I leaned against the dirty grey wall of the holding cell, sitting, my feet stretched out in front of me on the floor. It was a square room. Benches were attached to the wall, all of them occupied by sleeping men. The floor sloped down to a central drain. The cell was made for drunks, but they weren`t using it for that now. I heard commotion in the hallway outside. The cell door opened with a clank, and a large officer brought another man into the room. When the officer let go of the man, he hunched his shoulders as if he was trying to get a fly to get off of him.
"You won`t win," the man said. The officer laughed and turned to leave. He closed the heavy metal door behind him and locked it.
The man looked around for anybody in the room that was awake. I tried to avoid eye contact. Too late, we connected. The man made his way over and sat down on the floor next to me.
"Chris Thompson," he said, extending his hand. I shook it reluctantly.
"Sean McCain," I said. I tried to avoid sounding open to conversation.
"What are you in for?"
"Hate speech. Should be out soon, though. They are just trying to slap me on the wrist a little bit." I hoped that was true.
Chris looked at me and smiled.
"Think so?"
"Of course. I was just playing devil`s advocate. They will realize that." I looked at Chris to gauge his reaction. He shook his head and laughed.
I just looked straight ahead and didn`t say anything. Chris looked down. He was trembling slightly. His surly manner was melting away, and I could see the helpless feeling seep into him. "Don`t get involved," I told myself, but I knew that wasn`t going to fly.
"So why are youhere?" I asked.
"I told my class about the Bill of Rights."
"You`re a teacher?"
Chris laughed. "I think the operative word now is `was`."
"I thought most of you went along with the new way of thinking," I said.
"I did. For a long time."
"What caused you to change?"
"All of the people that I used to have political arguments with have disappeared."
Oh, shit, I thought. He`s one of those. I can`t be talking to this guy. I got up, and walked to the door, looking out the small slit of a window. When I turned back into the room, I saw him walking over to me. Shit.
"I don`t want to talk to you," I said.
"Why?"
"Because you are just going to tell me a bunch of crap about how our government exterminates people who won`t go along. Baloney, that`s just rebel propaganda. Your friends probably left to join the racist rebellion."
"God, I hope so," said Chris.
"That`s treason. As I said, I don`t want to talk to you."
"Oh, you think that the walls have ears?" He laughed. "Not in here. They don`t care. We`re done. Should have worried about that when you were outside."
"What rubbish."
"How long has it been since you`ve seen a trial by jury?"
"There`s a war on," I said, trying to reason with this guy.
"It`s not a war. It`s an uprising."
I just sighed and walked back over to where I was sitting. Chris followed me over and sat down next to me again.
"You don`t take a hint, do you, asshole?" I said.
"No. What kind of hate speech did you do?"
"I don`t want to talk about it. I want my job waiting for me when I get out of here. If I engage with you, they might hold it against me."
"What kind of job do you have?"
I looked at him, knowing what kind of reactionI`d get. I was starting to get angry and could feel my face flushing.
"I`m a journalist," I said.
Chris looked up at the ceiling and let out a big belly laugh. Then he looked over at me, shook his head, and laughed some more.
"So let me guess. You pointed out some of the fairness code. That isn`t so fair, is it?" He laughed some more.
Now I was getting really mad.
"Don`t try to make this out to be bigger than it is. It wasn`t a big deal."
"Well, being an esteemed member of the 5th Estate, what did you write?"
"I merely pointed out that Islam has many of the same failings that white male dominated society had, and that it would need to be addressed in the same way eventually."
"Really? I commend you, sir."
I just stared at him. I couldn`t think of a good reply. I felt tired. I just wanted to doze off and not talk to this guy anymore. The silence didn`t last long.
"You guys haven`t figured out, even now, that some groups are more equal than others. Why?"
"I told you I didn`t want to talk about this." I turned my body away from him.
"No, you aren`t getting off that easy, chicken shit. My profession is partly to blame for this mess we`re in, but your profession? Those of you still alive in the `free` zone are co-conspirators."
I acted like I was ignoring him.
"Haven`t you figured out yet that our government embraces anybody who fights against Western Civilization? Against the Enlightenment?"
"Shut up," I said. "That`s just more rebel propaganda. The `Enlightenment`, as you call it, was a racist cover-up. We raped the earth and all of its people as a result of the Enlightenment. Look at what we`ve done to people of color."
"People of color." Chris laughed heartily, for what seemedlike forever.
I had the urge to punch him in the face, and looked down at my fists, which were balled up. This was such an insensitive bastard.
"You are a damn racist. You find this funny. How sick is that?" I said, almost shouting.
"Race has nothing to do with any of this. Nothing. If that is the problem with our society, you tell me what happened to all of the `people of color` who disagreed with the new thinking? Where did they all go? You can`t tell me you haven`t noticed that they are all gone."
"They were fooled into joining the rebels, even though it is against their interest," I said. "Everybody knows that."
"Oh, yeah, I forgot. You are a journalist." Then he laughed again, louder and longer this time. It was making my blood boil.
We were both startled by the clanking of the door. It opened, and two officers dragged in another man, who was wearing tattered clothes. He was struggling, trying to head butt the officers as they held his arms. They pushed him to the ground and started kicking him in the side and back as he rolled on the floor.
"That`s police brutality," I said. "Stop it right now or I`ll report you."
One of the guards looked over at me and laughed. He came over and punched me in the jaw as I was trying to get up. The pain was really bad, and I could feel blood starting to come out of my nose. I sank back to the ground. It was humiliating.
"You better learn to watch your mouth, or you won`t last long where you`re going," shouted the guard at me. What did he mean? My heart was beating faster. There must be some mistake. I`ve got to get to somebody for help.
The guards went outthe door and slammed it behind them. Chris rushed over to the man and helped him to his feet. He brought him over to where we were sitting.
"Come on, asshole, get up and help me lower him," spat Chris at me. I got to my feet and helped steady the man. He smelled bad. He looked up into my face with eyes that I`ll never forget. You could almost see what was going on behind them. A mixture of rage, hurt, and joy. What?
When he was sitting and his breathing got back to normal, he looked at both of us and smiled. I smiled back but had the queasy feeling that this was a very dangerous man.
"Chris Thompson," Chris said, holding out his hand.
"Jake Kessler," said the man, trying to pull his long scraggly blonde hair out of his face. He had a thick beard, giving him the look of a mountain man.
"Oh, and this is Sean," said Chris. Jake held out his hand and I shook it. I looked away quickly.
"So, Jake, why did they throw you in here? They seemed pretty mad," Chris said.
"I`m a trouble maker, I guess," Jake said, grinning, his filthy teeth showing. "They are using any excuse they can to round up people who might hurt them. They are running out of time, and they know it."
"Running out of time?" I asked. My heart was starting to beat quicker.
"The resistance now controls everywhere except for New England, the Mid Atlantic, Coastal California, and coastal Washington state. Things moved quickly after we started taking over the military bases."
"We took Chicago finally?" asked Chris.
"Yes, but it was a blood bath," said Jake. "Don`t you guys hear anything?"
I looked at both of them, my mind reeling.
"What are you two talking about?" I asked. Jake gave me aquizzical look. Chris laughed.
"Sean here believes the propaganda, which figures since he`s a journalist," said Chris.
"But our sources say that the resistance is dying out," I said. Both of the men laughed at me.
"Fucking lackey press. I assumed that all of them were just traitors, but I see that some of them are stupid true believers. What`s this idiot in here for, anyway?"
I could feel the rage building in me, but couldn`t get any words out
"Hate speech," said Chris, laughing. "He compared Islam to white privilege."
Both men cracked up. Then they were silent for a few minutes. Chris looked at Jake.
"You know what camp they are going to put us in?"
"None," said Jake, with a grim look on his face.
"Camp?" I said. What the hell are you talking about? Both men looked at me and shook their heads. They kept talking as if I wasn`t there.
"We took Nevada and the eastern parts of California," Jake said. "The last of the camps were in Redlands. It`s been liberated."
"So they are just going to keep us here?" asked Chris.
"I doubt it."
"What were you doing here, anyway?" asked Chris. "You know more about the outside than anybody I`ve talked to in a long time."
"Spying."
"Shit, don`t say that in here. They are probably listening," Chris whispered.
"You don`t get it, my friend."
I looked at Chris`s face, which went from concern to terror.
"Son of a bitch, they are going to shoot us," said Chris. He trembled.
"C`mon, guys, they wouldn't do that," I said, hoping against hope that I was right, but having a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. My mind went to all the plans I had made in my life, what I was going to do, how I was going to have a great career. How can I get out of this?
Suddenlythe door swung open, and five men in riot gear walked in.
"Everybody up!" one of them said. The other men rushed around the room, poking the sleeping men with their riot guns.
"Out the door, single file," the man barked.
We all fell into a line and slowly started through the door. Chris was in front of me as we walked out. My heart was pounding in my chest, and then the light of the prison yard hit my eyes, blinding me. As I walked through the door, they adjusted, and I saw a wall. Men were lining up against it. Opposite the wall was a row of machine guns. I felt panic growing in me. Chris looked back at me, tears streaming down his face. He looked into my eyes intensely.
"Why didn`t you guys protect us?"
"You won`t win," the man said. The officer laughed and turned to leave. He closed the heavy metal door behind him and locked it.
The man looked around for anybody in the room that was awake. I tried to avoid eye contact. Too late, we connected. The man made his way over and sat down on the floor next to me.
"Chris Thompson," he said, extending his hand. I shook it reluctantly.
"Sean McCain," I said. I tried to avoid sounding open to conversation.
"What are you in for?"
"Hate speech. Should be out soon, though. They are just trying to slap me on the wrist a little bit." I hoped that was true.
Chris looked at me and smiled.
"Think so?"
"Of course. I was just playing devil`s advocate. They will realize that." I looked at Chris to gauge his reaction. He shook his head and laughed.
I just looked straight ahead and didn`t say anything. Chris looked down. He was trembling slightly. His surly manner was melting away, and I could see the helpless feeling seep into him. "Don`t get involved," I told myself, but I knew that wasn`t going to fly.
"So why are youhere?" I asked.
"I told my class about the Bill of Rights."
"You`re a teacher?"
Chris laughed. "I think the operative word now is `was`."
"I thought most of you went along with the new way of thinking," I said.
"I did. For a long time."
"What caused you to change?"
"All of the people that I used to have political arguments with have disappeared."
Oh, shit, I thought. He`s one of those. I can`t be talking to this guy. I got up, and walked to the door, looking out the small slit of a window. When I turned back into the room, I saw him walking over to me. Shit.
"I don`t want to talk to you," I said.
"Why?"
"Because you are just going to tell me a bunch of crap about how our government exterminates people who won`t go along. Baloney, that`s just rebel propaganda. Your friends probably left to join the racist rebellion."
"God, I hope so," said Chris.
"That`s treason. As I said, I don`t want to talk to you."
"Oh, you think that the walls have ears?" He laughed. "Not in here. They don`t care. We`re done. Should have worried about that when you were outside."
"What rubbish."
"How long has it been since you`ve seen a trial by jury?"
"There`s a war on," I said, trying to reason with this guy.
"It`s not a war. It`s an uprising."
I just sighed and walked back over to where I was sitting. Chris followed me over and sat down next to me again.
"You don`t take a hint, do you, asshole?" I said.
"No. What kind of hate speech did you do?"
"I don`t want to talk about it. I want my job waiting for me when I get out of here. If I engage with you, they might hold it against me."
"What kind of job do you have?"
I looked at him, knowing what kind of reactionI`d get. I was starting to get angry and could feel my face flushing.
"I`m a journalist," I said.
Chris looked up at the ceiling and let out a big belly laugh. Then he looked over at me, shook his head, and laughed some more.
"So let me guess. You pointed out some of the fairness code. That isn`t so fair, is it?" He laughed some more.
Now I was getting really mad.
"Don`t try to make this out to be bigger than it is. It wasn`t a big deal."
"Well, being an esteemed member of the 5th Estate, what did you write?"
"I merely pointed out that Islam has many of the same failings that white male dominated society had, and that it would need to be addressed in the same way eventually."
"Really? I commend you, sir."
I just stared at him. I couldn`t think of a good reply. I felt tired. I just wanted to doze off and not talk to this guy anymore. The silence didn`t last long.
"You guys haven`t figured out, even now, that some groups are more equal than others. Why?"
"I told you I didn`t want to talk about this." I turned my body away from him.
"No, you aren`t getting off that easy, chicken shit. My profession is partly to blame for this mess we`re in, but your profession? Those of you still alive in the `free` zone are co-conspirators."
I acted like I was ignoring him.
"Haven`t you figured out yet that our government embraces anybody who fights against Western Civilization? Against the Enlightenment?"
"Shut up," I said. "That`s just more rebel propaganda. The `Enlightenment`, as you call it, was a racist cover-up. We raped the earth and all of its people as a result of the Enlightenment. Look at what we`ve done to people of color."
"People of color." Chris laughed heartily, for what seemedlike forever.
I had the urge to punch him in the face, and looked down at my fists, which were balled up. This was such an insensitive bastard.
"You are a damn racist. You find this funny. How sick is that?" I said, almost shouting.
"Race has nothing to do with any of this. Nothing. If that is the problem with our society, you tell me what happened to all of the `people of color` who disagreed with the new thinking? Where did they all go? You can`t tell me you haven`t noticed that they are all gone."
"They were fooled into joining the rebels, even though it is against their interest," I said. "Everybody knows that."
"Oh, yeah, I forgot. You are a journalist." Then he laughed again, louder and longer this time. It was making my blood boil.
We were both startled by the clanking of the door. It opened, and two officers dragged in another man, who was wearing tattered clothes. He was struggling, trying to head butt the officers as they held his arms. They pushed him to the ground and started kicking him in the side and back as he rolled on the floor.
"That`s police brutality," I said. "Stop it right now or I`ll report you."
One of the guards looked over at me and laughed. He came over and punched me in the jaw as I was trying to get up. The pain was really bad, and I could feel blood starting to come out of my nose. I sank back to the ground. It was humiliating.
"You better learn to watch your mouth, or you won`t last long where you`re going," shouted the guard at me. What did he mean? My heart was beating faster. There must be some mistake. I`ve got to get to somebody for help.
The guards went outthe door and slammed it behind them. Chris rushed over to the man and helped him to his feet. He brought him over to where we were sitting.
"Come on, asshole, get up and help me lower him," spat Chris at me. I got to my feet and helped steady the man. He smelled bad. He looked up into my face with eyes that I`ll never forget. You could almost see what was going on behind them. A mixture of rage, hurt, and joy. What?
When he was sitting and his breathing got back to normal, he looked at both of us and smiled. I smiled back but had the queasy feeling that this was a very dangerous man.
"Chris Thompson," Chris said, holding out his hand.
"Jake Kessler," said the man, trying to pull his long scraggly blonde hair out of his face. He had a thick beard, giving him the look of a mountain man.
"Oh, and this is Sean," said Chris. Jake held out his hand and I shook it. I looked away quickly.
"So, Jake, why did they throw you in here? They seemed pretty mad," Chris said.
"I`m a trouble maker, I guess," Jake said, grinning, his filthy teeth showing. "They are using any excuse they can to round up people who might hurt them. They are running out of time, and they know it."
"Running out of time?" I asked. My heart was starting to beat quicker.
"The resistance now controls everywhere except for New England, the Mid Atlantic, Coastal California, and coastal Washington state. Things moved quickly after we started taking over the military bases."
"We took Chicago finally?" asked Chris.
"Yes, but it was a blood bath," said Jake. "Don`t you guys hear anything?"
I looked at both of them, my mind reeling.
"What are you two talking about?" I asked. Jake gave me aquizzical look. Chris laughed.
"Sean here believes the propaganda, which figures since he`s a journalist," said Chris.
"But our sources say that the resistance is dying out," I said. Both of the men laughed at me.
"Fucking lackey press. I assumed that all of them were just traitors, but I see that some of them are stupid true believers. What`s this idiot in here for, anyway?"
I could feel the rage building in me, but couldn`t get any words out
"Hate speech," said Chris, laughing. "He compared Islam to white privilege."
Both men cracked up. Then they were silent for a few minutes. Chris looked at Jake.
"You know what camp they are going to put us in?"
"None," said Jake, with a grim look on his face.
"Camp?" I said. What the hell are you talking about? Both men looked at me and shook their heads. They kept talking as if I wasn`t there.
"We took Nevada and the eastern parts of California," Jake said. "The last of the camps were in Redlands. It`s been liberated."
"So they are just going to keep us here?" asked Chris.
"I doubt it."
"What were you doing here, anyway?" asked Chris. "You know more about the outside than anybody I`ve talked to in a long time."
"Spying."
"Shit, don`t say that in here. They are probably listening," Chris whispered.
"You don`t get it, my friend."
I looked at Chris`s face, which went from concern to terror.
"Son of a bitch, they are going to shoot us," said Chris. He trembled.
"C`mon, guys, they wouldn't do that," I said, hoping against hope that I was right, but having a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. My mind went to all the plans I had made in my life, what I was going to do, how I was going to have a great career. How can I get out of this?
Suddenlythe door swung open, and five men in riot gear walked in.
"Everybody up!" one of them said. The other men rushed around the room, poking the sleeping men with their riot guns.
"Out the door, single file," the man barked.
We all fell into a line and slowly started through the door. Chris was in front of me as we walked out. My heart was pounding in my chest, and then the light of the prison yard hit my eyes, blinding me. As I walked through the door, they adjusted, and I saw a wall. Men were lining up against it. Opposite the wall was a row of machine guns. I felt panic growing in me. Chris looked back at me, tears streaming down his face. He looked into my eyes intensely.
"Why didn`t you guys protect us?"
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