**CURRENTLY A FEATURED STORY**
highest ranking: #11 in Science fiction
❝true happiness is only achieved without freedom.
There is a girl who wakes to a world that she was supposed to protect. Instead, she fights it.
There is a man who is cursed wit...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
evanna
"Watch your step." Julian's voice echoes in this underground void, slightly ahead of me.
"I know, I know," I mutter, my eyes fixed on the beam of light emanating from Julian's torch. The white stream of light catches everything within it- it's a spiderweb for the dust Julian scuffs up as they walk, catching every particle, every bit as rough and unclean as the city above us is pristine. The loose, grey, woollen turtleneck I wear bites at my neck with every slight shift of my shoulders, but I barely feel it with the numb feelings of revulsion, victory, and curiosity that have now become dominant.
I have just witnessed technology capable of reducing live tissue to its elemental state- every cell broken down, every carbon atom released from what had once been a breathing, moving human body. The government has no respect for the dead. I, at least, respect the way one should kill a person. I hesitate to ask Julian a question that hangs on the tip of my tongue like a heavy weight as the yellow glow of thousands of strung-up light bulbs flickers into view. I ask it anyways. "Was that your first execution?" I can make out the slight movement of Julian's shoulders sagging forwards, the fabric of their grey attire slipping down the nape slightly, exposing the beginning of what I can assume is a myriad of tattoos down Julian's back. For a moment, I think I'm about to hear an irritating story about how Julian's family was executed too. What would I have to say, if that is the case?
'I'm so sorry.' I'm not, it wasn't my fault.
'How awful.' What a nice reminder. People cannot expect me to empathise with them- I have no need nor interest in making other people feel better through pretending that I care.
"No. I've been to another, a while back. Must've been three years ago or something." Julian's answer is satisfying enough, but they're not quite done. "We're going to have to talk to Bernard about it, especially since they've decided to close the case on the murder of that guy you killed by blaming someone who was probably innocent."
Julian falls into step with me. A faint click, and the particles have gone from Julian's beam of light, now clouding around the lightbulbs. Julian pockets the small torch, and sticks their hands in their pockets. I'm smiling right now. "I don't think they're closing the case," I say.
"Eh? What?"
"I think they're just starting their investigation. They're only keeping their secrets to themselves." I respond with a scowl to a suspicious, uncomfortable look I receive from a revolutionary who sits there in his little shanty, which is more scraps of metal twisted and bent together to form a frame, and then blankets tossed over them to make it look decent enough. I'm glad we get to sleep in Bernard's residence.
