Conscience

Conscience
- HaJames


He sat alone many nights, waiting by his phone. Considering the lights were off, the glow of the cell phone would illuminate the room and indicate he had something to take care of. It was like that most nights on a weekend. During the week he led his double life of being a good student who attended every class and completed every assignment, and yet if good karma was gained through being productive to society, bad karma gained through black market transactions surely erased anything earned from Monday to Friday.

At this point, it became a personal inside joke he had with himself that he saw more sunrises then hopeless romantics. It was a fact of life in the life he had chosen to lead. As much as it was not a lifetime goal to continue in what he was doing forever, the easy money made it appealing for the time being. He had never been raised in a household which would not usually direct someone to the weekend activities he engaged in, and yet going down that train of thought would surely lead one to a nature versus nurture debate which would have no end. Let it just be said that the purchase and resale of illegal narcotics for profit was his current part time profession, the other half being that of your average university student. The fact that his major was business could be considered equal parts ironic and understandable.

Suffice it to say, his mind wandered many a time during those long nights. When you are forced to sit around, hanging off the phone more then a 16 year old girl waiting on the call from her first kiss, it can get slightly stressful. On these nights, he would always wonder why he did what he did. When an individual who naturally should do good does bad, there are always those points in time when they take an inward look and wonder why. He had always tried to be as morale as possible in an immoral business. He was always honest, straight up and trustworthy. These traits had actually added to his business, as people who were used to dealing with ‘sketchy’ types found it refreshing to do transactions with someone who seemed genuine. Even he found his way of doing business surprising. It was one of those personal indications that his current activities were temporary.

It was not the only thing that bothered him about those long nights. He had begun thinking that when he was alone at night, waiting on those phone calls which would take money from others to feed their habits and put income in his wallet, there was someone watching every move he made. At first it had always struck him as paranoia, and yet as the years of school went on and he entered into his 3rd year of leading that double life, it became something more then that. The presence he had always sensed seemed to effect him the most when it came to dealing with others. Every time he even had the temptation to do wrong and profit off of others through dishonesty, something or someone would change his mind. He became convinced someone was watching him, ensuring that his time in this evil, immoral business had the least effect on his principles as possible.

It was one of those nights, when he was using his scale to measure out individual quantities, that he finally attempted to confront this presence.

“I know you’re there. I can tell because I’m weighing out dime bags. Every one I’ve done has been exactly on point. I have not even had the thought to make them under. I should though. No matter what I do, I cannot act in any way that might be greedy. I want to think it is because I’m a good person, and yet I can’t give myself that much credit. If I was a good person, I would not do what I do” He felt like he was speaking to himself. When you’re sitting alone in a dark room and find yourself speaking aloud to a presence you’re still not fully convinced exists, the idea that you might be insane is easy to consider. For what seemed like an eternity, there was only silence. The whir of the fan from the interior of his laptop seemed to be the only noise in the room. He sat quietly, being patient as anyone could be when waiting for something invisible to speak.

“You are very perceptive. I will give you that. I have always been here, but you know that.” He kept his head down, even though his first instinct was to look around. Hearing a voice after years of suspicions granted him such satisfaction that he was able to override his instincts and simply stare at the table in front of him.

“Why are you here? What makes me special enough to have someone watching over me?”

“You are a good person on the inside. Actions and how you appear on the outside are only so indicative of the interior. You have made bad choices. You will learn from them. They will benefit you later in life”

“I still don’t understand. How come you haven’t made me give this up? I would be a much better person without this. I have hated myself for years because of this. I have nightmares every time I try to sleep because I cannot get the images out of my head, of those people coming back again and again, spending money they cannot afford to spend, just because they can’t resist the urge to keep using. I fucking hate it!”

“It is necessary. You have been given a perspective on the lowest depths that a human being can sink to. You have seen what addiction and drugs can to do a person. It is more terrible then anything else. This will help you later in life. Everyone learns from their mistakes” The voice was frustrating him in ways he could not describe and yet he forced himself to continue staring at the table. Speaking truthfully was beginning to bring up emotions and feelings he had long ago forced into a box in the farthest parts of his mind. Guilt had always attempted to plague him, and yet it was one of those feelings he had mastered the art of ignoring. His mastery over guilt was failing him at this moment. Tears began welling up in his eyes.

“I don’t want to see it anymore. It has been to long. You may have been here all this time but you don’t know what it’s like! I sit here, and they come see me at 9 pm, and then call back at 11 pm, and then at 1 am, and then again later, every time coming back with their minds completely consumed in craving! To have to look them in the eyes, and actually be paid to satisfy that craving makes me think that hell is not waiting for me when I die, as I’m already there.” With that he hung his head, and the tears flowed freely. The words he spoke had never passed his lips before, but he knew them to be those deep, dark personal truths that everyone possess and yet never share with anyone but their own subconscious.

“I know you hurt. Pain is the key. You feel the pain they do not. Addiction kills the ability to feel pain. You have been feeling the pain of others for years now. Many years from now, this will cause you to fight the very profession you currently occupy. You will make a difference. Not from a legal perspective. You will cause a revolution that will result in caring for those who have been left behind due to addiction. Pain now will benefit many later” These words stilled his tears, yet he still could not look up. It made sense, and yet he knew that long term benefit always required short term sacrifice. He knew that the presence was saying he would have to suffer for a long time in order to grow from it.

“Knowing this makes it easier. I will continue with this, knowing eventually I will make a difference. I will take the pain of others in order to save them later” He had begun to feel elated. To be honest, who wouldn’t feel a sense of euphoria, if you were told by a higher power that you would eventually make a positive impact on the world. It would not last long however.

“I am sorry, but after we are done speaking, you will have no memory of this. The knowledge that you will make a difference will not allow you develop properly. It is the utter shock and pain of your experiences that cause you to become who you will eventually come. The mountain is always higher when climbing out of the valley.” His eyes became wide and disbelief replaced the earlier euphoria.

“What! Are you fucking kidding me? I won’t remember any of this!? I will have to suffer! It will be to much! Please! Don’t make me” The voice was silent and did not answer his pleas. Several minutes later he gave his head a shake and stared into the blackness of the room. A sound of vibrating plastic on wood penetrated the silence and his eyes jumped to his cell phone. For the life of him he could not remember what he had been thinking about a few seconds ago. Shrugging it off, he picked up the cell phone and pressed the green ‘answer’ button with his thumb.

“Hey, what do you need?”