Completeness

Completeness

It was a strange feeling. Weirder than the anticipation you get right before taking the picture for the yearbook, or having your first kiss – on a scale, they are about the same. She looked at the boy with peculiar hair and different clothes about five feet from her. He was entertained with some activity, which she could not distinguish for only his back was visible, and although she had never noticed before, that boy had a grace in his movements. His hands smoothly fell on the floor, where he would choose pieces of something.

He had a strange feeling too. Awkwardly looking back, from the corner of his eyes, he could see she was watched all of his moves. What reason did she have to do so? It certainly should be his bright green t-shirt, or maybe the orange pants. No, maybe it was his blue shoes that he had been wearing everyday for the last two years. He wasn’t allowed to have any more. Somewhere in that same room was a camera. And watching that camera was some man or woman recording it in video. This video would then be taken to a third person, who would analyze it, and make notations. If that boy got a new pair of shoes, all the experiments would be ruined, and six years of work would go down the drain. He had to complete the task alone.

The girl suddenly realized he had been watching her too. She freezed, thought on what to do, and dread came over to her mind. Should she stay or should she leave? What would he do? She started to slowly walk backwards, when they boy took the courage to talk.

“Hey, want to help me?” he asked, as he motioned for her to come forward.
“What are you doing?” she asked back.
“Doing a life size puzzle”
“Of what?” she was now closer.
He thought about the question for a second, and then answered. “The whole universe”.

Of Sane and Seeing

Of Sane and Seeing

All the hundreds of cameras, all pointed to the pulpit in the front of the room, went off at the same time in a blinding wave. The men behind the pulpit didn’t move, as he spoke.

“Thank you ladies and gentleman. I am very pleased that I will successfully succeed to the giving of satisfaction to so many tonight. I do emphasize that my self-esteem is self-sufficient and self-determined. I am a serviceable man for science and the setup of a new sharing movement. I shall be remembered for the shattering days of sheets and shelves, against sickness and side-effects. I am single-minded and sinister, but never went skydiving. Slave of society, but sophisticated. It’s safe to say that I sacrificed sex, for my sacred schedule, while sculpting a new skyline. Still I am a sedentary single, with shocking shoelaces, and who likes shop-windows.

“Silly and silent, I slay sleeping-pills, in my solitude. You spectator is speechlessly sorry for my sluggish spirituality and spooky soul. I succumb to the suffering of a surgery that supposedly will help with my syndrome. Call me sadist or shameless. I am saturated with the savage of the situation.

“Finally, to scale the scenario, I, full of sorrow, unfortunately say that I can no longer see.”

And he heard gasps. And he stepped down. And he no longer cared.

The House of Mirrors

The House of Mirrors

“Gooooooood Morning. It is exactly 7 o’clock and it’s a beautiful day. Remember I am always to your right, and the way is up,” announced the radio watch. “It was twenty years ago today-“. Edward Meadow groaned at its sound, and unwillingly woke up, dusting off his red, itchy eyes. He looked to his right, and the clock was not there.

“Sergeant Pepper taught the band to play -” the clock was in the upper left-hand corner of the room, which meant the ceiling was now in the floor. “They’ve been going in and out of style-” he blinked. Immediately the whole room switched around. “But they’re guaranteed to raise a smile. So may I introduce you-” He was now looking forward to what should be the floor. If he looked up he could see the right wall the window it bears.

“The act you’ve known for all these years-” He blinked again. The music on the radio suddenly got louder. He looked right, and the clock was now there. “Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band…”

“Very well. Brain is now regulated, let us start the day,” said Edward to himself, as he walked through the door and down the hall. As all beings of this planet he was very intelligent and very unfortunate. His highly capacitated brain was very complex and intricate. A four-sided mirrored brain – the only one successfully produced nowadays. It had the same size of a common archaic brain. It was as light was a feather, and as transparent as glass. Its circuit was microscopic and therefore could only be seen by a microscope. It is installed as soon as you are born (and eventually taken out every 25 years for repair), and automatically starts taking and following orders from all the other limbs. It correctly executes all tasks, except for the ones sent by the eye.

The four-sided mirrored brain recognizes blinking as a command to switch the side being used to process information. As a result, the image presented through your vision is taken care by a different side every time you blink, and since they are all mirrored, the image that comes back to you can be distorted. It feels as if you have a mirror house in your own head.

Edward resumed his shower, making a mental note as not to blink. Not that blinking as against the law, it was just inappropriate. Therefore, as all humans, he also had a really tired looks, constantly lost concentration and his eyes were very red. In fact, except for newborns, which always slept, all other barely close their eyes, afraid that things might suddenly change.

Nothing really changed. It was only their brain switching to a different mirrored-side. The ceiling was still the ceiling and the clock had always been at his right. Up is still up, and down is still down. All sides except for left – for left no longer existed – were still in the same place.

He went to his kitchen, and turned the television set in the living room. The news was about another no-blinking record breaking. Although they still blinked from time to time, many preferred to go days, sometimes months trying not to. The most successful would set a new record. Not that it mattered; a new one was set every other week. Edward opened the fridge. The cold air rushed through his face and brought a sense of comfort. It then brought tears to his eyes. He rapidly looked for milk and closed it. He wasn’t really thirsty, and just drank half of a cup on impulse. It was time to go to work. Careful as not to blink he put his goggles on – it was a windy day – and started for the door. He looked to his right and saw the long hill that went up. Right was the side, up was the way. Edward was a teacher for blind people – or as he called them… the lucky ones. He started going uphill. People always went uphill. It was the only way of getting back on track on the case of an accidental blink. As the houses went by, Edward noted that the usual silence had been broken by the wheels of a car. He turned around, but the sun hurt his vision. By mistake he let go of his will and blinked. The world swirled around. The car was now close. He blinked again. The world swirled around a bit more.

He blinked.

The world swirled

Blink.

Swirl.

Blink.

And the order was back. And the car was too close. And something hit him in the head.

Blink.

And the world just went blind.

* * *

“Edward Meadow. Number 325978, please step forward.” As he did so, several men – all wearing bright white clothes – came to view. One of them had a white cup in one hand and a blue pill in the other.

“Take it,” he said. Edward did. He drank the water from the cup without complain. It wouldn’t do any good. He gave it back and watched as another man was being called. It was the first of many roll calls of the day.

For the last month or so – thought Edward, even though he had been there for as nearly as three months – roll calls, and pills had been his life. Sometimes he was taken to a room full of mirrors, where he was told to close his eyes and open them again, every 10 seconds. Every time that happened, his brain would fuse out, and go dark. He would wake up in the next day, with his name being called. He hated the place. All walls were either bright white or silver. The lights were never shut down, not even at night. Not that he knew what time it was. No one knew. There was little there to know.

And this is what he didn’t know. That place was the Experiments Section of the Brainia Enterprise – the government funded corporation which built the four-sided mirrored brains. Edward and the others were just human guinea pigs, testing, without knowledge, the corporation’s new experiments. They were not allowed to blink in any occasions, unless they were told to do so. They could not talk; they could not look at other people’s eyes.

Today was October 15, 2028. It was early in the morning, and things were about to change for Mr. Meadow. He was called up again. As Edward stood up, he was blind-folded from behind, and by reflexes his eyes immediately closed. He was taken down some way – which he will never get to walk again – and put in a room. He was told to lie back, and while doing so, he felt a sharp pain on his arms. In a matter of seconds his brain shut down, and he heard no more.

In a matter of seconds his brain restarted.

His blind fold was taken away. Edward still had his eyes closed, afraid of what was about to take place.

“Edward Meadow, open your eyes.”

He didn’t

“Edward Meadow, open your eyes.”

He did. And as he did, the air he had in his lungs left his body. He was looking to himself in a mirror. He looked even older than before. He blinked once, and to his surprise he could see perfectly. He blinked again, and the world was motionless. Tears of joys ran down his cheeks.

As you can guess Edward was the first one in a series of test for new brains. These brains were, of course, two sided, and not mirrored. They were not perfect though. Once in, it could not be replaced or repaired. It was also a lot smaller, which meant some features had to be let go of.

Edward jumped up and down the house of mirrors, happy that he could now blink.

Blink.

The world didn’t swirl.

Blink.

The world didn’t move

Blink.

The world was in place.

Blink.

The world was gone.

He fell to the floor, desperate. “What happened to me?”

“It seems that you have gone blind.”

“Why?”

“The new brain we put in your head. It is not equipped with vision.”

“What? A new brain?”

“Yes, a prototype. It is organic”

“Take it out.”

“I can’t. No one can. It is permanently fixated-”

But Edward never heard what was said. Blind, he ran from side to side, banging at all the mirror, which all break. He felt pain, but didn’t care. He felt cold, but didn’t care. He just ran as fast as he could, and on the darkness of his own world, he was hit.

* * *

“Gooooooooood Morning. It is 7 o’clock, and it’s a beautiful day. Remember I am always to your right and the way is up. In the town where I was born.-” Edward Meadow groaned to the music. He opened his eyes, but nothing changed. “Lived a man who sailed to sea-”

He trusted his hand to the right and pressed a button. The TV came to life. Coincidently at that same time, all four-sided mirrored brains, one by one, went blank. “And he told us of his life.” One by one all of those who had such brains (which consisted of everybody minus Edward) started to blink without stopping. “In the land of submarine-“

And the world was now between blinking silence and the blind Edward Meadow, the last of the lucky ones.

Up, Up and Away

Meu projeto de Inglês. A idéia era escrever uma história pessoal, onde a eu teria que descrever um pouco do que eu sentia no momento. Ai vai

“Up, Up and Away”

The calendar marked August 5th. I woke to the dim light that came from outside. The sky was gray and the weather cold; such a beautiful winter day. I looked around and saw both my sisters, still asleep. Their mattresses were good three feet from me, but I could hear their deep breaths. They were the only sound in the place. That empty furniture-less, beige room.

I got up slowly as not to wake them up. Looking at the long hall that separated the living room and the bedrooms, I could see that my parent’s door was still closed. I walked towards the kitchen at the other side. There was still a mahogany table in the center (with some food on it), while the rest had been sold. Funny how I could not remember how big it looked, all empty. I stopped for a moment, my feet touching the cold, white-tiled floor. Someone had opened a door. It was my dad, who had come to wake the house. We had a place to go. A barbecue.

When I finally checked the clock, the small hand lay motionless at ten; the big one marked 47. By eleven we were all ready and set to go. My relatives and my parent’s long time friends were already there. We arrived in no time, and, as much as I tried to enjoy that day, there was always the sensation that it would also, be over in no time. Yet I refused to accept that it actually would. Time played with me; we had to go. “Good-bye” here, “Someday we’ll see each other again,” plus tears, and tears, and more tears. I couldn’t say goodbye to anyone. I didn’t. Instead, I asked to stay longer. They left to get ready, leaving me with the rest of my family. It was night; the sky had been dark for more than an hour already. Frightful. I looked at the wet, red eyes, my aunt had, then sitting down, I – for the first time in months – cried.

It took my aunt’s entire strength to convince me not to quit. I wept. I was scared. I looked around and some people were still emotional. My cousin sat beside me; he was like my brother. How could I leave this? How dared I, say goodbye to my life? This change we had ahead wasn’t necessary, it was a choice. “What a stupid choice,” I thought, while I cried for a good hour. Several of my parent’s friends – and mine – came and talked to me. It made me feel a bit better, but not fully. So many that cared about me. I missed someone; my aunt Sandra, who was sick. We never said farewell in person; it would only be weeks later that I would finally talk with her… over the phone.

I felt helpless at that moment, defeated. It soon was over, and I was taken home. My parents had everything ready when I got there, at about 9pm. In a blink, we were all off to bed. What a cold night. Never had I felt so miserable. Never.

* * *

It was now the 6th, the clock stopped at 2:30. My dad came once again to wake the house; I had not slept well. The cab would arrive soon, and would take us to the airport. 3:00. The cab arrived in a sudden. I had part of the luggage with me, while we walked downstairs. Once again time had played with me. All were comfortable in the car; my parents with my sisters in the back; I sat in the passenger seat. As the car slowly started to move, I looked at the building – which I called home – for the last time. Goodbye. The driver did not talk. The world held its breath, while my family slept a little. I couldn’t close my eyes. The night was still too cold.

* * *

At about 4:30 we had arrived at the International Airport of Guarulhos. It was now about three hours before the plane actually took off, but who can trust airports these days? My relatives promised to be there with us until it was time. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Tick. Tock. The clock now faster then ever. 7:00. Something had happened on the way, and they were late. My heart sank with the possibility that they would never come; and with the anguish, I waited more. It was not until 20 minutes before we had to go that they finally arrived. It cheered me a bit. Unfortunately 20 minutes wasn’t enough. More hugs, more goodbyes, but no tears. I was dried out, besides it was too late. We finally walked into the corridor. I looked back though, while my feet walked me forward.

The plane took off at about eight. I was lucky enough to sit by a window. Brazil, my country, my life, became smaller with every second. It stayed in place, while I flew to a new place. 11 hours later I would be over Miami.

Someone once told me that life is negative. Well, it isn’t if you are looking at it from up there. Just when I was sad the most, life threw at me such a beautiful view, welcoming me to a new phase. “Hello America,” I finally thought. “Nice to meet you, too.”

Beautiful Mess

I felt so angry. I couldn’t stop myself. She just yelled and complained lately. She had run over my dog, yesterday. My poor dog had never hurt anyone, but she just laughed. Where was the beautiful mess I fell in love with? People don’t change like that; I was just too blind to see the truth. I was written out on her face. She was as though a politician… so many promises. If we were I wouldn’t be so depressed, I would have everything. She was so right. I’m not depressed; she would kill me if I was. I have everything… that would make someone cry.

I demanded an answer from her. Know what she did? She spit on him. “I’m the only thing you need,” she said. A tear fell from my right eye. I would’ve been a dark one if water had any color. My brain couldn’t process the information. I had made the decision before it was over. I saw the hammer, and I looked at my dog. And I hit her. In my head I heard a scream, someone telling me to stop. I did. I looked at her unconscious on the floor. I could control…

“Sir, I get it,” said the lady as I came back. “She was a psycho, harmful. You couldn’t control yourself, which makes more of a crime of passion. But the first blow didn’t kill her, did it? You hit her again. That’s first degree.”

..myself. Then I thought “Wow, I finally have my life back”. And you know what? I had a rush through my system that told me to go on. I hit her again, as hard as I could…

“I can certainly tell you that you won’t ever have your life back, sir. You are under arrest for the murder of Heather Anadarko. I’d get a good lawyer, sir.”

…and her words came back to me. “If we were, if we were…,” such small words, such big questions…

“I don’t need a lawyer,” I answered. “And believe me; I do have my life back.”

…I wrapped her up in an old blanket and put her body close to a sewer drain. Perfect resting place I thought. I kept thinking about the if’s she ever told. How her live was never about being objective. How she was always right, because she was always in doubt. What if we really were? No… I told myself. We finally are. She dead. Me alive. That’s how we are.

Blog desatualizado…

Ahem, ahem. Para os três leitores do blog (counting me)

Bom, esses ultimos dias foram terríveis. Eu tenho trabalhado muito, sem tempo de fazer nada. Por isso meu blog anda desatualizado. Eu tenho algumas idéias, mas no momento eu quero terminar de escrever o capítulo da minha fic que eu comecei. Eu também decidi que vou escrever pedaços de cenas conforme eu tenho idéias e depois juntar-las. Eu acho que assim eu vou escrever mais.

Vamos ver se essa semana eu posto algo interessante. Veremos.

Driving Lessons

She drinks. He rides. Together it’s a trip of a lifetime

AMAZING! Eu simplesmente não sei qual filme eu gostei mais, mas por enquanto Driving Lessons está vencendo. Enquanto December Boys apela para um lado mais emocional e usa o lado católico da fé – assista – Driving Lessons é uma crítica à hipocrisia religiosa. O filme começa com Ben (Rupert Grint) entregando comida à idosos pela vizinhança – provavelmente algo a sua mãe o obrigou a fazer. É então que somos apresentados à mãe (Laura Linney). De cara nós podemos perceber que ela é diferente.

Super religiosa, Laura (que também é o nome da personagem) se mostra também controladora. Impulsivamente ela precisa estar no controle da situação o tempo todo. Ela faz, o que em inglês seria chamado de Pareting by guilt – ela sempre se coloca como vitima de uma situação, assim Ben sempre atende os desejos dela. Já o pai de Ben é um pastor. Ele é menos fanático e parece entender o garoto, que – como disse minha amiga Mione – é a pessoa mais pessimista do mundo. Ele não é feliz. Ele não sabe o que é felicidade. Ele adora poesias e quando finalmente cria coragem para recitar um para um menina da Igreja na qual ele tem uma paixão, ela o acha estranho (no final ele da a volta). Todo e qualquer aspecto de sua vida foi defino por sua mãe. Ele não tem vida…

…até conhecer Dame Evie Walton (Julie Walters). Maravilhosa. Julie Walter foi feita para o papel. Ela é a alma e o espírito do filme. Com ela você ri, chora, sente pena, fica louco e pensa em sua própria vida. Evie faz Ben ir para a viagem de sua vida, onde ele começa a beber, xingar (lot’s of shits and fuck offs) e até perder a   virgindade.

Porém, o que realmente pega é o final inesperado. Ali, logo ali no final você entende o que Jeremy Brook quis dizer. A hipocrisia religiosa. O fato de pessoas usarem o nome de Deus em vão, a ação de justificar ações com o nome de Deus. O fato de Deus ser responsável por tudo e todos.

Aliás… Lições de Vida é o nome perfeito para o filme em português. Não uma lição de moral, porque Evie não tem moral alguma… é mais um tapa na cara.

EU MAIS QUE RECOMENDO.

Pearl Jam – Black

Hey…oooh…
Sheets of empty canvas, untouched sheets of clay
Were laid spread out before me as her body once did
All five horizons revolved around her soul
As the earth to the sun
Now the air I’ve tasted and breathed has taken a turn
Ooh, and all I taught her was everything
Ooh, I know she gave me all that she wore
And now my bitter hands chafe beneath the clouds
Of what was everything?
Oh, the pictures have all been washed in black, tattooed everything…

I take a walk outside
I’m surrounded by some kids at play
I can feel their laughter, so why do I sear
Oh, and twisted thoughts that spin round my head
I’m spinning, oh, I’m spinning
How quick the sun can drop away
And now my bitter hands cradle broken glass
Of what was everything
All the pictures have all been washed in black, tattooed everything…

All the love gone bad turned my world to black
Tattooed all I see, all that I am, all I will be…yeah…
Uh huh…uh huh…ooh…

I know someday you’ll have a beautiful life, I know you’ll be a star
In somebody else’s sky, but why, why, why
Can’t it be, can’t it be mine

LUDACRIS – RUNAWAY LOVE

[Hook - Mary J. Blige]
Runaway love
Runaway love
Runaway love
Runaway love
Runaway love
Runaway love
Runaway love
Runaway love

[Verse 1]
Now little lisa is only 9 years old
Shes tryin to figure out why the world is so cold
Why shes all all alone and they never met her family
Mamas always gone and she never met her daddy
Part of her is missin and nobody will listenin
Mama is on drugs gettin high up in the kitchen
Bringin home men at different hours of the night
Startin with laughs–usually endin in a fight
Sneak into her room while her mamas knocked out
Tryin to have his way and little lisa says ‘ouch’
She tries to resist but then all he does is beat her
Tries to tell her mom but her mama don’t believe her
Lisa is stuck up in the world on her own
Forced to think that hell is a place called home
Nothin else to do but some get some clothes and pack
She says shes bout to run away and never come back.

[Hook]
Runaway love
Runaway love
Runaway love
Runaway love
Runaway love
Runaway love
Runaway love
Runaway love

[Verse 2]
Little nicole is only 10 years old
Shes steady tryin to figure why the world is so cold
Why shes not pretty and nobody seems to like her
Alcoholic step dad always wanna strike her
[ Runaway Love lyrics found on http://www.completealbumlyrics.com ]
Yells and abuses, leaves her with some bruises

Teachers ask questions she makin up excuses
Bleedin on the inside, cryin on the out
Its only one girl really knows what she about
Her name is lil stacy and they become friends
Promise that they always be tight til the end
Until one day lil stacy gets shot
A drive by bullet went stray up on her block
Now nicole stuck up in the world on her own
Forced to think that hell is a place called home
Nothin else to do but some get some clothes and pack
She says shes bout to run away and never come back.

[Hook]
Runaway love
Runaway love
Runaway love
Runaway love
Runaway love
Runaway love
Runaway love
Runaway love

[Verse 3]
Little erica is eleven years old
Shes steady tryin to figure why the world is so cold
So she pops x to get rid of all the pain
Cause shes havin sex with a boy whos sixteen
Emotions run deep and she thinks shes in love
So theres no protection hes usin no glove
Never thinkin bout the consequences of her actions
Livin for today and not tomorrows satisfaction
The days go by and her belly gets big
The father bails out he aint ready for a kid
Knowin her mama will blow it all outta proportion
Plus she lives poor so no money for abortion
Erica is stuck up in the world on her own
Forced to think that hell is a place called home
Nothin else to do but get her clothes and pack
She say shes about to run away and never come back.

[Hook]
Runaway love [repeats til end]

THE LIES AGREED UPON.

Thanks Diogo in his DimEcaverna for the tip.

THE LIES AGREED UPON.

“Thank you, sir. Your new identification card will arrive soon”. I hang up the phone as I thought of all the other calls and requests that had to be made. 8:24. Must hurry. Job. I got up to take a shower. My boss would know my new identification by now. My badge remade, my desk switched, and all the papers I had ever signed would be replaced. Got out, dressed up, and looked out the window. The gigantic tower of the Republic cast a shadow over the city, and blocked my sun. 8:45. Must hurry. Job.

I walked out, pressing my thumb in the pad beside the door, automatically sealing the house. The car was by the front porch. An 1990 Chevrolet Camaro. It was 32 years old, but to me it worked as though it was new. 8:49. Must hurry. Putting the small black suitcase in the passenger’s seat, I drove. The Republic was not far, and the building – or the torso as I called – was not hard to find. Still, no one ever remembered its street. People never took directions nowadays. It was pointless. They would be relabeled. They always were. 8:56. Finally arrived.

Passing through the security system, they checked my saliva. As soon as the 10-seconds-process was complete the guard let me pass. “Good morning, Mr. Imbecile”. Just yesterday I had been Mr. Baldy, but I guess that being Imbecile was now more cared about than being bald. Stopping at the front desk, Mrs. Charming gave me my new badge. I took the elevator. 9:00. I was at my desk. My new desk. It had my new label on it. I looked at my computer, and saw the post-it note on the screen. Sitting down, I took the small yellow paper off my monitor and read it.

RL – book on desk

There was a book on my desk. Apparently the author of “The green house of the hilltop” had been cheated on by his wife. His whole image of perfection had been blown. He was now Mr. Fraud. My task was simple. Re-label his name on the cover and inside the book, and destroy the old version. An order was being released to all citizens to giver their copies back. The new relabeled one would be given in return. They Republic thought people would not notice. We all knew it. We all lived it.

I was tired. My whole life I have had the worst labels. When I was born I was Dysfunction (I had been born prematurely). When I first went to school I had become Lame. In High School I was Faggot. Until yesterday I was Bald; now I’m Imbecile. And they were right. I am as Imbecile as one could be. Imbecile enough to be slave of those labels. Right now I’m changing someone’s life work. Re-labeling it. Denigrating it. I became what I loathe. Maybe my next label is Kiss-ass. The Republic made my life miserable too long. Enough. 9:20. The book is relabeled. The other burned. I myself have a copy. I’ll keep it.

The day goes by. More labels to change. Not names, not titles. Labels. Like those white ones you use to identify the parts of a school binder, and get tore and dirty with time. Those you can easily replace. That’s all we have, all we live for, or live of. Labels define ourselves, our friends, our lovers, our body, and even – in some cases – our sexual preference. No girl wanted me in High School. Even though I liked them, they didn’t like faggots. Mind is pointless. Still is the only place where I am my label-less me. My mind has not agreed upon the lies that are my life. God… is humanity lost? Even God has been relabeled. He is now Commander. 6:02. They are wrong. To me God was God, and Mr. Fraud was still Mr Perfection. And I… I was Mr. Free. 6:03. Time to go.

In the way back I turned on the radio. All the books had to be turned in by now. Some of my co-workers went home earlier on to get their copies. I kept mine. 6:11. Home sweet home. I opened the mail box. My new documents had arrived. Mr. Imbecile here had now four hours to return the old ones; they worked over night. I had dinner alone, always alone. The house smelled of pity. 7:36. went to bed earlier.

BAM! 11:17. I heard the noise. Four armed man kicked my door and circled me. “Mr. Imbecile. You did not return your copy of “The green house of the hilltop.”

“No. I kept my copy. I like it better without being relabeled.”

“Sir, do you understand this is a capital crime?”

“A crime? What crime is in wanting the truth,” a man entered the room. That face was known to me. Mr. Head, a powerful figure within the Republic.

“Mr. Imbecile. I will give you a chance. Just give us you book and you can get any label you want,” the offer was promising, but I had made up my mind. I didn’t answer. Instead, I closed my eyes and lay down back in the bed.

“Very well. You shall get a new label. Brainless,” he motioned and gave the command.

They shot. The final lies that were my life had been agreed by all but one… my mind. 11:25. I was the Brainless Mr. Free.