FFM 2016, July 26 - Suicide Is Murder

Mauve smashed open the window so hard the glass shattered, showering her with the pieces as she climbed through. A moment later the Thought Police broke down the door.

"Mauve Henderson, stop right there! You are under arrest!" The cry came after her as she barrelled down the fire escape as fast as her bare feet could take her.

She didn't stop to ask why; whatever reason they had, the whole case had already gone to trial, in front of a jury, which had decided she was guilty of some thought crime or another. All that remained was actually apprehending her and putting her in jail, which would simultaneously pre-empt the crime and punish her for the thoughts that would - so the precogs said - eventually lead to the crime she was going to commit.

The last bit before the street she had to navigate by climbing the half-ladder as far down as she could, and then hanging with her arms from the last rung. The drop was still considerable, and the asphalt beneath heavy. Her escape, and the shouting of the police above, had gathered some onlookers. Passive faces, wrapped up in their coats and thoughts. Best not to think too much, best not to plan, or to draw conclusions, or empathize. Empathizing might lead to revolutionary thoughts, which might lead to revolutionary crimes. Those were especially common reasons to be picked up by the Thought Police.

She fell, and landed poorly. Pain shot up from her ankle, but she soldiered on, limping into the alleyways. It wouldn't be long now before they caught her. Despite that, she hadn't felt this alive in years. As she limped past onlookers, she shouted at them: "Look at you, you sheep! I've done nothing! They're going to take my freedom away and I've done nothing! Someone help me!"

Theatrically, Mauve grabbed the coats of a distinguished-looking gentleman passing by, holding on as he tried to shake her off. "They'll come for you next! This whole system is a sham! There's no justice!"

And he gave her a look of sympathy, and she knew suddenly she had planted a doubt in his head: that he would soon find himself on the receiving end of a police visit, pre-empting some far-future act of revolutionary zeal. But for now, he just pushed her away and, with a voice of shrill indignity, called to the police: "Here she is! Officers!"

As if that will save you now, she thought wryly. She fell on the ground from his push, giving him a look of despair. "Please!"

She made a right spectacle of herself on that street. People walking by tried to shield their eyes and ears, tried to ignore the cries and the pleas. Tried to avoid that little meme-bug of empathy from entering their minds that would eventually lead to their own arrest. She realized as she did so that the system required itself: if the precogs stopped for even one second, and the Thought Police missed even one case, the situation would get out of hand and explode in an instant. If just one person escaped, in plain sight, from them, if just one example of being judged for a crime yet escaping punishment could be shown, the whole clown car would come to a screeching halt as the whole country revolted at once.

A police van screeched to a halt at the other end of the alley. Four policemen blocked the entrance. People pushed themselves up against the wall to let them pass. Mauve looked around for something on the ground to do it with - but the piece she was missing fell from her hair as she did! A piece of window-glass. She took it and cried out: "I'm not going to let them arrest me! I rebel!" As she brought the glass to her wrist, the old rehearsals came back to her: down the street, not across...

Which was just enough time for the policeman exiting the van to fire a stunbolt at the back of her head. Her eyes rolled up and she collapsed, suddenly mute.

The policemen arriving at her unconscious body took a breather, then began cuffing her. "Mauve Henderson, you are under arrest for the murder of yourself. Anything you would have said has already been used against you in court. You have already been represented by an attorney, who pleaded your case in your absence..."