[ the camera is angled, gazing down on a chessboard resting on a surface draped with unblemished white. Its varnished surface looks somewhat dismal - the black-and-white squares faded, marred by abrasions and dull thin scratches exposing the rust-red wood underneath. Though all of the black pieces are lined up at one end, a white pawn stands alone
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What sort of replies did she consider to be a lie, eeheehee? Out of uh curiosity?
[pause.]
And do the riots displease you?
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And no, they don't. They're a little boring, actually. What you would expect, after someone in power dies.
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Eheh? Boring? What would be more interesting to you, then?
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If nothing had happened, I suppose. If everyone had simply went about their day as if no one had been killed.
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That's one way of doing things. I've often been told that truth is relative; relative to what we know, what we understand. To what we can accept. With no one around to object... who's to stop a lie from being the truth?
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Yes. It's easy to paint over truths that way. Especially if you can convince everyone who believes something else that what you say is what's real.
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...Heh. [He opens his eyes, smirking.] She'll never notice the weight she carries, no matter if it's eight or eight hundred.
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No one feels guilty for destroying the roadblock--to her, it's the same thing. Humans justify themselves in all sorts of ways...it's a little amazing how much they can rationalize.
[It provides him with a sort of strange amusement, when he's not furious at the unfairness of at all. He killed one, not knowing what the price would be, and he can never escape that. But those who kill thousands and deny to themselves the reality of what they've done...
...He wonders sometimes if that was something He added, but he honestly doesn't care.]
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