What Can Little Ol' Me Do?

He was the last of the prophets for his Age, his like not to be seen again for two thousand years as the world plunged into darkness and despair. Civilization would crumble with the whispered superstition of indefensible acts. The hounds of hell had been unleashed and the prophet gave dire warning.

"Do you not see you sow your own fate? Do you not know when you crucify your Savior you mandate the same fate for yourself? There is no other path to Life! You have poisoned the water you must imbibe to survive. Take this man down before it's too late! Who among you truly believes his crucifixion will save you?"

No one did. No one could. But the Big Lie must be preserved to provide cover for their sins. And yet, in the face of the prophet no one dare speak. They scurried like cockroaches from the light of day lest they be revealed as the roaches they are. Still, they had secret hope of becoming human, the idea of being a forever insect too unbearable to endure.

It was a little boy who spoke. "But mister, what can I do? My parents say he is a troublemaker and I must obey them. What can little ol' me do?"

The boy's parents wanted no part of that hot potato. "He's a convicted criminal. The courts have spoken. Who are we to defy the courts?"

The Roman Pilate demurred. "It was not I who made the decision, but the angry crowd who demanded his death. I have no responsibility in this."

"It was not us who wanted him dead but the priests! They gave us their blessing, urging our anger to protect God. We cannot defy God!"

But the priests claimed no such power. "Who can stand before Rome and her soldiers? Do not blame us who never touched him. Blame the soldiers who drove the nails through his hands and feet."

"Soldiers must obey orders. Without obedient soldiers there can be no war. Without war there can be no peace. We act on the orders of the centurions."

"Only Caesar may decide as he wishes! We centurions must follow the dictates of Rome too. Blame it on Caesar."

"If I fail to maintain order the citizens will revolt. Not even I Caesar can go against the will of the people. In the end I am but their servant. We are but one nation among many and were we to lose order we would be devoured."

Other countries would proffer no opinion on the crucifixion of a man whom they did not wish to know. "Who are we to opine on the internal decisions of another sovereign state? They make their own bed so let them lie in it."

But no person alive - or any to follow - was to be unaffected by the fate of Man's savior. The prophet, knowing this, spoke with the weight of the world.

"Quick! Before it's too late! Take this man down - all of you! Do not remove the Light from the world. Do not trust your lives to men who speak only in the dark. Let us live and rejoice, embrace our brotherhood. The Dream is real, Love is in the air. Precious time is passing!"

Everyone wanted to - but no one did. Better to deem it an Unstoppable Event, an Act Of Nature. Who could be blamed for such a thing as that? Somehow, some way, they must believe though it was by their hands the man be murdered no hand had a choice. And best of all, if they dithered long enough the choice would be made for them and no longer would they be vexed by the prophet's words.

***

Afterwards, when it became clear they were doomed by the killing of their Savior, they hunted down the prophet who knew the truth. "You asshole! Why did you let us do it when you knew we'd only be screwing ourselves." They killed him in righteous wrath, calling him a witch - a practice that continued forevermore. "We must be saved and that man did nothing to help. It's up to us to fix this planet. After all, we're the only ones here!"