Ministry of Speech

That day, I arrived at the Ministry of Free Speech.

People had begun to disappear without warning.

So I came to obtain a speaking license.

After all the rain, my clothes were soaked and cold. I froze as I stepped into the dark and endless aisles that led from one room to another. Countless people sat before closed doors, and nobody talked. They stared at the floor, as if trying to remember happier days.

It took me a long while to find the hearing room. Many people sat outside, but none of them appeared to wait. They sat as if they had nothing else to say. The smell told me they had been here for days.

As I passed them, I saw a man or woman who looked very sad. I couldn’t tell, as the person appeared strong, yet carrying a quiet beauty I could not place.

“Do you wait to enter?” I asked.
“Not anymore.”
“What are you doing here then?”
“I have nowhere else to go.”
“Didn’t they hear your case?”

The person looked at me. Their eyes revealed the strength this body once possessed.

“They did. I tried to explain that I just want to live. They called me sick. Now I sit here until they bring me to my friends.”

Only a few steps later, a young boy sat. He should be in school, but at first glance, I knew he wouldn’t return to it. I offered him some of the chocolate I always bring with me, but he refused:
“Chocolate is bitter for me now. You can keep it.”
“But why is it bitter, my young friend?”
“All the trees in my village had died, but they said it didn’t happen and called me young and stupid.”
I left the chocolate on the floor for him.

The corridor leading to the hearing room felt endless, filled with people who did nothing but sit.

At the end of it, a woman sobbed quietly. I didn’t know if she was angry, sad, or both. I kneeled before her and offered a handkerchief.
“Are you too young? Do you live outside the recommended life?”
“No.”
There was a long, cold gap. I was sure she wouldn’t speak again, so I got up.
“I had the right age. I was raised and educated well. I followed the rules. I even voted for them.”
I stared at her.
She wore fine clothes and spoke as if she attended a good school. A woman in her thirties who should clearly be heard.
“I am a woman.”
My mouth went dry as I began to understand.
“That’s all?”
“It is.”

I didn’t talk much my whole life. Now, I was not a young man, and in many ways, my life was the most boring one could imagine. It outraged me that all these people had to sit in the dark, without a place to go, without being listened to.

When I looked at them, they didn’t look that different from the stones surrounding them. I wondered if they would melt into the building and shivered.

Before I entered the hearing room, I turned.

“Listen! What happened to you will not happen to me. I will ask them to review your cases. Don’t fade.”

The young boy took the chocolate and threw it further away.

The door opened and closed behind me. Many people sat around, some with guns. They didn’t look at me when I entered.

One started laughing.

“Look at this relic!”
“Is he even breathing?”
“I wonder, what else do we have to deal with today?”

Then everyone laughed.
Except me.
Suddenly, I felt very tired.
I hoped I could make it home.
Perhaps I would sit outside the hearing room for a moment first.

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Original image by Pierre Châtel-Innocenti. Manipulated by Ashmore.