May cause drowsiness: day 19

Spit. Shit. Piss. Mucus. Blood. Pus. Ham­mer blow. Jack­boot on face. Torn hair. Scarred flesh. Gouged eye. Broken bones. Gap­ing wound. Jack­boot of his­tory. Foot­print. Your dic­tator will see you now. Your dic­tator will own you now. Your dic­tator will bury you now. Your dic­tator will dis­ap­pear tomor­row morn­ing. Your dic­tator will live abroad, in dubi­ous exile. Your dic­tator will live for many years, examin­ing your query­ing face.

[Whis­per] —
Is this what you want? —
Yes —
What you want to hap­pen? —
Yes —
It will hurt —
I know this —
How do you know this? —
Because it repeats —
Repeats? —
Yes. It repeats. It con­tin­ues —
[Breath] —
You need to say the word —
The word? —
Just once. I will hear it —
Word. Two words. How­ever many —
Yes. All of them —
[Unin­tel­li­gible speech] —

Dir­ec­tions:
1. Ensure fig­ure is kneel­ing.
2. Ensure figure’s hands are tied behind their back.
3. Tell fig­ure to avoid blink­ing.
4. Place right index fin­ger under figure’s chin.
5. Gently raise figure’s head to a forty-five degree angle.
6. Order fig­ure to look into your eyes.
7. Order fig­ure to reg­u­late breath­ing.
8. Wait for fig­ure to acqui­esce.
9. Fig­ure will acqui­esce.
10. Continue.

Very soon, an attempt will be made at restor­ing lines of com­mu­nic­a­tion. One line. No words. A tele­phone call. Answer it. Do not say any­thing. Just listen. You will hear trains. You will hear noise. You will hear a city. You will hear beat­ing. You will won­der if it is a pulse, if it is a heart. The tele­phone call will not answer your ques­tions or put an end to your doubts. You will replace the receiver. You will be unsure of all that you heard. You will not trust your­self. You will bend and flex your right index fin­ger. You will place it under the chin of a kneel­ing fig­ure and raise their head to meet your gaze. You will whis­per to them, but you will mouth the words in an exag­ger­ated fash­ion. Your face will appear grot­esque. You will be grot­esque. You will extend your left hand and help the fig­ure to a stand­ing pos­i­tion. You will turn the fig­ure away from you to face the wall.

They will not recog­nise the wall. They will have no idea of the room they are in, yet they will be calm and rel­at­ively at ease in their sur­round­ings, which you will have fur­nished com­fort­ably. This will be their home. They will hear a door close behind them. They will not know when you are com­ing back. Or if.