The Trial

Chapter 20 - Edited

It was two days later when the order came, and the Keeper was still holding on to his miserable life. Had there not been so much at stake, I never would've sent the order along to those waiting to carry out whatever tasks they had been charged with. I could sense the encouragement of my driver as I did what had to be done, and fought back the sickening sensation in the pit of my stomach.

I want to get out of this warehouse and never come back, but there's nowhere to go as long as he lives. The messages are being sent at a hectic pace, and I must do my job. With every acknowledgment, the sickening sensation grows. It's getting harder to maintain my mask. If it weren't for my driver; I would've stopped, but must remain steadfast in my lie to the state.

Whatever this purge is, I fear more than being discovered. The state lies about everything. What if there really is something beyond this life? What if it isn't darkness as Rabbi Solomon has said? Is there judgement beyond the state?

I'd forgotten about asking such questions before becoming Keeper. This was the first time I asked myself any hard questions, and now have some of the answers. If all this is about judgement beyond the state, why am I still watching through myself? Should I not be facing some kind of judge?

There have been other moments in my life that have been skipped over. Moments of weakness from which to be judged. Why am I here at this moment of my life, and not something more deserving?

Is that who you are? My judges in waiting? If you're going to judge me, then judge me already.

It doesn't matter that I've no idea what's to come from the purge as my driver will attest, because such things don't matter. Whatever this purge is, I know it can't be good. I could've done something to stop it, or at least slow the start of their plans. The only peace I find is knowing I'll become the Keeper, and only then will I have the power to stop the madness.

I send a delayed message from the Keeper and wait, but no other messages follow. The purge has started, and whatever follows is on me. Whatever nightmare the state's planned for months will be my responsibility at least in part.

I can't sit here any longer. "I'm going for a walk."

The door opens for me as I ignore my driver, and walk the same path our feet have traveled countless times. I'm not tempted to look at a single box as I pass, since my mind can't focus on anything other than what I did. I need air to clear the sickening sensation churning away in my stomach.

He opens the creaking door, and have to shield my eyes from the judgmental sun that has finally revealed itself after the endless gray. Nature presses through the dust, and wish for something to sway my conscience. I'm guilty of too many things; not just my hand in this purge, and there must be something out there to hold us all accountable beyond the state.