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I swallowed hard, forced down my anxiety, and calmly sorted out in my mind the things I absolutely must not reveal.
And then…
Drrrrrk.
I heard glass scraping.
Beyond the glass wall, a figure approached.
My lethargy dulled my reaction to Agent Bronze’s appearance, but I still found myself stifling errant feelings of betrayal.
“...Inmate 37-999.”
His somber eyes bored into mine, sending shivers through my body. I tried to shake off the discomfort.
‘You can’t look at me like that…not here.’
The man who had stood by while Agent Choi caught me in his marble… Was it wrong for me to feel put-off by his presence?
And yet, the severe curve of his frown made my heart pang. Something about being the root of Ryu Jaekwan’s sadness disagreed with me on a fundamental level.
“…Prior to beginning the interrogation, allow me to inform you. You have the freedom to make false statements, but all lies will be transparently revealed.”
Of course, I was already aware of this.
‘I can’t lie, but I can’t tell the truth… And staying silent won’t be enough for much longer…’
They were clever in choosing to bring Bronze in, but I wondered if his questions would be any different to his predecessor’s. ‘Why did you do it?’, ‘What were you offered as recompense?’... What could I possibly do to deflect them again?
“We’ll begin the interrogation.”
I felt so incredibly exhausted at those familiar words. Still, I focused my eyes on Agent Bronze, ready to analyse his behaviour and use what I could to redirect him.
And then…
A question I never expected came out.
“Are you familiar with the teachings of Karl Marx?”
…
‘What?’
He stared at me, as patient and genial as ever.
‘...Is this… some kind of new interrogation strategy…?’
I rummaged through my memory for a related DER entry, but came up with nothing.
“No?” His face didn’t change much, but he suddenly seemed… disappointed? He sighed, then continued, “Well, Karl Marx was a German philosopher and theorist in the 19th century. He wrote The Communist Manifesto, which led to the creation of the belief of Marxism—”
Was he allowed to say any of this???
Worried about his continued employment, I cut him off immediately, “I know who Karl Marx is.”
“Oh!”
His eyebrows shot up. A faint smile appeared on his lips, but it faded back to flat neutrality soon after.
“...If you know…”
‘Shit, is this a 4D play on his part? Is the Bureau trying to implicate me for colluding with communists?!’
“Why is it that you accept the degradation of the working class in favour of pandering to the whims of the machine? See, although you say you ‘know’ of Karl Marx, I believe there is still a devastating gap in your knowledge in regards to his work and its relevance to the functions of modern society. If you had truly known, you would understand how the role we each play in the world has a larger effect than one may assume; for example, your employment at that blasted false pharmaceutical company has contributed to socioeconomic inequalities and has directed resulted in the proliferation of the belief that loyalty to such a corporation will lead to some form of success or personal fulfilment.”
‘...Oh my god, he’s the communist I’ve been colluding with!’
I could feel myself sweating. I wasn’t sure if the Bureau had installed cameras of some kind to keep an eye on their inmates, but I began shaking my head wildly.
Suddenly, I heard the same scraping from earlier! A distorted figure loomed through the wall, becoming clearer as it approached.
My attention was stolen by Ryu Jaekwan, who was apparently caught up in his Marxist frenzy and continued without an indication that he’d noticed anything amiss.
“‘Within the capitalist system all methods for raising the social productiveness of labour are brought about at the cost of the individual labourer; all means for the development of production transform themselves into means of domination over, and exploitation of, the producers; they mutilate the labourer into a fragment of a man, degrade him to the level of an appendage of a machine, destroy every remnant of charm in his work and turn it into a hated toil; they estrange from him the intellectual potentialities of the labour process in the same proportion as science is incorporated in it as an independent power’, Marx 1867/1887.
“So, tell me, Agent Grapes. Why do you allow yourself to be exploited by the bourgeoisie for pittance? Why not… Join us properly? Make no mistake, you’ll still be paid peanuts, but at the very least, you’ll be doing work that matters.”
…
Go Yeongeun, still casually standing behind Agent Bronze, began clapping. I saw him jolt and whirl around—he even put his fists up in front of him, but Go Yeongeun’s aura was… very odd. For some reason, I was convinced that, if they clashed, she would come out as the victor.
“Wow…” she sighed. “Roe Deer-ssi, you should honestly take his offer.”
“Roe—?! You… are you…?!”
Go Yeongeun looked exhausted, drooping as she pushed the finger he was pointing in her face away. She shrugged.
“I heard that your senior,” she nodded to Bronze, “got rejected from seeing Agent Grapes. I wasn’t expecting you to have been accepted…”
Bronze, though momentarily surprised, had recovered quickly. I could see the same steel he faced Disasters with in his eyes as he frowned at Yeongeun.
“I see no reason to reveal the inner mechanisms of how the Bureau operates to those caught in the larger hand of the machine.” Bronze adjusted his stance, bringing his arms up in preparation. “Your eyes may be open, but you remain blind—a slave to the penny-pinchers above.”
He glanced over at me. “Was it her that brought you into this? Roped you up in false delusions of grandeur to felling the feudalists, while it’s the merchants and the factory-owners that take up the capital of the working man?”
“...”
Was that even a question? Or was it part of his speech?
“Wake up, Grapes!” Bronze exclaimed.
There was an unfamiliar fire in Yeongeun’s eyes. I felt relieved it wasn’t me on the other end of her gaze. “I had been under the impression that we might be on the same side,” she started, voice shifting ominously as she continued, “with your preamble, but I see now. He’s got no reason to listen to the likes of you.”
Yeongeun’s voice was rising in volume—I didn’t know my eyes could widen any further. Had she always been this… passionate? “You sit here, content with the false belief that you’re a true proletariat, when the labour you’ve exerted has gone to fuel the existence of the bourgeoise!”
Bronze crossed his arms; it seems he had fully entered debate-mode. I couldn’t tell whether I was witnessing a clash of fated enemies, or a classroom debate.
“How could you say that,” Bronze gritted out, “Daydream scum! Every hour you toil away, you put more money in the pockets of the shareholders!”
“Is that even a question?” Yeongeun scoffed. “While agents like you,” she paused to point towards Bronze, “waste time working as cogs, I’m changing the system from the inside.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
I wondered if they remembered I was still here, and still under the effects of the prison. Still, I didn’t say anything—it was better for me this way, after all. I slumped further down as I listened to Bronze continue his spiel, and Yeongeun argued back. Finding out one coworker was a communist was a surprise, but two… At that point, I might have been the common factor. Although, while I couldn’t catch Yeongeun’s eyes, it dawned on me, and I can’t believe I was so blind as to not see it before. She was rescuing me. Clearly Yeongeun had caught onto this strange new side of Bronze (perhaps contamination) and was using it to her advantage in order to extract me from the prison.
Bronze, who I was now sure had been contaminated recently one way or another, remained blind to the guise as he continued. “The mere notion that you would be able to change a system from the inside—a true worker would know the only option is revolution.” Bronze’s eyes narrowed, as his next words came out, deliberate and targeted: “Wage-labourer!”
The fist flew at him before either he or I had time to process it. He grunted in pain as Yeongeun launched a hit at his solar plexus. I winced in sympathy, she had pivoted swiftly into a knee towards his crotch.
Bronze was a government agent, though, and Yeongeun didn’t remain with the upper hand for long. Soon, the two were exchanging blows (though Bronze seemed to be fighting in self-defense, and Yeongeun—with the intent to kill), still paying no heed to me. It quickly occurred to me that it could be my chance to escape, given that Yeongeun had clearly entered without authority, she must have a way out.
— Preposterous.
For the first time in recent memory, I felt happy to hear Braun, happy that someone was witnessing this madness alongside me—even as I felt chills crawl down my spine at the thought that he could communicate even here.
— Is it not the invisible hand of self-interest that guides our free market, and allows us the wonderful society we have today?
… Was this society wonderful? No, wait, that wasn’t the point! I felt dread, the phrasing brought memories of college lectures and economic theory that I tried pushing aside even as Braun confirmed my fears.
— Mr. Smith said “It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker, that we expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own interest. We address ourselves, not to their humanity but to their self-love, and never talk to them of our necessities but of their advantages.” (Smith, 1776/2007, p. 456) This is the pinnacle of entertainment, the peak of society—it is to produce, and to consume!
I could feel a migraine encroaching; the brief moment of respite I thought I had received in camaraderie with regards to the absurdity had entirely vanished thanks to this bonafide capitalist. I found it hard to think of anything that could possibly serve as a response, and wasn’t sure I even wanted to.
But before I could consider how to deal with the new situation, I heard a loud crash, and tuned in just in time to see Yeongeun suplexing Bronze.
…
Her strength was impressive. After laying his unconscious (and only that much, I hoped) body on the floor, Yeongeun made her way towards me. It might not have been the time, but I couldn’t help the slight smile that had slipped onto my face.
She confirmed what I had hoped: “I’ve come to rescue you,”—I breathed a sigh of relief—”comrade.”
I blinked, and glanced over at the prone form of Bronze.
“You can stop pretending now.”
Yeongeun paused from freeing me to frown. She gave me an odd look, tone aggrieved as she said, “Why would I be pretending?”
I closed my eyes and sighed.