Over and Over: Conclusion

     **here's part two enjoy!**

       “That’s a lovely fairy tale,” I remarked.

            “What are you talking about? There wasn’t a single fairy in that story.”

            I glared across the table at the weak attempt at a joke. “Are you aware of the implications of your predicament here?”

            “Of course,” he answered, “but it doesn’t matter. Do whatever you want.” He leaned back and closed his eyes taking several deep breaths.

            Mencher’s indifference irritated me and I began to lift myself from the table, reaching for the file. I hesitated seeing his eyes open and stare blankly at the wall. There was a strange solemnity in that face, the slacked cheeks and depressed brow, as though he were remembering a traumatic past or long past resentment.

            “We have intelligence that says you were in the Ukraine recently trying to buy weapons from another arms dealer,” I stated.

            “I was.”

            “You were trying to gain access to old Soviet supply bunkers.”

            “True.”

            “One in particular which housed dismantled nuclear devices,” I added. “The man you were dealing with got scared when he realized your intentions and stepped forward informing us about you dealings.”

            “I know.”

            “If you had managed to lay hands on those devices, what would you have done?”

            “I wouldn’t have given them to terrorists if that’s what you’re asking…” he paused. “Well, maybe one just to get some funding.”

            “Have you no concern for human life? Even if you sympathize with the views of Islamic fundamentalists, which I highly doubt you do, detonation of nuclear device will hurt everyone regardless of race, religion or creed,” I explained. “Is this something you even considered?”

            “That is exactly what I was counting on,” he replied. “It was what I was planning on doing with the rest of the materials I hoped to possess.”

            “You wanted to detonate them?” I blinked. “Why?”

*          *          *

            There was a rebellion, the mass, weak menial labor against the few strong lordly warriors. The people wanted to be free of mundane taxes that only served to generate wealth for a church and an empire that dominated them without consent.

            The people had been inspired by a man who stood against the domination of the church, but soon turned his back on them as well. I felt an odd kinship with the man.

            I fought with them, tried to help spurn them on with whispers and ideas. But the knights charged in and everyone was slaughtered. One hundred thousand men lay dead so that a handful of rich men could continue a lavish lifestyle of waste and greed.

            The rebellion could have continued and spread out, but each city involved made peace with these princes and the rebellion was halted. Things did change as a result but there was still no hope of return to those long ago days of merriment in the cave.

            Things aren’t that different today. Look out the window. The church no longer collects taxes and no Holy Roman Empire backs their pointless requirements with steel; instead you have banks with fees and government with guns, but they do the same, and you the people sit there and accept it.

            And you know what’s going to happen, you all know, but you cling to the little scraps for as long as you can because you simply fear the unknown, fear the freedom it gives, and therefore doom yourselves to the repetition of history.

            I’ve seen what happens. Everything will fall apart. Your system will crumble when it is no longer capable of sustaining itself and those people, those ‘barbaric hoards’ will roll on in and take everything the second you are weak. It will start here, in America and spread across the globe, country to country until your empire of wealth and greed is gone.

            But that’s not the tragic part. In the wake of such destruction, you will try to rebuild this world and make it better, but only in your fantasies. All you are doing is what has been done many times before and you’re going to fail every single time.

*          *          *

            “You’re referring to the Peasant’s War during the Reformation and the fall of Rome, I imagine.”

            “You catch on well.”

            “You talk as if you were there.”

            “I was.”

            I peered into his eyes looking for the flutter of lies but they only gleamed back through lazy lids. The man was insane, one of those lunatics that think their historical figures.

            “You are reasoning in your mind, right now, that I’m a madman and belong in a straitjacket.” How did he know? “I know because I’ve seen it before.” He leaned forward. “But you’re going to look it up, my name. I’ve taken a liking to Mencher, I’ve been using it since, oh, 1821, I think. You’ll find that a man who changed his name to Mencher was involved in the outbreak of the First World War; he mentored a man named Gavrilo who assassinated Archduke Ferdinand.  There was another who was employed by the Nazis to produce a secret weapon capable of wiping out an entire city and so forth.”

            “Are you implying that you are these men, that you are the William Mencher from 1960?”

            “What do you think?”

            “I think you’re crazy.”

            “You’ll look it up though, I know you will.”

            “How could you be William Mencher? He was executed in 1961, you were born in 1985.”

            “I was cursed. My body dies but I come back, reincarnated over and over again. But while most people start afresh with no memories of those past lives, I come back with everything. I’ve been among you so long that I know what you will do before you do, I’ve seen the cycle repeat itself more times than I can count.”

            “And that’s why you’re trying to wreck civilization?”

            “It started out that way, but I want something else now.”

            “And what is that?”

            “I want to wipe out all life on this planet,” Mencher said. “That’s why I wanted the nukes. I was going to place them at pivotal points all over the globe and detonate them simultaneously. The resulting dust cloud would have blotted out the sun killing all vegetation and, ultimately, all of you.”

            “Why would you want to do something like that?”

            “If there are no more of you, then I can’t come back.”

            The fluorescent lighting buzzed above us as we sat silently studying each other. He believed what he said. There was no hint of weakness in his voice or face, his posture in the chair was solid and steadfast.

            “You’re trying to commit suicide…” I breathed.

            He relaxed in his chair. The sadness returned to his face.

            “Why? You’re immortal.”

            “I’m alone.”

            My eyes glazed the desk top. “Are we… are we really that hopeless?”

            He looked at me sympathetically. “I don’t know, but I do know that until you dispose of your greed and your hate, you will never touch the stars. Only by working together, like we did in the cave will you ever make the leap as we did to the village. You need to throw off your shackles; those that were first imposed by God and the Devil and learn to live free, truly free.”

            “We progressed since then. We have better building and science.”

            “What is the difference between mud and stone? Stone and steel? It’s all dirt.”

            He had closed his eyes again. I sat pondering his words then got up from the table. “You will be tried in a federal court and most likely spend the rest of your life in prison.”

            “It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”

            “I can’t let you do what you’re planning to do. The rest of us have a right to live.”

            “Maybe, I say you gave it up after the flood,” he countered. “But have it your way. Just know that you can’t stop me, not really. I’ll be back again and again, and sooner or later, I’m going to succeed.”

            “Then we’ll just have to look out for people named Mencher.”

            “I don’t know, I’m getting bored with that name.”  He smiled.

*          *          *

            Brain Mencher was convicted of terrorism and arms dealing. He was imprisoned for three consecutive life sentences but died in prison six months after his conviction.

            I checked what he told me and there he was in Bosnia before World War One and in Germany during World War Two. I periodically checked for name changes especially sixteen years down the road but saw no more Menchers. Many others changed their names at sixteen, but none that fit the profile. He could have returned as anyone.

            In my old age the memory of the man plagued me. Every person I saw, every face, I wondered if he was in there. Then one day while I sat on the outside patio of a pub eating a hamburger I saw a young man standing on across the street squinting in my direction as though he recognizing me. I started back not knowing the lad but soon recognized the way his lips tilted in the corner of his mouth. He walked away with a solemn look as though everything was old and there was nothing new left on this planet.