Maybe Not So Evil
He's evil and cruel, and I hate him. I hate him! I know what he's done. The Kaiser should die for what he's done to this world—I'm starting to think of it as my world, even though I haven't been here very long. I know what we're doing, I know what we must do. I hate him.
But I think I understand him. And that scares me.
I never tried seeing it from his side; I didn't think he deserved a side. A person as cruel as he was had to be pure evil, and evil doesn't need reasons. But then . . . call me shallow, but when I found out that he was really Ken Ichijouji, it was obvious that he had a side. He was just a normal kid, like us . . . except that he was better at sports, and smarter, and . . . well, he was cuter than any other boy I'd ever met, or even just seen. But that's not what I want to dwell on. I don't want to dwell on him. But . . . it pains me to say this, but he does have a side, and I think I can understand him.
I don't want to understand the Kaiser. If I understand him, I might just start agreeing with him, and I could never do that. But. But I know that he plays video games, and that he doesn't care much about anyone or anything. I know that he's smarter than I am, and so he must see things in a different way. Maybe he thinks that this whole digital world is just another game, another computer program. Maybe it is, in a way—this world was created from our Internet, wasn't it? Oh, no, I'm not going down that road! I will not sound as though I'm agreeing with him! He must be wrong. He must be. These are living, feeling creatures, not pixelated images! They don't spout programmed words, they think and feel and get confused, like all of us!
But someone inside of me, that little voice that strikes when you least need doubt, is telling me that maybe he's not evil. Maybe he's right, a little. Or, if not right, he isn't . . . well, he is . . . but . . . I'm not sure anymore. That little voice of doubt has teamed up with the little voice that wants to marry Ken, and together . . . together, they make me think I can understand or reform him. He can't be evil, right? Not Ken the soccer star, Ken the brilliant, Ken the . . . well, Ken, the boy I suppose I still love. Or maybe not love. Maybe just . . . maybe it's just respect. And fear. And understanding. And . . . okay, and love.
Even if he's the Kaiser, he's still Ken. Maybe. Maybe he's worth loving. Maybe I'm not misguided; maybe he's the one who's got everything wrong. Maybe he's not so evil.