What They Would Say

What They Would Say(Morgan Hope) “Why do you think you’re so important, huh?”
“I stand for something. What do you do? You show violence, hate!”
“It doesn't matter if you stand for something if people don’t remember what you stand for. No one ever forgets me.”
“I still believe in what I stand for. Why does it matter if other people do?”
“People made you. And me. But look who they love more?”
“You’re a culture fad… a way to forget. I have been forever.”
“Hate to break it to you but age doesn’t earn you anything with them. You’re old and outdated. You’re as much of a culture fad as I am. You make people feel guilty and sick inside. That’s why no one likes you. People need to forget sometimes; people need to just let it all go.”
“What makes you think I’m a culture fad anyway? Don’t you think people’s lives are short enough already? What do they possibly need to let go? They are children in the age of the world; they’ve just been born! They know nothing yet! They’ve come so far, yet they still have no idea!”
“People use you to make their actions justified; people use you to make friends, but they don’t really care. They. Don’t. Really. Care.”
“They would if they knew. They’re restricted by what they cannot put into words. They cannot understand God. They are His children, ignorant and naive. They think they’ve grown so much, but a lower being cannot understand a Higher one.”
“They don’t care to understand, though! They read what they want to read and hear what they want to hear! They want to believe that they’re special, privileged, profound rulers of the earth! They don’t want to know about sacrifice and suffering. They don’t want to hear that their problems mean nothing. They want to know that they’re the center of the world. They can think of nothing but themselves! I indulge them. They only think of you when they feel like they must! They already have everything they need with me; I show them everything they want to be. You show them what they should be. And humans are nothing if not rebellious hypocrites. They hate doing what they’re told.”
“Why are you proud to spread hate? You are like Satan! You are too proud to admit anything! You are not righteous; you are evil. If people follow you more than me, they don’t deserve forever. They have to earn forever.”
“So you think this is your Paradise Lost? This is my paradise. I’m hiding in plain sight. I am the essence of sin and the embodiment of pleasure. Whatever you ‘stand for’ cannot compete with what I offer. I am forever. You are fleeting glory.”
The brass man on the wall hangs his head in defeat. He knows he has nothing left to argue. The nails in his feet and hands still impale him just as sharply two thousand years later as they did on that fateful day.
“I feel the pain of not one man but many. I bear it; I bear it all. What would happen if I gave it back to them? They’ve forgotten. What if I make them remember? If I watched them truly suffer and sweat under the weight… they would know.”
“Do you want them to suffer?” A little doubt is heard in the voice of the wide, black LCD.
“No. But experience is stronger than memory and record. So, I often wonder if I should. They’re bored, you know. Idle hands are Satan’s handiwork. I have the power to give them something to do.”
“That’s why they use me, isn’t it? I’m just placid entertainment until the next thing comes along. I’ve always suspected it… but I never wanted to let myself admit it.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s how your plastic was made and twisted. You are set, and that is a terrible fate. But they are not.”
A bag screeches open. Footsteps and a new voice. Sigh of air from the chair cushion. The LCD’s pixels spring into fires of color. The brass man is ignored.
Nothing changes.