The Big Red Button

The stranger strides in from elsewhere, into the cave that is all they have ever known. It is hard to say with certainty if his shadow wings are real or the stuff of legends woven into an imagined afterimage, the crowd's imagination made tangible, an agreement of terror made with nothing, given near tangible form in an echo chamber. Silence falls on the crowd and then the stranger speaks. "I have come to tear down all that has been built here, reshaping it. Do not mourn these insignificant halls; what use are tears for that which has been lost from the beginning?" He waves a hand and a glowing orb hangs from the ceiling, slowly descending on a string, spinning and cascading light all around the cave. "When the ball reaches the floor the cycle is complete, and this game is over." 

The stranger wooshes his wings like a cape and as the shadows of them obscure him, in one fluid motion he is gone. Panic now strikes the room, screaming and lashing out until one man's voice rises meekly but illogically loudly above the crowd. "Quiet. This is obviously a trick. It is a poor one at that." Everyone looks at the man, whose hair matches the big red button he stands beside, marked "Sabotage." "One of us just needs to push this button, and the ball dissipates." He is met with skeptical looks all across the cave. After a few moments with no response he simply shrugs and walks away from the button.

The ball descends slowly, almost imperceptibly, but still the crowd frantically discusses their plight and the options. Finally, after far too much deliberation, considering the stakes and limited options, someone steps up and pushes the button. Sure enough, the ball dissipates exactly as the man said, met by a collective sigh of relief. They dare not cheer however, unsure of what new wrath the stranger might return with next time, finding his plan has been thwarted. Still, the cave returns to its natural state for each of them, a critical dream fading as they live lives and dream dreams, on a conscious level only infinitesimally aware of the cave and the catastrophe avoided. Subconsciously, however, the thought of this juncture persists in them.

A cycle passes and, like clockwork, the stranger returns, striding in from elsewhere into the cave. They recall him as soon as they see his wings, still uncertain if they are real or the stuff of legends woven into their terrified imaginations, an agreement still struck and persistent in this echo chamber. Silence falls again on the crowd and then the stranger speaks. "I have come to tear down all that has been built here, reshaping it. Do not mourn these insignificant halls; what use are tears for that which has been lost from the beginning?" He waves a hand and a glowing orb hangs from the ceiling, slowly descending on a string, spinning and cascading light all around the cave. "When the ball reaches the floor the cycle is complete, and this game is over." 

The stranger wooshes his wings like a cape and as the shadows obscure him, in one fluid motion he is gone. The crowd now stares at each other in stunned yet slightly hopeful disbelief; not a single thing changed in his approach or delivery. With only a moment's delay an old man hurries up to the big red button and presses it. Sure enough, the ball dissipates and this time the crowd cheers, thankful that their plight seems to be more pomp than anything truly dire.

Cycle after cycle this continues, and fear of the stranger subsides, although many still speak of him. Some begin to wonder if he ever had any power at all, much less the power to do as he claims. Some of the teenage denizens of the realm even discuss proudly letting the ball drop, betting it will shatter the illusion once and for all, but on some level all breathe a sigh of relief when one cycle ends and the button is pressed again without delay. Eventually the offshoots of the cave, that which might be called the crowd's "waking worlds" take on more and more complex forms; cities rise, nations rise, each with their own leaders. Wars erupt, and plague, and systems of control, and power beyond reason. Many find themselves chained by this system, unable to escape, but when the time comes to press the button, none have the ability to hold back any others in the crowd who enjoy the luxuries of this system, and it is pressed every time. Now some earnestly long for whatever this stranger might offer- oblivion, death, something, anything, else.

This feeling grows and then all at once ceases. As if some sort of gallow's mercy, the lights in all those crushed under the heel of those above goes out. War rages even stronger, with each cycle's apparent victor pressing the button, again and again, as most of the crowd watches through sleepwalking eyes. Finally a single strongest emerges from the crowd, and claims himself to be a god. None can stand against this behemoth, and only those former kings still struggle in this shared space. Finally even their lights go out, and the self proclaimed god stands unopposed. For a time he finds something akin to joy in his unopposed status, but after many cycles this too fades to meaninglessness. 

Finally the king, once more humbled, decides to let a cycle pass, to let the ball drop, as anything would be better than this lonely existence. The ball slowly descends as it always had, a cycle spent in waiting. As it nears the floor though, the king, nearly asleep like the rest, finds another hand presses it. One of the sleepers had awoken and, seeing the miserable state of the oppressors, felt such a swift ending would be too merciful an end after such a merciless reign. All at once all are awake. Feeling rage that they had been only moments from an oblivion, now stolen, the whole cave cries havoc as the cycle begins again and they return fully aware into their respective roles. The king is unamused, and considers revenge but, having been awake through so many such cycles, he knows that no such path will end this eternal torment. 

A forum is called. The former king presents clearly that these paths taken will not lead to an ending, there will be no peace along this road. Only through some degree of parity will an end be seen by any of them. "With that in mind, I hereby announce that whoever presses the big red button on this next pass will take my place, and I will take theirs." A clamor erupts, and predictably, when they find themselves in the cave again, as soon as the stranger disappears there is a surging rush for the button. One of those in the crowd becomes king as decreed, and the former king's eyes go lifeless in time, a temporary mercy finally found, sleeping until the last.

Cycle after cycle continues, as well as many grand cycles where invariably the new king sees the wisdom in the final decree of those before, and repeats the decree as his final act on the throne. One by one they take the throne, and the sea of the sands of time drop one by one through the eye of the hourglass. Finally the last king relents, having had his fill, and the crowd finds themselves stirring in the cave, as the ball drops again, and none move to press the big red button. They each remember their time on top, their time on bottom, and all those times between. Some seasons were hot, some were cold, many were in between and have been largely forgotten; most of the time spent feels something like a dream. They each share their favorite tales of when they were awake, and listen to the stories of times they spent sleepwalking. There is some sense of joy, each considering that these stories may be the last they share, but each in unspoken agreement that the time of this cave and these struggles should be at an end. 

The ball nears the ground and the stranger can be seen walking up to fulfill what he has promised the crowd, perhaps truly seeing them for the first time. As he approaches he seems to be smiling, but a sad smile knowing the moments between the set up and the fulfillment have seemed much longer for them than for he. He knew that none could proceed in such a state, however, and he could not bear his love bearing witness to any of this. As he approaches though, the redheaded man from the first cycle walks up to the button. The stranger stops respectfully, folds his wings down and his hands at his waist and listens. "You have seen these cycles countless, and you have seen what can be done by one in charge of many. You have all had your chance to try your hand at the throne. What you have yet to see though is what a single cycle might bring if you all work together." There is a murmur from the crowd now, as they consider the wisdom in these words, and it feels as if an entire realm of sleepers is finally waking up, wishing, despite everything, that they might have one more go, knowing what they know now. "Be amazing." The red haired man looks right at the stranger with a smile as he presses the button again. "Love each other." 

The ball dissipates and, as if carried off by a wind, the stardust of it flies straight back to the stranger. The stranger snaps his fingers in an overly dramatic display and says "Ah nerts. Okay, no ball this time, we'll just meet back here next cycle and discuss next steps." The dazzling haze that is the stardust of the ball coalesces into a form beside the stranger as he walks back out the way he came and opens the back door of the cave, revealing momentarily a paradise beyond. He takes his love's hand, now seen by all fully formed in silhouette, before closing the door behind them. Just like that everyone else finds themselves in their own beds once again, remembering more vividly than ever this cycle reset dream that has repeated every year. There is an inexplicable feeling in the air that anything is possible on that cool March morning.