Wretched by Offer Reish (most important books of all time txt) 📕

It was good.

He also wasn't sure if he liked the fact that the stage on which the man with the big nose was standing was a lot bigger, more imposing and much more nicely decorated than the bare stages Jessica and the masks used to stand on. But it didn't matter anymore, since he didn't want to think about The Existents anymore. He wasn't like the others, who wanted to crush them into thin dust, but the infectious antagonism drained every last drop of sympathy he'd had for them.

The first order of business on the schedule of the man with the big nose, who was alone on stage, was once again to refute everything The Existents had claimed. To this end a Wretch was ushered onto the stage by the large woman with the wide back (which many of the audience recognized from her unmasking the black masks, which now won her a great wave of applause). This Wretch, unlike the one The Existents had presented in their provocative video, hadn't been stolen and had been brought to the demonstration with the full support of the Industry. The number on its back didn't have to be hidden since The People had nothing to hide, and its interviewer- the man at the podium- had no need for a black mask in which to wrap his square face since there was nothing he couldn't reveal either. And the Wretch- compared to the anonymous one The Existents had smuggled, this one was strong, healthy, clean; it looked almost happy (if at all such an emotion could be attributed to Wretches). The contrast was glaring: this wasn't an illegal, stealthy, shady underground provocation but a proud, transparent, legitimate establishment of a fact that everyone accepted (or at least they wanted to).

"What's your name?" The man with the big nose asked with firm authority but with no audible disdain.

"My name is 463."

Leonardo's eyes widened. For some reason the fact that this Wretch's number was successive to 462's intrigued him.

"How did you get your name?"

"It was painted on me when I was little", 463 said bleakly, the way all Wretches always sounded when they spoke. Leonardo found it strange that this creature looked so much better than all other Wretches he'd seen but sounded no different. This was a bad thing, of course, since Wretches sounded terrible.

"Where do you live?" The man asked. Leonardo chuckled; it was funny to hear somebody ask a Wretch where it lived. Wretches didn't really live anywhere- rather they were only kept or stored somewhere.

"In a Storage Camp. Close to the great wall."

"Are you treated well?"

"Yes", mumbled 463.

"Is there anything you'd like to say to the people here?"

"Yes." The Wretch turned to face the audience, forced upon its furry face an expression that might've been something like a smile (Wretches never smiled; it was assumed they were incapable of it), and said:

"Thank you for your kind treatment. I hope we can keep serving you for a long time. Thank you." There was something affected about 463's performance that made it obvious it'd been prepared for the occasion. It's grammar was too clean, its pronunciation too clear. The pauses between its sentences were methodical and its words were spoken in a steady beat. It wasn't natural, not even for a Wretch (which typically sounded robotic), but it didn't matter. The people got what they were hoping for: a foundation on which to hinge their argument against the truthfulness of the claims of The Existents (and of any negative feelings that might arise in them as a result of these claims). And so as 463 clumsily went off the stage the crowd cheered enthusiastically and with a certainty in its own righteousness.

Next on the agenda were the alternative arguments that showed why, beyond any shadow of doubt, the current situation was justifiable and any claim to the contrary was untenable. The People (and, gladly following in their tracks, the people) claimed intransigently that The Existents' claims were preposterous, and then they went on to argue that, even if they were to concede that these claims were in fact authentic, this was no reason for panic.

There was history. "Wretches have been used to serve the people of this city since its founding forefathers first laid foot here. To renounce this heritage and call it cruel would be an act of sacrilege!" Of course, that Wretches were so used since the beginning of time was one theory of several, but it was the most suitable one for the purpose at the moment and hence the right one in the eyes of the people.

There was religion. "The Lord Himself has said to us: 'have dominion over every living thing that moves on the earth.' Were they not meant to fulfill our needs, then? Even more; He has commanded us to instill fear in them: 'The fear of you and the dread of you shall be upon everything that creeps on the ground. Into your hand they are delivered!' In a matter of moments, a secular and largely atheist city became filled awe for The Lord Almighty.

There were the laws of nature. "In the course of evolution we have surpassed them. We are stronger, smarter, superior. We would be foolish to countermand the law of survival of the fittest, which has brought us to where we are today. 'Always before God and the world the strongest has the right to carry through what he wills.' And to say that we are cruel? 'I don't see why man shouldn't be just as cruel as nature.' In nature Wretches would starve, be eaten alive, be subject to catastrophic weather conditions. We give them shelter, food, protection, a mission in life. If anything, we are more merciful than nature itself. That' ladies and gentlemen, is my idea of justice!" Yes, it was true! The people had the right to be as cruel as nature, but even so they were being more merciful.

Finally, like a boxer delivering a knockout to a staggering opponent, the man declared: "Many of you may not remember that one of the demands made by our opponents, The Existents, before their real agenda was revealed was complete transparency and public access to Protocols of all monthly sessions of Storage Camp Safety Committees that regulate, among other things, safety conditions in servant transport. Today there is complete transparency of these protocols, but the Committees no longer handle the issue of servant transport! The Industry has stultified the efforts of The Existents, so that even in that aspect our opponents have failed. But from here on out this will no longer be the case, and the Industry will ensure that our interest in the safety of our servants will be taken care of." With a little sideways motion of his head the man with the big nose exchanged glances with someone beside the stage- evidently a senior member of Industry- who nodded deferentially and accepted this dictation. The crowd roared again.

This would've been the beginning of the end of the demonstration, which by then had already confirmed and reinforced the people's total and unreserved belief in the cause of The People, had not a prominent figure been spotted in the crowd and ushered onto the stage with an unknown measure of coercion.

"Ladies and gentlemen", the man with the big nose said with utter joy. "It seems we have the honor of being graced with the presence of a very, very important and unexpected guest."

Oh's and Aw's escaped the mouths of the people at the front, who were first to recognize the star guest. The reaction was infectious, and soon the whole of the audience was emitting meaningless isolated syllables, not knowing how else to handle the uncanny turn of events.

But who was it up there? Leonardo couldn't make out the features of the consecrated figure, which was now making its way toward the center of the stage, accompanied by the woman with the wide shoulders, toward the podium. She was also a woman, but much smaller and more delicate than the one accompanying her. But Leonardo hadn't a clue.

"Who is it? Who is it?" He blurted out, looking right at Hailey and Fred, then left at his father, but they were all too shocked to take notice of him. Then his father took his hand and sat him on his shoulders (which he hadn't done until then, though Leonardo had had no easy time finding a line of sight to the stage through the mesh of people in front of them). Enjoying this new vantage point, he reevaluated the figure on stage, walking slowly toward the man with the big nose. She had her side turned to the podium and not to the audience, so Leonardo still couldn't tell who it was. Why couldn't they just tell him?

A moment later she turned and faced the crowd, and Leonardo's jaw dropped (he seemed to be the only one in the audience who hadn't recognized her until then). But- could it be? On the one hand it couldn't be her, on the other it could be no one else.

Jessica was a ghost of her former self. Leonardo couldn't even bring himself to study the little differences that, when joined together, comprised an incredible transformation. He could only perceive the overall image, which all at once made him sickened by his complete abandonment of this woman. She looked weak, exhausted, deflated, almost lifeless.

"What do you think about your justice now, Jessica?" The man at the podium asked to the great amusement of his audience. It was no secret that following the release of the video with the stolen Wretch, all known black masks had been interrogated and arrested for complicity in the unsolved case. Jessica was alone now.

Not being offered a microphone, she had to yell to be heard by the crowd (which was why she was there). "There is a higher court than courts of justice and that is the court of conscience. It supersedes all other courts.'"

A few caustic remarks were flung at her from the crowd, but she didn't acknowledge them.

"Yes, conscience. The conscience to love people, to desire their wellbeing and extend their goodness to one another. To love our children more than the miserable creatures that have no conscience. That is what the court of conscience dictates!" The man with the big nose said, and his nose flared to the sound of the burst of ravenous cried of support from the crowd.

"What happens to our children and to them is the same. They have the same breath", Jessica hollered, her scraggly hair restless as though frightened by the intensity of her voice. Then she looked up to the cloudy sky and screamed in what seemed to deplete her lungs of its last resources: "His mercy is over all that he has made." When she looked back down at the crowd, no longer with the satisfaction of someone bathed in adoration but as an innocent defendant declaring her rightfulness before her ruthless accusers, they were different.