It was on the news again. It said some people have died in a horrible attack. Some say it was those filthy Zarians, but I knew better. Forty years of service made me see through the obvious lies that media served me with a silver spoon. Those perfect teeth, luscious pouty lips, gentle eyes are not fooling me anymore. A woman’s hologram shivered as she spoke the info, showing the right angles of the catastrophe that played out, just few hours ago.
Ildocians always had the freshest topics, they covered all of the blood and gore, while Zarians constantly repeated their mantras and blamed Ildok for every disaster that have hit their beloved town. Gratnians were more focused on a bad harvest and just a few lines passed the ribbon, informing about some of the brethren that have died somewhere. Konians loved a good drama and kept running few of the footage they had, which was insufficient to form a story or make an opinion from it. Matocians were whole another story. They just showed the stats and impact on the economy, maybe few suggestions on how to use the violence of others to make profit. Shamefully I was one of those people, unmoored from everyday life, emotionless, distant from the suffering and numb of sorrow.
How could I be human, when I did the inhuman? How could I feel empathy for victims, when I have committed crime? How can I be the monster, when politicians worked for one? Pain, cries, anger, death, flames… It felt so normal to me.
Another scene just started playing. A man carried the bag of charcoal from the crater. Covered in white dust from head to toes, he ran screaming while black blood drew curves on his face. Other frame zoomed on the thing he carried, and it wasn’t the thing at all, but a half bunt newborn, probably his son. I felt nothing. I have seen it too many times, so I watched at the hologram because there was nothing else to do.