A Promise To Live For - SCP Foundation

The first time she saw him, it was on a piece of paper. She felt nothing, then. She was in her new apartment in Woodstock, VT, staring down at the SCP file they had given to her when she arrived at the airport parking lot - one that was in a beige folder with the words TOP SECRET in big red lettering on the front. When she got to her new place (one bedroom, already furnished Foundation style: simple and boring), she opened the packet, skimmed the file once, twice, thrice, then tossed it on her new desk along with her Foundation ID and wallet. The Elizabeth Perez that stared back was foreign: bagless eyes, clean and unrumpled shirted, smiling.

She sighed, closed her eyes, and thought: Okay. Just another year. Another year and you'll have your student loans paid for. Then you can 'retire'. Get a job that's normal. Have it all be just another bad memory.

She repeated this mantra five times, took a deep breathe, then opened her eyes. The man in the picture was looking up at her. He had a rifle at his side and he was stoic. He was made of granite and had white bird shit trailing down the side of his uniform. She pushed the photo away, revealing the one below it, this time of the same granite-man firing his rifle in the air. The next after that of him saluting to the camera.

She got the gist: living statue that didn't want people shitting on him. She could empathize. It was the best assignment she had gotten in at least five years since she started working for the Foundation. It was simple. Elizabeth liked simple. It meant no cleaning up dead bodies. No cleaning up blood. No cleaning up strange liquids and staring doctors who saw her as a janitor with slightly higher clearance - which, essentially, what being a caretaker often meant in these cases.

She stepped away from the desk. She looked outside: gloomy October clouds swirled above. She decided a nap was as good a thing to do as anything else.

Elizabeth got to the park at six that morning. She was wearing her uniform: boring, normal, forgettable. It was warm, though, thank God. A man was there that morning in an identical uniform, looking up at the statue. He waved to her, walked up, hand out.

"Hello!" he said, happily. "I'm Bill. You're…?"

"Liz," she said, shaking his hand. His grip was tight. "You know the job, right?"

Bill nodded. He turned around. "Keep the old guy clean. Keep a low profile."

"And do normal park things."

"Such as?"

She shrugged. "Keep the place in working order. Keep places clean, take out the trash, weed-eat the grass….the usual."

"Huh." He looked around, hands on his hips. "So, uh…."

"What?"

He pointed up at the statue. She followed his jab, saw white, and sighed. "I'll handle it," she said. "The shed should be around here. Somewhere."

"But, uh, shouldn't we…."

"What?"

He smiled, uncomfortably. "The containment procedures said at least thirty minutes after sundown. So…."

"It's from yesterday. The other guys must have slacked off their final night. Assholes."

"Still…."

She did her best confident smile. "What the geeks don't know won't hurt them."

He made a face, furrowed his eye-brows. "Well…."

"It's just a little early cleaning."

He sighed. "Okay. But…"

"Yeah, yeah, if I get caught, you didn't know - I get the drill."

"I was, uh, going to say be careful."

"Oh. Uh. Thanks. Now let's go find that shed."

It took them fifteen minutes to find the tool shed. Elizabeth tasked Bill with going around the park and picking up trash. Really, it was just an excuse to be left alone. She never liked working with other people.

When she got back to the statue with a hose, she spent another fifteen minutes looking for a place to plug it into. She cursed under her breathe when she realized the closest one was barely out of reach of the statue. Then she realized she could just thumb-it.

Elizabeth turned the water on full blast, pointed it at the statue. She covered half the spout, increasing the pressure, making it fly directly into the thing's face.

She grinned, taking some joy in watching the thing get drenched. She hosed him top to bottom, making sure to get everything off. When she was done, she admired her work: clean and spotless. Dripping wet, but spotless.

She unplugged the hose. When she turned to face the statue, she saw that it's face had moved, and was staring at her.

She fell on her ass, screamed. The face moved down to her, still looking, tilted now, as if confused. It took her a moment to realize she was sitting in the path of the hose, and her pants were wet. She got herself up, slowly, not taking her eyes off the thing.

"Hello," it called. It waved, smiling.

Elizabeth didn't respond.

"Can you come closer?" it called out. "I know that your people don't take kindly to secrets getting out!"

She snapped out of it. She turned around, to the street, to the rest of the park - eyes wildly darting for witnesses.

The thing laughed. "Worry not. I would not reveal myself unless I felt us secure."

Elizabeth turned around. She slowly walked to the statue-man, jaw open. "I….didn't know you could talk."

"Neither did I, until one of your people inspired me. Then, it was as natural as putting on a shoe."

He moved one of his feet up, wiggled it around in the air, laughed.

"You scared the shit out of me," Elizabeth said, softly laughing.

"Ah! A lady with a mouth on her! I do hope you do not mind, for I, too, have a love for old sailor swears."

He spoke funnily. It took her a moment to realize it sounded a bit like her great-grandfather. She used to visit him in Burlington during the summers.

"Well," she said, smiling a bit, "I'm sure you can teach me quiet a few."

"Ah! I doubt that. I heard you speak - truly abdominal! Can you teach me?"

She hesitated for a moment. She looked at her watch, saw it was almost seven. Then she looked back up, and saw him looking back. She sighed. "Sure. I have a minute, I guess. What's your name?"

"William. You can call me Will."

They spoke for nine minutes. Elizabeth didn't know why she remembered that when it was all over. It started with a couple swear words, that lead to a discussion on the changing of language with the passage of time, that ended with an admission that he, unfortunately, did not get out that much.

"I have not had a night on the town in ages, dear Elizabeth! My God, the tavern! The drinking! Oh you should have seen it!"

"I'm sure I could drink you under."

"Ha! I doubt that, madam."

"I'm sure I can."

"You'd be out before we were at our fifth shot!"

"Sure. And you'd be out by the second. You seem like the teetotaler type."

"That, my dear, is a flagrantly offensive stereotype of my people! We may have outlawed liquor, but that doesn't mean we quit drinking it! Every one of those bastards in the Legislature who approved that should be shot, I say!"

"If it makes you feel better, your descendants have agreed with your assessment."

"Too little, too late for our generation, I'm afraid! But, I find such an outcome pleasing. My father certainly would."

"Oh? Was he a bar owner?"

"A bootlegger, actually. But he went clean when me and my brothers were born."

"Brothers?"

The statue-thing nodded its head. "Four."

"What are their names?"

It opened it's mouth, as if to speak, but suddenly, furrowed it's brow. "I….I don't remember, exactly. That's….that is troublesome."

As the statue-thing pondered, Elizabeth heard footsteps coming nearby. She turned around to face them, and sighed when she saw it was Bill. He was all sweaty now, red in the face.

"I….I found some….something I think may be puke….I….I think I need the hose…."

She nodded, and pointed at the hose. It was still where she left it.

"What…are you doing….anyway…?" he said, huffing in between breathes.

"Oh, just -"

She turned around to see the statue-thing, and saw it was back in its position, as if nothing had moved at all.

" -just cleaning the statue off."

"Okay," he said, wrapping the hose up. "Can you help me?"

That day went by faster than Elizabeth thought. She got off at three, and would have to come back before sundown to clean off the statue again. Bill stayed behind, seemingly concerned at 'leaving his post'.

In that time, she reread the file, making sure she took it all in. She didn't find anything new. She looked for the statue's history, who made it, who it was based on, if anyone. She didn't know why she was doing this now. She kept replaying the conversation over and over in her head. She didn't know why, not until she realized it was probably the most normal conversation she had had in the past six months, and it was with a living statue she had to clean every day from now until God knew when.

She grabbed for her pillow, and screamed.

Days turned into weeks, and Elizabeth was adjusting to things now.

It snowed now, much too frequently for her. Especially when it came to cleaning Will. She had stopped hosing him and instead scrubbed him down, making sure to get him extra nice and clean. It gave her an excuse to talk to him.

That was another thing that took some time adjusting to. Referring to it as 'him.' She had spent a long time only viewing the things she had to take care of and clean after as 'it', as some creature that was separate from people like herself. Even when they were just normal people. When she first started working, she was horrified, but, after awhile, she acquiesced to it. It was easier that way.

But it was different now. Maybe it was because she allowed herself to actually interact with him, talk to him, treat him like a real person. It felt weird. She didn't dislike it.

They talked a lot. Mostly about history. Civil War and beyond. He was very curious about that. She tried her best to fill in the details with her own limited education on the subjects he asked about. "Do you think," he asked, one day, "you could check me a book out of that library? I know that this town has one."

"I'm afraid not," she replied, "You'd only be able to read at night. And I doubt you could see."

He looked off into the distance, looking up. She was always surprised at how emotive he could be up and close. The way his lips moved so naturally as he spoke, blinked so gracefully - like a real person.

"But," she finally said, plopping her rag back into the bucket beside her. "I could read it for you. I have too much free time on my hands as it is."

His face lit up, his eyes wide and smiling. She liked seeing it. "Thank you," he said.

"It's no problem. It's just my job."

Months passed. A new rhythm set in: Elizabeth worked from six to three, then, from four to seven, she'd read, then nap, then, at around eight or so, go back to the park for the statue-thing's cleaning.

It was nice, to finally have a routine. One she could lose herself in. She became intimately familiar with the same names he was: Lincoln, Seward, Davis, Gettysburg, Hooker, Lane, Bull's Run - all just to talk to the living statue.

Some days, she felt she was going crazy. That something inside her had snapped, and that she was treating this thing with the same respect as a person. Other days, she hated herself for thinking like that, especially when she remembered the way he laughed, the way he smiled, and how much she enjoyed just talking to someone for once. No bullshit filters, no kissing up to superiors, no fake smiles. Just herself.

Just herself.

"What do you plan to do in the future, my dear Elizabeth?"

It was near sundown. Bill was nearby, watching, uncomfortable. Elizabeth ignored him. He always felt like he had to watch - 'following procedure' his go-to phrase.

"I'm not sure," she said. "Anything but this."

"Do I bother you?"

"No, no, it's not you. It's just….you know my people."

He nodded.

"Some days I'm afraid I'll never get away."

"I understand the feeling."

She looked up at him. "You know…."

He looked at her. "Hm?"

"It's almost Christmas."

"And?"

"Do you…want anything?"

He thought for a moment. "Tobacco would do well."

She laughed. "You always ask for that. You should really watch your health."

"I am made out of granite! My lungs are indestructible!"

"Would you say that they're like a 'Stonewall'?"

"Ha! That bastard was lucky he never met me. I'd whop him in no time!"

"Sure. You did wrestle crocs in New Orleans."

"Ha! And you believed me then!"

She winked. "I'm a great actor."

When she was done, she got down, and, after making sure everything was in place, left the park. After making sure no one was around (especially Bill) she popped inside a gas station and bought a pack of cigarettes and a box of matches. She returned, got the ladder out and climbed up.

"Here," she said, putting both of them in his pocket. "Merry early Christmas."

"Do you want to do anything tonight?"

She was picking up some fast food trash at the base of his statue when he said those words. She looked up, and saw Will looking down at her, smiling strangely.

"Depends. You have something in mind?"

"I have…had, rather, a special place. I'd….like to show it to you."

He shuffled his feet, nervously.

She put her hands on her hips. "Can you even get down from that pedestal?"

He bit his lip, looked around. "I….I'm not sure."

"You won't know until you try it."

"If….if you could help me….come down….would you go with me?"

She laughed. "Why not? It's not like I have anything going these days."

"You won't tell them, will you?"

"I'll say you came down. I won't say anything more."

"Thank you. It means the world to me."

"Hey, I've never been a stickler for the rules - and I ain't starting now."

He laughed. "So - tonight?"

"Tonight."

She wore a baggy jacket and jeans. Bill was already getting through his cleaning of Will when she arrived, the sun only barely above the horizon.

"I thought you'd wait a little longer, Bill!"

He turned around, almost fell, quickly grabbed at the statue's shoulders. He balanced himself.

"I have a date tonight, Elizabeth! I didn't want to wait any longer than necessary. You won't -"

"Not a word."

He exhaled. "Thanks."

"No problem. Go on ahead. I'll clean him - it. I'll clean it."

If he noticed her slip up, he didn't say anything.

"Come on, Will! You can do it!"

He was moving down. Even in the dark, she could tell he was shaking a bit. His rifle was slung across his shoulder.

"You can hand it to me, you know!"

"It's too heavy for ye!"

His foot slipped. He yelped, quickly grasped for the ledge, caught himself.

"Come on, you big baby! Sometimes you gotta take a leap of faith!"

"Easy for you to say, Elizabeth, when you're not the one having to do it!"

"Do you want me to get the ladder?"

"No! I can do it!"

"You don't need to do it all by yourself."

He slowly lowered himself down. From where she was standing, she could tell his eyes were closed. He wouldn't let go, as if afraid he'd fall into an endless abyss.

"What's wrong?"

He said nothing.

"Will?"

"I'm….afraid."

"Why?"

"I…. I don't know. It seemed so easy up there!"

"It's okay."

"It is not! I'm a soldier! I shan't be bested by heights!"

Despite this, he continued to cling to the pedestal, his feet dangling off the ledge.

"Would me talking make it easier?"

"I - I suppose it would."

"You know, I had a pretty silly fear too. At least, that's how a lot of people saw it at the time. But it was really scary."

"What was it?"

"Water. I was scared of going in. Not like in pools and stuff. But the ocean. It could be really dirty, and it was hard seeing things below past a couple inches. I imagined little monsters nipping at my feet. Every brush of seaweed was a shark ready to gobble me up. Every rock a crab ready to pinch off my toes. But the fact was, it was because I had never been in it before. Only what I read and saw on TV."

"How did you get over it?"

"I couldn't, at first. But, when I saw everyone else in my family having so much fun, I decided, 'screw it'. And so, I jumped in."

"And how did it feel?"

"Amazing. For me, I mean. My brothers got salt water in their eyes from my cannonball."

Will laughed.

"You can do it, Will. I believe in you."

Slowly, he began to loosen his grip on the pedestal. His body slowly moved down until, finally, his legs were a couple feet off the ground.

"You're almost there!"

He turned his body around, his eyes locked with hers. He closed his eyes, and, after taking a deep breathe, let himself fall.

He landed on the grass with a loud 'thump.' He opened his eyes. He looked to her, then to the ground, and then back to her. He was smiling.

"See! I told you -"

Suddenly, he reached for her, and brought her into a hug. She yelped, surprised at his cold touch.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!"

He repeated those words at least half a dozen times. The hug itself was surprisingly soft, despite how chilly it was. She didn't dislike it.

Elizabeth wrapped her hands around his shoulders.

He brought his hands to his side, stepped back. He was smiling. "Ah. I apologize. I lost my composure."

She snorted. "No big deal."

"Just doing your job, right?"

"I, uh, yeah. Just….doing my job."

There was a second of silence, as both studied each other. He was shuffling his feet on the ground, letting his granite boots leave big imprints on the freshly cut grass. "Sorry," he said, breaking the silence.

"It's fine. I can clean it up in the morning. So….you want to show me that special place?"

She drove him around in her car, an old beat up pickup truck she got from her father. It used an old stick shift and had shitty air conditioning. She had a soft spot for the piece of shit. It reminded her of home.

He was afraid, at first. He had never been a car before, hadn't ever seen the inside of one before. After much coaxing, he came inside, let himself lean back against the seat.

"Are you sure that it can handle me? I doubt it was meant for men such as myself."

"This baby got me from Atlanta to here. Trust me, this thing can handle anything."

He placed his rifle in the back trunk. She turned on the radio, something that he did know about. He turned it to a classical station, leaned back, closed his eyes.

"I didn't know you were a fan of the high arts."

"I enjoy many things, dear Elizabeth. Would you be shocked to know that I was a fan of the theater as well?"

"You can tell me about it as we drive."

And so they drove. They got lost twice, as Will tried his best to orientate himself in the unfamiliar town. It had changed a lot in the one hundred and forty years since he had last seen it. It was only when they got out of town proper, and began exploring the Vermont countryside, that he began to remember.

"Keep going until we see a tree."

"What kind of tree?"

"We'll know it when we see it."

They did - a big tree. One that was unusual in the surrounding environment. "My father's father planted it. He was a lover the old country. Could never bare to go the rest of his life without a little something from home."

"I understand that," she said, patting his shoulders. "So….what do we do now?"

"We walk."

She brought a lantern and a flashlight. She taught him how to use the former. Soon, they were off. Sticks crunched under their shoes. He sunk farther into the dirt then she did, his weight dragging him down. He kept up a good smile, though.

They talked. About the weather. About the past. About music. About the future. About the present. About herself. About him. About their parents, their parents parents. All to fill the void of silence. It was a quiet night.

Soon, the brush began to disappear, and open up. Soon, she saw a large body of water that stretched into the distance. She raised her torch, saw her own reflection in the water. She was smiling.

She turned around to face Will. He aimed his torch along the edges of the water, completing the wide circle of the pond.

"Is this what you wanted to show me?"

He nodded. "Me and my brothers would swim here in summer."

"It sounds fun."

"It was."

He began to sit down. She, not sure what to do, sat by him. The ground was cold but, thankfully, not wet.

They sat in silence for awhile, watching the water.

It was Will who broke the silence first.

"What do you think?"

"Hm? About what?"

"About this place."

"It's….big."

"Yeah."

Silence.

He sighed, buried his face into his hands.

"What's wrong Will?"

"This wasn't how I imagined it going."

"How did you imagine it?"

"That there'd be a sun, still."

"You know that wasn't an option."

"I know."

He fell back, looking up into the sky.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth."

"It's okay. I like this place. It's peaceful."

"It is. But I wanted…."

"Hm? Wanted what?"

"I….I don't know. To see the sunrise. To show you it. It's beautiful in the morning. But I know that isn't an option, now, isn't it?"

She bit her lip. She looked at her watch - 11:43 PM. Then she looked at him, saw him staring into the distance.

"I….I don't see why we can't."

"What?"

He whipped his head back to her, eyes wide.

"We'd be cutting it really close, but….we can. If you'd like."

"Why? Because it is your duty?"

"No, Will."

"Then why?"

"Because…..because you're the only friend I've had in a long, long time."

"Really?"

She nodded her head. "At first, it was just for the job, but….but I liked talking with you. About everything. You want to know what's crazy? I didn't know anything about the Civil War. And yet, I learned about it, because I wanted to answer your questions. To make it seem like I knew shit, when I really didn't."

"What do you mean?"

"Look at you, man! You fought in those battles! I just read facts in a book. You saw those things. Compared to me, I'm just a nerd trying to seem cool."

They sat in silence for a moment. Elizabeth felt herself getting depressed. She wondered if she should leave, let him have his time here and get him in the morning -

She felt the tip of fingers graze against hers. She looked down, and saw them inches apart. She didn't stop him from taking her hand and holding it.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth, I -"

"No, it's -"

"No. Let me finish."

She was about to say something, then, closed her mouth.

"Truth is, that was a long time ago. No one cares about it anymore. I may carry myself like a soldier, but it's for a war no one today is alive to remember. It's ancient history. Before your people found me, nobody cared about me one way or the other. And before you, no one was around to talk to me. I was just another thing they had to clean up. You were different. I don't know why you responded to me, that day - usually, your people brush me off. But you didn't. I thought….I was afraid, rather, that you only did this because it was your job, but…."

"But it's not true."

He nodded. "I'm sorry for insinuating that it was just for your job."

"It's okay."

They said nothing.

"Do you still want to watch that sunrise, my dear?"

She smiled, gripped his hand harder.

"Of course," she said. "I'll stay with you for as long as you want."

"You promise?"

"Promise."