Roman walked into the small restaurant and approached the counter. The young man knew he was dressed less formally than those around him, but still appropriately enough to maintain employment in Athenia's business district.
"Hi. What can I get you?" the barista asked him with a smile.
"Just a medium walnut decaf please," he responded politely. When he saw the order appear on the screen in front of him, he held his comm up and paid for the coffee. Most restaurants and cafes in Shangwu had long ago implemented self-ordering systems, which greatly increased the efficiency of the venue, but also made them more popular and crowded choices for the other commuters. Roman chose this restaurant because the slightly slower service often resulted in it being less busy.
He waited a moment until the man behind the counter handed him his warm beverage. He usually came here on a daily basis, as it was a relaxing place to take his morning break and prepare himself for the mammoth amount of work left for him in the afternoon. It wasn't his ideal career, but it was a desirable alternative to working in the northern districts, which usually comprised of less stable employment, as well as higher levels of crime.
He made his way over to a vacant booth and sat comfortably, picking up an idle tablet from the table in front of him and scanning the headlines. Nothing jumped out and grabbed his attention. The headlines were boring, but it usually indicated that all was well and relatively peaceful in the small nation.
"Freedom," a booming voice said. "What does it mean to you?"
Roman looked up to see a tall figure standing over him. He had large black sunglasses that almost covered his entire face. The man had slicked back hair and wore a long, dark trench coat—an unusual choice for a tropical nation. He sat down at the table without invitation.
"Can I help you?" Roman asked, feeling intimidated by the presence of the odd man. Something about him felt very ominous and eerily unnatural.
"Freedom," Nikolai said again, "tell me what it means to you."
Roman frowned with confusion. "What?"
"Answer my question, Roman," Nikolai said impatiently.
The young man was taken aback by the statement. "How ... did you know my name? Who are you?"
"May I join you?" Nikolai asked, despite already sitting at Roman's table.
"... okay," Roman slowly replied.
"Thank you kindly. Now, what does freedom mean to you?"
"I'm afraid I don't understand the question," Roman said, still confused by the bizarre conversation taking place.
"Philosophy, politics, international relations, sociology. You've studied these all at ANU, have you not? So surely you're no stranger to the topic. Do you truly not understand the question? Or did my sudden appearance startle you?"
"Yes," Roman conceded. "That one. You startled me. I don't believe we've met." He tried to maintain a polite demeanour but secretly wished the man would leave him alone. He tried to figure out how the stranger knew his name and what he studied at university.
"My name is Dr Nicholas Sweeney," Nikolai said. "And I ask you this question because I wish to propose something to you. It could potentially mean that you join an elite faction whose ideals involve promoting freedom and protection. Conversely, it could mean death for you. Your fate will be decided by how you answer my question."
Roman's heart started to race. The man only came across as strange a moment ago, but now the sudden threat of death began to frighten him.
"Look," he said, "I'm just here to have a coffee and then go back to work. I'm not looking for trouble."
"Then answer my question—freedom; tell me of it. What is it?"
Roman sighed, but was willing to do what it took to rid himself of the annoying man. "I suppose freedom is people having free will. People have the ability to work where they wish and go where they want." His heart continued to pound as he tried to gauge the man's reaction. He wondered if he would approve of his opinion and leave him be.
"I agree ..." Nikolai finally said. Roman breathed an internal sigh of relief. "... to an extent though. Let us dive deeper. How much freedom do people deserve? Do they deserve the freedom to kill one another?"
"Well, no," Roman said. "I don't condone murder."
"And nor do I. Unless it's justified, of course." The man then started laughing to himself manically.
Roman became more uncomfortable by the second, fearing that he may be attacked.
"You know," Nikolai continued, "humans are capable of just about anything. They can promote peace and harmony across all walks of life, or they could destroy everything that has been created with one cataclysmic push of a button, not unlike what's happening back in my home country. So where do we draw the line?
"Do we give them just enough freedom so that they may live long, full, happy lives? Or do we give them complete control over the universe itself? Do we allow them to hold the fate of civilisation in their hands and merely hope they don't destroy it?"
"Well, yeah, I'd say so," Roman said. He looked around the restaurant to see if anyone was watching the pair, but no one seemed to be taking any notice of the bizarre situation. "I suppose true freedom gives someone the power to make all decisions, even if that decision may affect other people. We can't control them."
"Can't we now?" Nikolai's tone became serious. "What if someone tried to kill you? Would you let them do it? Or would you stop them?"
"Of course I would try to stop it," Roman said, tired of the never-ending debate.
"What if you could prevent it from happening altogether? What if society was too afraid to even commit murder?"
"Well, I think a society without murder is a good thing. But I don't think they should live in fear."
"It is this fear that creates peace," Nikolai retorted. "It is this peace that creates freedom."
Roman had reached the end of his tether. "Look, can we please stop talking about this? I just want to be left alone." His voice became loud and flustered.
Nikolai smirked and laughed to himself. "Very well. I shall leave you be. I just have one final question for you."
Roman buried his head in his hands. "What? What is it?"
The odd man leaned in closer and took a dramatic deep breath. "Utopia. Can this be achieved?"
Roman thought about the question for a moment, searching his own feelings. It had been the strangest few moments of his young life.
"No," he finally said. "I want to say yes, but ... we are corrupt by nature. This kind of peace doesn't exist and never will."
Nikolai stared at him briefly before forming a broad smile. He raised his hand and removed the large sunglasses from his face. Underneath were two gaping holes where eyes once sat. He glared at Roman, who gasped at the gruesome sight of the eyeless man.
"Wrong answer," Nikolai said, his voice happily sinister.
Roman started to tremble at the presence of the foreboding figure. He sat frozen, expecting the psychotic man to remove a weapon and publicly execute him.
But the man did nothing of the sort. Instead, he returned his sunglasses to his face, rose from the booth, and slowly strode out of the cafe with his arms behind his back.
Roman sat alone, left in a state of shock by the terrifying visitor. His pounding heart became deafening as adrenaline surged through his body.
"What just happened?" he whispered to himself.
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