow me if you're interested." He looked over his shoulder at Clarence. "Or you could go home and live the rest of your short life without knowing the truth." He then began walking away.

    Clarence stood still. The truth? "What are you talking about!?" he yelled.

    The man looked over his shoulder. "What, don't you want to know who Halcyon is?"

    Clarence ran after him.

–––

    "Hey! Wait!" Clarence yelled, calling out to the man in the coat. Does he really know who Halcyon is?

    He turned around and smiled. "I knew you'd come around." he said once Clarence had caught up to him. "Come with me. I promise that I'll give you answers."

    "Okay, um, where are we going?" Clarence said. Curiosity and fear bubbled up inside of him. He was anxious to find out what this truth was.

    "In that house." He gestured to an older house in the distance, one that had been here a while. They walked in silence, but soon arrived at the dilapidated structure. "Come," the man said as he motioned into the shack of a house. It was really old. It could have even been built before the existence of the neighborhood.

    As they went inside the house, Clarence realized that it was completely empty. No furniture, nothing. The rooms that had permanent structures (such as plumbing and electricity) were non-existent. It was eerie, the empty house.

    "Before you ask, this isn't mine," the man said, gesturing to the house. It brought Clarence back to his senses. "Well, I legally own it, of course, but I have a different house." The man smiled. "I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Christopher Angelo, I am fifty-two years old, and twenty years ago I created Halcyon."

    Clarence was dumbstruck. He... invented... Halcyon? Halcyon.. isn't a person? He didn't know why he was so shocked. Maybe because he expected Halcyon to be a person, but he was still confused. "You'd better explain from the beginning," Clarence said plainly. He was surprised about how calm he felt. Maybe it was because he was finally getting answers when he thought he would die in the dark, without knowledge of what really happened.

    Christopher just stood there. "Maybe it's best if I just show you..." He said as he pressed his palm on the wall. Something clicked, and he took a bent nail and pulled. The wall gave, and down fell a panel. Behind the wall lay a lever. Christopher pulled it, and suddenly a whirring noise, like something was starting up, began. Soon an elevator 'ding' sounded, and the opposite wall of the hallway suddenly began to slowly lower itself. It moved, seeming to defy physics, downward until it revealed a completely new room. Inside was an out-of-place futuristic-looking white tube, big enough for two or three people, maybe four. Christopher stepped inside and turned around. "Coming, Mr. Clarence?" he said. There was no condescension or malice in his voice. He was sincere. Clarence stepped inside, and the door closed. Then the tube shot down into oblivion.

–––

    The world sped by as the tube fell. Clarence didn't feel anything different, it felt like he was standing still, but in reality he was moving at a very alarming rate. It stopped as quickly as it started, and the same 'ding' that had sounded upstairs recurred. The tube door opened, Christopher stepped out without a word, and Clarence followed him out of the tube and into a long hallway, that had that same futuristic feel that the tube did. The duo made their way down the hallway, and Christopher stopped at a door with a keyboard next to it. He punched in another code (Clarence couldn't tell if it was different or not) and a button lit up on the side. Christopher turned to Clarence. "I'd like for you to know, that before we enter this room, I regret nothing." Clarence just stared. Christopher nodded, and then pushed the button.

    Clarence didn't know what to expect, but he knew he wasn't expecting this. The room was small, about the size of a large, square bathroom, and was completely white. In the middle was a mocha colored wooden desk with a comfortable looking chair. On top of the desk sat a keyboard, mouse, and computer monitor. He didn't see any wires, although everything was probably hidden. Christopher walked up to the desk and hit the power button on the monitor. The screen lit up, and three buttons appeared on-screen. The first was "Saved," the second "Recent," and the final "Search." In the bottom left corner there was a gear icon, and Clarence assumed it was for the settings. Christopher sat down and swiveled around to face Clarence. "I assume by now you've already made the connections, but just in case I'll explain it all to you."

    "Five years before you were born, my colleagues and I began development on something revolutionary," Christopher began, "A computer program that would be able to accurately predict people's deaths, based on variables. These variables include many different things, but with today’s society of modern medicine and technology, it's not too hard to understand how the variables work." This was true. Clarence could already figure out that the invention of medical nanites probably played a big part in this. Nanites are tiny robots that exist on a nanoscopic level. Their purpose is to assist in the administration of drugs, microsurgery, etc. Almost everyone had nanites in them, although most of them are deactivated. But this man was smart. He could probably find a way to activate them, make them detect cancer cells or disease and find out whether or not it was fatal.

    And this was just for natural fatalities.

    "The development for this program was strenuous and taxing, but after three long, hard years, due to the miracle of today's advanced technology, we were able to accurately predict the death of a person by thirteen days. All of our subjects died within thirteen days of the program's predictions. While it might not seem accurate, it's certainly better than guesswork, and as long as it was consistent there was no point in developing the program further. We called it 'Project Halcyon.'

    "Halcyon learns Clarence. In the first year and a half when the program was rough, we developed the program manually. After that, however, we still programmed it manually, but the Artificial Intelligence system had been added. It began to program itself. Halcyon was now able to focus on variables we'd have never guessed, among other things. It began to get more and more accurate, until it got stuck on thirteen days. And that's when everything changed. One of my colleagues went insane. He began shouting that Halcyon was unethical and that we needed to shut it down. Everyone objected, and he...” Suddenly Christopher faltered. His face looked pained, like he was remembering something he didn't want to. “He shot them...all of them." He paused for another long beat. He must have been close to his colleagues, Clarence realized. He almost felt sympathy. Almost. "I was out sick that day, and that's why I didn't die. I saved the program and built this." He pauses to gesture to the room that they're sitting in.

    "Halcyon automatically predicts when someone is going to die." Christopher continued. "That much you already know. The Letters were my touch. After the massacre at the lab, I decided to have Halcyon go public. It was ready. It was making constant accurate predictions." He shook his head. "I don't expect you to understand the process, it's all very, very complicated."

    Clarence nodded. "Yeah, I'd expect it to be." He didn't know how to feel. Angry, for making him know that he was going to die? Thankful that he now knew what Halcyon was? Something else?

    "I'm telling you this, Clarence," Christopher said, almost sadly. "Because I'm going to shut it down. I need you to go out and tell the world what Halcyon was. The only reason why I made Halcyon public is because I wanted to give people a chance to know when their loved ones were going to die, but I never expected the split response that would come with it." He hung his head. “Who am I to judge those who wish to know nothing? Who am I to judge who lives or dies?” He sighed. “Who am I to play god?” He swiveled around. "So... because of that I'm shutting it down." He clicked on the gear in the corner, bringing up a list of options, and suddenly raw code appeared. On the left, there was a stationary algorithm. On the other, lines of code flashed so quickly you couldn't pause to read them. That must be the machine at work, predicting the deaths of thousands. Christopher began entering a line of programming code, and then he paused. It seemed like he was giving one last goodbye to his creation, like a talented artist about to burn his greatest piece. Christopher sighed, and clicked on "Execute." The screen went black.

–––

    Christopher lead Clarence back to the up to the surface and to the outside world. It seemed like it was an eternity that he had spent underground, but it had only really been close to an hour. "My only condition is that you don't reveal my identity," Christopher said, his eyes downcast. "I thought I'd give the world an opportunity to love the ones they held most dear, but it didn't turn out like I expected. There's such a divide, but now there will be peace." He gave Clarence a weak smile. "You're still going to die, I'm afraid.” He said as he turned away slightly. “I can't change anything about that. I hope you can forgive me, but that in and of itself is absurd.”

    Clarence shook his head. "I don't know, maybe. I just need some time to.. to process all this."

    Christopher nodded. "Take care, Clarence."

    He never saw him again.

–––

    Clarence died three days later. He lived a total of nine days, including the morning he received his Halcyon Letter. He had gone to the local news station with his story. He brought the reporters to the old house that lead to the Halcyon Module. He let his story go viral. He went home. He spent time with his family. And then he died.

    He died. Anticlimactically, in his room, in his sleep, and he was discovered by his family. They wept, they made funeral plans, they didn't move on for a while, but they did. Eventually, the autopsy report showed that he had died of a major heart attack, despite being healthy. But not too many people cared. Clarence was remembered for a while, as were the Halcyon Letters, but soon they faded to nothing more than history. His family remembered him, obviously, but the rest of the world eventually didn't.

    We as humans tend to forget that dying is part of living. Life will always go on, has always gone on without us. But those who are lucky (or unlucky) enough to understand that they are going to die are special. For they get to spend their last remaining moments with the people they love the most. It doesn't matter what you support, Pro-Halcyon or Anti-Halcyon, these lucky chances to make memories are slipping through your fingertips. So grasp them firmly. Hold onto them dearly.

    Because when your Letter comes, what will you do?

–––