Justice

Hi! This piece was actually an essay that I had to write for schoolwork. But I modified it a little and decided to post it up here. Although this piece touches on the issue of terrorism, I'm not criticising the US government or condeming the terrorist themselves. Instead, I'm just writing it from a different point of view, which i think is interesting and worth exploring. So, without further ado...

JUSTICE

The cold Alaskan wilderness was a miserable place to be, especially if one was wet, hungry and all alone, the howling north wind swept across the land, invading every crook and cranny that a fellow might huddle to get a little warmth. Ice needles driven at high speed stung any exposed flesh. Mohammad gritted his teeth against the pains in his back and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the next. His mind churned with fragments of thought and memories, all hazy through the layer of pain and anger. One thought kept him going: the sweet taste of justice.

Up ahead he saw the faint lights of the research station glimmering softly in the distance. He hosted the backpack higher on his shoulders and quickened his footsteps, anticipation running through his veins. As he neared the station, his heart began to beat loudly in his chest. This was it. There is no turning back. He nervously fingered the laminated card in his pocket. At the entrance, he flashed the fake pass quickly at the two guards and nodded his thanks as they open the steel plated doors for him. Inside, he heaved a relieved sign and made his way slowly through the winding maze of corridors, grateful of the encompassing warmth. His gaze settled on the steel walls of the station and involuntarily, his thoughts flew back to a different set of walls, coated with layers of grime and blood and sweat. Rusty iron chains swung from rings embedded in those walls, the echoes of silent screams and the memory of suffering still lingered within. Thousands of his people were forced against their will to bow before their enemy right at that very spot.

At those recollections, Mohammad’s anger boiled over, his hands clenched into fists and his whole body shook. How dare they invade his nation! How dare they lock him up in his own prison! They claimed to be agents of god, to bring freedom to the people from their dominating ruler. Mohammad scoffed at their impertinence. They say they are wielding the hands of justice, but in truth they are the wicked, they are the unlawful. They marched onto Iraqi soil and claim it as theirs; they murder brutally and use their terrible weaponry to commit immoral acts. They are the true villains. Now, he shall show them the true hands of justice, the Lord shall punish those who wrought power with bias hands, who sought only to fulfill their unquenchable thirst for more power, and he, Mohammad shall be the Lord’s tool.

Navigating the hallways was not hard, but to get to his destination, he had to mingle into the crowd. Doorways to rooms of numerous proportions lined the corridors. Scientists in sterile white lab coats and equally gleaming gloves walk in and out. Others were dressed in day clothes, obviously going to their living quarters. Mohammad breathe deeply, the stale smell of artificially purified air filled his lungs and calmed his raging nerves. He ignored the sounds of quiet conversations and pictured in his mind the 3D map of the research station that he had memorized the night before. Allowing his mental compass to guild his feet, he strode forward, purposefully and determinedly. In less than a minute, he found himself facing the silver door engraved with the words: Engine Room.

He pushed open the door and entered. Several workers wearing the same suit of overalls minus the thick fur coat looked up as he entered, but seeing the uniform, they quickly lost interest and returned to their work. Mohammad walked to an empty workspace and put down his backpack. Working quickly, he drew out a slick metal cylinder about the length and diameter of his arm and a small black device which he fitted into a slit on the cylinder.

Mohammad took a quick look around, no one was watching. Adrenaline was pumping through his blood, heightening his senses. He had never been this aware of his surroundings before. He glanced around, drinking in the sharpened images and feeling the cool beads of sweat on his skin. His heart was beating strongly and quickly and he marveled at the ingenious design of nature. Images of his wife and children flashed across his eyes. He looked back down at the device in his hand and whispered a word as he pressed it twice. “Justice.” Idly he wondered at the fragility of life. It was his last thought before his world became a blaze of white heat and then nothing.

It was in the news the next day: Research Station in Alaska, Blown to Oblivion by Suicide Bomber. A suicide bomber sneaked into the Alaskan Nuclear Research Station after falsifying his identity and planted a bomb in the engine room. He triggered the bomb at 2301 last night and killed himself along with 212 people in the facility. 16 personals escaped, suffering from sever frost bite and exposure to the harsh Alaskan winter. The research station itself was completely destroyed, causing millions of dollars in damage due to the state-of-the-art equipment invested by the US government…

The justice of one man brought down 212 others; he thought that he was justified in the cause, but what about the families of those 212 innocents who died that night? Who will they go to for justice rightfully theirs? Who will be the next victim of ‘justice’ in this war between terrorists and the world? Will it ever end? This justice of theirs is just a mask for the deeper, uglier motives of greed, selfishness and a twisted desire for power. Will you let them continue? Will you let these people playing god throw your lives around like toys? That is a question only you can answer.

FIN

Well, I hope this story has invoked some of your thoughts. Please do feel free to share your views. In fact I would love it if you could spare a moment for two to just type a little something here. Thanks for reading. Ori and I really appreciate it.

Love, Pyro.