Revenant
31-07-2008, 08:56 AM
I don't tend to share my writing often, but here's something I wrote recently.
A lifeless-grey square squatting in the heart of an isomorphic bureaucracy - purity to Ian - the perfect place to root out carcinogenic treason before it could spread it’s malignancy into the State. However, today felt different to Ian, five years today he has worked diligently to preserve the State. Five years of plots, plans and people he has destroyed in the name of the State. Although, his usual vim and vigor were nowhere to be seen this morning.
“Morning Bernard”, said Ian warmly as he entered the foyer.
“Ian” Bernard intoned, the embodiment of solemnity.
Ian smiled in response and, polished-black uniform shining ever so slightly, turned on his heel and followed a man being frog-marched down the nearby corridor. Reaching an otherwise nondescript door that read ‘7 – I. Curtis’, the man was released and shoved into a chair. Eyes red-rimmed and moist, he looked up at Ian in dismay.
“Right”, Ian smiled again, but not warmly, “first case today and I’m already tired, let’s make this easy. You are guilty. You will sign this confession and I will drink my coffee and move on.”
“B-b-but I didn’t do anything, I don’t know what you’re talking about… I ‘m just a librarian…I-"
Ian leaned forwards, grimacing, “You are who you are, and that is a traitor. If you sign the confession, your family might be spared this fate.”
“God help me” the man whispered.
“God?”, Ian sighed. “God has no place here.”
A knock on the door. “Mr. Curtis? Room 8, Mr. Morris stepped out for a moment. Mr. Erasmus wants you to cover his case”, drawled a voice from the door.
“I’ll be back momentarily, here’s your pen.”
Ian walked over, peered into the next room and paused in surprise. Rather than the mewling mess he was used to, there sat a young woman, stoic, resolute and proud. Today was getting interesting.
“Ah! The shining knight of the State; here to purge and persecute,” she said, voice dripping with contempt.
“Right… Let’s get this done quickly. You are guilty of treason, sign the confession in front of you and we’ll move on.”
And sign she did, smiling with mirth, she said, “Here is your permission slip, sadist. I made peace with the fate of a freedom fighter life long ago. Now do your worst, but know that I will take my dignity with me and deny your kind your pleasure to the end.”
Dumbstruck, all Ian could do was sit there. Where was the broken husk he was used to? In full knowledge of her crime against the State, she was able to smile, able to function. Where was the overpowering guilt? How could a criminal, someone intentionally doing evil against the State, smile? It doesn’t matter he reassured himself. It doesn’t matter anymore at least, she won’t be smiling for much longer. It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter, but for some reason Ian couldn’t quite grasp, it did. Eventually he got up and fixed his onyx coat. Realising that he was now alone, Ian walked into the kitchen. As expected, Peter was sitting alone, a hipflask of Jägermeister in one hand. After a few moments of silence, “Do you ever think about what we do, Peter?”
“This helps me not” was the slurred response. A brief, sloshing gesture with the Jägermeister, and silence once again.
“Right, sorry to keep you waiting. Let’s make this easy. You are guilty. You will sign this confession and I will move on.”
“Please. Please leave my family be.”
Another knock on the door, “Mr. Morris, have you seen Ian?”
“She was right. I am the shining night of the state.” And the dark ground rushed towards the darker night.
Trademarked, ****You industries.
A lifeless-grey square squatting in the heart of an isomorphic bureaucracy - purity to Ian - the perfect place to root out carcinogenic treason before it could spread it’s malignancy into the State. However, today felt different to Ian, five years today he has worked diligently to preserve the State. Five years of plots, plans and people he has destroyed in the name of the State. Although, his usual vim and vigor were nowhere to be seen this morning.
“Morning Bernard”, said Ian warmly as he entered the foyer.
“Ian” Bernard intoned, the embodiment of solemnity.
Ian smiled in response and, polished-black uniform shining ever so slightly, turned on his heel and followed a man being frog-marched down the nearby corridor. Reaching an otherwise nondescript door that read ‘7 – I. Curtis’, the man was released and shoved into a chair. Eyes red-rimmed and moist, he looked up at Ian in dismay.
“Right”, Ian smiled again, but not warmly, “first case today and I’m already tired, let’s make this easy. You are guilty. You will sign this confession and I will drink my coffee and move on.”
“B-b-but I didn’t do anything, I don’t know what you’re talking about… I ‘m just a librarian…I-"
Ian leaned forwards, grimacing, “You are who you are, and that is a traitor. If you sign the confession, your family might be spared this fate.”
“God help me” the man whispered.
“God?”, Ian sighed. “God has no place here.”
A knock on the door. “Mr. Curtis? Room 8, Mr. Morris stepped out for a moment. Mr. Erasmus wants you to cover his case”, drawled a voice from the door.
“I’ll be back momentarily, here’s your pen.”
Ian walked over, peered into the next room and paused in surprise. Rather than the mewling mess he was used to, there sat a young woman, stoic, resolute and proud. Today was getting interesting.
“Ah! The shining knight of the State; here to purge and persecute,” she said, voice dripping with contempt.
“Right… Let’s get this done quickly. You are guilty of treason, sign the confession in front of you and we’ll move on.”
And sign she did, smiling with mirth, she said, “Here is your permission slip, sadist. I made peace with the fate of a freedom fighter life long ago. Now do your worst, but know that I will take my dignity with me and deny your kind your pleasure to the end.”
Dumbstruck, all Ian could do was sit there. Where was the broken husk he was used to? In full knowledge of her crime against the State, she was able to smile, able to function. Where was the overpowering guilt? How could a criminal, someone intentionally doing evil against the State, smile? It doesn’t matter he reassured himself. It doesn’t matter anymore at least, she won’t be smiling for much longer. It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter, but for some reason Ian couldn’t quite grasp, it did. Eventually he got up and fixed his onyx coat. Realising that he was now alone, Ian walked into the kitchen. As expected, Peter was sitting alone, a hipflask of Jägermeister in one hand. After a few moments of silence, “Do you ever think about what we do, Peter?”
“This helps me not” was the slurred response. A brief, sloshing gesture with the Jägermeister, and silence once again.
“Right, sorry to keep you waiting. Let’s make this easy. You are guilty. You will sign this confession and I will move on.”
“Please. Please leave my family be.”
Another knock on the door, “Mr. Morris, have you seen Ian?”
“She was right. I am the shining night of the state.” And the dark ground rushed towards the darker night.
Trademarked, ****You industries.