NBC wants to take you deeper into the mythology of Revolution.
As part of this they are posting a collection of letters, journal entries, postcards and more on their site.
Aaron’s Journal Entry
A Small-Minded Man
I am not Aaron Pittman.
Aaron Pittman is a coward. Aaron Pittman is also a genius. That much is evident just by looking at the man, by talking to him. He can be funny when he wants to be, but there’s darkness in him, a pool of cynicism beneath his surface that bleeds through whenever his petty interests are threatened. Left to his own devices, he’s stagnant. Like so many great men, he needs to be pushed to achieve anything. So I intend to push him, to stand by his side as he grasps for the divine.
Aaron left this journal behind when he fled Willoughby, and I thought that by reading it, I’d be able to understand the man, to better perceive the complexity and nuance of an otherwise inscrutable mind. And I have to say, I’m disappointed. Time and again, the man has been graced with incredible gifts – his intellect, his companions who would seemingly risk anything for him, but most of all, his resurrection. A second chance of Biblical proportions. He mainlined the spark of life, but came away unchanged. The same tired, sad man whose greatest ambition seems to be finding a cache of toilet paper and hoarding it the rest of his life.
Aaron has agency over life, death, and everything in between, and where a strong man would seize it, Aaron wishes it away. I read those passages of this journal like a starving man, watching a stranger throw food in the gutter. There’s a cancer that’s eating away my brain, and Aaron could cure it with a thought. If the world knew what he could do, people would line up to be healed, to be touched by whatever hand touched him. How many people could hope to literally change the world? But Aaron’s only concerns are his friends, their safety, their comfort. As if any of that matters. It’s selfish. Small-minded. Disgusting.
Why he was chosen, I may never know, because he doesn’t seem to know himself. There may be others like him, but I don’t have time to find them. Aaron is the last hope that I have for a second chance of my own. So I’ll use whatever leverage I can muster to convince him to help me. Even if it means risking my own life. I’m simply running out of things to lose.
I write this here as a warning. To Aaron, or to his friends, should they find this in his stead. Even if I fail, others will come for him. No matter how deeply he buries them, gifts like his won’t stay hidden forever.
Dr. Calvin Horn, Willoughby, TX