How to Survive in the Roanoke Colony-Chapter 39: Change (1)

"Francis? Francis!"

Bacon draws out the oldest memory from his 31 years of life. It's not a special memory.

"Mom, why does the moon follow our carriage?"

"It's not following us. The moon is so far away that it appears not to move."

"Are the sun and stars far away too?"

"Of course! They're much farther than the moon."

"How far away are they?"

"Huh?"

"Um, how far away are they?"

It's a time everyone has experienced.

When everything is unfamiliar, everything is curious. Asking questions about everything and annoying those around you.

Everyone lives like that as a young child. And as they grow up, they learn one important fact.

That adults find such questions from children annoying.

And they wish that children would stop asking such questions as they grow up.

So the questions stop.

A person's world closes.

And people live within that world. You could call it their common sense, or their worldview.

Anyway, that's how it is.

Francis Bacon too had stopped asking such questions long ago. The time when he threw "why?" questions at everything was considered just a childish past.

And then...

"If you knew your sins, would you repent? How do you not recognize the Lord's family and commit sins?"

"Ah, de...vil..."

"I don't understand why you call me a devil. I have never harmed you, nor will I ever harm you."

Why?

Why is it coming back?

Is he an angel? Or a devil?

"You are still... sons of the Lord... Heaven has not fled from your hearts."

Why?

Why is he trying to save those who tried to kill him?

Has he gone mad from the pain? Or if not, perhaps...?

Finally.

"I, I, I'm not... Please! It wasn't me! I didn't... know anything...!"

"Don't be afraid. The Lord's mercy is like sunshine, supremely noble yet given freely."

Why?

Why did he save me?

I am responsible for his "death," for his pain. Because I brought those "servants," he faced a life-threatening situation.

And he willingly threw himself to save me.

Why?

"...Don't look for reasons why one person saves another."

Don't look for a reason.

Because it's natural.

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Because people are precious.

...It feels like being hit on the head with a hammer.

A decisive answer.

It's a firm declaration as if to cut off all those questions here.

Because he came down here for people, because he does everything for people, he did so.

That is the reason.

One cannot ask "why?" again. Why did the angel come down for people? Why does the angel act for people? Such questions would be followed by the Lord's infinite will.

He knows that. He knows it very well.

...Yet even so.

"Interesting. Very interesting."

"Pardon? What is?"

"He's not a person, is he? Isn't he an angel?"

Too many questions arise in his mind at once.

While on the ship, he heard there was another tourist. Because the voyage was boring, Bacon met the other tourist and made him a companion for about two months.

So when he went to spy on the angel, he went with him, and now he's visiting his cabin for a chat.

"Anyway, he is an angel, so why did he say 'don't look for reasons why one person saves another' when explaining his own actions? Isn't that interesting? Don't you think?"

"..."

"Here's what I think. He was setting an example. Because he made himself a model for all people, if you're a person, you should follow his actions!

That's why he must have said 'don't look for reasons why one person saves another.' That's it! What do you think?"

"..."

"..."

"...That seems plausible."

"Right? I think so too. But this raises another question."

With a bright smile, Bacon poured out all sorts of stories to Shakespeare.

Why?

Why would someone who should be a model for humanity come to this barbaric frontier land? Even the barbarians themselves aren't many in number?

If the angel had descended in the middle of a huge and important city like London, Paris, Rome, or Seville, in the center of a city with many believers?

Then everyone might have believed and followed him, so why did he do that?

"Because foolish humans might harm and imprison him? Maybe.

Or is it a revelation to evangelize this land? That could be it too. I still haven't found an answer to this part."

Why. Why. Why.

"There's so much more I'm curious about! Why doesn't he use powers other than resurrection? Have you seen his blood vessels and muscles reconnect? How did his heart beat meanwhile, and how did his muscles and nerves find their places? And what does it mean that the father of humans and the father of monkeys were the same?"

Why. Why. Why. Why. Why.

It feels like returning to the innocent age of five. No, perhaps it wasn't childish but rather pure and wise.

People often think wrongly, trapped by their experiences and words. Didn't he also say not to worship idols trapped in the finite words of scripture?

Therefore, I wonder if my younger self, without experience, barely knowing words, and without any preconceptions, was so full of questions and wisdom.

Perhaps children are the beings furthest from idols?

Yes. Those without prejudice are the beings furthest from idols. From idols, idols...

"...Idols."

Something, a thread of thought, seems to be caught.

Inspiration writhes and grows in his mind. Bacon unconsciously feels the corners of his mouth rising and laughter escaping.

How long has it been since he felt this way?

Anyway, Shakespeare, who had been listening to Bacon's story, seemed to be pondering something for a moment before shaking his head with a hearty laugh.

"Haha... I don't know. It seems I have no talent as a philosopher or theologian."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, I'm a poet, a playwright, and an actor. My curiosities and concerns lie elsewhere."

"Tell me."

"Um... sir?"

"Call me comfortably."

"Then, Mr. Bacon, how was the angel's skin?"

"Uh... what?"

For a moment, Shakespeare's pen dances and his eyes burn.

"How was the angel's skin different from ours? Did his body have a pulse? Was it warm?"

"No, I was in such a hurry that I don't remember well... but apart from having very clean skin, there didn't seem to be any other differences?"

"Is that so? Amazing! An angel incarnate, an angel like a human!"

Shakespeare smiles at Bacon's words and plays with his pen.

"How was his gaze? To me, it was like stars."

"Clear and distinct. He seemed to have no hesitation or anxiety."

"His voice... it's mysterious even now that I think about it."

"Did you also hear his voice in multiple languages?"

"Yes."

"Huh... goodness. Goodness!"

"Human language was shattered after the Tower of Babel, but his language still..."

Scratch. Rustle. Scratch.

Shakespeare shrugged his shoulders, excited like a bull in a bullfighting arena. With each dance of the quill over the paper, new verses and lines flew in. Inspiration never ceased, no matter how much he poured out.

"Wasn't his speech beautiful?

'There are more things between heaven and earth than your philosophy has imagined.' That saying doesn't leave me. How could it match so perfectly with the phrase I was going to write!"

The reason was clear. Because the phrase he was going to write was right.

Because the title of the play he was writing was 'Hamlet'.

An immortal masterpiece that even Nemo would recognize.

But to Shakespeare, who didn't know the circumstances, it felt as though inspiration flew from heaven and lodged in his heart.

The image of the angel who tried to save assassins, saved Bacon, and spoke in all languages did not leave his mind.

Thus chatting with Bacon and writing line after line without hesitation, Shakespeare... suddenly stops writing and looks at the content.

'...But can I perform this as is?'

Can I get investment for this work, gather actors, secure a stage, and pull off a performance?

With this kind of theme...?

What if I'm treated as a heretic and burned at the stake?

"Hmmmm..."