"Choice, Emmanuel, is the greatest burden of mankind. It is choice that destroys mankind. Choices carry with them the lethal Consequence. The Consequence is the Enemy of the People. It is the Oppressor. It shows no remorse. It shows no discrimination: it attacks whites, blacks, men, women, and children. It has no bounds. It is from choice that humans derive Independence. Independence is the second Enemy of the People. For was it not for Independence that so much blood was shed? For is it not for Independence that people will fight tooth and nail for? We have eliminated choice. We have eliminated the People's Oppressor. By destroying one's right to choose, we have broken the chains of oppression that bound the People to the confines of thought. Do you understand?"
The room was cold, yet Emmanuel was drenched in perspiration. The room was dimly lit, yet he only saw darkness. Strapped to the chair, he had been interrogated for the unspeakable crime of treachery, betrayal to the People. Strapped to the chair, he was rendered immobile. Strapped to the chair, he was free. Confinement was freedom. Confinement was what kept you away from choices, which would surely enslave you. Restrictions were freedom. Restrictions freed you from choice. Restrictions kept you away from choice. Choice would only corrupt and defile you. Choice would only destroy you and the Cause. To choose was to oppress, to oppress was to free. Crime, which would warrant the utilization of choice, would not and could not be tolerated, ever.
Each month, the government would distribute an equally scant number of coupons to its citizens to spent on two things: tax to the government (in gratitude of the government's magnificent generosity) and the rest would be spent on goods and services that were tightly regulated by the government officials. Half of your paycheck went to taxes; the other half was to be spent freely on any good or service that the government provided. A surplus of coupons was Greed, and Greed was the third Enemy of the People. Greed warranted choice, which in effect, warranted subsequent Consequences. Greed required Independence of the individual, and thus it could be said that all three enemies were mutually linked to one another. Thus it is to be said that any savings hoarded by an individual would be an abominable crime of great measure. And of this abomination, Emmanuel was charged guilty.
The interrogator was a man of perhaps forty or fifty, although three weeks of constant torture left Emmanuel's vision impaired (therefore making it difficult to distinguish the man's age). He paced the room back and forth, back and forth, staring keenly at Emmanuel as fired question after question. Occasionally, he would lash Emmanuel if he wasn't paying attention to the questions, or if he wasn't answering them correctly. If he was blatantly lying, however, the punishment was much, much worse.
They called it the Bastion of Truth, although the origins of this name are shaky, besides the fact that it was used to reprimand speakers of the lie. You were strapped to a rough table on your back, so as your head could not move at all, and kept there for several hours, days, weeks, or months, as water steadily and consistently dripped onto your forehead driving you to insanity. The Chinese had perfected this method eons ago and had used it effectively to their advantage. While this was not the only torture offered at the Bastion of Truth, it was the most commonly used. One would be perplexed as to how such a trivial thing such as dripping water could drive a man to madness. But such an annoyance grows with time, until it becomes something larger that would drive a man insane. The sound of dripping water was like the sound of the screeching Harpies. The never-ending drip-drop was unbearable and could lead to the total breakdown of the one's psychological mentality. It was hell to them. The other methods of torture at the Bastion were numerous, although thumbscrews and the confinement to a coffin or other small, cramped, dark places (usually applied to claustrophobics) for hours upon hours were also commonly used as a means of torture.
"Why the hell do you even bother?" blurted out Emmanuel.
"To find out why you did what you did. And when we know why, we can stop it," simply answered the interrogator.
"You already know why," said Emmanuel. "Isn't it obvious? I was in dire need of more money."
"The reasons on the surface are almost always the same, Mr. Newman, what we are interested in stopping are the emotions that fuel them. We extract this information from everyone. We get the same reasons on multiple accounts. But then, there are isolated cases in which we find that one's reason to commit treachery was unorthodox and thus far undocumented. We document it and then destroy the new threat. It is an airtight method to ensure that any method of treachery possibly attainable is squashed."
"Fuck you," muttered Emmanuel.
"Ah," noted the old man, "the use of the curse word. It's nearly been eliminated from society. Banned, yes. Carefully watched out for, yes. Cursing always expression. Expression leads to Independence. Independence leads to eventual choice, which leads to the Consequence."
"I'm aware of such measures, you bastard," said Emmanuel, glaring into the old man's eyes.
"You see, Mr. Newman, there have been innumerable measures and projects that the government has embarked upon to ensure that its people are protected from choice. You've entrusted us with such responsibility, and in turn, we've decided that these practices are not in the best interest of the People. For example, family. Family, today, merely just exists. The bonds formed between mother and child, father and son, husband and wife, are beacons of love. Now, you know why love is evil, right?"
"Because 'Love is the beast that drives human beings to kill, murder, slander, and cheat,'" Emmanuel mimicked one of the many propaganda slogans.
"Exactly. If we destroy love, then we can destroy bonds of loyalty among family. Loyalty is only due to the government, which provides for you. Loyalty to one's parent, for instance, could lead to treachery and rebellion against the generous government. One must allow submit their loyalty to the government, for it is the eternal beacon of all that is good and well in this world. You cannot be trusted to choose. You cannot be trusted to love. You cannot be trusted to handle money as you so see fit. All responsibilities belong to the state and to the state only. The state is infallible."
"Why is the state infallible? Why?"
"Because the state is omnipotent. The state controls and regulates every aspect of your life. If we control all, how could we possibly be found faulty?" The interrogator cleared his throat. "But I have been slightly derailed from the subject at hand. A mere insight to the background of the subject was required, though, for us to continue our friendly chat."
"I refuse to speak," Emmanuel weakly uttered, before he coughed.
"Hah. Mr. Newman, your will is weak and supple. You've been subject to weeks of physical and psychological torture in advance before we've had our nice chat today. Even so, we've only just scratched the surface. You will speak. Death is not an option. Refusal is not an option. There are no options, only instructions."
These were the tactics of the government. You would be constantly tortured and even interrogated for irrelevant crimes to break your will before you were subject to the real interrogation. All previous pain was merely a precursor to the final frontier, where you were finally subjected to the punishment for treachery (all crimes were treachery, just different flavors), and then, finally, silently killed without anyone knowing. Sometimes, it would take weeks to break one's will. Sometimes it would take simply a few days. Sometimes, though rare, it would take multiple months. However, a three-week span was the most common breaking point for anyone.
The man paced the floor again, back and forth… back and forth, staring directly into Emmanuel's green eyes, as if he was trying to decipher what he was thinking from merely his stare. Emmanuel panted, and, groaned a bit as he fidgeted slightly in his chair. The pain inflicted from previous torture was still a frightening reminder of what was still to come. At this time, Emmanuel's eyes came into direct contact with the man's face. He was a man of war, surely, as his faced was deeply scarred, past lacerations lacing his grisly face. Perhaps he had been hit with bullet fragments. Perhaps he was caught in the way of a grenade explosion. Perhaps both. The man caught notice of Emmanuel's stare quickly, and grinned.
"I was wounded during the war about ten years ago. Damn bastard belatedly threw his grenade and I was caught in the crossfire and left to writhe about in the trench while they all chose to let me die. Had it not been for sheer luck, I would have perished that very day. A telltale example of the evils of Consequence and its parent, choice," he said.
"But, wasn't it your choice to persevere? Couldn't have simply put an end to the pain?" asked Emmanuel inquisitively.
"No, it was not. It simply was," routinely answered the man.
"I believe it was choice."
"It was not!" the man said, raising his voice and pounding his fist onto the nearby table. "It simply was. I made no choice. I survived involuntarily. It was the will of nature that saved me from death."
"Do you believe in god?"
"No, no I don't. Religion only finds a way to destroy people."
"But it also finds a way to give hope," Emmanuel shot back.
"False hope."
"Is it? How do you define 'false hope,' nowadays?"
"That's enough. I'm interrogating you. You're not interrogating me," said the man, abruptly cutting off the conversational topic. "Back on the subject: tell me, now think deeply, why you felt it necessary to commit treachery? Do you hate the government? Do you hate its generosity? Obviously if you betrayed it, you must."
"No, I—"
"So what do you hate? Obviously something drove you to hate the government in order to steal from it," he interrupted.
"But, it gave me the mon—"
"So you are greedy? Do you know what a 'C.E.O.' is, Mr. Newman?" he interrupted again sharply.
"Yes," mumbled Emmanuel. "He is a greedy capitalist who wishes to enslave the People. He pays them very little and hoards all the profits to himself instead of fairly distributing all of his wealth to the common people."
"Exactly. Now, can you explain the similarities between yourself and the C.E.O.?" said the man, leaning against the table. Then, a soft smirk swept across his face as he anticipated the next routine answer.
"None. He hoards the money for no reason other than to embellish himself. I hoarded it to survive," unexpectedly answered Emmanuel.
"No!" bellowed the interrogator, as he pounded the table indignantly. "That is not a valid response. Try again," he continued as proceeded to bludgeon Emmanuel across the face three times with a truncheon.
"He is motivated by Greed. I am motivated by Greed. We are Greed. We hate the People," whimpered Emmanuel.
"Good. Now why do you hate the People? Speak only the truth."
"Because," said Emmanuel, as he reached deep into the back of his mind, "freedom and liberty are much more important. Choice is freedom, because choice is the free will to live your own life as you so please. Choice is the freedom to decide on your own terms. Choice is the freedom to take responsibility and grow as a human being. That is freedom. It was a statement against your entire regime!" cried Emmanuel, building up in momentum as spoke.
"Very good," said the man. "A typical response. But is there more? We shall find out." He pressed a red button on the wall, which emitted a soft, buzzing noise. The doors slid open and two guards, dressed in black, entered the room. "Take him to his cell. Tomorrow we continue. Increase his rations doubly," said the man, signaling to the guards.
Suddenly, Emmanuel felt a rush of joy as the sweet words "increase his rations doubly" entered his ears. Rations were scanty and barely sufficient. To increase one's rations was a great privilege, especially in this hellhole. But why were they doing this? mulled Emmanuel. Is it because of what I said? Shall I continue to give them what they want? Will they reward me? It was quite clear: they were treating him to such subtleties to entice him. The temptation to embellish one's dwelling and food was irresistible, and it all was because he had told them what they wanted to hear. If he continued such, the rewards would pour in and his lifestyle would become more and more lavish.
The night passed and Emmanuel was treated to a smattering of chicken with clumpy gravy, a moldy piece of bread, and a small side dish of greening mashed potatoes. Though it was far from healthy, albeit sufficient, it was quite appreciated compared to the previous serving of rotten bread and/or eggs. The next day, he was awakened by a sharp ringing of the bell, followed by the sliding open of his door. Two different guards entered, and escorted him back to the interrogation room. The man was waiting there for him, staring blankly at the wall. He slowly turned his head, after noticing that Emmanuel had entered the room.
"Mr. Newman, Emmanuel, glad to see you again. We have much to discuss today," he said. He picked up a short notepad and a black pen, while examining the scribbling written onto the pad. He sat down and motioned to Emmanuel to sit down on the seat across from him. After nodding several times he began, "Question 1: do you hate the government?"
"Yes."
He jotted down notes.
"Question 2: Do you hate our leader?"
"To a certain extent."
"That is not a sufficient answer."
"I hate him."
He jotted down notes.
"Question 3: Do you hate the generosity of the government?"
"No."
"But doesn't that contradict your answer to Question 1?"
"No."
"Elaborate."
"I dislike the way the government acts in respect to the individual's right to choose. Their right to choose how to spend their money, how to spend their time, and whom they interact with."
He jotted down notes. "That is all."
"But didn't you say that we had much to discuss," asked a puzzled Emmanuel.
"We did discuss much. Goodbye," he said, turning and leaving the room. The two guards waiting at the door approached Emmanuel. "Your session is complete. You may proceed to beat him until he admits."
"Admits wh—" he was interrupted by the striking against his back. They swung again. And again. And again. And again. Again, the pain shot through his nerves as the weapons beat his flesh, cutting his skin. What was he to admit to? Another blow to the head. What was it that the man wanted? A blow to the testicles. What is it? A blow to nose, and loud cracking noise. Blood trickled down his lip. What is it? He could barely stand now, and was hunched over in pain, coughing up blood. "I ADMIT IT!" he bawled, before another blow struck his temple, knocking him onto his stomach.
Though the voices seemed slurred and the world around him was blurry, he could make out the several words that were being uttered: "You …. That… killed… without… due… and that you are… full-fledged loyalty… of death."
Emmanuel nodded weakly to whatever charges. The two guards, one of whom was holding a piece of paper, then proceeded to holster their pistols and fire two bullets each into Emmanuel's skull, splattering blood all over the wall. They both nodded again and dragged the body from the room, blood staining the tiled floor.
He had been charged with: "a treasonous act of violence that had outright killed and beaten to death the principles of the government. He agreed to death without full due process of law and he was completely competent. He now pledged full-fledged loyalty to the government and in remorse, will accept the penalty of death." The ordeal was over, and another traitor had been extinguished.