The Paper God Rebellion - Chapter I (Day 1)

Her breath caught in her throat.  She forced herself to exhale.  Inhale.  Repeat.  She knew what to expect, she had done this thousands of times before—but only in practice.  She looked through her scope.  It was focused on a red paper target, the same, familiar red target she had shot at many times before.  Remember, just focus on your breath.  Slowly she extended her finger and found the trigger.  Keep it steady, don’t pull the trigger but just squeeze it on the exhale.  It wasn’t her first time shooting a gun.  But it was her first time killing someone. 

Right above the paper target, a red light blinked on.  There were four red lights arranged in a row.  And the last was a green light.  It was counting down.  She exhaled.  Remember, squeeze on the exhale.  The second red light blinked on.  And then the third.  Green.  Squeeze.

The Paper God Rebellion

“And if any mischief follows, then you shall give life for life;

Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot;

Burning for burning, wound for wound, stripe for stripe.” 

- Exodus 21: 23-25

“Only those without sin may cast the first stone.”

- John 8:7

Laws first exist in the minds of the people.  Societal norms and the moral culture of the majority can dominate the moral qualms of the minority—if the minority remains quiet and docile enough.  But often, it is not about the majority or the minority.  It is about who can influence the system.  Regardless, the fact remains that laws are created by men and women to reflect the world they live in. 

This particular law started beyond time remembered.  Recorded in ancient texts and evolved for the modern world.  A concept so ingrained in human DNA that men and women can justify actions.  Justify.  A mere derivative, a simple concept that qualifies some actions as fair or reasonable under certain circumstances, and because of this, murder does not equal murder all the time.  Not only is killing someone sometimes justified, but sometimes murder is necessary.

And now, there was a backlog of people to kill. 

Chapter 1

“Don’t you think seventeen is too young?” Lilia’s mom said as she looked at the permission slip as she shook her head and signed the paper.  They were sitting at the kitchen table.  Lilia was already late for her first full day of classes.  “I mean, there are studies that have shown that young people’s brains don’t fully develop until they’re in their mid-twenties.”  She started to hand the paper back to Lilia, but paused and looked Lilia in the eye.  “Do you think you’re ready?” she asked, her hazel eyes searching.  Lilia shrugged. 

“I guess so,” Lilia answered.  “I mean, if everyone has to do it, it’s no big deal, right?”  Her mom sighed and let go of the paper.   Lilia folded it half and put it in her school bag. 

“We already had to do a research paper on the legislative history of the law last year,” she said as she stood up and grabbed her books from the kitchen table.  “And seventeen is better than fifteen, right?”  She gave her mom a quick kiss on the cheek.  “Gotta hele, mom.  See you after school.” 

Lilia turned around and smiled as she opened the front door.  “Don’t worry about it,” she said.  “My brain will be fine.  And if not, we can always move.”  She gave her mom a smile.  “I’ll let you know if I’ll be late for dinner tonight.” 

The original version of the law required that fifteen year-olds administer the capital punishments of criminals convicted of violent crimes.  The original drafters believed—perhaps too idealistically—that fifteen years of age represented the perfect year between childhood and adulthood.  A year where issues of right and wrong were still black-and-white, and not yet tinted by the confusing grayness that burdens adulthood.   And the legislative rationale was that the law would serve as a teaching tool that would instilled in the youth that if you choose a life a crime, you know exactly what might be in your future. 

But as it might be expected, there were problems.  Initially, reports of violent crimes performed by young adults dropped dramatically.  However, three years after the law’s enactment lawmakers and citizens started to notice a disturbing statistical increase in the rate of psychiatric admittance of older teens, increase in successful suicides of those teens, and no change in the violent crime rate.  Apparently, teach a child to kill, and they will kill.

The public response was immediate  After five years of enactment, the law was temporarily halted.  Most regions--already on the fence with capital punishment--abolished any type of capital punishment altogether.  Deemed a barbaric and archaic tradition, those regions preferred rehabilitation, and felt capital punishment gave what some criminals wanted: martyrdom. 

Only one region continued administering capital punishment, Lilia’s home region.  Region 7 established a complex education capital punishment system.  Generally, the law preserved the rights of criminals, and nothing changed to the due process of trial by jury and high level of proof through evidence.  However, while the judge and jury remained the same, members of the public who did not serve on the jury could vote through quarterly ballot. 

Requirements for a criminal’s name placed on the ballot included the nature of the crime, which included general violent crimes (including robberies gone bad), violent sexual crimes including rape (and statutory rape), and two types of violent premeditated crimes: one for directed violence, and the other for a mass-murder crime.  Additionally, the criminal must have either exhausted all appeals, or waived those appeals, and had to be held in prison for no less than five years to reduce initial public response to reduce the chance of the public voting on pure emotion.  However, second offenders convicted of violent crimes are immediately listed.

A mere majority is not enough to sentence these criminals to death.  The majority had to be seventy-five percent of the public voting for capital punishment.  Even so, nearly sixty-five percent of all convicted criminals on the ballot were sentenced to death.  A convicted criminal could only be on the ballot three times before his or her name is taken off. 

Lilia remembered when she turned six, the political talking point of the day was the re-establishment of the capital punishment law administered by seventeen year olds.  What a difference two years made.  While other regions refused to enact similar legislation, sister laws gave Region 7 jurisdiction over certain criminals.  Those other regions can also use the popular demand ballot to have their criminals executed in Region 7.  A messy law, and a messier system, but the other regions seemed to be able to sleep better at night.  But with the allowance of convicted criminals from outside regions to be executed in Region 7, each Humanities class had roughly 35 criminals to execute. 

It had been eleven years, and crime rates had slowly decreased.  And statistically, the psychological impacts on seventeen year-olds in Region 7 did not seem any different than those living in other regions.  They developed educational classes to prepare the students.  The classes basically served the same purpose as a class of students visiting a farm and then a slaughterhouse to find out where steak comes from.  Likewise, these students studied the law and the legislative history as to why they had to administer the punishment.  Even so, Lilia had been apprehensive of this day to come since school ended last year. 

She pulled into the school parking lot.  There were other students still hanging around.  She checked her watch.  Five minutes before class.  She was still early.  She found Isaac, Oriana, and Micah sitting under the old oak tree.  Isaac was absently fiddling with a garet between his fingers.   The garet glowed a cool blue as he took a long drag and watched as the thin lines of smoke wisped up as he exhaled, disappearing into the cool fall air.

"You guys heading for class?"  Lilia asked as she approached the group.  She had not seen Oriana and Isaac since the end of last year.   Oriana now had dark blue streaks running through her straight hair.  It was more than a subtle change from the bubble-gum pink she wore last year.

"Hey Lily," Oriana said in greeting.  "Yeah, we were just on our way to class.  First bell already rang."  Oriana stood up, dusted off her pants, and started gathering her book bag.  "It's good to see you.  How was your summer?" she asked smiling.  Lilia shrugged.  

"Good," she answered.  "The same every year."  Isaac came over to give Lilia a hug.  He had started to grow a rough beard and traded his contacts for thick plastic frames.  

"Oh, Lily," he said holding Lilia in a giant bear hug.  "It's so good to see you!  I've missed you."  He gave her a kiss on the cheek.  "Ana and I were just talking about you, hoping you wouldn’t show up this year.  Terrible that we have to meet again under these circumstances," he said.  "and by circumstances, I mean, the start of the new semester."  Lilia reached up and touched his beard.

"And when did you start growing this??" she asked him smiling.  Isaac comically stroked his patchy beard thoughtfully.  

"Oh well, you know, I thought it made me look smarter," he said.  "It's taken me a few weeks, but I think it's coming in nicely.  Give it time--it'll only keep looking better."  

Micah came over and gave Lilia a hug.  They had been best friends since the first day of kindergarten.  "Hey," he said handing her a piece of paper.  “I looked it up, we got Livingston for Humanities.  I think we got lucky—I heard he’s pretty good.”  Lilia looked at the piece of paper, it was her class schedule. 

“Livingston?” Oriana asked as they started walking to the school building.  “Lucky.  Me and Isaac got put in Williamson’s class.  I’m scared she’s going to make me feel something,” Oriana said sarcastically.  Isaac gave her a nudge.  “She’s going to make you discover the soul you never knew you had!” he said smiling.  “You need to start living up to your name.”  Oriana gave him a shove back. 

“My soul is very happy where it is right now,” Oriana countered.  “Buried deep where I don’t have to deal with it day-to-day.  It’s too much hassle.” 

“Oh, did you hear Lucas transferred out?” She said turning to Lilia.  Lilia shook her head.  “yeah, I guess his parents got jobs in Region 3.  But it’s probably because of David’s death.  Last year Lucas was worried that he wouldn’t be able to hand this year because of all that stuff happening.  I guess he was right.” 

“Not that it matters anyway,” Isaac said.  “Remember the sit in?  I think it was Livingston who made it possible for the students.”  The sit-in happened during one year where most students staged a protest and refused to take part in the capital punishment system.  The criminals were still executed despite it.

“Or he could have just transferred to the suicide room,” Micah said.  “I’ve heard it’s a lot less pressure over there,” he added almost as an afterthought.  Lilia looked at him, he looked more tired than she remember the last time she saw him in the summer.  She looped her arm through his.

“Come on,” she said leading him.  “We’re down this hall.” 

“See you guys after class," Oriana said as she and Isaac turned hall to their right.  "And good luck with Humanities!" Isaac added he held the door open for Oriana.   Classmates were greeting each other and joking around as they filed into their classrooms.  Just like any other first day of classes. 

----

[*note: eventually, I’m going to add the in-class scene here, where the teacher has moral discussions, blah, blah, blah too boring for right now]

----

Every student had their own station, and the stations were arranged in not quite a half circle.  Lilia noticed the similarity of the killing station and the practice gun range.  The same gun stand.  The same protective ear gear.  The same protective eye wear.  By age seventeen all students knew how to fire, clean, and maintain a gun.  Many students, male and female, entered into military service for a year before secondary school because the government would pay for their higher education.  Just a decade ago military service was mandatory.  Not anymore, after the law was enacted. 

She touched the cold metal stand and looked at her weapon.  She looked through the scope.  It was centered on a bull’s eye.  She knew everyone of her group of seven had their guns pointed at the same target.  And she knew that only four had live rounds.  The others had blanks.  She resisted the urge to check if she had the real bullets.  She would rather not know.  She knew at least three other rooms had the same set up for the twenty-seven students in Mr. Livingston’s class.  She briefly wondered what Ms. Williamson’s class was doing for the first day.  Going over the syllabus, perhaps? 

She noticed the gun was mounted to the stand, which was mounted firmly in concrete.  Maybe to keep others from going berserk and killing everyone else in the room.  She put on her protective gear.  The execution was schedule for three minutes from now.  There was a black screen to her right.  Although it was black to her, she knew right beyond it was the family of the loved ones who were killed by the soon-to-be executed waiting to watch the execution.  Or maybe it was the convicted criminal’s loved ones crying for his soul.  Standing there waiting for the clock to count down felt like time had turned into silly putty.  Stretched out and warped.  Suddenly it folded back on itself and began to speed up and disappear.  Thirty seconds.   

Her breath caught in her throat.  She forced herself to exhale.  Inhale.  Repeat.  She knew what to expect, she had done this thousands of times before—but only in practice.  She again looked through her scope.  It was focused on a red paper target, the same, familiar red target she had shot at many times before.  Remember, just focus on your breath, she told herself.  Slowly she extended her finger and found the trigger.  Keep it steady, don’t pull but just squeeze the trigger on the exhale. 

Right above the paper target, a red light blinked on.  There were four red lights arranged in a row.  And the last was a green light.  It was counting down.  She exhaled.  Remember, squeeze on the exhale.  The second red light blinked on.  And then the third.  Green.  Squeeze.

Though seven guns were shot, one reverberation rang throughout the execution chamber marked only by the sound of empty shell casings hitting the floor.  Silence.  All bullets fit through a three inch diameter in the middle of the bull’s eye.  Not bad for their first time. 

She felt the same detached feeling she felt the first time her class witnessed an execution.  She was thankful that she didn’t check her gun chamber.  She didn’t want to know. 

Break time. 

The mid-morning sun held the promise for a warm fall day.  The sky was bluer than normal and the green of the trees seemed more vibrant.  Lilia, Oriana, Micah and Isaac stepped out of the school building for a moment.  The rest of their class was unusually quiet, while the noise from the other students seemed unusually loud.  A group of seniors under the oak tree sat watching the Fourth year class file out in silence.  Lilia wondered if they were remembering their first time.  Was it empathy?  Was it pity?  Or was it relief that they didn't have to go through with it.  She recognized one of the upper class men, what was his name?  John, was it?  Joshua?  She couldn't remember.   It was something biblical. 

They sat down on the stairs next to one of the side exits.  Oriana leaned her head on Lilia's shoulder.  Isaac inhaled the cool smoke of his electric garet and slowly exhaled.  No one spoke for a moment.  "So," said Isaac, breaking the silence, smoke still trailing from his lips.  "how was your guys’ first execution?"

“Disturbingly quick,” Micah said.