A Little Known Fact About Ducks

False Prophet

"Where do you see yourself in five years, Abisha?" His voice is soft, calm and so self assured. I just want to put my hands around that pale unblemished neck and twist till the fuckers head explodes.

"I expect right where I am today," I reply, shrugging my shoulders, staring at a dark stain embedded in the white table-top between us.

"And why is that?" he continues, always with another damn question.

Raising an eyebrow I shift in the chair, leaning forward, elbows on my orange boiler suit clad knees.

"You tell me Minister, why would I still be here?" Two can play at this game. "After all, it was your administration that locked me up."

He tilts his head slightly, a few stray strands of hair falling across his eyes. He brushes them away slowly, precisely.

"You are here because you refuse to accept the truth, Abisha. Refuse to let go of the lies you have been fed for so many years without question."

I laugh but the response angers me more than I let on. "Without question, now there's a hypocritical statement if ever I've heard one."

"Abisha, we just want to help you. Help you put aside this misguided doctrine and see the truth," he says, thin lips curling into an obviously false smile.

He hates me, I can see it in his eyes. He's probably right to, I am a terrorist after all.

"Tell me Minister, what exactly is it that scares you so much?" I ask, truly  wanting to know.

He studies me for a few seconds, eyes narrow, trying to gauge if I'm being truthful.

"It's dangerous," is all he eventually says.

"In what way?" my turn for the questions.

"If everyone thought like you, Abisha, where would we be? A world of chaos, that's where," he says, sitting back in the chair, arms folded.

I laugh into his face, weakly shaking my head. "And why exactly would there be chaos, Minister. I believe in order and clarity. True, I have sometimes touched on chaos but always with the bigger picture in mind; to help mankind understand the secrets of the universe."

"Those kind of secrets we can live without," he says, just a hint of anger now showing. "The universe is a big enough place without your meddling in it's affairs. You're nothing but a false prophet spinning lies, molding them to fit into your delusional view of the world."

I sit back sighing. I don't know why I bother talking to these imbeciles, it just gives me indigestion.

Back in 2028, when I was at the University, the signs were already there; I was just too caught up in my work to notice. Looking back I should have seen it coming, our freedoms becoming more and more restricted by the day. The fundamentalist gaining power quietly as I sat scribbling equations in a dark laboratory. At the time I was so close to a breakthrough, to finding the question to my 42, I was blind to all. But when I was dragged from the building while on the cusp of understanding I knew it was too late, watching as my experiments were destroyed before my weeping eyes.

"Three churches, a Government office and a hair salon," he says, running a long finger over the file lying open on the table. "A hair salon?"

"Your recruitment office was next door, easy mistake to make," I say, grinning.

"All destroyed. For a Quantum Physicist you certainly know your way around explosives."

"Thank you."

He scowls at me. "It was not meant as a compliment, Abisha. Tell me, why do you persist in your studies? You do know we just destroy all of your work."

"To keep me sane, Pastor Davies, for the whole world has gone mad," I lean forward noticing how uncomfortable he is with this, his finger playing unconsciously with the white dog collar. "The theoretical sciences are not evil, Davies."

He laughs. "What was it you were studying Abisha, String Theory. You were trying to find parallel universes if I am not mistaken. A fruitless task as there is only one earth, one heaven and one hell but people should not be distracted from God's path by these blatant lies. It can only cause unrest and fear."

I shake my head but I gave up arguing months ago. "There was a time when science and religion co-existed, sometimes uncomfortably, yes, but there was mutual tolerance. It was only when the troubles started to get out of control that you lot managed to twist everyone's thinking just enough to create your Holy War," I almost spit the words out. "Christian against Muslim, it was that simple in your ignorant eyes, no middle ground. Pastor, you think you have won your war but I tell you now, it is just the beginning."

"Very well, Abisha. May God help you find the true path, for no-one here can save you," he says, revealing a large stamp from the briefcase by his side. He closes the file and positions the stamp on the mottled brown cover, slamming down hard.

The words, CONFIRMED ATHEIST, sign my death warrant.