Chapter Seven: Better Living Through Suicide
William Mark was mopping corridors.
Once, he'd wanted to be a here. But that desire had gotten ripped to shreds by the reality of Earth. Later, he'd wanted to go into police work. But the arrival of Jurai had disrupted those plans as well as any other hopes for employment. Now he worked as a janitor in the Galaxy Police.
At least he got a uniform.
"Hey, did you hear?" asked two officers, hardly noticing him as they walked by. "Queen Funaho herself is about to dock!"
"No, seriously?" asked the other. "What's the occasion?"
"Funaho has tracked down a long-lost member of the Jurai Royal family," said the man. "His name is apparently Tenchi Masaki."
Mark glanced up in surprise, then kept on mopping. Cleaning up was an unpleasant job, but someone had to do it. Even so, he'd been doing this for quite some time, and the idea of seeing Lady Funaho sounded good. He'd known a Tenchi Masaki back on Earth, and he wondered if there was a connection.
Mopping up further, he got some areas with grime in them. Then he squeezed the water into the bucket and continued. Still, the prospect of seeing the Queen of Jurai appealed to him more and more. Eventually, he decided he'd chance it and brought his mop and cart in the direction of the hangers.
He wasn't surprised no one had told him about this, let alone invited him. Few people addressed him. Working at the Galaxy Police was an exercise in dropping under the radar. All he could do was hope someone, somewhere, appreciated the clean floors.
"Hey, where do you think you're going?" said a playful, highhanded voice.
Mark looked up to where Mitsuki had her arms pressed under her ample chest. She was leaning against a wall, one of her long legs before her. The redhead was smirking at him, and Mark wondered why she even bothered with him. "I was hoping to see Queen Funaho when she landed."
"What do you think this is, a charity?" asked Mitsuki. "Finish your rounds first. You've only just joined this station, Mark."
"I've been working here for five years," said Mark.
"You say that like it's a long time, kid," said Mitsuki, ruffling his hair. Then she halted as she remembered the obvious. "Oh, right, Earthling. Well, whatever, I don't have time for this. Just finish the deck. Then you can see her if you get it done fast."
And then Mitsuki moved on. She acted like he was a teenager, just out of high school. Which he was, by her standards.
Mark choked back an angry reply, knowing it would do no good, and focused. He knew she didn't mean to be cruel. Mitsuki was one of the few people who actually noticed him. It was only when he was speaking to her that he became an actual person.
Kiyone had noticed him quick, but she'd gone back on her missions with Mihoshi Kuramitsu.
"...I graduated first in the academy," murmured Mark to himself as he began to mop obsessively. "I did everything I was supposed to do, and now look at me."
The problem with working here in Outer Space had nothing to do with people being cruel. No one was cruel to him. The worst that ever happened was a practical joke or whatever, which was done between people all the time. It was more than Mark just... didn't exist.
Everyone here was beautiful, talented, powerful, and superior in every way. His presence hardly registered to them at all. It was sort of like being a background extra in a TV show. At most, someone would have a memorable moment that you happened to be in. But you were no one's favorite character.
The only difference was that in this case, it wasn't twenty to forty minutes. It was his entire life. Watching nice people have fun and make snappy dialogue while living a wonderful life, while he was just... not part of it. Unable to do more than make sure the floor was clean and the set well-organized.
Although he had been able to talk Mitsuki into letting him look at some of her reports. It wasn't even illegal, but looking through her desk at least gave him something to think about.
"I have got to get out of this place," decided Mark after a moment. He'd come here to try and prove that Earthlings had a use, that they weren't parasites. But the only thing that he was proving was that they'd make adequate janitors.
Hardly repayment for curing cancer and world hunger. Not to mention establishing world peace.
"But where am I supposed to go?" murmured Mark to himself. "My degree is worthless. I don't have psychic power, so I can't do any major jobs here. I guess I could stay here and try to get a bit more respect.
"Who am I kidding?
"They still think I'm a newbie after years on the job. By the time anyone even treats me like a regular, I'll be an old man."
Everyone in school had said Mark had a bright future ahead of him. His teachers in Sunday school had said as much as well. His grades had been excellent, and he'd written papers. He'd written so many papers.
Now it didn't seem he even had a future.
Just a mediocre slog through mundane tasks that weren't particularly important or appreciated. Before dying at an age that Juraians didn't even consider mature. But, Mark was not about to let that stop him.
He focused on himself and worked on mopping all the more. Moving from room to room, passage to passage, he got very far. The Galaxy Police Headquarters was a very large place. By the time he finished one floor, another needed work. Mark's job was sweeping, and mopping, and organizing everything he could.
Mark had gotten pretty good at it.
But he was beginning to suspect that the only result of him quitting would be a robot being called in to do a better job. He suspected he'd only gotten this job out of pity, and his drive to keep it clean came as that result. But even if he did a better job than a machine, so what?
No one cared.
"...Why couldn't they just let me see the Queen disembark?" muttered Mark, moving on to a new passage. "This is never going to happen again in my lifetime. Everyone else can just wait a few hundred years, but I'll be lucky to get eighty." He was whining now; he hated people who whined. If you had time to complain, you should come up with a possible solution to your problem.
So, Mark focused. "What are my options here?
"You always have options.
"I have to approach this from the right angle." He tried to keep working and keep his spirits up. He tried to force himself to smile and failed. "What are my resources?
"I'm weaker than the average person, less intelligent than the average person. And I have no special powers. So what do I have that they don't? A work ethic? Attention to detail?
"How is that going to do me any good?
"What good is working hard if you have no ability to do the work?"
It wasn't the world that had something wrong with it, Mark decided. It was him who was wrong for the world. He had been born as part of an inferior race that existed at the mercy of Jurai. There was nothing special about Earthlings at all. They were the weakest species in the universe.
Mark was wasting his time here. Maybe if he'd been born in a different time and place, he could have had a meaningful life. But as things stand, all he could do was continue to be humiliated for the rest of his short, miserable life. All so that the Master Race could maybe, if he was lucky, consider him a 'good earthling.'
All this time, he had been doing everything he could, waiting for his big break. He'd wanted the opportunity to do or be something. But Mark was beginning to think it would never come. He had no options and no means of getting options. And that wasn't whining; that was a simple fact.
He was simply a stupid servant, incapable of justifying the food he was concerned.
It was time to take the only possible solution available. He'd considered it for a while, but it seemed for the best. "...I can't live like this. Not anymore." And he almost dropped his mop before reconsidering. "But I'd better at least finish the job I'm doing right now. No sense in leaving any unfinished business."
At the very least, Mark could say that he lived up to his responsibilities before he died.
Still, after he finished up and put away his tools, and walked back to his apartment, he was still thinking. Looking for a way of escape, which was rational. If there was some way, he could make a meaningful difference, hanging himself would be a waste. So he was obligated to fully consider the matter.
"Could I go home?" asked Mark. "And do what?
"I guess I don't have to worry about starving to death with Jurai in charge. Earth is better off than ever. But what can I actually achieve with my life?
"...I wanted to be a Galaxy Police detective.
"But I couldn't even make the physical, no matter how hard I trained. On Earth, I'm in peak physical condition, but it's nothing." He halted. "...No, no, this is not good thinking, Mark. You've got to think productively.
"So, you don't have any advantages. Fine, why don't you have many advantages? What is the root of your weakness?" But he was repeating himself, and they all knew it. He'd seen his DNA results. "I'm an Earthling.
"That's my problem. I was born into a race that was inferior in every way. We're so inferior that our technology operates on completely different principles. Although, there's an advantage there. I mean, human ingenuity is a pretty powerful thing.
"Except that will take generations, not months.
"And I'm not a scientist. So all I can do is keep mopping up the floors and hope someone appreciates it someday." He halted and considered another angle. "If I killed myself, would anyone care?
"I don't have any friends here. Hardly anyone notices me except to give me orders. Maybe I should hang myself.
"No, no, I might botch it, and then they'd put me on suicide watch.
"I could snatch something from the armory. But that would be stealing, and I'd rather the only victim be myself."
He got to his room and shut the door. Moving over to a mirror, he looked into it and stared at himself. The person he saw in the mirror did not look happy at all. Nor did he look like his life was going to get any better.
"Maybe..." mused Mark. "Maybe I could ask to borrow someone's gun. I could shoot myself before they knew what was-
"No, no, that'll never work, Mark. You can't use standard weaponry because it operates on psychic principles. It flat-out doesn't work for Earthlings.
"...Maybe jumping from a high place?
"No, they have anti-falling fields to stop people from getting hurt. I could disable them, but I don't want someone else to get hurt while I'm ending my own life. What you need to do is arrange an efficient suicide that only kills you.
"I guess I'll have to try hanging myself then. The chair should do for it."
Well, that was decided then.
Mark drew out the rope he'd bought about a year ago. Back then, he'd been depressed but decided not to do it. He'd decided he'd beat the odds and be content with making a difference, even a small one. He pulled a metal chair under a pipe, one strong enough to support his weight, and tied it up. Then he began tying the rope into a noose, doing so quite easily.
He'd practiced this several times.
Mark then stood up on the chair, put the noose around his neck, tightened it, and halted. "Okay, that works. We're all set up." Still, this was a very permenant solution, wasn't it? "It sure would be a shame if someone entered on unrelated business with some sort of invitation to a party."
No, he didn't get invited to parties. He cleaned up after them. Even major events that everyone attended he was shut out of. Probably because no one even remembered him. "...Or if someone showed up because they wanted me to try mopping a different part of the halls."
Being asked to do more work was generally a sign of respect.
"I'll settle for a complaint about how I did the hall I've been mopping all this time!" said Mark, beginning to feel insulted. But no one came through the door, and he began to think he was being forgotten. Now he was feeling angry. "...You're serious.
"No one is even going to show up?"
Mark considered that his anger was not rational. Or was he just telling himself that out of an ingrained sense of self-hatred? "You know, I don't think this is entirely fair.
"I mean if I were some kind of complete jerk in high-school, maybe this would be karma, but I wasn't! I mean, I'm not saying I was a saint, but I don't think I ever did anything to warrant ending up like this!
"All I ever wanted was to do something important! To be someone important!
And... and I'm a failure. I wouldn't mind it so much if I'd screwed up. But I don't see any way things could have ended another way for me. I could have completely slacked off and beaten up people for their lunch money. Nothing would have really changed for me.
"I'd have been stuck with the same choices, just with a different set of scenery.
"I'm not saying I have to be the most important person in the universe or anything, but...
"I can't live like this.
"I can't... I can't...
"Just give me some kind of reason to keep living, okay?! You three are omnipotent goddesses; I know you can hear me! Because if I don't get some kind of answer here, I'm cutting my losses right here and now!"
Who was he even talking to? Years of isolation and bitterness were catching up to him. He knew for a fact that three omnipotent Goddesses could intervene on his behalf. That meant they were culpable for what was happening to him.
"...You think I won't do it?" asked Mark, feeling angry.
And he wondered if there was some way he could use his suicide to hurt the people who had wronged him. This entire universe had been rigged against him from the beginning. They were probably laughing at his pain and making a joke of his desires. And what was worse, this had been done by Three, Omnipotent Goddesses. Maybe he should look up some kind of ritual by which he could curse them?
No.
He was not committing suicide out of a sense of vengeance. He was killing himself because there was nothing else he could do. Given a choice between a lifetime of humiliation and fawning inferiority and a swift death...
He chose death.
"Fine," said Mark, hatred in his tone. "You fangirl over royalty if you want to. You can find me hanging for all I care."
And then he kicked away the chair.
The noose held.
Unfortunately, it did not break his neck immediately.
Instead, the noose began to strangle him. Mark focused on blocking out his survival instincts. His body was screaming at him to try and get the thing loose, but he forced his hands down. The last thing he wanted to do was be caught dead with bloody fingernails.
Focusing, he forced his arms to his side. He overrode his survival reflexes as his vision went blurry-
And then the rope snapped. He fell and landed hard, gasping for air on reflex. Looking in disgust at the noose, he saw that it had broken beneath his neck. Wonderful, which meant he'd have to come up with a different method of suicide next time.
Standing up, he threw the rope aside in a rage.
Not right now. At the moment, he wanted to get dead drunk. Unfortunately, alcohol wasn't handed out until the age of fifty. So instead, Mark sat down on his bed, feeling disappointed and bitter. No apparent solution had presented itself to him. So, whatever divine power existed wanted him here.
Unfortunately, he did not want to be here. The entire universe had been rigged against his species. No matter how hard they tried, they'd never make it.
Well, that did present an option.
If the universe itself was the problem, the universe would just damn well have to change. But the only people capable of that kind of change that Mark knew of were the Chousin Goddesses. They gave Jurai the power they had, and they could give something to Earth too.
Standing up, he went to go find Mitsuki. He found her in her office, sorting through things, and she looked up. "What is it, Mark? I'm busy."
"I need to talk to the rulers of the universes, the Chousin Goddesses," said Mark, moving up to her desk. "How does one get a meeting?"
Mitsuki laughed and leaned back in her seat, putting her hands behind her head. "...That's a joke, right?"
"No, I'm quite serious," said Mark. "I have a serious problem with how the universe itself is structured. Who do I apply to for a meeting?"
Mitsuki shifted. "How should I know?
"I'm not a member of the Jurai Royal Family."
"Are you sure?" asked Mark, looking at her hard.
Mitsuki looked away, shifting under his gaze nervously. There seemed to be a blush on her features. "Well... supposedly, there's an ancient planet at the center of the universe. The first Juraian Emperor got his powers from it. Um, they say the Goddess's true forms are sleeping there. But uh... mostly they operate through a mortal avatar."
"Thank you," said Mark.
And he turned to leave.
"You're not thinking about waking them up, are you?" asked Mitsuki.
"Actually yes," said Mark. "The entire universe seems to have conspired to humiliate my species. I want an explanation."
"Okay, but that's not an option, okay," said Mitsuki. "Not even the top brass of the Galaxy Police can get there. Only the Jurai Royal Family is allowed to go anywhere near that place and only one at a time. You can't even pilot a ship because Earthlings lack psychic energy. And with an Earthling craft, you'd never make it there in a million years."
"Alright then, what are you suggesting as an alternative?" asked Mark.
"Well, I..." Mitsuki halted. "Hey, I'm not the one who wants a meeting with a Goddess, okay. I don't know the first thing about the Planet of the Goddesses. Maybe you could go through proper channels?"
"And what would proper channels be?" asked Mark.
"...Well, I guess Queen Funaho should be landing soon," said Mitsuki. "Maybe you could request an audience with her."
"Can you get me one?" asked Mark.
Mitsuki shifted nervously, and Mark wondered why she was nervous. Usually, she had a playful sort of superiority, but she seemed almost submissive now. "Look, I'm not really sure I should be doing that. I mean..."
Mark decided not to let go of the point. "But can you?"
Mitsuki halted and finally. "...Alright, fine, I'll tell you what. I'm holding an equipment demonstration with Professor Washu. Lady Funaho should be there, and I can have you standing by to clean to place.
"You might be able to talk to her during the off time. Just, if by some miracle I get you this meeting, don't waste her time. It'll make me look terrible."
"Thank you," said Mark. "I appreciate your help."
Well, things were finally getting underway.