And the World Mourned Together

And the World Mourned Together is a short story taking place a few years after World War 4.

## Story

The autumn leaves shimmered back and forth through the gentle breeze. A few of them broke free, to fly like little airborne gliders to their final resting place.

It was not a sunny day that day, nor a rainy one. But silent, the clouds obscured the sunshine, the rustling of the leaves was the only sound in the memorial site.

“Mom, what are the names for?” Lynn asked. She poked at the names, engraved into the solid black granite, not knowing the importance of what they meant.

“They’re soldiers, sweetie,” her mother replied, softly but solemnly. Without any emotion, so not to disrupt these sacred grounds.

“Why are their names written here?” Lynn asked.

“So we can remember them,” the mother replied.

Lynn didn’t understand, she was barely 5, the idea of blood and violence didn’t register in her head. Her brother, 11-year-old Daniel had slightly better perspective.

“How long does it go on?” Daniel asked, looking into every direction. There just seemed to be slabs of granite, and more names in every direction he could see.

“Very long,” his mother replied. “These were the soldiers who died in the war. It goes on for miles.”

Daniel looked around again, and saw that they were not the only ones, there were many others, some who looked similar to them, others who looked completely different. Standing in silent upon the sight of these granite slabs, some touching their hands to the names inscribed in stone.

Somewhere somewhat far away, perched on top of a tall hill, his father and his uncle were bantering.

“Stones upon stones for miles. All of them inscribed with the names of the dead,” the boy’s father said.

“How long do they go on for George?” the uncle asked.

“20 square kilometers of land is dedicated to this memorial… This used to be a residential neighborhood, a few years ago. But now the state of Utah has turned it to a memorial for the dead.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No. Those people are long dead now, many of them are buried here, it’s what they would have wanted. Historians are still trying to piece together their stories, their records, their names. So we can restore some semblance of dignity to them, those who time wanted to disappear forever. That they may at least die with a name attached to their final resting place.”

They looked over from where the park transformed from memorial to graveyard. Countless stones were marked with the name “Unknown”, someday they hoped to identify who they were, so that at least they could mark a place in the ground.

“Do you think it will always be like this, George?”

“What do you mean, Howard?”

“Like this. Do you think this is how humanity is? That we’re destined to fight bigger and bigger wars, see this memorial grow day by day, until we go extinct.”

Howard kicked the soil, the hill they stood on presumably used to have grass on it. The soil being kicked into a cloud of dust, before floating off in front of them. The brown dust all around them now a constant reminder of their sins.

“Our generation fought the war, and our kids will be the ones paying off the damage we’ve done. And their children, and their children, until God knows how long, paying dividends until the end of time.

World War 1, World War 2, World War 3, World War 4. One day there’ll be a fight so big there won’t be anything left, God knows that nearly happened this time.”

“Howard, calm down.”

Howard sighed. “I’m sorry George, but look at this, I can’t even see how far the gravestones reach, and in the other direction, I can’t see how long the memorial stones reach. And this isn’t the only one either, there’s graveyards littered all over America, it wasn’t just Utah that suffered.”

Somewhere far away, a historian was still tallying the records of the dead. A pile of documents sprawled over his desk, lit only by dim electrical light. Photographs, newspaper articles, birth certificates, proof that once these people were here, and now, they were gone.

Alex Jennings, born May 7th, 2045. Was barely in high school when war broke out. Signed himself up for the military to help support his struggling family, killed in the battle of Los Angeles.

Ethan Owen, born November 19th, 2036. Grew up without his father watching him. The last person who could inherit his family’s company. Signed up out of patriotic duty, lost at sea during the Pacific campaign, ceremonially buried next to his father at the military cemetery. The family fortune that would have gone to him was instead donated to build more memorials.

Maria Lin, born January 27th, 2041. Civilian who found herself under occupation in the city of San Diego. Organized supply efforts in and around the city, killed during a bombing raid, moving around food relief in the dead of night.

Hundreds and hundreds more still left to be tallied, hundreds and hundreds already tallied. Each one a story of collective suffering, of a world that had gone mad, of a nation in grief.

The historian looked tirelessly at the documents, recording everything down for the records, to eventually enter the archive of history.

Back at the memorial, hundreds of kilometers away, they were looking at the plaques from nations all over the world sending their condolences. Plaques from Canada, the United Kingdom, Nigeria, the Chinese Heavenly Kingdom, Iran, Argentina, Korea, Germany, and beyond.

“We all know what it’s like to suffer, so these nations paid their respects,” George said. “Millions of people here. Their names or their graveyards.”

George looked out over the horizon again. Gravestones and memorial stones as far as the eye can see. “Look at that, millions upon millions into the distance.”

“And these are just the American casualties,” Howard said.

Today was Veteran’s Day, and the anniversary of the Armistice which ended World War 4. All over the world were memorials like this. Through China, Russia, Nigeria, England, Germany, Poland, India, Brazil, all had lost something. To commemorate those who were lost, an entire generation of men, and all the civilians caught in between.

Through seismic tensions and conflict, arguments and disputes, the world was still a world of turmoil. But not today, not now. Marking 5 years from the signing of the armistice, on this day of the year, the world grieved.

The world mourned together.