1 New World And New Life

In the capital city, John arrived at the hospital very early this morning, holding a tray of food. He greeted people along the way, but he hurriedly entered the ward, and no one paid much attention. It had become a routine.

John had been the director of an orphanage. In his early years, he had no children of his own, but later in life, he established the orphanage. Since then, he had poured all his wealth into it, always wearing a smile on his face, content with his chosen path.

"Hello there, open the door," John said, noticing there were few people in the ward. There used to be several patients here, but he had heard they had all passed away – a stark reminder of life's impermanence.

Lying at the innermost side of a hospital bed was a young man. Sunlight streamed in from the window, giving him a warmer appearance. Despite his illness, he possessed a certain handsomeness, if not for his pale and bloodless complexion.

"Mr. John, you've come," the young man greeted.

John placed the food tray on the table, "Yes, I'm here. How's your day? We've been raising funds for charity recently, and the doctor said we could pursue conservative treatment."

The young man on the bed mustered a feeble smile, though his pallor made it appear eerie.

"Mr. John, I'm afraid the pain is too much. The doctor informed me about my condition earlier. He said I might not have many days left. Could I ask a favor? I've never seen the sea in my life. Could we go see it? Our country is so vast, and I've missed out on so much."

John, tears welling up in his eyes, sat on the edge of the bed, grasping the bedsheets. With a gentle tone, he replied, "Of course, we'll go see the sea. It's a vast and beautiful place. I remember visiting it a few years back…"

As the two conversed in the ward, they shared stories of the magnificent landscapes and water bodies of their homeland. A young doctor, the same who had issued the critical illness notice, stood outside the door, silently observing.

Eventually, John was discharged from the hospital, ready to fulfill Varion's wish to see the sea. Varion was around 18 years old and had never seen the ocean.

Three days later, they reached the beach. Varion, no longer wearing a hospital gown, seemed to be in better spirits.

"Mr. John, could you take me to the place where you found me?" Varion asked.

John hesitated for a moment, "Don't you want to see the sea?"

With a sigh and a smile, Varion replied, "The sea is vast, but I'd like to see where it all began."

Varion had been the name John gave him when he found him. He had been in poor health then, and later, it was discovered that a tumor was ravaging his body.

A day later, John carried Varion to the desolate mountain where he had discovered him. He had found Varion at the mountain's base, and now they returned. The morning was still dimly lit, and John, despite carrying the weight of the disease-ridden young man, was determined to reach their destination.

Although Varion had a tall frame, the disease had hollowed him from within. He was merely a shell of his former self. Finally, as the sun began to rise, they reached the barren mountain's peak.

"John, thank you," Varion said, appreciating the fulfillment of his final wish.

John gently laid Varion on the ground, his heart heavy as he arranged Varion's clothing. He couldn't bring himself to meet those eyes, eyes filled with a longing for life. John didn't utter a complaint; he simply thought, "Such a good child, already bloomed and withered too soon."

Life could be so unjust.

"Varion, today is your birthday. I have a gift for you, look," John said softly, reaching into his bag and pulling out a wildflower. He had plucked it from the roadside earlier, still bearing traces of dirt. Varion, weakened and lying on the ground, watched as John placed the wildflower in his hands.

It was his first and last birthday present. Varion's gaze fixed on the fiery sunrise. The warmth of the sun felt comforting.

"John, can I ask not to be cremated when the time comes? I'm afraid of the pain. The doctor at the hospital always said the injections wouldn't hurt, but they always did. I endured it without crying out. Am I brave?"

John choked back tears, his voice trembling, "Absolutely, Varion. You're the bravest of us all. You say what you mean."

"Thank you, John..."

With a smile on his lips, Varion slowly closed his eyes. He was departing from this place, returning to where it all began. John wept silently, gently straightening Varion's clothes and speaking softly.

"Rest now, my dear. Sleeping will take away the pain. Let's go home."

A simple tomb marked the barren hillside, adorned with a wooden tablet and a few stones. Varion had mentioned his fondness for sunflowers. Every day, as the sun rose, the hillside bloomed with sunflowers, disappearing with the sunset, a cycle that continued day after day.

...

"So, this is what they call Krypton, huh? It's really something."

Varion was astonished by his smaller, more compact body.

Unexpectedly, God had granted him a second chance at life, but the birthplace was rather peculiar.

This was the Krypton he remembered, a world from the DC universe, teetering on the edge of destruction. In the comic books, even Kryptonians, with their incredible powers, were typically portrayed as upright and noble, their actions guided by a sense of duty.

Yet Krypton was doomed to perish.

An interstellar civilization with a history spanning hundreds of thousands of years was brought to its knees on its own home planet. Reflecting on it, Varion couldn't help but find it ironic. Why had no one on Krypton recognized the impending catastrophe? Was it because they couldn't? Or did they simply choose not to, even when they had the capability?

When individuals possess the power to make a difference but fail to act, it raises questions about their motivations.

It was inconceivable that an advanced civilization like Krypton could remain oblivious to the impending doom of its home planet. Even if ordinary Kryptonians were unaware, how could the elders, who had lived for millennia, be ignorant? The crisis was right under their noses, not to mention the knowledge held by institutions like the Academy of Sciences.

"Comparing this to Earth, humans have technology capable of monitoring the lifespan and conditions of the sun and other celestial bodies. Kryptonians should have had the means to do the same."

Yet it appeared that the Academy of Sciences had not shared this information with the public, not even with the Council of Elders, not even in their final moments.

Furthermore, exposure to the radiation of a red sun was detrimental to Kryptonians. It was implausible that no Kryptonian had ever come into contact with the radiation of a yellow sun or other fixed stars over tens of thousands of years.

Why had this group of Kryptonians relinquished the opportunity to become more powerful? Was it simply because they believed they had reached the pinnacle of evolution?

But even if they had, would all Kryptonians be willing to face annihilation together?

Varion pondered, "Life is inherently selfish, even among Kryptonians. Individuals are unlikely to willingly end their own lives. It's engraved in their genes."

There had to be something amiss here, something the Council of Elders and the Academy knew that he didn't.