The sun shone brightly over the ruins of the old city. It lit up the glass skylines of old like a kaleidoscope sky of some sort. The light fragments went from place to place as the Sun travelled around the world, showing previously unnoticed artwork on the streets below. The exhibition today brought with it a few more bodies, the ones that hadn't been claimed by the wild dogs anyway, an old Vauxhall and what looked like the remains of an old Epiphone Les Paul model. The tarmac, now fading back into a distinct shade of leafy green, the only surface remnant now of what once was a bustling metropolis, in the days of old.
The man the children all called Santa sat by the river, drinking a mug of water that he'd found. He wasn't sure how long it'd been there, nor whether the water was safe. But safe was relative these days. He stared out at the clear water than ran past him. It used to be about 20 feet further away in the old days, but the banks had flooded and the water decided it liked the new pastures, so claimed them for its own. Despite the visual devastation around him, it was almost pretty and serene to watch the virgin water slither by him.
A young boy arrived and sat next to him. Not Santa's child, but a child Santa was aware of. His parents were both from Bangladesh, his hair was jet black and he was a thin, gaunt child. But, despite the loss he'd suffered already in his short decade of existence, he remained remarkably upbeat, always smiling. No pain behind his eyes, no obvious signs of trauma, just a smiling boy.
"Good morning, Shamsul. How are you this morning?"
"I am doing well, Mr Santa. How about you?"
"Oh, I'm just enjoying my cup of tea!"
They both looked out at the river, postulating internally about what the day would bring them. Santa took another sip of his water. He knew it wasn't really tea, but he liked to pretend. Especially around Shamsul and the other children, because it gave them a slight sense of normalcy too.
"Mr Santa?"
"Yes, Shamsul?"
"Can I ask you something?"
Santa chuckled with a smile on his face.
"Shamsul, my boy, you can ask me anything you like in the whole wide world!"
Shamsul took a moment to think about how to ask such a complex question.
"How did everything get like this?"
Santa's face went from a smile to something sorrowful. He looked back to the river and sighed while he thought about how to answer.
"Well, my boy, it started with a near-miss!"
"As the new decade started, two countries were locked in a war of words. The two leaders of those were countries were both as dedicated to their own causes as the other. Both were stubborn, both projected strength, though only one was truly strong.
One of these countries were one of the most powerful on the Old Earth. The leader of it was someone many considered to be a villain, while others regarded him as a new messiah. He spoke about making that country great again, even though it held a lot of the power in the world, and often spoke out against those who believed they were trying to make society better. Anyone who criticized him were labelled as people who hated the country, and were the enemy of the people. For this, many christened him a dictator of sorts. Though, he was not nearly the worst of the leaders who had come before him. Though, he did hold people who were dictators in high esteem. It was clear to many that he wanted to be like them, and enjoy the same kind of obedience those leaders demanded. But, alas, he could not achieve this. Those who hated him would make jokes of him, claiming he had tiny limbs and a face that had a strange colour to it. To those who supported him, they believe he had been sent by God themselves to save that country from the damage previous leaders had inflicted upon it.
The other country was, for the most part, a poor country. It sat in a region surrounded by endless wars and was, itself, a hotbed of problems. Its leader, although elected, held significant power that gave him the same powers as a dictator. Yet, there was one above him who was even more powerful. Their country was dictated by religion, though many outside of the country believed that the religion they purported to follow had been twisted by the leadership of the country to suit its own ideas about how people should be ruled. You could not speak against the leaders, or you would be put in prison. Many foreigners were jailed because they were believed to be spies. You could not embrace many things from outside of that country, and you weren't allowed to protest. Many across the world saw the leaders of this country as dictators, but they themselves believed that they had been wronged many times by the international community. They were suspicious of foreigners, and foreigners were suspicious of them.
In the first few weeks of the new decade, they fought. Mostly with words, but some use of weapons were used. And the world, for a moment, held its breath. For it did not like the idea of a new war between two nations. It's possible, or even likely, the war would've ended quickly. But the amount of death the war would bring was not something the world wished to see. Many had grown tired of seeing war, and did not wish to see any new ones starting".
Shamsul nodded.
"So, the world got like this because of a war?"
Santa chuckled.
"Not quite, Shamsul, not quite..."
"Around the same time, there was a large country in the south of the world. It was as big as some continents. But it was large, and spacious, and not many people lived in its centre. They mostly lived by the sea, so that they could spend endless hours on the beaches. They would have parties, drink alcohol, and ride boards on the waves as pastimes. But, at the same time that the near-miss was happening, there was a crisis in that country as well!"
"Did they go to war, Santa?"
"They did, in a manner of speaking. Though, not with another country. But with fire. Many fires, some started naturally and some started by people, went out of control and destroyed large parts of the country. It destroyed homes, natural habitats, and killed many animals. Millions of animals, in fact. Kangaroos, Koalas, Wombats, you name it. Many died. The human death toll was tiny compared to the amount of animals that lost everything. The humans of that country tried everything they could to put out the fires, but many of them merged and became larger fires. The humans couldn't beat it alone".
"What stopped them?"
"The humans stopped some, but then the rains came".
"Rain?"
"Yes. Humble rain fell and put a lot of them out. But the country was never the same again".
"Were there any other fires like that?"
"Oh, yes. There were fires that tore through the largest rain forest on the planet. Though, unfortunately for the rain forest in question, people largely forgot about it. They were too distracted by their everyday lives to care much for what was happening millions of miles away. Though, the leader of that country denying anything was wrong didn't help the rain forest either".
"So...we got to this point because of a fire?"
Santa sighed.
"Not quite there yet, Shamsul..."
"At the same time, something was happening in the Far East. At the start of the decade, many people in the Far East had fallen ill with a mysterious new illness no-one had seen before. It affected the lungs and, in many cases, it killed the host. It was a virus that could go from person to person so easily. And it didn't present any symptoms for nearly 14 days. As a result, it spread like fire around the Far East. And then, to nearby countries. Until, eventually, it touched every corner of the globe, killing thousands in its wake. Many countries decided to close their borders, stop people from seeing each other, close down life. Others didn't. Some even tried to deny its existence. Claimed it had been made on purpose by the Far East, or that it was being carried through radio signals. But it was just a humble virus. But not like the flu or the common cold. But, regardless, it made the Earth stand still. And some said the world itself shook with fear at the virus".
"A virus stopped the world?"
"More or less. It was so easily passed on that anyone could catch it. And it killed indiscriminately. If you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, it would kill you. They say many healthy people lost their lives to the modern plague. As the months wore on, and the death toll rose, many gathered together in an effort to defeat the virus. Many world leaders compared the event to a war, and that everyone needed to unite in order to defeat it. Many people alive at that time hadn't fought in a war, and this was the closest at that stage they would get to one. But people still died. The death toll rose and rose. Countries didn't work together as well as they could've, with many under-estimating the severity of the threat. As a result, the virus came in waves. The first wave was the one easily handled. But then, it evolved. It became more deadly, and more difficult to contain. Until, eventually, it killed millions.
"Is THAT why we're here, Santa? Because of the virus?"
Santa sighed again.
"Not quite, Shamsul. Not quite".
"Eventually, when the virus was stopped, and the world started to recover, there was another problem to deal with. Four years of recovery couldn't prepare the world for what happened next".
"What DID happen next, Santa?"
A siren was heard in the distance. Not the siren you'd hear from an ambulance, police car or fire engine, no. This was a much more sinister siren. The sound reverberated through the empty streets of the once huge metropolis, and Santa heard it crystal clear. He stood up and looked around, keeping watch the entire time.
"Shamsul, you need to get back to the group. Tell them there's another attack coming. Tell them to stay in the station until they hear the other siren, ok!"
"But, Santa, what about you?"
"GO, SHAMSUL, GO!"
Shamsul went to run away. However, for a moment, he turned to Santa once again.
"Santa?"
Santa turned to him. He still looked alert, but he took a moment to hide his anxiety and state of readiness for the young boy he came to know and love in the years since the start. Shamsul hid a tear as he asked his final question.
"Is THIS why we're here now?"
With a sad smile, Santa looked Shamsul in the eye and nodded.
"It's amazing if you think about it, Shamsul..."
"What's that, Santa?"
"It's amazing how time unfolds...Now go! Run!"
Shamsul did what was asked of him, running away as fast as he could to safety.
Shamsul ran back to the group. A broken sign hung off the wall by the escalator. He looked at it briefly and wondered if he would ever find out what "Waterloo" meant. He came to the conclusion that it was unlikely, and wished he'd asked Santa while he had the chance. He had already come to terms with the idea that he may never see Santa again. Santa was the kindest man he'd ever known, apart from his Dad, but he didn't remember his Dad. So he held Santa in the same esteem.
The platform was bustling with people as Shamsul ran down it back to his mother.
"There's another attack! Santa said we need to wait here until we can hear another siren!"
Everyone assumed the attack position. This was to sit down, stay quiet and keep an ear out for what was happening on the surface. They were used to attacks, but it was still a scary event to endure. The tension in the room was tangible, and Shamsul hated it. He hated having to listen to the bombs dropping over them. Especially when it was over them. But this time was different. All he kept thinking about was whether Santa had got to safety or not. Had Santa made it back in time before the bombs started dropping? He was an old man now, it's possible that he tripped or something. Or maybe he hurt himself getting back up? It was too much for Shamsul to bear thinking about.
THUD.
A bomb dropped directly above them. Dust and plaster from the ceiling fell onto the people below to some tiny outbursts of surprise and panic. Shamsul still kept dutiful watch though. He kept an eye out for Santa. In his mind, he begged and prayed to any God that would listen to let Santa live, let Santa come back to him.
But it was no use.
No old man returned during the raid, like he usually did.
No old man could be seen along the platform. Except for Mr Rogers, who wasn't very nice and often referred to Shamsul as a 'fucking Paki'.
No old man came to him and told him everything was fine.
Just the dust from the ceiling.
The barrage continued. Shamsul looked up to his Mum and, again, tried to hide a tear. Shamsul's mum noticed.
"What is it, Shamsul?"
Shamsul looked up at her and smiled sadly.
"It's amazing if you think about it, Mumma...How time unfolds..."
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