Indifference

Night enveloped the Dark City in its embrace. Although it was illuminated by a million lights, it was a place where the darkness of the human soul extinguished all goodness. The people living here, above all, adhered to the principle of indifference. It was so deeply ingrained in their obscurity that it almost seemed to be their constant companion. Neighbors shunned each other, lest they see or hear more than they should. Children were taught that the only righteous course of action was to leave others to their own devices. "No one wants to be disturbed... Better not to see... Better not to act," they repeated to their children. "No one will reward you for helping others, and you will only encounter pain and suffering!" And so the disease of "volume" spread through the city.

John walked down the street, pondering how meaningless his life was. After all, could working from morning to night as an ordinary clerk be considered meaningless? Day after day, the same routine, the same forms to fill out, the same catalogs to send out, the same letters to write...

The noise of the street shook him out of the lethargy he'd fallen into while contemplating himself. Only now did he realize he hadn't even put on a jacket when he left the office, despite the distinctly chilly air. He slowly put on his jacket and decided to stop at the nearest bar for a few drinks. He began to look around, trying to find a place. A glowing neon sign appeared in one of the narrow streets, informing him in a rather unsophisticated way about the purpose of the room inside the building. "Bar," the man read slowly, then without further thought, he stepped inside.

The corner table at the bar John had chosen was the least lit. He immediately ordered himself a drink, warning the bartender not to skimp on the alcohol. As he drank, he kept recalling his thoughts from the day, and that was what annoyed him most. "I haven't had enough to drink yet," he thought, and was about to order another round when a hooded figure entered the bar. Curious, he glanced casually at the newcomer and followed him to one of the tables where the man sat. The hood slowly slid from the stranger's head, revealing his face. The man saw the face of a young girl. Dark hair, reaching roughly to her shoulders, framed an unusually slender head. Her eyes sparkled in the semi-darkness like two sapphires, giving her entire face a radiant glow. Thin lips and a small nose accentuated her delicate features. After a moment, the man realized he had been looking at her too long, and she might notice soon. So he ordered another drink and stole glances at the stranger. She seemed so defenseless...

After a few minutes, three men entered. They took a table next to the girl and quickly ordered beers. It was clear they were intrigued by her presence. They began to accost her. John tried to hear what the three strangers were saying, but their behavior left no doubt as to their intentions. She tried to get up from the table and leave, but was stopped by attackers amused by her defenselessness. One of them grabbed her and, laughing loudly, pushed her toward his friends. The stranger began screaming. One of the thugs put a knife to her throat and loudly growled, "

Shut up!"

John saw everything as if in slow motion. He saw the men dragging her outside, saw her eyes looking at him... Her eyes yearned for help. He only heard a few more screams coming from outside the bar. After a moment, however, the screams also fell silent. The disease of "indifference" had poisoned John's soul; it was the cause of his inaction. He left the bar just before closing. His mind was spinning, his heart pounding wildly, and before his eyes, he kept seeing the face of the girl begging him for help. He knew what had happened to her, he knew it all too well. He regretted not helping her, but that regret couldn't be turned into action. No one would give him a second chance, after all... He felt dizzy and lost consciousness.

He woke up in an uncomfortable position. At least, that's what his aching back and numb neck told him. He slowly looked around and realized he was in the same bar as last night. He peered out the small window, but to his surprise, it was pitch dark outside. "Could I have slept here all night and all day?" he thought. "It's impossible!" He was about to ask the bartender about it when he suddenly saw a familiar scene. A hooded figure entered the bar and sat down at a table. "That can't be her! But yesterday..." John thought, and was interrupted as his hood fell. The same stranger appeared before his eyes. He sat frozen, unsure what to think. He didn't really have much time to think, as the door opened again and three men entered. "The scene is repeating itself," John thought.

The men sat down at the table next to the girl. John knew what would happen. This time, he decided to act and help her, but fear still gripped him. Meanwhile, the men were becoming increasingly persistent in their provocations. Just like then (yesterday?), one of them pulled out a knife and held it to her throat. John knew this was his last chance to help. Time seemed to have stopped, as if fate were giving him time to think. He saw his entire life, emanating emptiness like a movie watched in fast forward. This emptiness was the most striking element of this dull movie, and he suddenly felt ready to sacrifice everything to fill the void in his life. Slowly, seemingly casually, he moved toward the man standing closest to him. He decided to strike just below the ribs, to steal his opponent's breath. His senses, fueled by the adrenaline rush, were ready to act. His muscles tensed for a blow. The blow was powerful, and the man fell to his knees. His companions, surprised by the sudden attack, stood still, but a moment later they rushed at their attacker. John managed to push them away, eager to get the girl out of here as quickly as possible, eager for her safety. He quickly grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door. At the door, he let her go first and was about to run after her when he felt a sudden pain...

His eyes darted to the spot of pain. He saw the knife embedded in his side, just under his right armpit. He immediately realized he had been too slow. He knew he wouldn't make it out alive. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her running away. Despite the pain, he closed the door, remaining inside the bar. He blocked the passage with his body and looked into the eyes of his future executioners. He did this, giving her a few more seconds. "Those few seconds will save her life," he thought, smiling to himself. "I wonder if I'll get another chance?" Then there was only darkness.

Pain and suffering—that was his reward. He accepted it gladly.