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The Blood Bath
The human mind is truly the scariest thing of all.
Thought Albert as he stood, better to say, faced, his creation—the one hundred and twenty-eight inches long nuclear bomb, the ten thousand pound burden, complete with the funny name ‘Fat Man’.
Little could he imagine what his brilliant mind had created, what his intelligence had given birth to. All Albert could do with his head held in his hands, face covered in his palms, was to introspect himself: Was he the one that his conscience held responsible for the previous and upcoming disaster—the inhuman destruction of innocent lives with the previous nuclear bomb that had already been detonated on Hiroshima, and the one that was to be dropped on Nagasaki? For the blood bath of the old and young, children, babies in their mothers’ wombs, those unborn eyes dead with their parents, their bodies blackened by the radiation?—No! He never wanted all this to happen, no, not even dreamt of it! But what could he do to stop it? Would his name, Albert Einstein, be written down in golden letters in newspapers, books, physics journals, articles with the equation E=mc² forcing people to recall the events of Hiroshima? No, people would not remember him as the man who destroyed their world with his unprecedented knowledge of the cosmos, rather they would consider him as the one who fell victims in the hands of the monster called the ‘Human mind’, that controlled the actions of the wretched war mongers.

© Sukanya Roy
#conscience

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