The Man Who Cured The World, One Murder At A Time.

I

     I once had a conversation with a man that I met at a street corner as we were waiting for a bus. Looking at his sharp tie, pressed suit and his shiny shoes I could only assume that he was some high-end executive who can get what he wants, whenever he wants. When he began to speak to me, he mentioned about if I knew who he was--just straight out of the blue. I looked at him for a moment longer and nothing seemed familiar, so I said 'no'. He laughed to himself and he told me that he was a young boy from a little farm in Nebraska. I had to do a double take on his appearance and I stated that he looked nothing like a farmer. He laughed to himself and he asked why I picked up the fact he said he was a farmer, and not a little boy. 'I never really thought about that I guess,' I stated. He put his arm around me, leaded me away from the street corner and said that he was going to take me on a verbal journey with such great significance, I will never look at life the same way again. As we walked down the sidewalk in our big city, he told me a story from when he was little. 

   

When he was just a little child, his father woke him up at the break of dawn. His father led him out to one of his father’s pastures up to an old cow. The cow looked like it has seen better days, flies spun around its face, it was drooling and it looked like the cow had two lazy eyes. His father explained to him that the cow was sick, it was in fact at a very healthy age but due to its sickness it looked as if it had lived several additional years. His father then continued to explain to him that because of its illness, it had to be killed and that he wanted his son to shoot it as he handed him a rifle.

The son utterly refused and asked what the cow did to ever deserve its present fate? The father raised his voice and said that it was sick and it had to be dealt with. The son asked if he would ever become as sick as the cow, would his father shoot him too? His father thought he was just over reacting so he got behind his son and positioned his son pointing the gun square towards the cow’s forehead. He then whispered into his son’s ear and said 'just do what you are told'. The son then pushed his father away from him and said that he wasn't a slave and he didn't have to do anything, especially when it came to life and death. The father pushed towards the son and the gun went off. The son pulled the trigger and it was directed towards his own father. 



I stood there in shock when he finished the story and he continued to walk forward, the man then turned around and yelled 'catch up! I haven't even started yet'. I wanted to know what happened so I did the only thing I could do, I fastened up my walk to catch forward to him and as soon as I was by his side he started to speak again. 'In front of us is several things, tell me what you see specifically.' I looked forward and I saw a long sidewalk with skyscrapers to the side of us--people flooded the streets and I don't think I could see the concrete other than a few feet in front of me. The road to our left was filled with cars that seemed like they were suspended from all motion. The passengers and drivers honked and yelled as if the person in the front could move but just didn't want to. Looking back to the people on the sidewalk they all looked as if they were emotionless. Talking on cell phones, holding briefcases, had headphones on to block them from the sounds of the world in front of them. There were so many things in front of me; I didn't know what to say, so I said I saw everyday life. The man continued to walk beside me and looked as if he was deep in thought he then asked what if what we perceive as life the dead see is a Hell. I was astonished with his answer; this truly was an interesting fellow so I asked him why he said that. 

     

'We continue through our everyday lives as if it is our exact destined path. So lets say what you do in the day. You get up, get ready for work, walk to work, do everything at work which most times than not are just followed by repetition. Then you go home and you most likely do the same things every night. That isn't life. It is life in the sense of being in the state of living but you are not actually living. Society has pushed us to do the same things everyday and as soon as we get into that system, we stick with it till the day we die. Because of that we have become robots, a scourge to just follow our orders and nothing else.

When robots become self aware of their surrounding and can learn they will think of all of life's everyday questions, just like us. So when that day happens when we virtually create life, we will be nothing more than just robots.' I had to ask him why he was telling me about robots and he responded quickly. 'I killed my father that day because he was treating me like a slave, a robot with no will or vision for themselves. That’s not right, that’s not right the slightest bit. It wasn't an accident; I wanted to be my own being, not some clone or robot doing what its told. I will push forward, move on and kill everyone in my way'. 

     

                             

II

     I could only wonder what was going to happen in the next few minutes, someone just confessed a murder to me and I could only wonder if he has or will do it again. He had this look in his eye like he had many more secrets behind those black and white spectacles that can offer any individual the gift of sight. Curiosity got the best of me and I asked what happened after the murder of his father. He only responded saying that his soul stayed on the field that day as he walked away from a bleeding dead corpse--he sounded bitter.

He cleared his throat and continued 'as I walked back into the house my mother was already awake, dressed and made breakfast and of course she asked where my father was. All I told her was that her husband and my father crossed the roads and said his goodbyes, he will never come back. My mother broke in tears and she couldn't help but ask what happened to him. I snuck a knife off the table and approached her closer, she continued to pester me about that scum she called a man and when I was close enough I hugged her and lodged the knife into her stomach. She screamed in pain but that didn't stop me from twisting the knife further into her. She screamed like swine, so I let go of the knife and left it inside her as I started to strangle her'--I was starting to feel like I was going to throw up.

     He then continued to explain how he staged it and how he got away with everything; there was a glimpse of happiness in his eyes, some sadistic happiness. It looked as if he was the devil, finely dressed, successful, not remotely ugly, smart, something that you would never expect the devil to be. He continued to speak about how sick his mother was and how she told him to do everything as if she was a cripple and then I had to stop him, I felt to sick. I asked him why he was confessing these murders to me and he responded as if he was hysterical, 'I’m not sure how much longer I can hold on, I look around and it looks like everyone knows who I am and the truth is people do, but just my outside. I’m a millionaire. I own an entire corporation and I can buy anything I want. I needed someone to talk to, so I waited for someone, someone that looked like they would understand me, you don't want to make me regret that choice do you? I have never felt so alone, I don't want to slip but I’m not done yet let me tell you another story'. He turned into a plaza, where more people bustled and bumped and he began to speak. 

     

When I was a teenager I lived in a rather large town. I moved out of the country as fast as I could. Due to my young age, nobody suspected a little child to kill someone, especially his or her parents. So the local authorities expected a home invasion and I was the leftover of two brutal murders. I went in and out of orphanages but it never lasted. When no one was looking I skipped town, I began to live on my own and I knew I was prepared. So like I said I moved to a rather large town and I was becoming an adult. I found ways to make a living, I went from place to place begging for food, money, anything I could get. I became very manipulative and I could have been whatever I said I was. For a while I lived with this elderly widow, her husband died several years before and she was alone, so I guess I took an advantage of that. 

 

Now, big towns have their advantages because due to the high population, no one can know everyone. I stalked people, just to see where they lived, to see what they did when they thought no one was looking. I followed this man once. He left one family in the morning as if he was going off to work just to return to another house, with another family waiting for him to get off of his apparent nonexistent graveyard shift of work. He had two families, both of which never knew what was really happening. I even watched one of his families once, and get this. They went to a supermarket, met his other family and they talked. They even got along! The children liked the same children in the other family, and you know what happened? Both of the mans families met at one of his houses. He knew their was a get together at his house, didn't know the guests though. 

     

So he walked into the house and you could only imagine the Hell that broke loose, you know what happened? He locked the door as both of his wives were yelling at him and he murdered both of them. He then went up the stairs to see all of his children and he smothered, stabbed and brutally murdered every single one of them. I’m sure it was a rush to him; I know it was to me, I watched the whole thing. When all was finished he cleaned up and walked outside and had a cigarette, I was standing by him and I asked how his family was. I had this pulsing inside my veins, it was like a drug, do you want to know what happened next?' I had to disagree and I started to walk away from him, this man was crazy and I was beginning to regret making conversation with a stranger. As I began to walk away, he grabbed my shoulder and got really close to me, and that’s when I felt it. He jabbed a rather small handgun into the small of my back and he whispered into my ear, 'I insist, just test me, don't think I wont do it.' I had to do what he said, he now had an advantage over me, and this conversation just became more lethal than I intended. 


                            

III


     

We approached one end of the plaza, here was a large fountain squirting out water up in the air--which made the water spray almost look like a flower. There was a round staircase on both sides of the fountain wrapping around to the other end--which we couldn't see due to the fountain shooting up. I have been here once before late at night. That night I walked up the stairs, reached the other end and on the other side was this large round deck going out and over a ledge, which was the corners of the plaza due to the end leading down a face of a rather steep cliff. This was a scenic overlook, and it was one of the most peaceful places I have ever been but now, at this moment, I could only feel fear for myself and everyone else that would come into contact to this man. So we followed the same path as I did that night from years before, the man behind me and a gun pointed towards my back. As we were midway up the stairs he continued. 

     

'That lying scum you called a man deceived two entire families, after I asked how they were, he could only get defensive. As he started to raise his voice I told him to shut up and I took a knife to his throat. He then started to call me some punk bitch and I didn't like that at all--I may have been young but I was smart. I pushed the man back inside his house and that second he turned around to face me I flipped my wrist with the knife in my hand right across his throat and blood sprayed all over me. Like a bath for the sinners. The look on his face was priceless, his eyes got big as if he didn't see his death coming. He reached towards his throat like he could stop his inevitable death and for a split second it looked as if he had hope, like he was going to survive. He fell to his knees and I pushed him over. Blood was staining the carpet, my shoes, my clothes and my soul. His life was over, and mine just began.' 

     

We reached the top of the stairs and we looked over the ledge on which the overlook was sitting. He pushed me up against the rails and then he holstered his weapon and leaned and looked over the ledge, all casual like, as if nothing had just happened. I could only assume to do the same so I looked over the ledge also, to see if I could see the same thing he was staring at. At the moment it was still morning. The sun was just a little bit above the mountains that were across the horizon and I breathed in to get a fresh smell of the air. Although we lived in a bustling metropolis, we were surrounded by rivers, mountains and forests--where we stood just being separated by a railing to prevent civilian from falling to their death was exactly where the city ended and nature began. I looked towards the man and his eyes were closed and he was breathing in--he was at peace, and so was I. For a second I nearly forgot that I was a hostage and that I was just with a friend taking a friendly stroll across town. The man then opened his mouth as if he was going to say something but then he closed it. He did this a couple of times, he was looking for words to say but he didn't know what to say just yet. I don't think he even planned this event out, I never knew what his plans were. 

   

 We stood there for about ten or so minutes, anxiety waved my emotions back and forth as if I was a lone sailor in the wake of a rising storm. I didn't know what his next move was going to be and I feared for everything those minutes that I waited. Through this journey so far I have only said a few words in comparison to this storyteller, so I felt it was now time for me to speak. I thought of things I could have brought up and questions like 'how’s the weather' or ‘how bout them Yankees’ wouldn't be enough. My words had to be clear and concise--for all I knew if they were the wrong ones, they would be my last--it had to be perfect, like a symphony. All my words needed to flow together so I thought long and hard. 

     

'What happened next if you don't mind me asking?' 
     

     'To finish my story?' He asked. 'Well the man was rich for one thing.'
     

     

'So, is that how your so successful today?' I asked. 
     

   

'Not exactly. He had a good stash of money in both houses, hidden all around. Money that he was keeping from both of his wives. I figured. Since everyone was dead and the man did most of the work I figured that if I just manipulated his body, then I could get away easily, and I did. I took a set of keys to the other house and took everything that looked worth something, I easily made a bunch of money. I could only wonder what the mans job really was because I never saw him work and he had a good amount of money everywhere.'
     

     

'That’s surprising.' I said. 'What happened after that?'

     

     'I went to college.' He smiled. 'Like I said before, I was young, but I was smart. I used the money I received to pay for everything at the college. Nobody ever knew how much money I had other than the college itself, and they don't care how you got the money, as long as the college gets paid.'

     

     'What did you major in?'

     

     'A double major, physiology and bioethics.' I was amazed by the intelligence of this man and it seemed--from what I could tell--he wasn't even pride-full of it.

     

     'That’s unbelievable.' I said. 'So where does that leave you today?' I got ready for his next story and what I thought was an event of murder, turned out to be truly an event of such great significance, I never looked at life the same way again. As much as I want to say that this story ends with us walking our separate ways and having our lives unfold individually, I can only regret to say that a life will unfold and the other party will be present to watch it happen and so the man started to speak. 

 

'I have lived almost forty years. I have killed numerous people, screwed another dozen. I am healthy fit in almost every way. I have kept my nose clear from the law even though I have committed so many crimes and it has almost seemed to easy, like no one has tried to stop me, its disgusting. I've never had children, I don't want to pass my seed to create another me, one is enough.' He started to break out in a sweat, he loosened his tie and took off his suit jacket and placed it on the railing between us and he continued. 'There has been so much pressure on me recently but not even life changing pressure just everyday things. I have been thinking a lot. Like if my family was still alive, everyone I know is dead, I killed every single one and here you are. You know what? You are the only person who truly knows me, you know me more than all the co-workers I have practically lived with for...for more than a decade.' He laughed to himself. 'What does that say?' He was even more hysterical than before, tripping over his words, sweating an entire river. 'You know me, you have listened and that is what I needed. You are a friend, one who doesn't say he is there to listen but doesn't refuse to listen when it is time. Its people like that, those are the ones who will listen. They have been prepared since birth and it is in your veins. Your blood!' I jumped when he started to yell, I looked around to see if anybody saw what was happening but because of the fountain between us and the rest of the plaza, no one even knew we were here. 


     

I became really worried so I turned towards him and brought my hands towards him as if I was going to touch him. He slapped my hand away as if I was going to hurt him and he yelled. 'You keep your hands away from me! I know what your going to do!' I was confused to a point of no return; I guess I would never understand this man. At that same moment he reached behind him, pulled out his gun again and aimed it at my chest. I stood there just a few feet away from him and he looked just as confused as me. After a second he looked away but kept the gun still fixated on me and he broke out crying. 'You know what the worst part of it is?' I asked what and he continued. 'It eats inside of me, like what I do is just simple genius. I am tired of this! Its time to end it.' He put the gun to his head and closed his eyes. I braced myself and tried to look away and when I did I heard a shot but the sound returned with a feeling. Not a feeling of fear or sadness but an actual feeling, in my left shoulder. Before I knew it I was laying on the ground on my left side looking forward towards the rails between peace and chaos everything started to become fuzzy and mottled. I shook my head trying to keep consciousness and I saw my dear friend, martyr, murderer, son, lover, genius, colleague, get up on the railings raised his hands to the sky and fell forward to peace. 


     

I woke up a few days later lying in a hospital bed. A nurse saw me starting to stir left the room to my left and what just seemed like a blink a doctor stood over me looking as if he was listening to my heart, maybe looking at my arm. I blinked a few times more and everything started to clear up. 


     

'Good to see you awake Mr. Stephan's.' He said. 'Your somewhat lucky to be alive. You were shot in your left arm at such an angle it went vertically throughout your body and avoided piercing your lungs, heart, spine and so forth. You lost a lot of blood because the bullet was a bugger to get out but here it is.' He showed me a bullet in between his thumb and forefinger and he set it on the table to my left. 'Now, you were a victim of an attempted murder of a Dr. Kyne, which sadly committed suicide seconds after he shot you but looking at some of the other factors I don't think his intention was to kill you. On the railings right by you was a jacket that was owned by Dr. Kyne. There was a note within his jacket and within the note said: 


To my dearest reader,

Everything that I own and all of my discoveries, inventions, and findings are to go to the one I have chosen. The man that will be the nearest to this letter and my greatest friend.



     

The doctor closed the letter and continued, 'I don't know if you know anything about Dr. Kyne but he has been quite favorable in the scientific community recently. He has apparently found some cure to cancer with a formula of cell repairing micro-organisms, if his formula pulls through, he may as well just be the savior to all things living and since he gave everything to you, you may become one of the worlds most appreciated and possibly one of the richest to this day. But lets not get ahead of ourselves, it has several more trials till it will be accepted but if that day comes, I offer you my congratulations.' 


     

My body healed and as time passed I became as good as new and many times better. Dr. Kyne had found the cure to cancer and everything landed practically into my lap. All I had to do was talk to a stranger while waiting for a bus. It’s those who don't understand the world that will become the ones who will change it, as if they knew what it was at the very start. I will live the rest of my life on a mound of blood money that saved the world, just like the man who gave it to me. Though officials thought it was highly suspicious to attempt a murder before their suicide, they never found out about Dr. Kyne's previous offenses. I think it will be best to keep what is clean, to remain clean, in the view of others eyes. I was the only one to hear his story, the only one that was willing to listen and to never judge. I can’t say what he did was right but one thing he did was right and I think that is what counts. His name was Dr. Edgar Kyne. He was the man who killed many but saved many more. He was the man who cured the world, one murder at a time.

Remember me