Short Story: F.U.N. - Free Us Now

It was cold, damp and dark – but it wasn’t silent.

I could hear voices drawing closer and closer, both were speaking English, one with a sharp and nasal drawl, the other with a deep and heavy foreign accent that overstressed the “r’s” as he spoke.

As they approached my cell I could see them more clearly: They were two men of similar height, with only a few characteristics differentiating them. The man with the drawl wore a deep blue uniform, the other in a vibrant red. Their colours seemed to conflict with each other but the two of them seemed close.

“Do you know where I am?” I yelled out. Neither replied and they suddenly stopped talking to each other and stared back at me. They seemed robotic to say the least. When they reached the door they unlocked it; each click, a sharp strike against the metal. They had said nothing as they grabbed my arms and dragged me out of my cell.

Scattered pages. Shuffling feet. The screech of sliding chairs.

I was forced into a bright room – it was almost empty apart form a table in the centre where two men were already seated. They both looked familiar but I couldn’t put a name to their faces.

The two men seemed to be friends – why else would they sit so close together? However, there was a strong animosity between them, even though they were smiling at each other and were deep in conversation, with an air of uneasiness about the way they spoke. One of the men had a similar sharp and nasal drawl to the officer who had dragged me into this room. The other had a posh and clear accent, wore a black top hat and was continuously silenced by the other man. There was clearly a power polarity in the room – but why would two seemingly friends have such a hostility between each other?

I slowly slid into the chair that had been pulled out for me, my eyes still curiously watching them as they spoke. They both had small name tags pinned to their chests. I scanned both of them quickly; ‘W. Churchill’ and ‘R. Nixon’ they read. They suddenly stopped their conversation and looked at me, silence filling the room. I could feel the tension rising, as I stared back unsure what all the uneasiness was about, even less sure about where I was. “As you know,” Churchill began talking, “An Iron Curtain has descended across the continent” I was confused. What were they talking about? “The Cold War isn’t thawing; it is burning with a deadly heat. Communism isn’t sleeping; it is, as always, plotting, scheming, working, fighting” Nixon cut in suddenly. There was a war occurring? Not another one! And communism? The way he said that word, it brought fear into your heart but I had no idea what I feared. “We have agreed to come to an understanding, even though the reports your mother gave about you were disturbing to say the least” Reports were made by my mother of me? On what? “We know you’re a communist sympathiser and a traitor but we are willing to allow you to become a U.S. citizen, if you pledge allegiance to the flag and work for us that is – your skill set will be of use” “However, if you decline our very generous offer, you will see yourself and your entire family deported from your hometown, or worse, have them all be arrested and join you in your cell. And before you start droning about your rights, if the President does It, that means it’s not illegal” Nixon warned me, with both their gazes frozen on me. 

I had said nothing up until this point; my mouth could not move. We’re they threatening me? “We hope this time you make a wise decision, for the sake of your own freedom and democracy” This time? How many times before did this happen – I could not remember. “Ich bin ein Berliner” Churchill said as they both stood up and headed towards the door. As they walked out a man wearing a military cap with a star on the front, whom had a very prominent moustache, walked in and shook hands with both the men before they exited. “Ideas are far more powerful than guns. We don’t allow our enemies to have guns, why should we allow them to have ideas?” He had a deep accent, much like the other soldier that had dragged me out earlier. I looked to his chest; the name tag read “J. Stalin” “My friend” he began, “I am far aware that you sympathise with the west but I can assure you that you will be granted immunity if you come to Russia and work for us instead – your skills will help you there” This is going to be a hard decision to make – yet I wasn’t yet sure what the decision was. “Your father gave us reports on you, they shame your family and worse, they make you a criminal and a traitor – but you can restore your honour if you accept our offer, or we can always arrest your family and throw them in the cell with you”

This is starting to sound a lot like what the other men had said.

“Choose wisely this time, my friend, the world is not a safe place for fence-sitters” and with that, he stood up and marched out of the room, leaving me deep in thought.

Both of them sounded the same – it was the same story just read in a different way. Yet, I still could not deduce what they had offered me. I was to join a side but they both seemed as horrible as the other and I wasn’t yet clear on what I was fighting. They both warned me and threatened that my family would be thrown in jail but I couldn’t even remember my family so what was there to fear? Yet, I was still tense and uneasy and knew I had to make a choice sooner or later.

A ballot paper was slid in front of me and there were only two options that I could choose: “Red” or “Blue”. I didn’t want either, yet the solider whom gave me the paper insisted I tick one of the boxes, even if I didn’t believe in either. He stood behind me; I could feel his eyes staring at the paper that remained unfilled. ‘I didn’t want to side with any’ I wanted to say but I held my tongue out of instinct perhaps or just pure fear. Maybe I should’ve said something – for my silence was met with silence itself and maybe a question would’ve brought some answers. However, I had a feeling that asking questions would probably not be the best thing to do right now. The officer sighed, shook his head and grabbed me by the arms. I was dragged back into the cell. Oddly enough it felt like déjà vu, yet I couldn’t remember anything from before. They threw me into them back cell with one last comment “we’ll be back tomorrow” – locking the door with each click sending a shiver down my spine. As the soldiers walked away, their conversation grew quieter and quieter with the lights of the cell dimming once more.

It was cold, damp and dark – and now it was also silent and I was alone.

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