The machinery of night

“The fact that humanity still has some future is thanks to me!”

Without batting an eyelid, the Dictator informs me of his opinion. He looks at me as if he just explained Newton's laws of gravity. I put a lettuce leaf in my mouth so as not to burst out laughing.

It is already night when the Despot makes his outpouring. Until then, we just made small talk. That is, at the beginning of the evening, at his request, I began to tell something about myself. After less than a minute, the Absolute Ruler took over the conversation. Seriously and full of devotion, he conveyed his life story. He spoke about how his strict religious father discovered one day that his wife was cheating with their elder. But despite this misstep, his parents decided to stay together. And how he realized as a little boy that he was the reason they stayed together.

“I carry that responsibility with me for the rest of my life,” says the Autocrat. Do I detect glimpse of tears in his eyes?

More than a week ago I received word from the Ministry of Good Order that I had been invited to dinner with the Great Progressor. Every now and then he wanted to gauge what is going on among the Common People. I was asked to act as real and natural as possible. His Highness wished to get as accurate a picture as possible of my mundane life and my ideas about the future.

“So what first seemed so negative, so bad, turned out to be in my favor. Because let's face it, my true strength is that I give people direction, security and confidence. So that I can watch over them and they can live peacefully and in complete safety.”

The way the Oppressor sits in front of me, he looks like an ordinary man. Thin dark brown hair, silver glasses, small bright eyes. He is dressed in a nondescript white shirt. For the menu he chose the risotto with mushrooms. The Absolutist has been drinking sparkling all evening long. For dessert he had a vanilla muffin.

The later in the evening the more confidentially he speaks to me. At first he sat a bit stiff and formal in front of me. Now he increasingly bends his clean-shaven head towards me and starts to whisper softly. He smells like a mixture of anise and clove.

“People are essentially very simple souls. They are insecure, they are afraid. So they want to be led. Then they don't have to make decisions themselves. And I do that for them. I give them peace of mind. Of course their freedom is limited. But the fact that they no longer have to think, that compensates a lot. Now they can spend all their time on entertainment, good food, sex, religion.”

As he continues to feel at ease, I become more restless, more irritable. Can I say something back? Without my life on the line? But what can I say? Assuming I get the opportunity to say something for once. How to refute a Big Brother?

“I can imagine that most people are very happy with me. And proud. You should know how much mail and messages I receive every day from compatriots who are so ecstatic about me.”

Can I run away? Can I throw the glass of water in his face? Take the knife and stab it in his little bright eyes? Can I knock over the table? Scream? Shout? Going crazy like a horse or a madman?

“You don't have to thank me for this nice evening. I know this will be by far the best moment of your life, ” he concludes.

Again I am speechless. Is that my destiny? That I'm stuck, trapped?

That I can think anything but do absolutely nothing? And while I feel I am sinking into a black helplessness, I suddenly ask.

“Do you have any idea what is going to happen when you die?”

The tyrant's mouth falls open. His lips do move but only gibberish comes out of his black mouth. While he’s grappling with his own mortality, I take the opportunity to mutter ‘thank you’.

I'm barely outside when I'm knocked over by a group of rowdy boys and girls. They laugh, they sing, they drink. None of them notice me. And as I lie wonder-struck on the dirty cobble stones, I watch the young people vanish from my sight. Joyous, hopeful, carefree. On their way to a new night, to a new future.