Eric slowly gained consciousness as his eyelids began to open. Immediately he felt a sharp pain shoot through his face, in the same area where the soldier had kicked him. He tried to touch it, but realized he had no control of his arms. They were both chained to a ceiling he could not see. He could barely see anything. The only thing he could make out was the bright moonlight shining through the window onto his body. Eric tried to walk, but there was nothing to walk on. No matter how many times he fluttered his legs, he couldn't find ground. Then he realized he must be hanging. Where am I? he thought as he squinted, hoping his vision would pierce the darkness. But he couldn't see anything. He tried to call out to anyone, but he was answered only by silence. Then Eric took a breath, and instantly he was shocked. He took another breath, and he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Cold vapor was coming out of his mouth. How is this possible? he thought, as sudden sounds shot out from the darkness. Then he heard the sound of locks turning, and two shadowy figures stood at the doorway. Eric's heart began to pulse. One of the shadowy figures told the other to stand guard outside before he came inside, locking the door behind him.
"Wait. What do you want? Let me go," Eric said, his hands scuffling faster. He began fluttering his legs and trying to free his arms, but the cold metallic cuffs around his wrists could not simply be broken.
"Calm down, boy. I just want to talk, that's all."
Eric's heart began to beat faster. He had heard that voice before. Then suddenly a dull orange light illuminated the dark room. It was just bright enough for Eric to see three feet beyond his hanging body, but that was enough to make his heart lurch. Standing in front of him was the same colossal man from earlier, the president of South Sudan, Lual Arok Dengor.
Fear instantly crept up on Eric. His heart pounded, and his body shook uncontrollably. Is he here to kill me for what I said yesterday? What is he going to do? he thought, closing his eyes tightly, fearing the worst.
"Calm down. I really just want to talk."
Eric slowly opened his eyes and saw the president pull a chair out of the darkness and sit in front of him with a soft smile on his face. It was an expression completely different from the one he had worn in front of the crowd. It almost seemed as if the president from the square and the president in front of Eric were two entirely different people; even his tone of voice was different. This change strangely calmed Eric. Maybe he isn't so bad, he thought unconsciously, and he began to loosen up, from his tense muscles all the way to his beating heart, which steadied. Eric took a silent inhale of relief.
"Could you please let me go? And do you have my friend, the one who was with me?" Eric asked.
The president smiled and responded,
"I do have your friend. He is under our care. But whether he has a comfortable time or an uncomfortable one is up to you."
"What do you want, sir?"
The president paused for a few seconds before ignoring the question and replying,
"What is your name?"
"My name is Eric."
"Eric, are you from here? You look like a foreigner."
Eric paused for a few seconds; he was unsure whether telling the president where he was from was a wise decision.
"I am not part of the revolution."
"I know you aren't. I made sure."
Eric paused again before deciding to answer his question.
"I am from Ghana."
The president looked at him suspiciously.
"Ghana. You're far from home. Why are you here?"
"We were just…we were just on our way to see our family. We were only stopping here for a little bit."
"I see. So are you associated with the Nuer tribe, by any chance?"
"Yes, my grandmother is Nuer."
The president was silent for a moment before saying,
"Is she…I'm sorry if you already told me, I'm bad with names. What is your last name?"
Thinking nothing of it, Eric responded,
"GatKuoth. My full name is Eric GatKuoth."
The president's eyes widened in surprise. Eric was taken aback. Did I say something wrong? he wondered, as a wide smile appeared on the president's face, followed by a laugh.
"It all makes sense now. You really are his son," he murmured, his palm on his forehead in amazement, before letting out a chuckle.
It all makes sense now, you really are his son. Does he know my father? Eric thought.
"Well, that will be all," he said, getting up to open the door, but as his hand touched the doorknob, he heard,
"Wait," Eric said, stopping him.
"I will let you and your friend go after things die down."
"No. …Can I ask you a question?"
The president turned around to face him, his attention caught.
"What is it?"
"…Why did you have to kill them?" Eric asked.
A part of Eric was hoping he had been right about the president—that he wasn't so bad. Eric wanted him to give some excuse: they did the same thing to us; they were people with bad intentions. He wanted to believe that what he had seen a few hours ago was in fact an act of justice rather than the act of beasts. But even then, could that level of justice really be justice, or a fabrication of something else, something much blacker?
Eric stared at him, waiting for an answer. The president stared back at him, his once kind, vibrant eyes turning much darker, as if the light in them had completely vanished. The president smiled at him and said,
"Because I wanted to."
What? Eric thought immediately.
"I killed them because they were pests, spoiling my years of hard work on my dream. So I got rid of them. It's really that simple."
Eric clamped down on his teeth. He could feel the fear leaving him and being replaced by anger.
The president once more turned to open the door, but Eric stopped him again with a question.
"Couldn't you have just lied to me?" The words escaped Eric's lips on impulse.
The president turned around and met Eric's eyes.
"You wanted me to lie to you. …What good would that do you?"
"It would make me happy. If you had just lied to me, I would have been able to convince myself to look past it all. I could have come up with a rational reason for why it was okay," he said, in a low, breaking voice.
Hearing this, the president laughed.
"You wanted to lie to yourself. …Eric, what would that do for you, but make you blind to the world around you?"
Eric did not respond.
"Why are you so upset? Was one of the rebels someone you knew?"
"Do I need a reason to exercise my humanity?"
Hearing this, the president chuckled.
"And you think that we don't."
"That's exactly what I think," Eric shot back. The president could hear the flare in his voice.
He chuckled.
"And that's why you're naive. But you're just a kid; it's more than expected. Though if you witness a couple of murders and commit some yourself, you will eventually start waking up."
"I will never think the way you do. I'm not a monster, and I will never be one."
The president smiled at Eric.
"Monster. Eric, what is your definition of a monster?"
He was quick to answer.
"A monster is a being that is grotesque in nature. A being that causes pain, suffering, and sorrow and doesn't feel remorse or guilt for its actions. That is why they are monsters and not human: they abandoned their humanity long ago and took another, much darker route."
"So by your logic, Eric, most human beings are that monster."
"No, they aren't," Eric shot back.
"You saw it for yourself this evening. Did you not see how quickly I was able to turn the crowd feral?"
Eric did not respond.
"Do you believe in freedom for all?"
"I do."
"Then, Eric, wouldn't you say the path of the beast is the freest path to take?"
"How?"
"Think about it. Humans are burdened with morals and responsibility to each other. Wouldn't you say that is enslavement? I see it as a thread binding human beings to each other. And I always thought to myself, why should I be a slave to anything but my dream? It didn't make sense to me, and through that realization I was granted new masters: myself and my dream. Because of this, I felt a freedom I had never felt before."
"What even is your dream?"
The president paused before saying,
"My dream is to have anything I want from this beautiful world. I want full authority over anything I set my eyes on, whether it be land, money, food, or even people. I want the level of authority to control their very thoughts, feelings, and reactions. I want to be a god among men."
"You are the embodiment of greed."
"Yes. Yes, I am, and I embrace it. But what about you, boy? By your logic, if I am greed, you are pride incarnate."
"What?"
"You wholeheartedly believe your worldview is the only correct one, and you consider anyone with a different worldview to be a monster. You consider yourself above man, one of very few people who stay sane, despite the harsh world around you that only you can see. All of these bear the face of pride."
Eric stayed silent for a couple of seconds before saying,
"Even if you're right, it doesn't change the fact that you're a monster."
The president sighed, shaking his head, disappointed and slightly annoyed that Eric was ignoring the truth. Then suddenly a smile appeared on the president's face.
"Change of plans. You're not going to visit your family. Instead, you're going to have a front-row seat to witness it all. I will show you everything, as my retainer."
"You're mad. You're a madman."
"Yes. I may be mad, but still I will never stop chasing my dream. Even if I lose my sanity in the end," he said, reaching out, reaching for something neither of them could see.
Eric's eyes widened. What he said was all too familiar to Eric. But still I will never stop chasing my dream. Even if I lose my sanity in the end. This made Eric's heart skip in fear.
The president clasped his hands and brought them back down. He looked up at Eric, and his once kind mask lost its color, revealing what he truly was to Eric's eyes.
"I will await your answer in two weeks," he said, smiling as he opened the door and vanished.
"Wait, two weeks? No, let me go!" he said, trying with all his might to squeeze his hands through the shackles, but of course to no avail.
Suddenly Eric heard laughter. Looking up immediately, he saw a soldier who looked to be in his mid-forties, grinning and chuckling.
"You should have surrendered yourself to him," the man said, chuckling as he approached Eric.
The closer he got, the more Eric could see his facial features. He tugged at his chains in fright. The man in front of Eric had a gray beard and a bald head. But what really frightened Eric was the disgusting scar near the man's left eye; it was pink and extended all the way down to the corner of his lips.
"Okay, here are the rules. We can stop anytime you want, as long as you swear loyalty to our president. If you don't, things will become worse and worse as the days go by. But not hard enough to kill you, of course; I need you alive. If you last for two weeks, you win, but you might not want to win."
Eric's heart lurched as his body began shaking. The man noticed and chuckled. If you say do it now, we don't have to play, Eric thought. He weighed it: sacrifice his morals, or continue to be adamant. He chose the latter.
In anger Eric spat in the man's face, right into his eye. The man chuckled and said,
"Good. Now I can have my fun."
Almost immediately, pain shot through his body. He could feel something warm dripping down his chest. Before he could even look down, the man turned off the light bulb, and again and again Eric felt pain stinging his body, until it was too much for him. He could feel the warm, slimy texture of vomit flowing down his chest, but still the pain didn't stop. Eric cried and screamed, but it only wandered through the silent darkness.