His senses crawl back to him as a weight slips from his eyelids.

Flushing from his sight, a neon light. His eyes took in the scene. The sky met with the sea's cheek, sparse in stars or dust or light.

For miles, nothing but water. Water and air drenches in a wash of fuschia. The young boy pulls his eyes across the scenery until he meets with a horses' dock under his legs.

Timidly, he straightens his posture, sitting neck against the neck with the stallion. He settles in with the silence. "It's peeling," a voice bemoans. "You can see it? The earth. Peeling."

The young boy fastens his neck to the right. An old boy slumped on a horse dressed in nothing but torn cloth, looking drained. Young's functions roams, fingers investigating the stallion, nostrils searching for context, though he could taste nothing, 

"Kate, Kate? You need to do me a favor." The young boy stops, his eyes pins onto him. Old turns. 

"It's been clear for the 63 years of my life; it's a new world. You'd think someone like me would be able to keep up the act."

Young's mouth unlatches, "...What act?"

"It's Little Pangea, Kate. Allman, all of this. I'm the—I am a fool. I am the naked emperor. 

The world is changing, and I can't change it. They're beginning to see; they're going to do." 

Old reads Young's confusion and continues, "At the beginning of our marriage, Kate. Do you remember the joke? The joke you were saying?" 

A beat. "You said, 'I married you to torture you, I wanna see you bawl at my funeral.'" Young smiles, still without a clue. 

"I knew you'd remember. You have a thing, a knack for some fun and laughs. I think my brother picked me for that reason, too. Because he thinks a long life means wisdom. I've done many..."

The rest chokes him. He depends on Young or Kate's word, anything to initiate what he can't. Young lays his hand on Old's shoulder. 

"I can't even have the pleasure of dying, Kate. I want to die." 

Young chokes. "No, no, no. Shut up. No." 

"I know it's hard to hear from your husband, but—"

"You can't think like that, man. No. Think about the people who love you! ...Your brother!"

A dim light lit Old up. He flashes a simper. "You act like I have a choice to die."

"You might not die, but you're still hurting yourself, you know." 

"Kate, you have to help me. Please tell them I'm gone. Tell them I resign."

"You didn't do anything wrong, right?"

"Everything is wrong. We need someone capable. That isn't me."

Old coerces his stallion to bridge their gap and locks Young in a tight embrace. Tears tug at Young's eyes. 

"I still don't know what the fuck is going on," Young wails, breaking from his grasp. "But please, please, stay for your wife."

Old grins, handing Young a rifle. "That's enough, Kate. Let's get it over with."

Young hesitates, his palms waver over the base of the rifle. He studies Old's eyes. With tears running, Young unloads two bullets into Old. One into his leg, and another into his hand. The force alone throws Old into the water and sweeps him away with no struggle. Young searches the surface for a trace of him. To no avail. Sinking his head into the warm water, the scene leaped into the darkness. 

"Robert! Come downstairs, look what's on the news!" His brother stood at his bed, a grin holding at his face. "You owe me fifty dollars! You owe me fifty!"

"What?" Robert rose his head, drenched in a mere of sweat.

"What's that all on your...why did I ask? I don't even care!" 

His brother rushed downstairs to join his family, all congregated before a TV screen. Robert watched from the stairs. 

Old's face radiated on TV, a face ridden with shame. It seems as if he had already ran himself blue. He ended his tirade with this sentence, "On behalf of this country, and on behalf of myself, I will be resigning as 5th Section's Head." 

Robert couldn't help but smile.