Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies from this point on.
Niou
Night.
After work, they chose an inconspicuous street corner to sit at and share a drink.
The two of them stared at the slumberless city before them: its rainbow lights from neon signs of night clubs and the blinding headlights of vehicles.
It was late. The groups of people passing before them faded to the occasional drunk individuals lurching from crosswalk to crosswalk.
Witnessing the somewhat battered and broken spirits of those struggling to survive in a city whose overwhelming greed and luxury threatened to swallow them whole, he spewed. "I used to feel bad for them."
Niou took a swig of his beer before looking over to him in question.
"I used to feel bad for all those who are unfortunate, people struggling to get by and failing helplessly."
"Used to?"
Renji nodded. "Then, as time passed, maybe I finally realized the truth, or perhaps time has made me into an adult, numb to woes of others, I stopped feeling bad. Because, I thought, many times we really aren't as powerless as we thought ourselves to be. That, whatever happens to us is actually merely the consequences of our previous actions, good or bad."
"So, you're saying, people deserve whatever fortune or misfortune that befalls them?"
"Yes."
Niou sounded as if he choked on his drink. "Wow, that's cold."
"That I won't deny. But don't you think if people were to think in this manner, it would be quite empowering? That they are actually in control of their own lives rather than some power entity or deity?"
Niou shrugged. "But when shit hits the fan, no one likes to blame themselves for whatever happens. What logically seems to be empowering would ultimately be what shatters the fragile ego."
Niou exhaled loudly after another sip.
"Well, whatever it might be," he reached over to pat his coworker, drinking buddy on the shoulder, "I just hope you don't pass judgment on the starving children in Africa."
Eventually, the alcohol set in and no mattered how hard he tried, he could not recall their following exchange. Maybe Niou's dry humor killed his memory; it murdered the last conversation he held with the other.
When he arrived for his scheduled shift a few days later, the other's name was no longer on the new shift schedule.