Letters from Dublin
an excerpt

“You must learn to sing the praises of the Empire and of the gifts you have been given!” Father Free said, leaping around their tiny classroom. Liam was getting really sick of him, really sick of all of them, really. Every single waking moment was spent with the same people, and they were all beginning to drive him insane. Fred, especially, seemed to have a death wish. He would say stupid things just for the sake of saying stupid things. Father Free had not done much about it yet, he just smiled sadly at him, but Liam doubted that would last much longer.

“The Empire has taught me how to see,” Declan Stone said – Liam refused to think of him as 104 as a matter of principle – smiling at Father Free. He was one of the first to go, Declan was. It had only taken a week or so of the tiny cramped classes with the overly enthusiastic Father Free tormenting them for him to turn around and start working with the man. “How do you sing the praises of the Empire, 225?”

Liam yawned, blinking rapidly and sliding farther down in his seat. “I don’t sing, terrible voice. I do, however, play the cello.”

“Did your parents buy you the cello, 225?” Father Free interjected. “I wonder, did they take it with them when they left you behind?”

“No- it was rather to big too fit in a suitcase,” Liam snapped back, feeling irritated for being pointed out again. It was always him, never Fred, who was abysmally stupid, or Bliss, who was just as ‘anti-Empire’ as he was…

“That’s a shame…” Father Free strode over and placed his fleshy hand on Liam’s shoulder. “It could have been useful to them. Do you think you would have been useful to them? Or just a burden, just one more person to support in a new country…” He reached down and grabbed Liam’s chin, forcing him to look him in the eye. “But you are useful to the Empire, here you have a purpose. You had no purpose with them.” Liam closed his eyes, trying to suppress the urge to push the man away. He had seen too much of the infirmary, just don’t react… “Look at me!” Father Free insisted, shaking Liam’s head. “Repeat after me: They didn’t want you, you had no purpose. We want you, the Empire needs you. You have a purpose here.” Liam didn’t say anything, he couldn’t say anything. “Say it!”

“My mother taught me never to lie, sir,” he finally choked out.

“The Empire is not a lie! The message and acts of the Empire will spread across the world and cure humanity.”

“The Empire is a lie. It’s nothing but compilation of ideas that look good on paper but really do nothing but destroy.. You’re killing people every day, imprisoning them for speaking out, for being smart, or for refusing to give you their children. You’re killing people for being people- you want something that can never happen,” Liam hissed, staring in Father Free’s pale eyes. “This regime is going to fall down around your ears, whether its tomorrow or ten years from now, but when it does, it will be the best day of my entire life.” Smack! His face stung and his head whipped to the side. Blood dripped out from his mouth from where he had bitten his lip.

“You are the Empire,” Father Free hissed, his face so close to Liam’s that he could see every single eyelash, every single bit spittle on the corners of his lips. “If it falls, you fall.” He reached out and grabbed Makshi’s head, twisting it to the side and pointing at the number tattooed to the back of her neck. “What do you think any opposing force will think when they see you and find this on the back of your neck? What will you look like to them? You fight for the Empire or you fall. No one will care whether or not you believe in the cause, not if you have a number. It’s already over, 225. Fight or fall.”

“I’d rather fall,” Liam hissed through the blood pooling in his mouth. Father Free let go of Makshi’s head with a snarl and strode back up to the front of the room. He took a deep, calming breath.

“98, how will you sing the praises of the Empire?”