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Contributed by - Ed
Chapter Six: Arthur vs. the Post
Sometimes
during the long nights at the camp Arthur liked to think of himself as
being stationed at a guard post. In truth, he was not so much stationed
at a post as he was chained to a post. The three meters of chain between
his neck and the thick wooden post afforded him at least some mobility.
Judging from the thickness of the chain and the size of the lock the
guards either expected his skin to turn green and his muscles to expand
if he became angry, or as Arthur conjectured, they were just sadistic
bastards. His bed was a smooth patch of sandy ground that he had cleared
of rocks; amenities included a nice metal bucket full of fresh water for
drinking and bathing, a bar of soap, and another bucket with a lid that
took the place of a toilet.
This was extra punishment for his corrupting influence on Samantha and
Laura. It had all been carefully explained to him during interrogation.
Arthur was as surprised as anyone to find out that he was apparently
running some type of secret spy activity from inside the labor camp. In
fact the two American girls, who no doubt would have become dangerous
covert agents if not stopped, were mere tools he used to spread lies
about the camp and its guards. The head female guard Major Drazetka had
been determined to make criminal # 88588 admit his guilt during the
interrogation. Though she used logic suitable for a grade school debate
team and her knowledge of espionage was seemingly restricted to plots
from thirty-year-old movies; the Major's aim and arm strength was quite
good, so Arthur finally conceded her point and admitted to corrupting
the girls. Though she had gotten his confession it seemed that special
measures were required to keep a dangerous criminal such as # 88588
under control.
First, Major Drazetka took away his 'barracks privileges' meaning that
Arthur was no longer sleeping indoors. Further she reasoned that since
criminal # 88588 had proven himself to be untrustworthy his movements
would have to be further limited, so that between supper and breakfast
Arthur was restricted to an area equal to a chain's radius from a thick
wooden post. The final measure was meant to isolate his influence from
the other criminals. After the Major was through questioning him that
day she did something that Arthur found peculiar; she used a permanent
marker to draw a symbol on his forehead and chest. It was simply a
letter from the Danubian alphabet; with no explanation given they left
him outside that night to ponder its meaning. The next day Arthur
observed from their reactions that to other criminals the symbol meant
something like "do not talk to this hapless bastard," and to the guards
it apparently was the equivalent of having a target tattooed on your
back. Arthur speculated that perhaps Danubians enjoyed that Hawthorne
book more than he had.
At night finding a position comfortable enough to sleep in was a
challenge. The key, Arthur discovered, was to create a mound of dirt
about three inches high that would support the weight of the oversized
lock and chain while he rested. He was quite proud of his "dirt pillow"
idea after he found out how well it worked. He hadn't split the atom or
anything, but then again Arthur couldn't recall nuclear fission ever
helping him get a good night's sleep either.
A comfortable sleeping surface wasn't the only problem though. Novo Sumi
Ris had an impressive population of moths and other night-flying insects
that didn't mind resting on bare skin in between flights. On the ground
an equally large abundance of spiders, crickets, and other small
arthropods crawled about and sometimes took a shortcut across an arm,
leg, or worst of all, face. While Arthur didn't have any particular fear
of these animals, all the unwanted visitors did cause him to wake up
frequently. Often Arthur lay awake at night pondering his situation.
There was a recurring theme the past few months, Arthur realized. In May
he met Samantha and Laura and bought them lunch. An hour later he was
humiliated in front of a crowd of tourists. He carried their bags to
their hotel room, and then a week later he was beaten and sent to a hard
labor camp. He taught the girls how to speak and write some simple
Danubian phrases; and what followed was yet another beating, and then he
was chained up at night. Arthur began to reconsider the legends of the
female demons that would torment and corrupt men's souls. What was it
succubus or succubae? Lying in the dirt all night gave a person much
time to think up absurd ideas.
A freight train never failed to roll into town at exactly four thirty
AM. Half an hour later a guard came by to unlock the chain so Arthur
could join the rest of group 13. They went to the mess hall and then to
work. At the end of the day, after supper, the rest of group 13 returned
to the barracks and Arthur carried his two buckets across the yard to
the post. The guards expected him to lock the chain onto his own collar
before they came by for the nightly inspection.
Every evening he hoped that it would be one of the junior guards instead
of the angry woman that confronted him before. The Major was
intolerable. The other guards might get a bit rough, but she was far
worse. It must have been difficult for Laura and Samantha as well since
this woman often supervised the female work crew. Such a high-ranking
officer probably wasn't required to perform such menial duties, the
warden certainly never did, but Major Drazetka obviously enjoyed the
power of having criminals under her direct control.
One evening in late July a criminal from group 13 walked by the post and
a folded paper fell out of his hand. The criminal never acted as though
anything happened and continued on his way. Arthur casually palmed the
paper; and when he was sure no one spotted him he buried it under the
sand; it would be safest to wait for night, and read it under the near
full moon.
Samantha had taken quiet a risk smuggling a note to him; how she
convinced the criminal to deliver her message would also be interesting
to know. Though Arthur hoped the subject was some daring escape plan,
all that she really had to say was that Laura and her had to work longer
hours and they were not supposed to talk to each other. The Major had
them on separate work crews now, but they were able to sneak around and
talk every few days. Of course there was the sort of trite content that
he expected: she was thinking of him, she hoped he was doing all right
and such. Arthur was somewhat disappointed at the quality of his first
secret prison correspondence.
�I should write a fitting secret message," Arthur said. "Something
worthy of all the risk and planning. It would have the right wording,
sentence structure, and... And it could be in rhyme like the Iliad or...
"
Startled by a dog barking, Arthur realized he was standing up and
speaking out loud again. "This place is seeping into my skull. Sleep, I
should sleep now," Arthur reminded himself, then refolded and buried the
note beside the post. Tomorrow was either the thirtieth or thirty-first
day of July. Did July have thirty-one days? He recalled that all months
named after Roman Emperors like Julius, Augustus, and Octavian had the
maximum of thirty-one days. So the first of August was either one or two
days away. The knowledge that another judicial switching was quickly
approaching didn't help him sleep very soundly that night.
When Arthur awoke, the night was unusually dark; he looked up to see the
stars but instead there was a large dim form hanging above him or
perhaps below him, and the surface his body rested on wasn't a cot or
flat ground but it had corners and cold metal protruding from it. Arthur
held on tight as vertigo overwhelmed his senses. He had the feeling of
being suspended high in the air on some beam or tree limb ready to fall
if he let go. His feet, he realized, were not touching bark, or metal,
they weren't even suspended in the air; Arthur felt sand between his
toes.
He took a series of deep breaths and tried to calm down enough to
examine his surroundings. Arthur reluctantly let go with his left arm
and reached out but nothing was there, then searching above his head he
felt the square end of the beam. After a few tense seconds he understood
what had happened. Arthur released his death-grip on the post and looked
down; he had wrapped the chain around the post probably five times.
Wrapped up like a tetherball and standing upright against a post is no
good way to wake up at night. With his pulse still pounding in his ears
Arthur sank down and gripped his head in his hands. "I'm fucking
sleepwalking again."
He circled counter-clockwise to unwrap the chain. " If I wasn't held
captive here I'd demand that idiot therapist give me a refund! Lets
see... What did she say? 'Avoid stressful situations' I think it was. No
stressful situations here, no way."
Again he realized he was speaking out loud, though no one was around to
hear. The lights from an approaching freight train came into view to the
west, as it traveled downhill from the pass its brakes squealed and the
train slowed. It was the four-thirty train that supplied the refinery.
With thick clouds overhead the night was almost completely dark, but it
was too late to go back to sleep. Arthur drew his legs in close and
shivered as the wind picked up. "Surely that wasn't lightning." In
response to his assertion there was a rumble and the first heavy drops
of rain splattered in the dust.
During work the next day Arthur found out that it was the 31st of July.
There were three others in his group who shared his apprehension,
although everyone did what they always did. They worked hard for twelve
hours, marched back to camp, cleaned up, ate supper, and went back to
their barracks.
After supper Arthur filled up his clean bucket with water and walked to
the northwest corner of the perimeter fence. He picked up the loose end
of the chain, that he swore was heavy enough to use on a log-truck, and
then gathered the equally oversized lock. "Damned lazy guards, making me
lock myself up." The lock snapped shut and Arthur tried to find some
comfortable way to rest without the weight of the chain pulling at his
neck.
A guard always came by about an hour after supper to make sure Arthur
was securely fastened. It was usually a young junior guard that worked
the night shift, and most of them at least didn't show much interest in
him. An insult or a slap was about as bad as he got from them, but at
least once a week the head female guard, Major Drazetka, came by to
inspect him.
As Arthur anticipated, she didn't miss the opportunity to harass him the
day before his scheduled switching. Arthur pulled the heavy chain aside
and forced himself to kneel down to the woman.
"Criminal # 88588, you don't look pleased to see me; that really does
hurt my feelings. I always enjoy seeing you on your knees and chained up
like a dog." She raised the tone of her voice. " And tomorrow morning I
will enjoy seeing you strapped down to a punishment table and beaten. Do
you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to have you set up your table
right in front of me, so we can see more of one another. It will be most
amusing to watch the faces you make as the switch lands on your bottom."
�I was going to request the task of punishing you myself, but it seems
the officer who switched you at your trial is making time in her busy
schedule to come all the way out here to our camp. Isn't that
considerate of her, criminal # 88588?"
Arthur stayed in his kneeling position and had a fantasy of knocking the
legs out from under this woman and tightening the chain around her
throat.
�Don't you have anything to say? What's the matter, perhaps you miss
your friends, the two American girls?"
She pulled her switch out and she slowly walked around her victim. " I
have good news criminal # 88588, you and the girls will see a great deal
of each other tomorrow. In fact I think that I'm going to have them sit
by me so they have a good close view of your punishment." She tapped his
raised bottom with her switch. "I do hope that the officer who
administers your switching gives you a nice hard beating. I think it
would help correct the girls' attitudes to see their friend break down
and cry right front of them."
"I seem to have forgotten, criminal # 88588. Who is the officer that is
in charge of punishing you?"
Arthur burned with hatred for this guard who so enjoyed his humiliation;
finally he spit out the words. " Officer Stashak"
"Yes, I remember now. Officer Stashak. I just couldn't place the name.
Did you know that I attended your trial?" She paused. " You're so quiet
today, but you were not so quiet at your trial were you? I enjoyed
hearing you scream and watching you cry as the officer punished you, I
do hope you put on as good a show for us tomorrow."
�But it's getting late, and I suppose I should let you get some rest
before the big day tomorrow. Criminal # 88588, did you chain yourself
securely to the post as you were ordered?" She raised her voice when she
got no response. "You will answer me!"
Arthur's voice obscured none of the hatred he felt for the Major. "Yes
officer."
"We will see, criminal # 88588."
This guard inspected the lock in her usual way. With Arthur remaining in
the kneeling position with his forehead to the ground, Major Drazetka
grasped a section of chain above the lock and pulled upward with steady
force until her victim couldn't breathe. "Stay in position criminal #
88588." She warned while tapping him with the switch in her right hand.
After a while Arthur supposed her arm grew tired; she dropped the heavy
chain on his back and left him gasping for air while she walked back to
her office.
Arthur slammed his fist into the dirt in frustration, heaved the chain
to the side, and leapt up; he could see his tormenter walking down the
sidewalk in the distance. But there was nothing he could do about the
guard, or the beating tomorrow; just wait for it to happen. Feeling
absolutely powerless and alone he finally sat down and leaned against
the post. His fingers felt a sharp corner in the sand. It was the note
that Samantha had sent him; he unfolded it and read through it again. "
Not completely alone, I suppose." After he re-buried the letter Arthur
lay down and exhaustion overwhelmed him. He slept soundly that night.
There were few words spoken at breakfast. Instead of the lively
conversations that usually filled the mess hall in the morning, there
was only the noise of a couple hundred workers eating, spoons scraping
against aluminum trays, and glasses set down on the tabletops. Arthur
stood alone and leaned against the cinderblock wall. He wasn't allowed
to sit with the rest of group 13 since July fourth, the day he ran afoul
of the Major. Though Arthur didn't feel hungry at all, he forced himself
to eat a biscuit and some oatmeal to settle his stomach. He returned his
tray then walked outside to the yard where the work crews gathered every
morning.
Two of the six crews were already marching north toward the park. Arthur
and the rest of group 13 dropped to their knees and waited. A young
guard collected one of the ten-meter chains off the gatehouse wall and
began locking it onto the criminal's collars. As soon as Arthur and nine
other criminals were secured the eager guard marched them forward a bit
faster than normal.
After they arrived at the park the criminals were unchained and ordered
to take their seats in the small section of bleachers that overlooked
the field. Crew 13 filled the back row and waited. The warden walked out
onto the field at sunrise and began calling numbers off his list. Arthur
tried to at least appear calm as he lined up with the other forty-four
criminals on the field.
The warden double-checked his list; when he was satisfied that all the
criminals were accounted for he ordered that the tables be set up.
Arthur and one of the other workers on crew thirteen paired up to carry
two tables onto the field. He helped the young man set up his table
then, as they were about to get the other one unfolded Major Drazetka
took charge. The Major wasn't satisfied until Arthur's table was set up
not ten feet away from her front row seat. True to her word she sat with
Samantha and Laura to either side.
For several tense minutes the forty-five criminals silently stood by
their punishment tables and awaited the arrival of the officials that
would oversee the switching. Arthur found it hard not to look at the
hated guard sitting directly ahead of him. Although Samantha or Laura
were in no mood to talk, the Major didn't miss the opportunity to
further torment the Americans. She spoke loud enough that the otherwise
silent crowd had no choice but to overhear the conversation.
�I think it will be good for you dishonored girls to see your friend
disciplined today." She looked Arthur in the face and continued to speak
in a mocking tone. " I watched this spy friend of yours get punished at
his trial and it was most amusing, if he screams even half as loud this
morning he will surely wake the whole town. Today you will see that your
friend is nothing more than a weak, cowardly, dishonored animal, just
like yourselves. Though it will be fascinating to see how much pain he
can endure before he breaks and further disgraces himself in front of
his former students." She flashed a venomous smile.
"Tell me girls, are you looking forward to seeing criminal # 88588
punished?"
Samantha avoided looking directly at him. "No officer." Laura's low
trembling voice echoed the same. As bad as he had been treated in the
past three weeks Arthur thought that the girls might have been through
worse; though standing beside the switching table Arthur knew that was
about to change. Still, he refused to be provoked by the woman. Arthur
stood at attention like a soldier and tried to show no reaction to her
words. Before she could continue her taunting the warden announced the
arrival of the court officials.
A judge and five spokespersons, Ralkliv wasn't among them, took their
seats overlooking the scene. Then a contingent of guards and police
walked out onto the field. As Officer Stashak approached Arthur knelt
down before her. " Pay attention girls," warned the Major as Arthur
stretched forward to kiss Officer Stashak's shoes. After the tap on his
shoulder Stashak ordered him to get into position on the punishment
table.
Arthur fought off a wave of despair and humiliation, and then resigned
to his fate, he obeyed the policewoman. He moved to the far end of the
table and placed each foot against a cold metal leg and then bent
forward ninety degrees at the waist. Arthur stretched forward, extending
each arm out across the heavy leather restraints that were bolted to
each corner. Officer Stashak's strong hands buckled the straps around
his left ankle and then his right. She had a wicked smile on her face as
she walked to the front of the table to secure his wrists. After he was
stretched out over the table with wrists and ankles bound; Stashak
wrapped the wide leather strap around his waist and tightened it so that
his stomach was pressed firmly to the table.
Arthur looked forward; like the first switching in the courthouse there
were over two hundred people watching. This audience however was more
sympathetic; they knew exactly what he was going through. Arthur tensely
awaited the first strike of the switch. Major Drazetka ordered the two
girls to watch carefully; and though he didn't look, she was certainly
referring to him alone. He closed his eyes, pressed his forehead against
the metal surface and braced for the first blow. Officer Stashak and the
other officers struck in unison. "Does that hurt criminal # 88588?"
Stashak asked. " It will only get worse I'm afraid. I'm going to make
you hurt bad for what you did."
Though Arthur had no control of his situation, he resolved to give
Officer Stashak and especially the head guard as little pleasure as
possible. He would resist. Pressing his forehead to the table, he closed
his eyes and tried to focus on something other than the pain.
Arthur heard the first sounds of weeping after Stashak and the other
officers struck a tenth time. After the pain receded a bit he wondered
if it was better or worse to keep count. Against his better judgment he
raised his eyes to look toward the guard and the two girls seated to
either side. The Major was scolding Samantha for looking away as the
last blow landed.
Arthur counted the twenty-second stroke of the switch, and it took every
measure of his will to remain still and quiet. Officer Stashak had
started overlapping the previous welts, and the pain was so fierce that
for many seconds he couldn't breathe at all. He hoped that no one had
noticed how hard he pushed his head against the table or the tightening
of his fists. The loud wailing of the female criminal to his left didn't
help matters either. The sobbing young woman had an especially rough
time; her tormentor had no problem with fondling her helpless body in
between strokes of his switch. Arthur looked away as the pain and
despair on her face was too much to bear. Then the whistle of all the
switches moving quickly through the air and the impact of the next
stroke refocused him on his own pain. As the forty-five criminals were
drifting toward desperation the officers who administered the
punishments seemed to enjoy themselves more. Compliments were given to
the officers who made their criminal cry out loudest. Arthur closed his
eyes again and awaited the agony of the next stroke.
He was still keeping count as the Stashak struck the thirty-first time
on the back of his left thigh. There was no longer any way to mask his
pain, he couldn't help but gasp and strain against his bonds at that
point. Breaths came in ragged intervals and sweat trickled into his
eyes, mixed with tears, and dripped onto the metal tabletop. As the pain
faded slightly Arthur heard the Major order Samantha and Laura to pay
close attention; their friend was about to break. Stashak had also
noticed his resistance erode.
�I have been looking forward to this for a long time criminal # 88588.
You can't resist me much longer can you? I've taken it easy on you so
far," She said. " Now for the remaining nineteen strokes I'm going to
make you scream."
Through the last part of the beating Arthur lost count as his whole
perception shrunk to the sensation of intense pain. Then it was over. He
struggled to his feet, and then without any hesitation he went through
the rest of the ordeal. As he stood there trembling from the pain Arthur
realized they had won, the Major's smug face said it all. Officer
Stashak had broken his will in front of everyone including the hated
guard and his two friends. That realization was almost as bad as the
pain itself. After a few minutes he regained some self-control, wiped
away the tears, and stood there at least trying to look defiant once
again.
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Arthur wasn't sure if the camp was built on the opposite side of town
from the park for that purpose or not, but the unfortunate fact was that
a long walk awaited him and the other forty-four criminals. It had only
taken fifteen minutes to walk from the barracks to the park but the
situation was far different after the judicial switchings. They were
chained together in five groups for the slow march back through town.
Though the guards wanted a quicker pace it was obvious that forty-five
people in severe pain did not make for a well-organized march.
It did apparently make for good theater though; it seemed that half the
town came out to have a look at the beaten criminals. Arthur noticed
that many parents even brought their children out to watch this pathetic
parade pass by. School was out, he figured, so this could either be
entertainment or perhaps a warning to scare their kids' strait. With
eyes red and faces distorted in pain, the forty-five criminals that
shuffled down the street were a pitiful sight. All the criminals that
marched ahead of Arthur blended into a solid line of purple welts, and
all around he could hear the ragged breaths of those who were yet unable
to stop crying.
Arthur looked at the free people watching from roadside. The experience
was part freak show, part zoo exhibit, with a bit of slave auction
thrown in. He passed by two old men who casually discussed the welts on
the passing criminals in the manner ranchers might talk about injured
livestock. Further down the road an agitated woman in a white dress
pointed and lectured a teenage boy, " This is what will happen to you if
you don't..." She warned. On the front porch of a small yellow house a
spindly old woman leaned forward from her chair and peered over her
glasses at the line of passing criminals, with a look of contempt she
spoke to her equally critical lady friend. A teenage girl briefly made
eye contact with Arthur, and then shyly looked away. He watched two dark
haired boys, of perhaps eight or nine years old, taunt and laugh at the
criminals near the front until their mother's scolding sent them
scurrying off into a store. Arthur walked past a young man wearing
foreign clothes and a backpack who crouched by the railroad tracks
trying to get a new roll of film loaded into his camera. Though the
strange experience of being viewed like this distracted from the pain,
Arthur thought it was equally distressing in its own way.
After the excruciating walk back a guard noticed Arthur wasn't entering
the barracks, "You there! You spend the day in the barracks; after
supper you go back to the post." The kindness of these guards was too
much, Arthur thought. He knew they didn't allow him inside the barracks
out of pity though; they just didn't want a worker sidelined with a
heatstroke from exposure to the August sun. By the time he collapsed on
the canvass cot Arthur knew he couldn't take any more.
Some time later Arthur heard footfalls on the concrete floor. Any
distraction from the throbbing pain was welcome, so he twisted his head
in the direction of the noise. His red eyes stung from the salty sweat.
Arthur focused on a figure wearing dark robes. Though it felt like I was
dieing, Arthur thought. I didn't expect them to send a priest.
He rose up on one elbow and turned toward the man in black. The priest
wore sandals and a plain robe; the gray hair near his temples indicated
he was a little older than he otherwise looked. The priest blinked,
letting his eyes adjust to the dim barracks. He glanced at the four
criminals recovering in the barracks then the priest found the one he
was looking for.
Arthur was not pleased to again have an encounter with a Danubian
official. Another chance to offend somebody, he grimly thought. They
probably burn nonbelievers at the stake here.
Though the priest's posture was relaxed his attention focused solely on
Arthur. In a clear slow voice the priest spoke.
�My name is Yurik. I am a priest of the Church and servant of the
Danubian people. I have traveled from Rika Chorna to meet with an
American criminal by the name of Arthur Liggett. You are he, are you
not?"
�Yes sir, my name is 885... I mean my name is Arthur Liggett." It was an
uncomfortable feeling that washed over him then, he now thought of
himself as a number.
The priest nodded and tapped his fingertips together while he paused
thinking. "Arthur, on behalf of the Danubian Church I request the
opportunity to speak with you today. Do you agree to an interview?"
Not wanting to find out what they would do to him if he refused Arthur
consented.
�I am pleased that you give me some of your time. It is great privilege
to counsel and guide one who is undergoing such a difficult
transformation." The priest seemed eager now. " In order to assess your
current state of mind I would like to ask you some questions."
Arthur felt strange lying face down on the cot while the priest talked
to him, so he decided to get up with as little flexing as possible. The
priest allowed him time to stand up and have a drink of water. Still,
there was something deeply disturbing about being naked during an
interview with a priest.
The priest, thankfully, was only interested in asking questions. Many
questions concerned his motivations, his feelings toward people involved
in his crimes, and several probed the relationships he had back in the
US. Arthur answered in the most cautious and vague manner possible.
Several minutes later the frustrated priest shook his head.
�I feel that you are deliberately trying to conceal your true thoughts.
Why do you agree to an interview and then refuse to tell me anything I
don't already know?"
Arthur was growing tired of this inquisition as well. " I am cautious
sir, because every time I have been questioned by an official I get in
more trouble. Two months ago I was punished for something I said and
last month the same thing happened. So I would think that anyone could
understand that I don't want my words used against me." The stressful
day and the constant pain caused him to speak more harshly then he
wanted to; strangely the priest looked pleased.
�It is good to hear the truth spoken. There is, however, no reason to be
concerned. I am a servant of the Church and the people; you have nothing
to fear from me or other members of the clergy. You may speak freely."
Arthur was not so easily convinced; but he knew about the prohibition on
lying however, and he decided to use it to his advantage. " Is it true
that nothing a criminal says to you or other members of the priesthood
can be used against him?" The priest answered 'yes'. Still not satisfied
Arthur continued. " If a criminal such as myself told you of a crime
they committed would you report the crime to the police, a judge,
prosecutors, spokesperson, or anyone else that would hold that person
responsible?" The priest answered 'no', and Arthur realized how paranoid
he must sound. But as his uncle used to say ' just because you're
paranoid doesn't mean that people aren't out to get you.'
After Arthur was convinced that the priest was not a threat they had a
long discussion. It was actually good to speak to someone again and
there were some questions Arthur wanted to ask. The priest seemed
especially concerned that Arthur had re-offended by violating the terms
of his sentence. Arthur tried to explain that he was just trying to keep
the girls out of trouble, but the priest replied correctly that he was
also trying to save himself. It seemed to Arthur that the priest
considered the intent to deceive worse than the offense itself.
He thought of something the priest said earlier. " Sir, you said
something earlier, referring to me going through a transformation, I
don't understand what you meant by that."
He nodded. " Foreigners sometimes don't understand but the criminal
justice system here is not only designed to punish offences and deter
bad behavior. The suffering that the criminal must endure is necessary
to reorient the damaged souls of the offender."
Arthur didn't think he heard the priest correctly. " So your saying
there is a religious justification for my punishment?"
�Yes, the physical pain and mental suffering criminals experience is
critical to the process of reforming a criminal so he may find the
Correct Path in Life."
Arthur paused and considered the priests words. So they're beating me to
reorient my soul, Arthur thought. They must think my soul is
concentrated in the back half of my body!
�You think something's wrong with my soul?" Arthur appeared concerned.
�Yes, your actions were motivated out of greed and pride. It has brought
destruction to your life and those around you." The priest explained. "
There is hope for you however, through suffering you may reflect on the
poor choices you have made in your life, then you may learn to turn away
from the false ideas promoted by the Destroyer and follow the Correct
Path in Life that the Creator has set out for you."
After a grave silence Arthur nodded. " Thank you sir, you have given me
a great deal to think about."
The priest left and Arthur did have a thought, not one the priest would
have appreciated, but a thought nonetheless. Perhaps, Arthur speculated,
I can use their church to my benefit. I can act devout as the next guy.
The first step would be to show interest toward their faith, and then
sometime later I can have my "come to Jesus moment" ask for forgiveness
and put on a good show.
An American nonbeliever converting to their faith and worshiping...
Whatever it is they worship might be a sign of this soul reorientation
the priest kept going on about. I might be able to use this show of
faith to convince people that I'm not such a villain after all, maybe
even help my legal situation. Prisoners back in the US were sometimes
paroled early after finding religion, its possible Arthur thought, that
the same thing might work in Danubia. It's worth a try anyway. With a
vague plan formulating in his head Arthur carefully lowered himself back
down on his cot and rested.
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The
Not so Secret Agent - Chapter 7
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