Sitting in this empty white room, it is impossible to see myself as the same human being who saw the world as a safe place. To see myself as the same man who once sat in the front row in a classroom of one of the nation's most prestigious universities learning about the government he wanted so desperately to represent. I am even unable to connect myself with the government officer who barked the order to launch a surely aimed missile on October 24, 1957. While I feel like a different man today, I stand by my actions. It is a frightening display of how far the Soviet mentality has contaminated our country when my intentions are seen as treacherous. I alone saw through the attempt at infiltration. My one regret is that my split-second decision has caused the citizens of the United States to see me as a lunatic. If someone would actually speak to me, it would be clear that there is nothing wrong with my mind. I maintain that if loving my country and taking whatever action necessary to protect the people is insane, then I deserve to be here.
I am used to not being listened to, especially when I most need to be heard. When I was dispatched to that speck of a town in Maine, October of 1957, for one. The situation would have been taken care of confidentially and efficiently if General Rogard had accepted my account when I first offered it. I should have had that memo. I should have had that approval. I should have had that promotion. I did what was necessary. I destroyed the metal monster. It would have been done much more neatly had I received the cooperation of the town and the support of the army. Their own ignorance led to that missile being fired. It would have served them right if the town had been blown off the map. I rescued a nation that did not want to be rescued and dragged its feet every step of the way.
This is what I get for my efforts. I am living in a world now where life is the same day after day, where one blurs into the next. Of course I spent a long time early in my career living like this. My life was measured by the hand of my Rolex. Just as I spend my days as a kind of oddity, so I spent my school years. I came from a larger family living without much extra money. My bright red hair was just one more reason for me to be singled out and tormented. Anything conspicuously different, children will pick out and turn it into their own amusement. I have a strong distaste for children in general, although today one in particular stands out.
To add insult to injury, once committed, I was assigned room 103. Whether they know it or not, I am well aware that 10/3 was the date Sputnik was launched. It is enough for me to be locked away here without having that constant reminder engraved on my door. Every time I look at it, I am forced to remember the world beyond my little room: outside is a United States lying unaware and unprepared. As the Soviet fanatics built up the weapons to destroy the world ten times over, Washington will do nothing, still in denial that this threat is growing more serious by the day. While I languish here behind closed doors, keeping my eyes on the sky in case that vile thing is watching us again.
Nothing is more frustrating than knowing I am powerless to help with nuclear annihilation looming. I am not about to be sentenced to death because of federal inactivity. I was the most diligent resource in Washington until they put me away, cast me off without considering the consequences. No threat was so subtle that I would fail to sense it. When I worked for the government, I refused to live within my means if I can go above and beyond. Sure as my name is Kent Mansley.