Snow is delicately dancing down the elegant ivory of the sky. I am in my soft blanket that is quite puffy, softer than marshmallows. The fire makes my hands a pale copper with a golden tint, and they are a comfortable heat. I smile in light joy. I have helped to protect the supreme Jahanist people from decay. Those decadents have tortured and killed us. I have helped coax little spawn of those blasphemers into being civilised. I am a little pebble in an arch, holding up this grand building of civilization. Indeed, I am fortunate. I quickly pray to the Galactic Gods to ensure that our great leaders triumph against the heathens. A light golden spark blooms within me, my body is a soft flower ready to show it’s petals to the world for it is the lightness of a cloud. 

Samuel, remember that your children disappeared, possibly tormented to death. They questioned the government over its own ideals, pointing out that the regime supports debauched holidays where citizens get drunk and feast on splendid meals! Why would you support the regime that tortured your very own children? They were also queer, and you want to inflict brain damage on them to “correct” their sexualities.

A startling thunderous crash sends my body leaping into the air. Thump! I land on my bed. I let out a scream that can deafen everyone within a hundred kilometre radius.  My heart pulses, it is a ticking bomb ready to explode at any moment. My thoughts race to the darkest of abysses. Enough! A handsome, but slightly unnerving man smiles. The smile has foam teeth, it is the width of a moon, and it persists like a stone. However, his slightly gold pumpkin orange hair that is slicked back, his sweet emerald eyes, and silky skin is as calming as a river.

The slightly creepy however handsome man thinks Samuel, you’re not supposed to be homosexual! Enough with your loathsome thoughts! Samuel, I’m here to announce something to you about your obligation as a soldier. Samuel, you should just stop with your lifestyle. It has corrupted and destroyed whole societies.

I’m not a closet homosexual man. I’m just a heterosexual man, I loved dear Anna. The attractive man with his body odour as sweet as a cinnamon roll, facial features as sharp and elegant as diamond explains “Samuel, your mission is to go to a relocation centre. It is necessary to separate those young offspring from their decadent parents. You must give the youth to our civilised people. They will have a chance to cleanse their minds of the poisonous ideologies of the subhumans.”

I respond “Look, Mr. Chivan, it’s a blizzard outside! Don’t you bloody damn see the blinding snow outside! How am I supposed to walk toward the relocation centre? I’m confused, why are the adults of the lesser beings considered to be too corrupt, but the children able to be salvaged?”

The handsome man with his unsettling eyes, eyes as soft green as moss, responds in a voice loud enough to shatter glass. He hisses “Just go outside! You must finish this mission or else you will be interrogated using ultrasound! That sort of interview makes people willingly submit answers about forbidden things! It has a 99.99% effectiveness rate in detecting defective inferiors! By the way, homosexuals are under that category!”

He hurls slurs, which makes icy sweat fall down, it is the most bitter chill I’ve had in my life and is slowly turning my head numb and my body violently shakes, my hands are a sickly pale grey. The slurs are great boulders that nearly knock one out. His wrath is an imposing giant, attempting to choke any life out of you. 

My boss’s shoulders are rigid, his hands are clenched. He angrily growls, the growls having the jarring sound of a bear, insults at me. I respond “Sir, I will go on my obligation to go to a relocation centre. I also have to get away from your aggression. It was nice getting my objective revealed to me, but I ought to walk.” My hands raise toward my face, palms helplessly facing toward Mr. Chivan, and my mouth is gaping large enough to hold a watermelon in it. Sir, don’t you see that I am a harmless individual! Mr. Chivan, I will faithfully follow my mission. 

My boss thinks in response, Samuel, I am suspicious of you for you have complained about my shame in your decadence. According to your mental recordings, you felt that your wife was a close friend. You never were consumed by an intense love with her, nor did you pleasure in kissing her. You are debauched! You must not act at all on your hedonistic urges.

I object, stuttering “Mr. Chivan, how am I decadent? Before I became a soldier, I often struggled to survive as a low-ranking labourer. I am glad that I have this level of material well-being. The regime might suppose that homosexuality is some sort of debauchery. 

That makes no sense, most homosexuals may live life as common soldiers, common architects, and computer programers or similar jobs, those are the main jobs in the demographic. That means that we have just enough wealth to live decent lives and start families. Being content with that makes us far from degenerate. The criteria for ‘criminal avarice’ or something like that may be completely arbitrary and just inaccurate.”

Kiyosho Chivan raises his trembling fist, and slams it into the wall. He demands “Don’t question the great faith of Jahanism! You are a heretic!” 

I dress in my heavy jackets to go outside. I start to walk toward the relocation centre, roughly forty five minutes away in this sort of weather, normally it is five minutes of walking. Immediately, swords slam into my face as I am crawling in liquid honey with the wind's cold hand attempting to knock me over. I let out a curse for it is unbearably frigid. My hands cannot feel anything other than a searing pain.

I enter the relocation centre to notice a man in the glorious snow white and gold armour of the Pure People’s Republic of the Stars and a large golden rod wrapped around by a couple of snakes is embedded into the plate on the shoulder is leviathan in contrast to the pale and sickly skeletal individuals crowding near him. Those eyes appear to be broken glass, and the bodies are burdened by invisible chains. An acrid smell that is of rotten meat, but several orders of magnitude stronger fills the air. My stomach is squeezed. My hands begin to twitch uncontrollably as my body is overtaken by a sudden jerk, stinging hot liquid fills my eyes. 

The harsh, commanding voice of boss Chivan demands “Don’t just stand around and idle there! You have a job to do at this place! Go to the area for ‘Potential Spawn of Decadents Waiting for Jahanist Families!’”

Slam! Many machines are humming and mining an amalgamation of things. However, the peaceful crash of trees and the deafening but almost vrooming of supercomputers is occasionally punctured by screams. I’ve always been taught at the schools that these places were humane, simply allowing separation of those diseases from Jahanist masses. The soullessness is in sharp contrast to those false lessons. How cruel is our regime? Suffering is ambient in this environment. What have I been doing as a soldier? I have tortured actual people, not mere vermin! Many times, I have mercilessly slaughtered innocent villages as rage burned in me.

Chivan thinks Samuel, stop questioning your mission! You will have to resign and be sent to a relocation centre if you refuse! The protection of our Jahanist culture is of utmost high morality. Sir, those scum are not innocent!

I march onto the designated area and find children resting on a metal bed. The bodies are emaciated and the eyes are filled with a dark void. Many scars cover the children, they have endured hardship enough to crush a person. If I send them to Jahanist families, they will be indoctrinated to hate themselves! That self-hatred will cause the youth of these minorities to spill their own blood because they cannot take the agony anymore! What have I done? I have only perpetuated unbearable torment on my fellow humans all because of my greed! The Pure People’s Republic is a curse upon humanity! 

My limbs and body become as hard as stone. My head throbs, painful tentacles wrap around my chest so that I can barely breathe. I let out a pained whimper. The claws of guilt tear at my conscience. The immobility of my seemingly marble hard limbs makes my hands be covered in ice cold sweat. I want to scream, but something is stuck in my throat blocking me. The feeling of guilt nearly drowns me in its crashing waves and blinding darkness.

  Eventually, the paralysis ends. I declare “I cannot be a soldier!” A pillar on my chest instantly dissolves and I feel much lighter. I am still plagued with guilt and the pain endured at this “relocation centre” syphons much of my energy as well as causing intense stinging everywhere.

I slowly walk home as the agony decreases. I explain to my boss that I will resign from my job because of its harm. I am applying for a computer engineering job. My boss angrily hurls coarse words at me, and he later sobs. He demands for me to stay in my job as a soldier. He yells that I’m abandoning my duty as a citizen and that I am violating gender norms, a death sentence. 

I am marched to the point of exhaustion, my legs ready to collapse. I am shoved into a small room with harsh lights and a stone hard bed surrounded by harsh medical equipment. Ice sweat rolls down as my hands begin to twitch. My chest is so constricted that I can’t breathe. I am frozen by sheer fear. I am only anticipating something of a mysterious and hazardous nature. Some soldiers in ivory and gold uniforms manhandle me.

Are they going to kill me? A metal cold restraint is tightened onto me. My body cannot break out of these destructive chains. I scream, anticipating something horrifying. Not only did I renounce the faith of Jahanism, I also discovered the truth of the Pure People’s Republic of the Stars. I hope that if I am to be tortured enough to have a stroke, the stroke kills me. The site of the death camp was horrifying, let alone being a victim of this regime. 

Sharp needles are thrust into my arms. Thin white wires with white tape are put onto my forehead. A sudden, searing chill throbs my back. My heart is ready to explode out. Wild memories start to fly.

 Every sound is thunder, every little chill is a sword piercing me, almost searing my skin. Even slight amounts of warmth are the charring of a fire. All colours are almost blindingly bright. They are all flashing from the blizzard’s white to their harsh, but dimmer tones. Memories overlap into each other, making an incoherent tangle. Every emotion is with an intensity I’ve never felt before, my mind is drowning. All of my thoughts are scrambled, my inner voice is the static of a radio. After an eternity of pain, my eyes close as my body is in agony that breaks a person like a vase. My speech is slurred, then I black out for the last time. 

My mental voice slowly fades into nothingness. At least they won’t be able to torture you anymore. You will never meet the death camps. Thank Jahan for that. He spared you from the experiments that may be orders of magnitude more painful. Close your eyes, you deserve to rest. I fade into oblivion because the tactile sensations slowly become weaker and the voices become more distant.