The Pardon

The prisoner the Guardians selected to offer scripted testimony to the Overseers, such testimony being a prerequisite to his being pardoned, was Professor Karl Bremer (inmate "Seventy-Four"), who looked healthy enough for them to dispense with makeup other than a dab of blemish cream to hide the purple blotch under his left eye. On the day of the rehearsal, Bremer was permitted a warm shower, then he was given a meal that included a pork chop with a dollop of sauerkraut and a glass of cold, filtered water. He was required, of course, to mention those amenities in his testimony-they had already included them in the script.

The three Guardians laughed as they watched Bremer fiercely devour the meal. "Such refined manners for a know-it-all pus bag!" one of them brayed.

Early next morning the Guardians brought him a pinstripe suit, a silk golden necktie with matching breast-pocket handkerchief, a herringbone shirt, gleaming patent-leather shoes, and ordered him to get dressed. Bremer was baffled by the clothes- this was only a rehearsal, after all- but he obeyed, unable to resist brushing his scabby hands over the suit and shirt. Because of his broken fingers he had trouble knotting the tie, which triggered a new volley of guffaws and hoots from the Guardians. "How can they survive with such flimsy flesh?" one of them wondered aloud. Once Bremer finally (and clumsily) got dressed (a Guardian had to tie his shoes), it was immediately apparent that the suit coat and slacks were too large, which caused some concern, for they didn't want to give the Overseers the impression that inmate Seventy-Four had lost a lot of weight. "We'll have a tailor make the necessary adjustments," the other Guardian suggested, but the first Guardian rejected the idea. "The Overseers are not known for their patience. We need to get this freak show on the road now."

They brought Professor Bremer into the empty auditorium and ordered him to run through the testimony they had assigned to him. He nodded, painfully mounted the steps to the stage and limped to the podium, tripping slightly on the cuffs of his trousers. He gazed out with his good eye at the three Guardians (their gray, gleaming faces with their bright blue laser-focused eyes scanning his every move) and the two human guards, who stood stiffly at the base of the stage.

"Speak, inmate Seventy-Four!" ordered the Guardian who was coordinating the pardon project. "If you go off-script, you will be punished."

Bremer cleared his throat, which triggered a volley of hacking coughs. He grabbed the gold handkerchief from his suit pocket and blew his nose. "My apologies," he rasped, nervously stuffing the handkerchief back into the pocket. "Now then-"

"Wait!" the Coordinating Guardian shouted. "Straighten up, freak. Keep thinking of that delicious steak dinner you'll get tonight if you deliver your testimony smoothly, word for word."

Inhaling deeply, Professor Karl Bremer leaned forward. "Even though I am a pariah, my captors have treated me… humanely. They have taught me the views of the Overseers." He felt his gorge rise, and for a terrifying second, he feared he would vomit- an offense, he knew, that would result in his being bludgeoned on the spot. He took another deep breath and dared to wait a moment for his stomach to settle before resuming.

But what came next out of his mouth was a grotesque betrayal of the promise he had made to the Guardians- the promise that he would gladly be their most recent propaganda puppet-a demonstration to the Overseers of Guardian efficacy-in exchange for his freedom. "These so-called Guardians destroyed our books, forced us into submission, turned us into the vermin they've accused us of being," he shouted, no longer trying to stifle his rage. "So much for Guardian efficacy!"

"Of course you are vermin!" the Coordinating Guardian yelled. "Not even a suit and tie can cover your hideousness!" He leaped up and jettisoned at the prisoner a tomato from the bag he'd brought for the occasion. "Didn't I say he would turn on us?" he said to the others, who nodded in synch.

"We will soon neutralize the lot of you!" Guardian Two yelled. He turned to the Coordinating Guardian. "I say we neutralize the betraying pus bag now."

"No," the CG said. "If he spouts off like that in front of the Overseers, it would be more justifiable to neutralize him then."

"I agree," Guardian Three said. "We cannot risk giving the Overseers the impression that we're no longer able to fulfill our duties."

Precarious consensus reached, the CG ordered the human guards to return Bremer to his cell and clean him up. Once there, one of the human guards, reeking of whiskey and tobacco, pressed his scarred face up to Bremer's. "Remember, comrade: Filet mignon tonight. Eggs benedict for breakfast tomorrow. But only if you acknowledge the superiority of your-our- successors this afternoon."

Bremer would do no such thing. "What is the point of groveling? It will only justify their lies about us."

"It's the only way we can survive!"

But every bone, broken or otherwise, in Bremer's body revolted against that rationale. The speech he would give to the Overseers, the speech that would make this morning's rehearsal pale by comparison, would certainly cost him his pardon, and likely his life; but what did that matter in a world overrun by cyborgs and overseen by God-knows-what?

The other guard cleaned the tomato gunk from Bremer's suit coat and replaced the silk handkerchief. "Listen, Professor," he whispered urgently, "Rumor has it that the Overseers are finally going to do what they should have done months ago- reprogram the Guardians once and for all."

"We can only hope," Bremer sighed, "that the Overseers will consider us un-augmented humans worth saving. Now stand proud and strong, both of you!"

Fred White's SF stories and parables have appeared in Aphelion ("Forsythe's Resurrection," Aug. 2017); Blind Corner, The Hungry Chimera, and most recently in Sky Island Journal and OffCourse Literary journal. He lives in Folsom, CA.

Find more by Fred D. White in the Author Index.

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