No man is an...

Levon woke up with a throbbing headache. The breeze from the air-conditioning grazed through his exposed legs. He stood up, with his thumb pressed and making circular motions on his temple. The lamps seem out of place with the window gleam. He paced to the sink, washing the dried saliva off his face. Beside the moist mirror, a map: Salve Isle. A broken gas tank caught his attention. He knelt and read an attached tag that seems to describe a type of gaseous amnestic.

"What the hell?"

A long beep. Levon quickly turned to the monitors and saw a running timer: ten minutes left. Further inspection of the screens and the Salve Isle map brought him to a realization: a nuclear missile is inbound.

As the old speakers blared another beep every second, something snapped inside of him. He screamed.

Somehow, be it out of instinct or fear, he also thought that letting out some words could help him. "Is anyone here? Help me! Where am I? What am I doing here? Anyone, please, answer me!"

What good does it do him, though?

Confused at the interior setting, Levon ran towards the door and peeked. He unlocked it and walked barefoot on the sand, amidst a humid view of the stagnant ocean, with not a single filament of wind to be felt. A very short pencil fell out from his pocket. Its tail end had been chewed on several times. He searched his pocket further, finding a folded piece of paper. Drawn on it is a simple route, seemingly from his room to a remote location on the isle. A cloud uncovers the glaring sun that abruptly struck his left eye, causing him to fall down and let go of the paper.

"What is going on?", he muttered.

This kind of fatigue, where could it come from? He strove to know as he crawled wearily back, his arms sinking on the wet, burnt sand.

A distant rumbling echoed. Levon looked up and saw a metallic vessel reflecting the sun's rays. Distracted, he cracked a large snail shell on his knee, wounding himself.

"Oh, God!"

He took the affixed calcium carbonate shards off, one by one, adjusting his breath at every attempt, before finally returning inside the oddly lit room.

Levon started crying as he moved around, trying to remember who he is. He scoured the desk drawers, finding his name on one of the pages. Eight minutes left.

You are Levon Stenton, a senior researcher at the Global Institute of Nuclear Technology and Operations, head director of the Nuclear Weapon Testing Division here at Salve Isle... or should I say, former head director.

"What? Who the hell are you?"

Strange. I am you... if that's what you want to hear.

Oh, stop crying. You are making this harder for yourself.

"...why am I here?"

It will take a while, for I do not really know either. As far as you are concerned, however, well, you wanted it like this. You chose this path, and willingly at that.

"How?"

Go ahead, sit in front of that screen, and open the media player. Play the first video you see.

"Good day, Dr. Stenton. This will be my final update... or, our institute's final update regarding you, sir. Everything is going well so far, as our team had strictly adhered to all of the proper calculations. We have cut off all possible forms of communication available into and out of Salve Isle, and we have taken the necessary precautions, evacuating all 9 researchers out of the islet. Also, the 10-kilometer impact radius, just as how you have wanted to do so since when we were discussing last December..."

"I wanted this? What does he mean I wanted this?"

Stop scratching your wound and keep listening.

"...to follow your desired procedure. All of us here at GINTO truly appreciate your strong will in giving yourself wholly for this project. We hope that you do not forget what you are here for, and please, stay calm. If you do get awake after your room's amnestic fumigation, do not fret, for the effects are only temporary."

"Amnestic fumigation?"

You heard that right.

"Who could have done this?"

Stay focused, Levon.

"What is the project's name, anyway? Why would he not tell me?"

Levon, relax. Take a breath.

"There's six minutes left, what am I supposed to do?"

You tell me. I mean, are you not supposed to play the other video?

"It's about four minutes long, and why am I still even paying attention to you?"

You're losing it, Levon. You really always want the answer, do you? Go ahead and lift up that purple pillow from the sofa. Read the documents, slowly. Do not rush - you have enough time.

"These plans... these blueprints are very elaborate. A nuclear missile? Ultimate consciousness? Did I really create these?"

No, or at least not all of them. You have had 9 researchers under your supervision. This project, you could say, is your swan song.

So this is how you want to end your career, with a bang.

Levon, what are you doing?

"What if I just end it all here, right now? I can just take this shell shard and slice my wrist, how about that? You think you're still in control of me, of who I am?"

Put that shard down, Levon. You know it does not make sense to continue in this arrogant manner. I am you. Indeed, you are still in control of yourself after all this time.

"Shut up! You think I'll fall for whatever you want? You're just a voice in my head. I'll ignore you, and you'll be gone soon. It's that easy, isn't it? I can just forget that you exist!"

You're losing it again, Levon. You haven't even seen the entirety of the documents. Do you really want to see all your work go to waste?

"My work? I can't even tell if it's mine! Why the hell would I want to be part of this inane project, anyway?"

You activated the fumigation, Levon, don't you remember? You locked this room, turned the knob of the gas tank, and you let yourself breathe the amnestic.

"Just stop! Stop talking! I don't want to hear any more lies! You are not me! I know myself better than anyone!"

You are a danger to society, Levon, and you know that. If only you could just...

"I said stop talking!"

...

You're wasting time, Levon. You still have four minutes left to accept your fate and do what you're supposed to.

I'll ask you again. Have you seen all the documents?

...

"Who is this girl?"

That's your daughter, Nadia.

"Who?"

I’m sure you heard me.

Look at her. You share the same grey eyes.

"How… how old is she?"

She was 12 when you last saw her.

Do you remember the last time you saw her?

"June 5, 2052."

Where?

"In the hospital. They brought her into the emergency room."

What happened?

"Asthma attack."

She always had one.

"This one was too severe."

How severe?

"Her heart had slowed down too much."

Well… what did the doctor say?

...

Alright, cry all you want. You still have enough time.

You think they tried their best?

"I don't think so."

Yes, they did.

"I get it. I failed."

No, you did not.

"I should have stayed with her when Matilda died."

You did the right thing. You advanced nuclear research and technology in such an extraordinary pace, in such a strict and deliberate manner that no one had ever anticipated.

"No, I did not. I should have spent more time with her... should have spoken to her more... should have toured her inside the facility more... I’m a wreck."

Should have, should have, should have...

Now's your chance to redeem yourself.

"How?"

The sun's intensity grew. The rumbling approached further. Small eddies have started forming all around the isle, causing sudden bursts of wind. The ocean blew foam along the shore and into the moist air. Levon left the room and chased the drifting piece of paper, his feet sinking into the eroding sand. The door slammed. He fell twice before finally grasping the paper. The distance, written on it, was half a kilometer. Seeing a white convertible from afar, he rushed through the sand, the eddies, the fog, the rumbling, and the rays, and sat on the driver's seat.

"Where's the key?"

He dashed back into the room, only to find out that he had locked himself out. He elbowed the window glass and punched the other shards off the panel. Two minutes left.

He crawled back in and took the silver key hanging in front of the map. Short of breath, he ran back towards the car and steered, with his wounded hands, following the single line on the paper that traced from his room towards a circled place on the ground. The earth shook as the rumbling grew louder. Looking up, he can see the missile's round nose cone. The ocean foam had filled his nasal cavity. Upon arriving, he parked beside a giant stone and rushed once more towards the circled location. There, he sat and pondered. Dizzy and nauseated, he took the photos of his daughter that he had pocketed earlier. Such an angelic smile, he thought. Tears traversed down his cheeks.

This was taken from the local garden about nine years ago, where I bought her lilacs. She really enjoys the fragrance whenever we stop by. I also bought jasmines for her mother, Matilda. Look at her eyes, so sharp yet so serene.

This one was taken when she was seven. She rode the purple pony at the arcade. I can still hear her chuckle. At that gaming center, I exchanged our winning tickets for chocolates and gummy bears. My wife even won a purple puppy at the claw machine. I'm real lucky to have them. I was also promoted that day.

This was taken at Matilda's funeral. Nadia and I became more distant since then. I can never understand the pain she had felt that day. I regret talking less, telling her that everything will be fine. I was sorely mistaken, thinking that I always knew the answer. Truth is, I never really knew anything.

I miss you, Matilda.

I took this photo at the hospital. Her last photo. Her mother's been dead for two years and yet here she is, still smiling. Such a strong child.

My farewell could still have been better.

I miss you, Nadia.

The heavy fission bomb crashed into the room and detonated, scorching everything in a radial fashion. Sand and stone dissolved at the same time. A stray plutonium atom pierced through Levon's skull, hitting his cerebrum.

"Dad?"

"Nadia!"

For a split-second, Levon met Nadia in the garden. He ran, knelt, and tightly hugged his daughter.

"Come on, dad. Mom's waiting for us in the driveway!"