The Idiocy in Peace

Chapter 1

The somber sky was all that remained.

Being a kader, Irwin Mark didn't feel any repulsion or ridicule toward the murky expanse which hindered the hot ball of fire in the sky. Uncle Henry had often told them of the sun, of how the ball of fire managed to break the barriers of unnatural distances to blaze upon the surface of the earth. He said the grey skies came seldom, but it was the sun which remained itched in perpetuity.

Some said the sun still existed, but the sheet of smoke and ash limited its power to reach them. Some talked of the color blue, the color he was told of when he was a child. Nobody told him the sky was blue, nobody except Uncle Henry. He claimed the sky was blue and so was the water in the sea, a color named green for the grass that crept from the crannies of the soil.

Irwin had never seen green grass, neither a blue sky nor blue water galloping down a hill. He was born after Brighter Skies.

Uncle Henry often used the phrase and so did the people who lived through the nuclear winter. They never told the kaders the meaning of the phrase. And even though Irwin was just 16, he was smart enough to understand what it meant.

Part of the reason behind the absence of any inherent hatred for the musty sky on his part was that he’d never known anything else. Uncle Henry told him about the previous world, but those conversations didn't take time to inadvertently become a gory collection of war stories. He spoke of cities being turned to rubble, black rain falling from up above and a god; a god who deemed it fit to stand by while its greatest creation blew itself to bloody pieces.

Uncle Henry complained about the war, about life and about death. Irwin knew he'd never understand the beauty of the previous world through his uncle. The war broke him into smithereens and he had nothing but grief to share.

They lived in a small village situated just off the giant boulders that once was the city of London. Small houses surviving off the sparse resources left behind by the previous world. Uncle Henry oft complained about the water, claiming it to be off a funny flavor. Food was meager and small in variety. Yet they survived. They lived because they had been given a duty. A duty they took upon when they were granted the good fortune of not being born in the nuclear winter.

The duty to rebuild a broken world.

Arthur Mann, the new chairman of the Republic of Europe had tasked the kaders of England to rebuild London first. Irwin had read the Letter of Responsibilities: Circa 017, a document drafted by the Council of Europe, ten times since it had arrived a few days back. When he showed the document to his uncle, the response was as dour as the sky above them was.

“London? The cluster of rock and steel they destroyed for their own lust. They’ll consume your youth to build that giant city once again.”

There were nights when Irwin wondered whether anything in this world could make his uncle happy. In the absence of any siblings or parents, Henry had been Irwin’s only near family. His elder sister had died fighting in Tripoli while his mother had died giving birth to him.

His father's fate however, was a topic of great discussion in the sundry village.

Ernst Mark, father of Irwin was reportedly rotting away in a prison cell in Abuja. Some people said he was the greatest fighter pilot in the Republic. Some said he was a spy for the New World. Yet, none of them had the belligerence to put forth the question to Irwin or his grumpy uncle. Like his legendary father, Irwin had a reputation of being quick to anger.

Whatever rumors people brewed about Ernst, there was little doubt over one simple fact. Ernst was not a mere foot soldier in the Great War. When Irwin was seven, an official from the Republic had paid his uncle a visit. Her face was still emblazoned in Irwin's memory.

Living in dire conditions amongst people who barely had an extra set of clothes to wear, she had arrived wearing the custom Republic uniform. None of the people in the village smiled and neither did Irwin, but she made him smile. He still remembered her name: Iyda.

She told his uncle and him about what happened to his father. A great battle in the storm was mentioned and his father's plane had been recovered in the rubble of Warsaw, suggesting that he undoubtedly perished in the crash. Upon further investigation of the crash site, it was discovered that his father had ejected from the jet before it had crashed.

“I have nothing to give you Irwin, nothing but hope", she said while she was leaving. "Ernst might yet be alive and you're too young to live without ambition or hope. So smile child, smile for me. Smile for you have to build the world again.”

Irwin had learned to smile through his crooked teeth that day.

Iyda left and a few days later, Peace Corps had arrived to rebuild the scorched village. When Uncle Henry had inquired the reason behind the Peace Corps sudden arrival, the reply from the squad leader had left everyone stunned.

“This is the village of Ernst Mark’s son. We’ll be damned if we leave this place broken and distressed.”

That was the only time when Uncle Henry had braved a smile. The smile was long and searching, leaving Irwin befuddled. He simply stood still while his uncle smiled and the village celebrated.

Ten years had passed since, yet Iyda hadn't bothered to show up again. His father's legend had grown and Irwin had become the toast of the town. Even though the food that came was barely enough, the water too funny and clothes barely usable, their survival had been insured by the mere presence of Irwin. And for that, they were eternally grateful.

When the Letter of Responsibilities arrived one year after Irwin turned fifteen, the villagers had unanimously decided Irwin to be the first to read it. His uncle had taught him to read, write and speak in the proper way. He read them Chairman Mann's personal message to the citizens of the Republic, the situation of the various states of the Republic, the jobs assigned to the kaders and the happenings of the world that had emerged from the abyss.

The villagers thought the rebuilding of London to be an empty prospect, something Mann had made up to give the people something to cling on to. They were therefore stunned when reinforcements, builders, tones of concrete and steel and a team of engineers had arrived to begin the rebuilding of London. The orders were simple, restore the English capital brick by brick.

Hundreds of villages like the one Irwin lived in joined the rebuilding of the grand city. Workers arrived from Berlin and Paris, Madrid and Rome, from every corner of Europe to build London.

Lying bareback on the hard stone floor in his hut in the village, Irwin couldn't sleep for the first time in the past few years. It was the night before he was to leave for London. A list of kaders who'd be participating in the rebuilding had been sent to the Republic office at the construction site.

Irwin Mark's name was on the top.

His uncle came back after his usual night stroll in the ruins and noticed his nephew’s inability to doze off.

'“I see you're commitment to do mundane construction work is beyond reproach”

Irwin smiled and instantly sprang up. “Reproach?”

Henry sighed. “A word which expresses my sincere disappointment.”

"What would you have me do uncle? If it were up to you, I'd be trimming my nose hair for the rest of my life.”

"If it were up to me, you'd be on a ship to New World tomorrow morning.”

Irwin knew why his uncle wanted to send him away. The New World was the one of the few places where the sun had finally shone through. Haderria hadn't participated in the war and thus were left untouched and unharmed while the world capitulated into pieces.

"My sister gave up her life for England. For the Republic. My father lives still, for the Republic. You'll have me chuck my duties away and live sail off to the New World”

"When the bombs fall from the sky, it doesn't matter if you're English or Chinese. You owe nothing to this grey waste. Take a ship to Rabat and find a plane to take you to Haderria. They say nothing has changed there. You'll never intend to come back once you see the beauty of the world that once was.”

Irwin knew he could do better than argue for another hour with his uncle. He promptly lay back once again to find a way into a sound slumber.

The bustle of the village woke him in the morning.

Nearly 60-65 kaders had gathered outside Irwin’s house early in the morning. They hadn't made a sound initially, but as it was seemingly clear that Irwin hadn't woken up, the whispers and murmurs didn't take time to become rumblings.

Uncle Henry was the first to be disturbed by the noises and unsurprisingly, he wasn't impressed. "Go home you sunken fools. Can't you find your way to that cursed city on your own? God knows you’ll be needing my nephew next to hold your c***s while you're taking a piss”

The kaders were aware of Henry subversive nature like the other villagers. They didn't bother to respond to the sullen rant or scatter away like Henry had hoped. None of them moved and maintained a steady smile.

They had picked up the smile from Irwin.

Henry had to give in. “Idiots. I'll wake up your bloody gang-lord. And put those crooked teeth of yours inside or I'll break them”

Irwin appeared minutes later wearing the best set of clothes he had stashed away for a special occasion. Even though most of the kaders were nearly as old as Irwin was, he didn't have any real friend amongst them. The relation was based on them being eternally in debt of the Irwin and no matter how much he tried to befriend someone, he could never become ingratiate himself with the motley group.

"Let's wait for the light. Best not to blunder into the city in the darkness.”

They nodded in agreement as one of them promptly brought a stool for Irwin to sit on. Sometimes he wished they had not known of his father's identity.

When he asked the same question to his uncle, he was witness to an expression his uncle reserved for some of his most exceptional idiocies. “When I was a child, I would have given up anything to be worshiped like you are. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

They asked him several questions about the project, answers to which he had none. After some more futile lines of inquiry, the kaders switched back to their quotidian job. Trashing the elders.

While the elders were the one who had seen the nuclear winter, the kaders were the ones who’d been born after the war. They thus were made to endure endless rants and monologues on how they were the ‘lucky ones’, and that they were never thankful enough for being borne into a peaceful, yet broken planet.

Since they'd been branded as a lost cause since they had been born, Chairman Mann's vision for London was to give the kaders a chance to show their worth. For some, it was merely a chance to get away from the hostile village environment.

As a slice of the leaky greyness started to wrestle the black sky, Irwin rose and so did his entourage. Hiding shyly behind their broken doors, the elders came out as the kaders seemed far enough to not notice their presence.

Some of them muttered prayers under their breaths, some of them prayed openly. The non-believers did nothing but hoped for the best. Uncle Henry did neither, but smiled for the first time in many years.

"You're a strange one, Irwin Mark”

Irwin would have smiled he'd heard the words his uncle had uttered as he marched away. Nevertheless, he strolled on with his group into the wilderness which now surrounded the hellish capital of England.

Though it wasn't the first time Irwin had visited the ruins, there was a peculiar uncertainty encapsulating the scorched remains. Uncle Henry strolled amongst the boulders every night, murmuring to himself as he glanced the blackened stones every night. Irwin could never gather the courage to ask his uncle the reason behind these visits. He'd thought his uncle would lock him inside the hut for prowling after him at night.

The news of the working crew arriving from the capital had reached them a week back through a dispatch letter sent across all villages South of London. The letter explained the reason behind the crew arriving before the work began and the date on which the volunteers or kaders were supposed to report.

Upon reaching the site, they were met with an unfamiliar glance.

Millions of people had gathered to take part in the reconstruction. Being from a small village which was barely inhabited by a 100 people, the kaders from Irwin's village were visibly stunned. Their hesitation was broken in a few seconds.

"Well what are you here for?”

The voice had come from the back, a foreign accent to be exact. A villager had once imitated the various accents of people living in the British Isles, yet none of them seemed to successfully match the alien style of the voice. The litter promptly turned behind.

A Republic official stood holding what a shiny metal slab. It seemed to gleam like the steel utensils the villagers had supper in. Upon further unyielding glaring, the official was forced to talk about what he held softly between his fingers.

"Kaders, no doubt. This is an electronic device. You know what electronic is lads?”

None of them did, until Irwin decided to weigh in. “Does it have something to do with electricity?”

The official smiled. “Aren't you a bright one? Yes boy, it does have something to do with electricity. You boys are English, I presume?”

The nodded in unison as the smile disappeared from the official's face. "None of you are English. None of you are British. You are only and only citizens of the Republic. Do you understand?”

Finding no other appropriate response, they simply nodded again.

"Good. Now, I'll jot down your name, age and any other skill you might have picked in what has happened in your short, uneventful life.”

Before he could instruct the kaders to get in line and comply accordingly, he pointed up to the sky and started jumping in pure hysteria.

"It's the sun, you fools. The sun.”

Irwin first glanced at the official who was barely in any state to string two words together to form a sentence. He then looked at the sky and was left spell bound for a moment.

Millions of blazing streams of white light pierced through the sheet of smoke and ash. The dour grey skies were slowly disappearing to make way for a clear blue sky.

Blue like the water.

For a moment, Irwin couldn't quite understand its significance. Uncle Henry had said the sun was a giant yellow ball emanating bright yellow light. Yet, the light wasn't yellow. Atleast not like the yellow containers in which the food supplies arrived. The color was as unexplainable as it was beautiful. For the first time in seventeen years, the kaders understood why the elders often complained of the somber sky.

The bright blue sky was brilliant.