“The White House might’ve lost its taste for unilateralism and started to rebuild. But there’s a lot of failed states out there that went bankrupt from their PMC habits, and they owe a shitload of money. Now the only question is, who’s going to pick up the tab? I’m sure these new governments will try to keep it under control with PMC corporate reform laws, but it ain’t gonna be good enough. They’re all sunk up to their eyeballs in the war economy. It might not be a New World Order, but the old order under the war economy’s gone for good.”
Drebin was always a talker, but the alcohol sent him to a whole new level. For a moment, I considered that the nanomachines’ control hadn’t been entirely bad.
Drebin, who seemed to have forgotten I was even there, continued his monologue.
“I’m guessin’ the UN is gonna be more important than ever, what with multilateralism and all. Then again, the UN itself ’s just an old twentieth-century relic. And if you think about it, it ain’t that different from the Philosophers who went on to become the Patriots.
“A new war. New chaos.
“Then at the end, a new order. Whether it’s the UN, or some new power altogether, I don’t know. But it won’t be anything more than a new context for the world in place of the Patriots. Crush, mix, burn, repeat.”
I looked away from Drebin, who continued to expound to his own satisfaction, and turned my head in Sunny’s direction. She had handed the Mk. III’s controls to the island boy who had been watching the ceremony.
Yes, that was when you met Sunny. I can remember it now.
You were chasing around the Metal Gear, pulling Sunny after you by the hand. Nowadays, you take Sunny’s lead, but back then, you were the one who stood in front of her and ushered her into the outside world, even if at the time you didn’t know it.
I wonder what happened to the Mk. III after Sunny gave it to you. I don’t know if you can imagine my surprise when Sunny asked if she could give the Metal Gear to you, as new friends who couldn’t even understand each other’s language.
All right, I was a little—to be honest, a lot—taken aback, in part because the Mk. III was, despite being handmade, an assemblage of costly and detailed machinery built at considerable expense. But that was only one small part of my surprise. And if you want to know why, Sunny said it best when she told me, “I made a new friend.”
She smiled, truly happy, and said that you were getting along. Struck by the radiance of her smile, I didn’t notice at first that her stutter was gone completely.
You were Sunny’s first brush with the outside world. You opened the door to a world that could be both overwhelming and weary, sometimes cruel and lonesome, but real, and where we would have to build our happiness.
And now, I’m surprised by how right she was about you. You have a power—the wonderful ability to gently lead others to greater things and greater understanding.
A power entirely unlike that of the Patriots, who used the human subconscious to bring about the reality they sought. You hold your fellow man in respect and possess the sense to awaken people, with a slight and gentle touch, to their inner strength and beauty.
“I like it outside,” Sunny said.
That was the moment Sunny first started living her own life—a life where she stood on her own feet, saw with her own eyes, and from out of the vast sea of information called reality, picked out only that which she truly needed.
So when Sunny asked me when Snake was coming back, I felt a little relieved. I had known I would have to face that question from her, but now she didn’t need Snake or me any longer.
Inside myself, I told Snake, who I thought was likely to be in the potter’s field at that time, Snake, at least Sunny will be fine now. He had always been telling me I needed to let her go into the outside world, so I figured I probably wasn’t the only one who worried about her.
“Snake is sick,” I said. “So he went on a trip to get better.”
I didn’t tell her he was on a trip to kill himself. And not because I was worried the truth would hurt her. I didn’t want to bring her tears, but I did want her to understand what Snake’s choice signified, and how dreadful the terror was that he faced at that very moment.
For that, she’d need to grow up just a little more. She needed a deeper understanding of what it meant for a person to die, and how much value life held. Without that, I didn’t think she could truly comprehend the battle Snake faced.
Sunny looked into my eyes and asked, “We’re not going with him?”
I shook my head. “No. We’d … just get in the way.”
“I wonder if I’ll ever see him again.”
She seemed to have some understanding.
I turned my gaze to the ocean, far away at the end of the runway. Beyond the edges of the airport, grasses swayed in the gentle ocean breeze, their leaves making noise as they brushed together. A single white rose swayed in Sunny’s hair.
“Snake had a hard life,” I said. “He needs some time to rest.”
Though I wrote above that I wanted Sunny to understand, and not to cry, I have to admit that tears filled my eyes.
I can’t. I can’t let Sunny see me cry.
Acting like nothing was wrong, I turned my back to Sunny. But Sunny’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the trembling of my shoulders as I held back the sobbing.
“Are you crying, Uncle Hal?”
Somehow, I managed, “No,” but in my emotional state, the answer came out curt. I smoothed it over by turning back to her and forcing a smile, adding, “I’m not crying.”
Sunny pushed her index finger against the bridge of her nose. For a moment, I didn’t know what she meant, but soon I realized my glasses had slid down out of place. I’d brushed them aside when I went to wipe my tears.
Sunny giggled.
Now she was the one comforting me. Perhaps she understood Snake’s absence even more deeply than I. Perhaps she held back her tears to keep from making me feel sad. The possibility was considerable. After all, she had a far stronger and more caring and tender heart than I.
Of course, I don’t need to tell you that.
You chose Sunny, and Sunny chose you.