Progress

Genre: Unknown
Word Count: 804

A/N: I haven't posted anything for ages... ugh. So I dug up this work from a LONG time ago in my writing history... from my days when I was a lot less subtle and skilled with writing. >.<

The door opened with barely a creak, and the president turned to face his assailant.

“I’ve been expecting you,” the tired-looking man slowly lowered himself into the expensive chair behind the desk. He faced the stranger.

The young assassin removed the remains of the guards’ uniform he had been using as a disguise. “If you knew I was coming, you should know what I have come to do.” He raised a gun.

“I do,” the president said impassively.

“And yet you did nothing to stop it,” the young man aimed his weapon, shifting from one eye to the other. He did not believe that his task would be this easy. “You are not an imposter?”

“And would I tell you even if I was?” the president reclined in the chair. “But that is not the case. I am the president.”

“The president of a land in turmoil.”

“Nonetheless, I am still president.”

“For the moment,” the assassin chose the right eye and prepared to fire.

“But,” the soon-to-be-dead man raised a hand, buying more time. He let the word linger slightly, gambling upon the curiosity of the killer. “Realize what you are doing with your bullet.”

“I am doing a great deed for the people,” the man replied mechanically, as if the answer had been drilled into his brain. Inculcated.

The president looked closely at the man holding a gun. He is little more than a boy. He should not be involved in this conflict. “Are you?” He replied questioningly.

“I am ridding the land of a tyrant. I am preparing the way for a bright new future—a rebirth in the history of our nation,” the reply was automatic.

“What makes you think the future will be brighter?” the president pressed, his charismatic face filled with a look that instilled doubt into the boy. “What do you think killing me will accomplish?” He waited for an answer.

“I will end the suffering of the people. I will bring a new, glorious age to our—”

“Suffering?” the president interrupted unexpectedly. “You will end suffering?” He laughed bitterly. “There will be no end to suffering, ever!” The president stared the boy in the eyes, unblinking, unmoving. The boy dropped his gaze. “Human beings are the definition of suffering.”

“You’re wrong!” the finger tightened on the trigger, but the president showed no fear.

“What has our race produced? All the years—decades, centuries, millennia—all those years of human civilization. What have we produced? What have we reaped?” He laughed again, mockingly. “The dominant trait of the human race is suffering.”

“That will change!”

“Will it?” the leader continued, nonplussed. “What will you accomplish? What will you bring?”

“I will bring freedom, prosperity, an end to suffering—”

“An end to suffering?” the well-known man shook his head. “People will suffer under a democracy and under a dictatorship alike. The suffering may come in different forms—physical suffering, emotional suffering, mental suffering—but there will still be suffering. Prosperity?” The leader’s voice increased in intensity. “How can there be riches without the poor? One cannot coexist without the other.”

“Plato says—”

“Yes, Plato. Your self-named leader. Does he envision utopia? Does he see better times? Progress, even?” the dictator clenched his fists. “Does he see himself in power?”

“The power will be shared by the people—” the boy began.

“Ahh… but there will be power nonetheless. Tell me. What is power, but the ability to cause suffering?”

“I…I…don’t—” the aim of the gun wavered, but held firm.

“Nothing is accomplished by your empty dreams. You seek progress? Progress is just the delusion that things are getting better. But suffering is still there… will always be there. Problems are still there—what will you have accomplished?”
“We will solve the problems!” The aim faltered again.

The dictator’s eyes followed the gun closely. “Will you?” he shook his head again. “Problems are never solved—can never be solved. They are only postponed. All solutions are only temporary—only problems are eternal.”

“Our lives will be better!” The boy exclaimed vehemently, but it was clear that he was weakening, becoming confused.

“Will it? What will the people live like in the instability after the fall of this government? What of your family, when there is no law? No one to tell the murderer to stop. No one to keep order.”

“It…will…be…better,” the gunman’s arm faltered and the barrel of the gun slipped down for a moment. The despot noticed and gave the signal. Behind the young assassin, two guards burst out and disarmed the boy.

“What is life,” the man who had murdered millions stood up triumphantly, “without suffering?” He threw his head back and laughed.

---

Outside, the sounds of the slaving people continued, never ceasing as the screams from the torture rooms began.

Written: Before 9/21/2007, exact date unknown (I might be able to find it, but it would involve a lot of searching into random piles of notebook paper for the original draft.