April 22, 2047 AD, German Capital of Berlin, Pub
I took another long sip of my drink. It was done.
The war was over.
Peace at last.
I glanced around the dim pub I was in. Groups of friends drunkenly laughing together. A couple kissing in the corner. A pianist filling the place with cheerful music.
It was likely – as a matter of fact I guarantee – that these people had not nor would ever see the horrors I'd seen. I envied their ignorance. Yet the optimistic part of myself reminded me that my experiences had given me wisdom, wisdom that few people in the world could claim to have.
"There he is."
I glanced up to see two men walking toward me. My hand grazed the pistol concealed in my pocket. They took a seat at my empty table.
"Can I help you fellas?" I asked gruffly, not really in the mood to be bothered.
"You're Erkenbald Herrmann aren't you?"
I sighed. If I had a gold piece for every time I was asked that…
"Yes, yes I am." I replied, expecting a torrent of questions to follow.
"Look," the man on the left began, "We know you've probably been asked this a lot, and we hate to bother you, and –"
"We want to know your story." The man on the right cut in.
I stared at them for a minute before replying.
"Everything that's happened to you since the beginning," the man on the right explained, "We're news reporters you see, and with all the war coverage that's been going on, naturally we've heard your name come up several times."
"Of course," I grumbled to myself, "nearly impossible not to of…"
"I'm going to be frank, Mr. Herrmann. We want to interview you. You're the last surviving member of the original 1st Warrior Division; you're fought for our country since its founding, you have been alive for over 6000 years, as old as Lord Bismarck himself, and we want to share your story with the world."
"We're not trying to badger you, Mr. Herrmann," the man on the left added in eagerly, "We just–"
"I'll do it."
The two men shared a surprised look. I could tell that they hadn't expected this to work.
The man on the right finally spoke up, "You will?"
I leaned back in my chair, "Way I see it, gents," I said, taking another sip of my beer, "I do your little interview and people quit pestering me with questions. Shall I start from the beginning?"
The two men, obviously dumbstruck, nodded stiffly as the man on the left hurriedly pulled out a pen and a pad of paper.
I glanced at the paper and chuckled, "Son, if you're going to be writing down my story, you're gonna need more paper."
He pulled out three more pads.
I shrugged. "It's a start."
I allowed myself a small grin at their attentive postures as I began my tale.
"It all started in the year 4000 BC…"