Mr. Grey gripped the tablet tightly, his veins noticeable on the back of his hand. Then he repeated the question.

"Mr. Harrison. Why are you here?" His stern voice echoed in the cold room.

Harrison sat there for a few seconds, silently trying to get his thoughts together. He had been arrested a few days earlier, kept in an empty room with nothing other than his mind. Talking to a person seemed like something he had never done before.

“I don’t know,” he finally responded, his voice a raspy whisper.

“For the last time, why are you here Mark Harrison?” the cop impatiently demanded, unsatisfied by the previous answer.

“Disagreeing with the system,” Mark struggled to let out.

“Now, why would you feel this way?” the officer said now in a normal tone as if he hadn't been irritated seconds before.


Mr. Harrison had loved the fairness of Aequitas, it provided the aid needed for different circumstances that way everyone could succeed. We are based on equity which is why the country is named that in Latin. Everyone worked for each other, environmentally, healthwise, and through providing resources. But he had always felt it wasn't right to limit people's expressions through arts. All the jobs were the same, there was no such thing as an entertainment industry. Arts and sports were not prioritized, and meant nothing more than a hobby. There would not be prohibition of it but it would not be a career.

“What wasn’t enough for you?” Mr. G asked after not getting a response.

“Our creative freedom.” The officer received a call through his earpiece and excused himself from the room for a few minutes.

“Do you recognize these images?”

A projection of a painted wall had been displayed on what was the blank wall behind the cop. There was beautiful colors out of place in the bland city. The white skyscrapers never as astonishing as the piece. To Mark he felt as it was a representation of love and creativity, someone’s true passion. There was often pieces painted on huge walls as a small act of rebellion. Within hours it would be painted over as it had never existed. Over and over it was repeated, shut down with every attempt. Oppressing the belief that the system was created wrong.

Click. The new slide was an image of a ticket, it could have been a dance, play, or a concert. He wasn't sure. Due to the lack of entertainment people would pay for secret events. As an ideal country, it wanted everyone to follow certain paths that would benefit the country. Using currency for something that wasn't seen as a real job was not allowed and therefore illegal.

There was only one prison almost empty there was a small amount of crime usually going against the government. Nobody caused harmed to each other they were a community. Instead Harrison was in an unknown place receiving harsher punishment than a graffiti on the street. He was also being watched from another room.

“What did you do?” Mr. G asked.

“I'm a representative for department C-8. I tried to convince others to question the system,” Mark finally confessed.

“What is your motive?”

“My daughter and husband.”


There was no response so he continued.

“My husband’s passion is music. My daughter’s favorite thing is painting.”

His voice cracked when he said daughter. Harrison's eyes had began to water and knew that he was guilty of questioning the government. At that moment he realized they already knew everything about him all the proof and information existed within the table Mr. Grey was holding. Him and probably everyone in Aequitas, including his own family. His mistake was trying to convince other representatives.

“Well, Mr. Harrison this is it,” the officer said in an emotionless voice as he headed out the room.

The room began to fill up with and odorless gas that Mark Harrison didn't notice. Until suddenly he stopped looking around and his body relaxed into the chairs body.