Please state your name
"James Crawley, sir."
Why are you here?
"Well, you know that."
...
"Ahem, I mean, to bear whole and honest testimony concerning the actions of our leader, Abram Briskle."
Proceed
"When I found out the truth about Abram Briskle, I knew that I had to tell someone. But I imagined drama, glory, valor. I imagined standing up in front of a room of people, clearing my throat, looking each and every one of the court dead in the eyes, taking a deep breath, and finally, finally spilling the truth that had haunted me for so many years.
But of course, that was before the Reconstruction. Before the overhaul of the judicial system. The small camera I faced in my tiny metal cell fed into a computer that had all of the Dictatorial Statutes memorized. This was faster, more efficient. They said it was unbiased. And I wanted to believe them, I really, truly did. Before I found out, I was happy. An ignorant fool, but a happy one at that."
Proceed
"I'd like to say that Abram Briskle is an exquisite example of strong leadership and selflessness. But that would be perjury. I know the little camera that hears this is just scanning for phrases, looking for ways to cite me for minor transgressions that could get me carted off to jail. But I don't care. If I die now or rot away in prison, I will do it gladly, so long as I can finish this speech, this final act of defiance.
Abram Briskle is a fiend. A liar, a cheat, sure. But that's just scandolous dinner table conversation that will make everyone of your peacocks gasp for a second before turning back to their tables full of illicit rations. And peacocks they are, overstuffed and garnished and focused on getting the one thing they can never have, so long as they rely on this corrupt system; the one thing they crave the most: freedom. And I'd like to say the poor are free. I'd like to give them that satisfaction. But I cannot.
I grew up a peacock, languishing in the excess that surrounded me, my mind and body growing feeble, for what need did I have to work, to oppose a system that had done so much for me? My father worked under you, and that was how he, my brother Cameron, and my sister Emma procured the rations that gave us the advantage in our seemingly equal society. We augumented this cycle of unfairness, helped keep the money where we were. We cared only for ourselves.
Then one day, my brother discarded his typically solemn disposition. He knew a secret, and he let it slip, and when I returned home from school that day my parents were dead, my sister missing, and my brother- my brother completely disemboweled, smeared across the carpet. And I knew Abram did it. He was waiting for me. He made me a deal. And I took it. And now I will tell you everything. You see, Abram-"
This portion of James Crawley's testimony was deemed unfit for public consumption and has been removed
"... and I hope I prove myself a worthy adversary in this final act of defiance. And I hope that if someone hears this, years from now, they try and do something. They try and change something. They question everything. And they always rememb-"
Bzzt
That's the sound of James Crawley dying. Electrocution. Like a moth on one of those funny little lamps. When we learn about him in school, he's a monster, with dangerous, radical ideas. He's insane. The system we have now works fine. Great, even. This is the golden era of human existence.
But I know better. I slide the disk out and slip it gingerly into its sleeve. On it is the words, "Too my granddaughter Simone: always remember. Never settle. And never stop questioning the world. Love, Emma Alise Crawley"
