Freedom from the Internet
A flash fiction sci-fi
As I stand, staring impassively into the camera, my nervousness causes me to sweat, and it glistens in my thinning hair. The air conditioning in this cell is poor; a little airflow from above, but it doesn’t reach me.
Then, the camera fuzzes, blinks, and comes to life. On the screen, a judge stares for a moment, taps the screen with his forefinger, then looks at me. In front of him are three equal, neat stacks of paper. Earlier, the prison warden had brought me breakfast and told me that the whole world will be watching the trial; citizens of every country will see the drama unfold live everywhere on Earth.
After a minute, the judge puts spectacles on the bridge of his nose, partly covering sacks of skin that have reddened under his eyes, and he pulls a folder off the pile before speaking in a resonant, clear voice. He looks directly into the camera, directly into my eyes.
“The evidence has been examined. I find you guilty of the charges accused. Have you anything you would like to add before I pass sentence?”
The camera changes back. The lights above me brighten, and the heat causes a bead of sweat to run down my forehead and form at the end of my nose. I shake my head, unable to swat it away. My wrists are restrained by zip ties to the armrests of a chair, outside the viewing range of the camera, which keeps a tight zoom on my face and the bead of sweat on my nose.
“I am guilty of no crime,” I answer in a firm manner, but I feel weary and resigned to my fate.
The judge is unimpressed. “You are guilty of the most heinous of crimes,” he affirms, and the camera quickly flashes back to show his stern, bull-doggishly framed face growling at me. “And this will be your last opportunity to make an apology to those you’ve harmed through your selfish and defiant act. However, I must warn you, the punishment is set by law and no matter what you wish to say, the sentence won’t be affected. Your apology will have no effect on the sentencing pronounced by this court.”
My face reappears on the screen. “I have done nothing wrong,” I repeat, firmly, sweat rolling down the back of my neck.
“Silence!” the judge thunders. The camera catches the sound of his outburst but only comes back to him as he concludes. “Let the record show that this prisoner is unrepentant. The judgement of this court is that the prisoner✍️ maliciously and without instruction removed his neural connector with the purpose and effect of disconnecting himself from the Internet.
I further find that the motivating factor for this egregious, willful and repugnant crime was his contempt for Community Rights and the act of setting out to free himself from the Web,” the judge says, reading his notes. Then he looks up, during which time the camera flashes to me, my face, then to the judge. “I further find that the subject was fully capable of knowing the enormity of the crime.”FFFF
The judge pauses momentarily in delivering the sentence. “It is, therefore, my judgment that you will forever remain disconnected from the Internet from this day forward.”
Wait, did I hear that correctly? Could it be? Is the judge allowing me the freedom to regain my humanity? The camera is on me; my face looks tired, but my eyes are open, even bright; I don’t understand. I’ll be an individual thinker for the first time since I was a boy living on the island, lying under bright bedclothes, on clean white linen. I’ll have the opportunity to live in a world where I can have an original thought, genuine emotions, and the chance to breathe the ocean air, hear the gulls screeching, taste the salt coming in off the tide.
I cannot speak; I’m overwhelmed. The court has recognized my fight for freedom, the right to my thoughts, to speak my mind, free to see the trees and the mountains. I’m emerging from a long, terrifying nightmare in captivity behind the Internet.
The camera switches away to the judge; the whole world having seen my tears of gratitude. The judge coughs, holding his left fist to his mouth.
“Quiet in the courtroom,” he says, hearing the gasps of disbelief from around the world, then continues.
“The prisoner’s IP address, 999.888.777.666, shall be erased from the Internet immediately.”
I’ve feared my fate for two years, but finally, the law has rewarded my struggle, and I know others will follow me. I will be a legend.
The judge again pauses, insisting on silence from a shocked civilization.
“It is further ordered by the court that the prisoner shall be taken from his cell to a medical facility under the court's jurisdiction and have all sensory organs surgically removed so that he may not see, hear, taste, or speak with any other human being for the rest of his natural life.”
“Wait… no… I have done noth… ”
Harry Hogg: English writer raised in Scotland, living between California, Missouri, Colorado, and Scotland.
More from Harry:
Adrienne Beaumont | Autistic Widower (“AJ”) | Brett Jenae Tomlin | The Sturg | Vidya Sury, Collecting Smiles | Trisha Faye | Karen Schwartz | NancyO | Katie Michaelson | Bernie Pullen | Michelle Jimerson Morris | Amy Frances | Julia A. Keirns | Pamela Oglesby | Toni the Talker | Tina | Pat Romito LaPointe | Ruby Noir | K. Joseph | Brandon Ellrich | Misty Rae | Karen Hoffman | Deb Palmer | Susie Winfield | Vincent Pisano
Paari | Marlene Samuels | Ray Day | Randy Pulley | Michael Rhodes | Lu Skerdoo | Pluto Wolnosci | Paula Shablo | Bruce Coulter | Ellen Baker | Kelley Murphy | Leigh-Anne Dennison | Jennifer Marla Pike | Carmen Ballesteros | Marlana, MSW| Patricia Timmermans | Keeley Schroder |Jan Sebastian
If you do NOT wish to be included in the above list, my apologies. Please let me know in the comments.
