aaron_the fall of america_chapter_51

Chapter 51

I woke from a dream where I had been sentenced to die in the electric chair. The trial had been rushed because of fear of law changes. I was sitting in the chair watching the clock with ten minutes to go before midnight, the appointed time of my execution. There were several people on the other side of the glass, all well dressed as if at a concert in Wien.

There was no conductor other than the wires. Everything was automatic and set for one second after midnight. There was not much I could do but I hadn't yet given up. I was trying to set my body for the shock. I had planned to use the added energy to burst out of my restraints, fly through the wired safety glass, fight through my dreadful audience and flee through the many locked chambers to the outside world.

That was still my plan when at one minute before midnight a woman of authority ran into the spectator room yelling about the new law that was to be in effect at midnight, meaning I was not to be electrocuted.

The only trouble was that my door was locked and would only open automatically after the electricity was sent through me. The shock was also set and could not be unset. All I could hope for was a power failure or someone being smart enough to cut the power to the building. But it was too late. It was midnight and everyone was either in a panic trying to find a solution or grinning because they thought I deserved to die.

My dream might have ended with my death being faked and after the audience satisfaction I was removed and revived from my mild shock that stopped my heart temporarily. I was given a new identity and sent out of the country.

But that wasn't what I woke up to.

I woke to the sound of bars opening to let me be taken to court. Outside were sounds of rioting. Apparently the entire country had been rioting since the death of the president. Some thought it was the sign of the end of the world and they took the chance to capitalise on the fear of their sheep to follow each order. They marched against anything and everything. Looters took advantage of the chaos that added to the evidence that God had left the establishment. Marches were held in front of the White House demanding free elections. The KKK were lynching as many of them as they could unless they where white and confessed the devil had forced them to act out of order. They also offered, on public television, to run the country the way God had intended. Soviet war ships where on their way. All space weapons were on red alert. Canada had built a wall out of high energy lasers and refused all correspondence from it's desperate neighbour. A plague had swept up from Mexico taking seventy percent of the population of Texas, all their cattle and small dogs in one night. All the crops were infested with a micro organism that had been developed in Cuba and it wasn't safe to drink any water other than distilled. The stock market fell through the floor. Fire raged through New York. Police had been shooting randomly from their cars and the military had been shooting at the police with missiles.

Apparently it was my fault.

That is how my trial began. The prosecuting attorney with his triple chin and black robe as big as an army tent, had much to say about me. He compared me to Judas and made him look like a friendly politician. My conduct was unforgivable and my attitude unreconcilable and on and on he went day after day telling of each unsolved crime in the last six years that were all similar and could be directly tied to me with a chain and welded shut.

I was on the stage being questioned by this well bread man one day near the end of my trial when I noticed a man in a wheel chair. I knew it couldn't possible be who I thought it was but that didn't change the fact that he was there before me.

He smiled when he saw that I had seen him. What surprised me was that his smile gave me a vague reassurance. The question of me having been brainwashed and trained to kill had never arisen. I had tried to explain it to my lawyer but he said he didn't want to be laughed out of court. He wanted to pursue the possibility that I had been possessed by the devil and wanted to break the right hand of God.

He must have thought it was better to be burned than to rot in a jail. But he didn't succeed. In the end I was found guilty of seventy of the four hundred charges and sentences various years of solitary confinement for each, the longest being for the most recent, the killing of a president. The number of years was similar to the half-life of plutonium.



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by Joanne B. Washington

© 2001 | the jose wombat project