Static, Tessa Kaput [book reader for pc txt] 📗

I may as well have my say.
“Fine, Keeta, do you understand the gravity of your actions recently?”
“I do.”
“Good, then you make my job easy,” he said, scribbling more information on his paper, “however, my superior have asked me to acquire information, if you wouldn’t mind answering some questions for me?” I thought for a moment. They’re either going to kill me or imprison me, this might be only chance to speak with someone listening.
“Fine, ask away,” I said.
“First, why did you disobey orders and kill a fellow officer?”
“I wasn’t going to let him kill that little girl,” I said.
“Second, why was it so important to you to try to save her? You were a loyal soldier, dedicated and strong, and yet, you gave up your oath to try and save that child anyway. Help me to understand,” he said.
I answered, “Who are we to say who lives and dies? I wasn’t going to let her tossed away like trash.”
“I see. Now tell me, how your illness affected your actions, the commanders were all curious,” he said with a taunting and jeering smile. He angered me with that comment.
“My illness? You think I’m the sick one? That’s just rich coming from you!” I suddenly bent over in pain, and cupped my hands over my ears. A high pitched wailing pierces my thought, and then I hear laughter.
“You’re still having issues with the static I see. You want to know something? The reason the static is a good tool for our networking system is because it’s low maintenance and very, very, effective in keeping unruly soldiers in line. But the reason static works is because once you come to The Academy, you are solely dependent on the technology we give you for communication. You need that connection to others. You see, if you take away independent thought and speech, and then replace it with dependent thoughts and speech, you get complete control. You are a wonderful example of what happens when you take away that connection to others. You go crazy because of your dependence on the communication and technology. And those scars on your back only prove my point,” he finished. I stood up, still in pain and shock.
“But I’m the one who failed your little plan. You met me with low expectations, I guess that’s why I’m here,” I said.
He sighed, “True, I expected you to come crawling back, but it’s interesting how you were able to reconnect. I mean, it is truly marvelous,” he said in a state of wonder, “but the illness you have is not the fact that you defied us, but the fact that you could live with the static. I couldn’t do it when I was you age, so they removed my chip and turned me into a recruiter.”
“I guess I’m just stronger than you then. You can’t control people through technology.”
“But you see, I can, because people build an automatic dependency on it.”
“It’s just wrong. People aren’t machines!”
“You’re right, people aren’t machines, but they depend on them,” he said matter-of-factly. The static is still in my head, thoughts are becoming more and more blurred. “Now, I believe I have all of the answers I need. Thank you, your illness was very interesting to study,” he said with a nod. He is right in front of me, face-to-face. Two guards enter the room, and like a rush, I move swiftly, I only need enough time to say my piece. I knock the paper tablet from his hands, twist behind him, took the pen from his hand, and held it to his jugular. The guards aim their guns at me.
I whisper in his ear, resisting the urge to spit in his face, “Did you ever think that maybe I’m not the sick one but society is?” I release him, drop the pen, and raise my arms in the air. I am shoved out the door, down the corridors, and out into the main field that is usually for training.
I am led to a platform in front of a crowd of fellow soldiers. All staring at me blankly. I feel sorry for them. They will never be free of their connection each other; they will never be free. The static rings in my head; they refuse to fix my chip because I am so near death anyway that it would have been a waste of time and resources.
I am forced to my knees, and to the crowd, the announcement went out of the crimes I am to be executed for. And even though I can't hear them, I know they all understood why I have to die that day. I am a disease that will infect the minds of their soldiers. I would be the one to poison these trapped minds. I have said my piece to them, now I must find myself. The self in me that was lost for so long and now will barely touch the light of day. I must find my faults, my saving-graces. I killed a man in cold blood, and couldn’t save his daughter. I am a traitor to my country, but not to my heart or mind. I found my voice in a silent world. I know I am not meant to be a part of this connection they all share; that I am not meant to share my mind with them; for I am their poison, their disease. And today I will die. I look into the crowd of blank and unforgiving faces, and what dances through the cold morning air is a purple-red butterfly, dancing over their heads and then landing in front of me. I feel as light as air. The gun rises to my left side brain. I look at that butterfly, and then close my eyes with deep breath. I exhale and the single shot breaks through my skull as I collapse to the ground. And as I lay in a pool of my own blood, the static finally stopped.

Imprint

Text: Tessa Kaput
Images: Tessa Kaput
Editing: Meeghan Toro, Bethany Fish
Publication Date: 01-22-2013

All Rights Reserved