THE LAST MAN: Part Fifteen

“Why put yourself through such a trial,” the man from Efficiency begins. It’s a feeble way to begin, and I realize they were relying on Sentinel to provide them with their next move. He is slow and deliberate in his speech. No doubt he wishes to draw me from this idea, this weapon I keep hidden from them.

“You seem confused and unsettled,” says the woman from Reproduction. I know it is a ruse. I rebuff them both.
“It occurs to me,” I say loud and forceful, “that laws are at their most primitive when they suppose to act in favor of the greater good and to the detriment of the individual.”

The remark draws scoffs and guffaws from the judges, but only as an attempt to put me off. They whisper and chatter urgently among themselves. The man from the Corporation says nothing. Instead he rubs the side of his long nose with a finger and rocks his head from side to side. His eyes meet mine, I think by chance. He shows me no true respect, at least not of the first order that I spoke of earlier, but there is interest.

“Obviously you have exhausted your arguments,” the man from Science and Police says, his voice unsure.

“Indeed,” adds the woman from Reproduction, flustered. “It is high time we concluded these hearings.”

“No, not yet,” the man from the Corporation interrupts. His voice is deep and fills the room. It is of a character fundamentally different from the judges. “Explain what you mean.”

I breathe deeply and take a moment to collect my thoughts. My throat is as dry as the windswept sands of the Great Lakes basin. I can only imagine how enraged Sentinel must be at my small victory. If they were to pass judgment and carry out my sentence I would have absolutely no regrets.

“The society has no rights and laws but those given to it by individuals who wish ultimately to protect their own autonomy. Even still the society acts out of instinct for its own preservation, for the resources that feed it and for the defense of enemies that jeopardize its existence. It is blind. It is a machine that grinds inexorably forward.” I swallow hard hoping to work some moisture into my throat, but with little success.

“Philosophy!” cries the man from Science, as if I had blurted some heresy against the Corporation.

“Go on,” urges the man from the Corporation.

“A bit of water first,” I say, without pleading. An argument ensues among the judges. They wish every advantage- fair or otherwise. The argument goes on and on until even the man from the Corporation is irritated.

“Bring him some water!”

I nod appreciatively, but he only frowns and crosses his arms tightly. He is not on my side. He stands squarely with the Corporation. I must be careful not to appear desperate or ridiculous. These things the judges will feed off like the carrion that swarm in huge numbers around the Reclamation Center. When I have my water I begin again.

“The individual…”

The woman from Security and Resource cuts me off. “The individual is animated by instinct, selfishness and self-preservation.”

“As I was saying…”

“But isn’t that a fundamental flaw in your position?”

I pause, not to think, but to show my disdain for her. Hate has a certain power for the oppressed. It elevates them above their oppressor, to an extent. She’s a fool, a tool for the Corporation like the others. Their wisdom is not derived from the strength of their position, but rather merely the opposition to mine. If I say white they will say black and then applaud themselves for their cleverness.

“You’re biased against me I because you believe I represent chaos. You are afraid to admit that society works against the wishes of the individual. In that way it becomes the enemy of freedom.”

“Freedom is subjective,” says the woman from Reproduction.
The man from Police nods in agreement. “A free society may find it necessary to restrict individual freedom to impose order. You said yourself that a society acts for its own survival.”

The sun is warm on my face now. There are voices in my head. They are voices from the archives, called forth, it seems, by the sun, like the scent of herbs awakened in a simmering pot. Malcolm, Martin, Abernathy, Biko, Bethune and Ellison. The come on like a chorus. I hear Longuen’s voice rise from the chorus, imploring me to “Change the tones of submission into tones of defiance!”

I pace before the judges, slowly, imagining an ancient face in hopes of putting sentinel off. I become that face, become the soul that would respond to that argument. I am him, and so unaware of what he might say until the words form upon my lips.

“I know my words,” I gesture suddenly at the judges. They gasp with surprise. “It wasn’t some half-hearted bilge, and I don’t appreciate that you try and twist them. It is the hallmark of a weak society, when challenged in its injustice, that it lashes out against reason.”

My indignence is calculated. Too little and I will appear as a fool. Too much and I forsake the argument for un-tempered emotion.

“We’ll remind you that this trial is for the benefit of the Corporation,” says the man from efficiency and entertainment. “Your pertinence to this society has already been rendered.”

They mean to discourage me, I know. Argument here is pointless, and they know it as well as I. Defiance, defiance, defiance. What better fun than to watch them battle each other.

“You might well apply that logic to your selves,” I say, returning to my chair. I don’t even look at them. “Truly Science and Police has no jurisdiction when it comes to Reproduction and Socialization. If it does that means one of you is also redundant and unnecessary.”

“Very clever,” says the woman from Reproduction and Socialization, “but here your ignorance is complete. There is a hierarchy, even within the Corporation. Reproduction and Socialization are paramount to an ord…”

“I beg your pardon,” the man from Science and Police interrupts forcefully.

“I only meant…”

“Where would reproduction be without Science?”

“Or efficiency?”

“Or security?”

I cannot contain a smile. The man from the Corporation claps loudly. He is smiling as well. Certainly this is great entertainment for him.

“Well done,” he says, and wags a finger at the dumbstruck judges. “You have to admit you played right into his hands. He’s found your weak spot. He’s discovered all of our weak spots. That is the need to be relevant.”

The Man from Efficiency huffs. “I move to conclude the hearings and pass judgment.”

The others nod in agreement. My heart freezes in anticipation of a verdict I already know has been decided. Still I hold on to the moment. I study their movements, the furtive glance, an unguarded breath, anything that I may hang hope upon. It is a feeble hope, as transient as the passing clouds. Still I hold to it, this hope, as if it was some part of me as necessary as the heart that pumps blood or the lungs that fill we withy air.

“No,” says the man from the Corporation. He stands and looks down upon the judges, my judges. “I think he has done well enough that we should not conclude this hearing too prematurely.”

With that he turns and disappears, leaving silence in his wake. Theirs, of course, is disbelief. This trial is nothing to them. It is a distraction and nothing more. To me it is life, and that is why the silence around me is filled with something more. The gavel falls again.

“These hearings are concluded until Monday.”