Talking with the Prisoner

It has been a while since I've updated this. Not enough time and energy right now. But, it seems that I just can't get away from it. Here's what I wrote today.

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Arael sat on his bunk with his back against the wall. His detainment cell was quite small, as was expected on a starship. He stared across the small room into empty space. Closing his eyes was not an option. Whenever his lids shut, visions of the horrific past few hours kept replaying before him. How he wished he were anywhere but here.

He wasn’t quite sure why he was still alive. Surely, most…if not all…of his kin had been executed by now. Years ago, he had thrown in his lot with a tribe of independent contractors. Life was not going as well as expected while a citizen of Solar-Ecliptic Corporation. His arranged marriage was a wreck, causing him to dismiss two of his concubines. Three of his children had died in corporate exploration. (How proud he had been when they graduated the prestigious SEC Academy of Exploration. If he had only known….) Labor responsibilities had grown well beyond the bounds of his citizenship benefits plan. Bottom line: he was in a hole and needed to get out.

That was when he came across Skeet on a mining run. He had an offer that Arael just couldn’t refuse. And it really did pay. Quite well, really. Maybe too well. But it wasn’t the pay that ultimately took him the next step.

Working with Skeet, who turned out to be an independent contractor, brought about a certain freedom that unleashed something deep within him. That unleashing brought a new appreciation for life, the likes of which he had never before known. The experience had transformed him into something more than he could have ever become as a citizen of Solar-Ecliptic.

Of course, this did not help on the home front. His wife begged him to go to the Lesser Court and fill out “Repentance Form C-3.” That would reinstate him as a full citizen. He could “come home” with only a minor reduction in civil rights. But, emotionally, he just couldn’t bring himself to do that. He couldn’t go back to his old self. That would mean living a lie. His new self was too real. He had tasted liberation, and after one has swallowed such fruit, “going home” is no longer an option. No, his journey had taken him elsewhere.

More specifically: to this cell.

Was it worth it?

Arael allowed his eyes to close. The visions came. He quickly reopened them.

Was it worth it? Is freedom worth the price? Is becoming all I can become worth the price? I miss my family. I miss my friends. … I miss being able to sleep.

Arael focused on his breathing, hoping to fight back the tears. He had been thoroughly conditioned to belive that “grown men don’t cry.”

The door to the cell opened. A young man stepped in carrying a rubbery tray with very little food and drink on it. An armed guard stood at the door, eyes fixed on the prisoner.

Arael spoke to the young lad in the jumpsuit, “Is that all I get?” His voice shook with emotion.

The lad pushed a button on the wall and a small table slab slid out.

“It will suffice,” he replied as he put down the rubber tray. The young man avoided looking at the prisoner. Arael couldn’t stand being ignored that way when he was trying to speak with someone. And right now he really need to speak with someone, even if it was just his captors.

“Please, tell me,” he said, “what do you have in store for me?”

The young man stared at the wall as he talked, “As of yet, I do not know. I am not in the decision-making loop.”

“What about the others?” Arael turned on his bunk so that he could put his stocking feet on the floor. The armed guard likewise shifted, unfastening his holster. Arael made sure to move slowly. He had no doubt that the guard would shoot.

“They have been executed,” said the man coldly, still staring at the wall.

In frustration, with his still shaking voice, Arael pleaded, “If you are going to hold me in a cell for crimes I didn’t commit, you could at least afford me the dignity of looking at me when you speak to me. I am still a person, you know.”

The man paused. Then still staring at the wall, he spoke. “No, you are not ‘a person’. It is the nature of ‘a person’ to be in relationship. ‘Personhood’ does not exist outside of corporate life. When you abandoned society by forsaking your citizenship…even if it was with Solar-Ecliptic…you forsook your personhood. You are not part of any socio-eco-system. Therefore you are not a person; you are a thing. Actually, you are worse than a thing. At least the wall to which I speak has not abandoned its purpose in this universe. You have. That means the wall is more deserving of my attention than you are.”

With that, the man left the room and the door hissed shut.
Talking usually helped ease the pain of life.
This time, it only made things worse.
Tears flowed.