A Song of Silence

Chapter 13

Callisto

It's weird talking with Astrid. Neither of us are at all sure of the correct words for a conversation with the other, and I'm so scared that every comment I'll make would give me away. It'd be nice to finally have a friend who I can talk to about anything, but there's no one that I would ever trust with this secret of mine. Being controlled by the Imperium, like everyone else is, the moment I were to tell Astrid – if I ever did, which I won't – she'd easily be running off to report it, and then where would I be? Dead, probably. Probably definitely, judging by their reactions to all the other forms of disobedience. In some ways, it's immature and childish, their want to have control over everyone and everything. They believe that everyone belongs to them because of one thing that they did for us, and now they're punishing people for not treating them like they think they deserve. I mean, that's why I do it in the first place. Because I'm still working up the courage to show them that I'm not going to play along with their game. To show them that I'm not going to keep letting them make the rules and call us cheaters for breaking them.

When I open the door and see that the chatter has already died down, I can tell. The teacher, Ms. Hendrix looks at me expectantly, and twenty other pairs of round eyes follow me as I sit down. I'm late. This will certainly merit disciplining.

—KEEP YOUR HEAD DOWN ACT LIKE YOU DON'T CARE THEY JUST WANT TO SEE YOUR PAIN—

It is such an effort to do so, but I fight to keep the smile on my face, as they would want.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Ms. Hendrix asks with a calm demeanor that likely hides a much darker one. I assume this would be the moment where, if I were controlled, my tongue would be unglued from the roof of my mouth to allow me an excuse, so I seize the opportunity to reassure her that it was a one-time only thing.

"So sorry, it won't happen again," I quickly manage, but her eyebrows raise. "Ms. Hendrix," I add, seeing her anticipatory look.

"It will be marked on your record," she starts slowly, evidently coming up with my punishment as she speaks, because there is no real rulebook and punishments list, only the ones that the teachers, carefully selected and vetted by the Imperium, choose at the time of. "But your disrespect will be forgotten, just this once, because the Imperium is forgiving."

"Of course, of course," I note, though I am really only half listening. It doesn't matter to me, so long as it won't hurt me. They can put it on my record, but no one will actually notice if I was late one time, will they? And that thing she said, what, about the Imperium being "forgiving"? She said it like the Imperium believes in second chances. Like that's at all true. How many killings have we seen because they were not "forgiving" and thought losing a citizen was the better option? Too many times it has happened. They're building up our government once again to sound like the perfect aspirations, but even they do not see how warped and corrupted the whole thing is. The worst part is that they, too, believe it after years of telling themselves it's true, even if they know it's not. Humans can believe anything if they let themselves think it's correct. It's easier than you'd think to lie to yourself. Make yourself understand something that you don't, pretend enough and it'll become real. Exactly like how we're supposed to smile all the time. Almost all of mine are faked, but after this long, I would hardly have been able to realize the difference.

I let out a deep breath, exhaling the tension that has tightened my chest, because this time around, at least, I am safe. They haven't broken me yet. Right?

And by some point, I am questioning the very definition of insanity. My father says it is to do the same thing exactly the same way twice and expect the same results. I say that it's this – lying to yourself while being fully aware that it's untrue, yet still doing it because it's the easy way out. This is my definition of insanity. Of course, by this definition, I, too, am insane. Telling myself that I am one of them, pretending like I am, because it's easier than facing the consequences. But this is survival. This is how you live. You may have to deceive people to win, but if it's that or my life, it's an easy decision.

—YOU CAN NEVER STOP HIDING IS THE ONLY WAY TO SURVIVE—

Ever since I learned that I can't speak my mind, that they would kill me if they found out what I don't tell them, these voices, these screams, have invaded my mind. Don't stand out, they warn me. Don't speak up, they whisper, a shadow creeping up on me. They don't stop, even if I order them to. I have no control over them. They are a part of me, so I have figured out how to accept them. They, at least, have the authority over my body and my mind to subdue any rebellious thoughts that might run through my head in a momentary breach of my own control of myself. In some ways, I am exactly the same as the rest of them who are forced to obey, only by a different master. Over and over again, I am put to my knees before them, by the thoughts that keep me a prisoner of them. I control myself, but only to be like them. How is this, really, any dissimilar from them? We follow the same orders, though them because they must and me because I am aware that I must. But there is a large chasm between them, opened by just being aware. They have to, without fail, obey the Imperium. I could choose not to, but at a cost. So fully aware of the fact that what I am doing is wrong and selfish, I obey them. Because this is what we have been brought up with from young.

Our parents have told us how to act, how we must behave if we want a good future. Our teachers have shown us what the perfect, model student should look like and how they will succeed later on. The executioners have shown us what happens if we defy them or their power. We have been characterized by our ability to follow orders, molded by what we have heard and seen and how we have been brought up. This is how they want us. Soft and pliable, like clay, easy to bend to their will and their design because they are the masters, the potters, or so they think.

Obey. Always obey.

~

Author's Note: A bit random, but my dad actually does say that about the definition of insanity being doing the same thing twice and expecting different results. So anyway, if you were wondering where that definition came from, there's your answer.