The serious faced man in the suit slowly seated himself on the cold metal chair and gingerly lifted the telephone. He faced his daughter’s murderer through the glass. The killer’s pensively scrunched eyebrows mirrored his own. What emotion this expressed the suited man could not deduce. The killer moved with respectful reticence acknowledging the suited man with a slight nod before somberly taking the call. They stared at each other for a moment in silence. The killer spoke first. “I’ve heard you are a generous man,” his eyes met the suited man’s and held contact for a beat. “A man who is driven to obtain for the sake of giving away. Is this true?” The suited man sat back in his chair. He studied the killer. “I do not deserve that description,” the philanthropist exhaled in a tone so quiet it was almost a whisper. “I am merely a conduit through which the perfectly good higher power enacts change in this world, a flawed and broken vessel fortunate enough to carry out a will far greater than my own.” As he finished, a tear slid from the suited man’s eye and fell into his lap. He glanced down at it. The two sat in silence again. The suited man took in a breath and asked the only question he thought necessary: “You have murdered my daughter. I’ve heard you have murdered many people. I am here to ask of you, why?” The killer sat motionless. They stared into each others’ eyes until the suited man’s stomach began to churn. The killer pursed his lips and searched the suited man’s countenance. For what he was looking, the suited man could not guess. Finally, he began. “People have described me as a truly evil man. Some have even said that I am the most evil man they have ever seen. I am an evil man, yes, but, as I hope you will see, I am not unlike you.” The killer frowned slightly at the suited man’s raised eyebrow before contuining. “I also do not think I deserve the titles ascribed me. Like you, I am but a subpar actor. I play my part as best I can on this earthly stage. I cannot take credit for that which occurs in my scenes. That honor goes to the manager of evil, the ultimate entity for whose art I lend myself merely as an instrument to be used.” By this point, the suited man was shaking violently; his convulsions landed tears and sweat on the glass. Pity, or perhaps compassion, consumed the killer’s face. “We are but two humble pawns in a grand game,” he said as he stood and walked towards the door. Before he left, he looked back at the suited man. “Although we are two clashed swords, I respect your awareness that we are but such. For this is a virtue afforded to all yet embraced by few.” The two men exchanged looks one last time. The suited man, through tears, nodded.
The Absurd Humility