For Having Loved
Nov 7, 2022 2:21:04 GMT -5
Post by Radrook Admin on Nov 7, 2022 2:21:04 GMT -5
For Having Loved
By Radrook
My name is John Robinson, and today, Tuesday of the year 2075, is finally the day for my execution. I am being escorted down a long dark corridor by two, tall, burly guards armed with batons and sidearms strapped to their hips. A few feet ahead of us, a black-robed, hooded priest, holding a large, black- leathered bible in one pale hand, is chanting something that is barely audible, as he leads the procession in a slow, somber, shuffling walk.By Radrook
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, we enter the large rectangular, green-walled room. where ten rows of metal seats have been arranged before the elevated podium from where all violators of societal traditions, such as I, are expected to apologize for their crimes. Seated in them, is a small group of chosen elderly, citizens, considered to be outstanding members of the community, who will listen to my apology and then witness my death. All suddenly turn and stare back at me in silence as they hear us enter.
Once at the podium, I notice that the room has the lingering, dank, electrical smell of previous executions, and a brief moment, I almost begin to sob, but stark reality prevents me. Then, a long loud static crackles from the rusted loudspeaker on the wall above the entrance suddenly pierces the silence with a deep, resonant voice that wreaks of a fanatical hatred:
“The condemned citizen will mercifully be allowed to express himself before he is executed as stipulated by law. His prepared speech will commence now!” the mechanical voice intoned.
I remain motionlessly silent, hesitating between refusal and compliance, struggling not to see the scattered pieces of evidence that they have very purposefully placed on the display on the rectangular metal table before me. I try to ignore the acrid stench of short-circuited microchips that saturates the air, but can’t avoid hearing in a faraway room, down that dark corridor I have just traversed, the laughter accompanied by the repeated clashes of hammers on metal.
Momentarily the room's lights flicker, and the guard on my right leers and snickers in lascivious contempt, his beady bloodshot eyes knowingly leering from the display table to me and back again. Finally and reluctantly, despite my strong urge to wring his neck, I force myself to speak:
“Fellow citizens," I hear myself say in a hoarse voice as if from some far, emotionless distance, "I beg for no mercy and don't justify the abomination that I have committed.”
“Execute him now, and spare us the time and trouble of having to listen to this abomination’s drivel!” one cadaverously thin, elderly man in the back row suddenly rises from his seat and shouts!
“Silence! Silence, or you will be forcibly removed,” the loudspeaker blares, and the old man sits down reluctantly, while glaring at me murderously, bony fists clenched, and furiously mouthing silent retributions.
“The prisoner has been granted 20 minutes to recount the details of his crime before the sentence is passed,” the loudspeaker tells me, and I begin my apology to society as demanded by law.
“It all began two years ago when this blue-eyed, young raven-haired woman named Helen, suddenly appeared at my house door in deep distress and in tears,” I say to those seated in the shadows. The whisperings have died down, and they are listening in attentive silence now.
“She wore a long, white silk dress typical of an outer-world peasant, and I mistook her for an illegal immigrant from one of our more distant extra-solar colonies. I assumed she had somehow slipped past our Earth perimeter border patrols and had been hiding in one of our forests, but could no longer survive without someone’s help.
She had stood there on my balcony, in front of my door, helplessly being drenched in cold, pouring rain, pleading with tears streaming down her smooth white cheeks from her ocean-blue eyes, sobbing as a child sobs for the comforting help of a parent. So I offered to help her, but not before she promised to seek legal residence via the accepted channels once she regained her strength."
There are snickers and murmurs and whispers from the audience now.
"No, I didn't demand anything in return,” I say in response, “though I was desperately lonely for female companionship.”
“Being a heterosexual man, of course, I couldn't help but notice her full burgeoning breasts, wide hips, delicate feminine voice and mannerisms. I couldn’t help being a man,” I almost shout at the suddenly-silent audience.
“The prisoner has fifteen minutes left for his apology.” the intercom blares, and I hear the audience stirring in their seats impatiently.
"Eventually, we both fell deeply in love,” I continue.
“Yet, after moments of the deepest intimacies, she would suddenly sadden and mention that there was something that she needed to reveal, something necessary, in order for our love to be complete. The revelation would be extremely difficult for me to accept, she told me repeatedly. I, in turn, would always assure her that my love was eternal, and that there was nothing in the entire universe that could ever weaken it.”
“The prisoner has ten minutes remaining to finish his apology.” the loudspeaker warns me.
“She would weep bitter tears whenever she mentioned this great secret, until I felt that it was something that I needed to know so that our love could be complete. Nothing would interrupt our paradise-of that, I was going to make sure. But despite my assurances, she refused to reveal what it was. Whenever I’d mentioned marriage and having kids, she'd turn away gazing into a far distance, as if contemplating this great obstacle. But she never said why. Whenever I suggested she legalize her residency via our marriage, she would just softly whisper:
“You don’t understand, John, and will never understand!”
“But we love each other,” I would always reply, “Why can’t that be enough, Helen?”
“Is it your past? I’d say, “Is it that you were a prostitute of the most sordid kind? It doesn’t matter to me Helen. Why can’t you get that through your head? It doesn’t matter one damn bit!”
In time, I resigned myself to her secrecy. Why didn’t I dare to pursue the matter? Simple! For fear of spoiling a good thing, and having my happiness vanish as quickly as it had seemed to have magically arrived. Once she was assured of my acceptance despite her secret, our love blossomed. I became the center of all her attentions and she of mine. I could not imagine a life without her, and she said the same thing about me. We held hands, constantly, as if we had been predestined to be one inseparable, kindred soul. I would gaze deeply into her blue eyes and feel myself in paradise and she confessed that she felt the same when gazing into mine.
Then, during one winter evening, the truth was suddenly revealed. She had accidentally sliced her hand while preparing dinner. It had been a deep and swift cut, the kind that reaches the bone and requires stitches. When I offered help, she hid it from me and clung unto me shaking in fear, thinking that I would thrust her away in horror. But once having seen it, and knowing the truth, I hugged her to my chest instead, and told her that it was alright. Told her that love supersedes all obstacles, and that ours was no different.”
“The prisoner has five minutes left to offer his apology!” the loudspeaker crackles in a louder volume, and the audience once more stirs impatiently as if too impatient to wait for what they really came to see-the graphic details of the execution and my death. I ignore their callousness and continue:
“Our happiness knew no bounds, and seemed eternal until that day when there was the approaching sound of blaring sirens, the stomping of hobnailed boots on my balcony steps, the battering of lead-weighted batons on the front door, and the menacing shouts and imprecations once the law enforcement officers confirmed what they had been told they would find.
After being impatiently read the reasons for my arrest, we were both led away under arrest. She, of course, was ushered away separately and immediately dismantled. I, of course, was condemned to death for having loved the one you now display on that table as merely a conglomeration of microchips and other parts.
For having fallen in love with an escaped rogue android, I apologize. For having broken the law strictly set against such an abomination by our beloved society, I stand before you contrite-for having loved and android.
“The prisoner’s apology time has now expired,” the loudspeaker blared. “The execution will now proceed!"