Je suis pas tout à fait sûr que ça veuille dire quelque chose, mais bon j´avais la flemme de l´avoir écrit pour rien donc je vous le mets^^
Enjoy (ou pas)
___
There were three of us left. Luke, his dark hair loose, wandered in circles in a proud, almost looming gait, as if willing to kill anyone who’d dare to come across his way – let alone oppose him. Keith on the other hand cowered against the wall, shaking, looking either resigned or scared as hell, or both. I couldn’t decide which of the attitudes was the sanest, so I stepped back a little and hoped for fate to make this decision. Thus we waited, together and lonely in the windowless room.
Whether fate existed, it offered no reaction. Instead, Luke did.
“Don’t be such a pussy…” He yelled at me in his most confident tone. “We could still win this. We’ve got every chance to.”
“Yeah, right. More like the ghost of a chance.”
Keith nodded his agreement.
“Whatever, man.” Luke replied. “Even so, as weak as the odds might be, we’re bound to try. That’s a lot like life.”
We fell silent again. We had learned to use the silence like words during the long hours of pointless quiescence we spent in that room. I had lost count of those hours, but the concept of time doesn’t really mean a thing in these kinds of places. What matters is when you arrive, and when you get out. If you get out. In a sense, we experienced the same feeling prisoners do, except we didn’t know how much time we were in for.
Keith stood up and approached. Not because Luke’s logic had convinced him, but because he wanted to get convinced. Keith was a frail character. When he realized he couldn’t find any easy way out, he had collapsed. He didn’t want to choose, he didn’t want to assume the aftermaths of his choice. He didn’t understand that his lack of decision accounted for a choice too.
“Are you sure? Do we really have a chance?” he whispered to me.
“Reality is irrelevant.”
I couldn’t help him. I couldn’t even help myself. I was no God, just a mere soul.
His eyes filled with confusion, but he had nothing to add. He stepped back. Luke considered him with disdain.
“How about you, Jack? Will you stand tall?”
“Why would I?”
“You see another option?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. Surrender.”
Luke laughed at me.
“Surrender? To what? We don’t even know what the hell we’re fighting!”
“We don’t even know IF we’re fighting”, I corrected. “They kept us in the dark – which I find pretty ironic.”
We had no idea of whence the brightness came from, of whither it disappeared. It was just a part of this room, and this room was our world. Our world was a cold white light.
I had scored; Luke didn’t retort, and the silence was mine.
“How do you plan to surrender, then?” he wondered.
“I wouldn’t know.”
“We can’t just sit back and watch!” Keith argued. “We need to…”
“We need a purpose. I agree. The thing is, none of us can think of a good one.”
“Who cares?”
Keith started to become hectic. He had found his easy way out. He felt better, he retrieved some confidence.
“Who cares if it’s a good one?” He repeated. “We can’t tell what is a lie and what is not. Then, why bother? As Jack said, reality has nothing to do with it.”
Luke smiled at Keith, a little surprised.
“Kid’s got a point... This isn’t about good and evil.” he admitted.
“I never said it was about good and evil”, I objected. “I said it was about right and wrong.”
“What is the goddamned difference?”
“Good and evil imply that we have created some kind of code; This isn’t about the morality of our actions. We are stuck in this place together, with no notion of why, and no way to determine such ethics. That’s why we need to do the right move, not the good one.”
Luke eluded the difference with a wave of his hand.
“In what way is any of this useful?”
“Precisely, it isn’t. We don’t even remember who we were. My name is not Jack Kincaid. Yours is obviously not Luke Skywalker. We are in the middle of nowhere arguing about ancient dreams of control. “Let’s do something”, you say, but you don’t even know what thing you would wish to do. We do not own the power anymore. It’s time to stop pretending we do. It’s time to let the dreams die.”
I knew they weren’t ready for this.
“If you ain’t got dreams, Jack,” Keith said in a low voice, “what the fuck you got?”
“Clarity”, I said.
I had it all figured out. How was I to chase shadows in a room that enlightened?
“I’ll take my chances”, Luke said, his voice firm again. “Keith, are you up to it?”
“I am”, Keith claimed.
They went after the shadows and left me alone. I didn’t blame them. I knew they wouldn’t find anything. I had tried enough myself.
Suddenly, the light changed. It was still white, but I could see its origin. Besides, it was less cold. The world seemed colder, though. I wanted to go toward the light, warm myself on it. But I couldn’t reach it. I couldn’t reach anything, as if glued to the ground. As if my spirit had lost the ability to travel. And it had.
Realization washed over me. I could SEE the light with eyes, I could feel the cold trough skin. My skin. That’s what my resignation had led me to: birth. They had granted me a beginning, and from this beginning I had the opportunity to make the right thing out of myself. Still, it wasn’t “their” fault. I was the one who longed for purpose, for a distinguishable goal. I was the one who figured it all, I was the one who beat the system. The system just came back with avengeance.
Because with every beginning comes an end. Death. I was now limited. They had enslaved me into a body. They had turned me into something unbelievably inferior. A human. A mortal soul.
I was alive. I felt dead as my dreams.
(c´est sûr que c´est pas le DS d´anglais de tout à l´heure qui me fera le même effet^^)
Si y´en a une. 
(j´avoue que la phrase de fin pourrait être la dernière, comme elle pourrait augurer une suite)