The Paper God Rebellion - Chapter 2 (Day 3)

Chapter 2

“To do justice and judgment is more acceptable to the Lord than sacrifice.”

- Proverbs 21:3

“So let me ask you, why a gun?  Why not lethal injection?” 

Sunlight streamed into the classroom casting long shadows from the objects on the wooden desks.  Lilia moved her pencil and watched the shadow dance across the page.  Mr. Livingston stood at the front of the classroom leaning on his desk waiting for an answer.  Students shifted uncomfortably in their seats and averted their eyes, hoping he wouldn’t call on them.  Hearing no volunteers, he posed another question.

“Let me put it another way,” Mr. Livingston said while tapping his chin with his glasses.  He put his hand in his pocket and walked across the front of the classroom.   “Wouldn’t lethal injection be a more humane way to execute someone rather than blowing someone’s head off?” He asked.   A few of the students nervously laughed under their breaths.  Is it ever okay to joke about killing someone, Lilia thought.  Next to her, Micah brushed back his messy hair and raised his hand.  Mr. Livingston seemed relieve to have someone participate in his class discussion. 

“Yes, Micah?”  He asked.  Micah sat up straighter in his chair.

“Well, that depends on what you consider humane,” he said.  “If the end point is just to kill the guy, using a gun is pretty effective and fast.  You don’t have to wait there for a few minutes watching a guy die.  Just a pull of the trigger, and bam.  He’s dead.”  Lilia could hear the distain in his voice. 

“True, true,” Mr. Livingston nodded his head.  “And despite the advancements in medical science, making a lethal cocktail is more complex than what it may first seem.”  He stopped pacing the front and went to lean on his desk again.   "Not everyone reacts to the drug cocktail the same.  Sometimes the inmates are too obese for the doctors to find a vein.  Sometimes the doctor misses a vein."

He put his glasses back on and crossed his arms.  “For a while, the law required the execution to be as painless as possible, with drugs to relax the muscles—which actually made death quite terrifying.  Your body aches for air, but your muscles no longer work.  You can’t even scream for help.  In a way, the lethal injection was much less humane than a single bullet to the back of the head.  Not to mention a bullet is generally cheaper anyways.” 

A boy with shaggy blond hair who sat a few rows in front of Lilia tentatively raised his hand. 

“Yes, Stanley,” Mr. Livingston said as he called on the boy. 

“I was wondering...” Stanley started.  He looked uncomfortable.  He nervously ran his hand through his hair.  “I mean, why do they get off so easily?  Why should it be painless for them?” 

“What do you mean?” Mr. Livingston asked. 

“I just...” Stanley paused, “I mean, if we’re really looking for justice, and these guys, I mean, a lot of these guys were sick.  They took joy in making other people suffer.  If we’re really looking for justice, why don’t we allow them to feel the same fear and pain they made their victims feel?”

Mr. Livingston paused before giving his answer.  He had answered this question many times.  Each year someone asked the same question. 

“Because we don’t want to give them any more power over us.  One bullet is all it takes to kill someone.  We ensure the execution by four.  Every Listed criminal gets the same fate.  One bullet shows we don’t care about them in particular.  They’re just one in thousands of executions that go on each year.  One bullet, and we get to move on with life.  And they, well, they will never hurt anyone again.”  He shrugged.  “I know it’s not the answer you probably want to hear, but next year you all will be able to vote and change the law if you don’t like it.” 

Mr. Livingston walked behind his desk and grabbed a folder.  “I’m sure you all will be very happy to know that you will not be in the Execution Chamber today.”  Lilia felt a weight off her chest.  She did not even realize she was so tense.  “In fact,” Mr. Livingston said, “At most, we will only have one execution per week, so for the next four days we will be examining the profiles of executed criminals performed by other classes.” 

He began to walk up and down the aisles of desks handing each student a sheet of paper.  Micah raised his hand again.

“Will we ever find out the identities of the convicted criminals we killed?  Like yesterday?  Will we know who died?”  He asked.  Mr. Livingston shook his head.

“No,” he answered.  “The law is very clear that the executioners will not be able to have access to the identities of the executed that they personally were involved in.  It helps prevent conflicts of interest.” 

Micah slid further down in his chair and looked at the paper Mr. Livingston handed to him.  He let out an audible sigh.  Lilia took a sheet from Mr. Livingston.  There was a number 3 at the top.  Mr. Livingston made his way to the front of the class room again. 

“Okay class,” he said.  “On the upper right hand corner you will see a number.  This is the number of your group that you will be working closely with this semester.  Each group will be assigned a criminal to research this week.  The paper identifies the grading rubric.”  Mr. Livingston glanced at the clock.  “Well, we have about ten minutes left of class today, so get into your groups and start assigning the workload.  In addition, you will probably have to meet outside the classroom at least once a week throughout the semester.” 

There was a shuffle of feet moving around, and groups calling out their number.  She saw Sara holding three hands up in the back of the classroom. 

“Hey, what number are you?” she asked Micah.  He gave a small smile as he glanced at her paper.  

“I guess you’re stuck with me,” he said.  They walked over to where Sara was standing. 

“Okay guys,” Sara said.  “It looks like we have...Bella Marie Gray as our inmate,” Sara said looking at her paper.  “Does anyone have a preference as to what they’re going to research?”  There were six students in their group.  A few people raised their hands.  Mark and Tom, inseparable friends were goofing off and not paying attention.  Sara glanced sideways in their direction and rolled her eyes and started assigning people to the assignments. 

While Sara was distracted, Lilia leaned into Micah.

“So did you get to talk with Livingston?” she asked.  Micah nodded. 

“Yeah.  I’m still participating in all of this...” he said waving his hand at the group, “but not really.  It’s all just for the credit to graduate.” 

“It’s just a credit for all of us.”  Lilia said dryly.  “None of us want to be here.”  She was more angry at herself for not feeling bad about the executions than she did about Micah abandoning her. 

“Hey, I’m sorry for the way I acted yesterday,” he looked down.  “I’m just, so tired of thinking about all of this, and knowing that we’re going to have to do this for the next few months.” 

“I know,” Lilia said.  “I’m sorry too.  It just sucks.”   At that moment, Sara caught her eye. 

“Hey Lilia,” Sara said.  “We’ve only got two assignments left.  And you and Micah are the last two to volunteer, so you guys get it.”  She checked the paper again.  “Okay, so Lilia, you get the Crime Committed, and Micah, you get Statistics.”  Micah let out a groan. 

“Great.  I get the most boring assignment,” he muttered to Lilia.  Lilia let a cheerful, “yep!” as she jumped off the desk.  “Most boring, but least controversial.  So look at the bright side sunshine.  C’mon.  Bell’s going to ring any second.”  They headed back to their desks to gather up their things. 

At morning break, they met with Oriana and Isaac near the back exit again.  It was far enough away from the loud, happy chatter of the other students. 

“Pretty brutal for a ninety-minute class, huh?”  said Oriana to no one in particular.  She sat with her chin on her fists, looking out onto the green field where  one of the gym classes were being held. 

“Yeah,” Isaac agreed.  “They better provide us all with head doctors after this.”  He screwed on a new cartridge onto his garet then took a deep inhale.  “I do believe I’m becoming dependent on these things,” he said smoke trailing from his lips.

"By the way, I never asked," Lilia said motioning toward the garet.  "What's it for?" she asked.  

"Anxiety,” Isaac answered.  “Helps keep the inner demons at bay,” he shrugged and took another inhale. 

Oriana sat up.  “Oh, hey, I just remembered,” she said.  “I wanted to ask you two if you guys wanted to come to the warehouse after school today.  Isaac and I need some help with a project we have for our mixed-media class."

“Yeah, I guess so,”  Micah shrugged.  Lilia nodded.  “Yeah, sure.”

The school bell rang.  It was time to go back and face five more hours of classes.  Sighing and feeling far older than their years, the group slowly gathered up their things and headed inside.  

The Shop was a rusted and abandoned warehouse where Oriana and Isaac set up all their art projects.  It was a spacious building with concrete floors, broken out windows, and high enough ceilings to allow an uninhibited release of creative energy.   Old paint splatters marked the floor in colorful patterns.  In the far corner, a sculpture made of twisted old metal parts sat lurking in the shadows.  A rustic kiln sat a few yards in front of it. 

But besides that, the warehouse was surprisingly airy and well-lit.  The afternoon sun shone brightly through the busted-out windows, and in the middle of the large room, laid three large containers full of glittering pieces of broken glass.  Lilia and Micah entered into the room and saw that Oriana and Isaac were already there.  Someone else was there, the senior she recognized from the day before.  She couldn’t quite place him.  Oriana waved them over.

“Hey guys!  Over here!”  She shouted.  “Glad you guys could make it!”  Oriana wore heavy-duty gloves and leaned over one of the containers.  “I was just telling Isaac and Jonas the process of melting glass.”  Lilia noticed the three containers held different colors of glass: one was full of shattered pieces of green glass, probably wine bottles.  A second was filled with dark and light pieces of brown, and a third was filled with pieces of clear glass.  They both looked like they came from bottles. 

“Yeah, I brought a blow torch,” Isaac said holding it up.  “Which is probably not needed now, so whatever.”  Oriana laughed.  “no, we'll use it eventually, just not today.  For the larger piece we’re doing today, we’re just going to use the kiln—it’ll be easier.” 

Jonas moved towards Micah and Liliah. “Here,” he said, “you’ll need these.”  He handed them large bronze mallets.  He was tall and skinny with shaggy dark hair.  He had a thin sad face, and even sadder blue eyes.  Jonas, Lilia thought.  There’s something about him that was sad...What was it?  She couldn’t remember.  She shook her head to clear her thoughts.

“Thanks,” She told him. He shrugged in response and averted his eyes. 

“No problem,” He answered.

Oriana hopped off the stool she was standing on to look into the containers.  “Alright guys.  Jonas was nice enough to get a hold of some broken glass containers.  He works at the recycling plant and these were rejected for whatever reason...”  She looked towards Jonas. 

“Density,” He offered.  “The density was wrong so they couldn’t melt it down for new bottles.”  He had a slight accent that sounded reminiscent of an old eastern European nation. 

“...and so,” Oriana went on, “using the kiln he so skillfully stole—”

“—borrowed,” Jonas corrected.

“—borrowed and hasn't returned for the last year and a half,” Oriana continued, “we’re going to crush the glass down into itty-bitty pieces, fill the mold I made yesterday, shove the mold into that big kiln over there,  melt the glass, and that’s probably all we’re going to get to before it gets too dark in here.  We'll let it set over night.”

Isaac brought out a six-pack he had next to him.  “And I brought more, just in case we needed more bottles,”  He smiled mischievously.  He pulled one out and popped off the cap.  “here’s to being seventeen, old enough to kill, old enough to join the army, and, most importantly, old enough to drink!”    

"But not still not old enough to vote," Jonas said ironically.  Isaac ignored him and took a swig, then started handing out the beers.  Micah took one, but Jonas declined.

“No thanks,” he said.  “I don’t drink.”  Isaac shrugged.  “No problem,” Isaac said.  “This is a mixed pack, so we got non-alcoholic options,” he pulled out a dark bottle.  “Soda?” he asked Jonas.  Jonas accepted.  Lilia stood close enough to Jonas to hear him mutter, "great.  Sharp objects, fire and alcohol.  What could go wrong?"  She gave a small laugh, and he gave her a small sideways glance with no smile.  She stopped smiling. 

“Alright guys,” Oriana said after they did a toast and each took a gulp of their respective drinks.  “Let’s get started before we run out of time.”

Oriana started double bagging bags of glass, with roughly two pounds of glass.  “Here,” she said handing Lilia the bag.  “Give this to Jonas, he’s done it before.  He helped me out last year,” she said. 

Jonas took the bag of broken glass and proceeded to throw canvass material over it.  Using his mallet, he began smashing the glass into smaller pieces.  After a while, the uncovered the bag and reached in with his gloved had to check the size.  Like green emeralds, he lifted a handful of the crushed glass to show Lilia.

“You probably want the glass no bigger than this,” he said.  “It has to be able to melt evenly, and the larger the pieces of glass are, the less even it’ll probably be and more subject to fracture.”  He tossed his handful of glass back into the bag.  Lilia went back to Oriana.

“So what are you making?” She asked Oriana.  Oriana handed a bag to Micah. 

“Well, I’m not quite sure, but I know the main structure is going to be a tree, with clear, twisting-winding branches.  Maybe a few flecks of green swirling around in the trunk.” She started scooping more glass into a bag.  “I haven’t really thought out the concept too thoroughly.  But it will be the tree of life eventually.”  She handed Lilia a bag.  “Here you go.”

Lilia brought the bag over to where Micah and Jonas were having a conversation.  Jonas was not making eye contact with Micah, but Lilia could tell something Jonas said upset him.