Twenty year old Ugo, found the town hall hearings strangely entertaining... Every weekend, various offences, some ridiculous, like speaking ill of God or the ruling council; others grievous like the occasional murder, were given strict punishments ranging from amputations to death. Because of the gore, attendance was voluntarily, and yet the town hall was always packed full by the same people who would later complain of being traumatised. 'Gore', Ugo had long realised, had transcended to entertainment, in a town with so little prospects... There was even no sun to warm you with lies of a better days, or the moon inspire senseless wishes... These, among other things, Ugo had long accepted as fate's senseless gifts.
Ugo's mother – Akachi, gripped his hands; her lips scribbling prayers for a favourable outcome in her husband's appeal; An act, Ugo felt futile. There was a comfort to accepting reality, the calming peace of not pining for miracles; Because, that was what Ugo's father's case required.
Many years earlier, Ugo's father had been an ordinary factory hand. A man devoid of ambition; grateful for the peace his peasant status afforded him... That is, until he met Akachi, the daughter of a powerful socialite, a key figure in the slightly liberal opposition to the council's conservative ruling council.
And on the day, Akachi's father had set eyes on the simpleton his daughter had defiantly told him would be her husband... His piled up disdain melted into pity, at the sight of the clueless, harmless soul completely downtrodden by the stringent classism of the town.
"Ancient philosophers had once predicted that classism would create anarchy, which would in turn birth a classless society," Akachi's father had said, when he was alone with his future son in law. The young man smiled politely, afraid of displeasing. A man who had accepted his place in society, Akachi's father thought... Thus, he began imagining how power could transform the young man... 'What sort of creature could his subtle gift of power create?' The possibilities excited him. An experiment to add little glee to his final years... Of course, he would do it under the guise of a kind father in law. And Akachi and everyone would think him an exemplary man.
And so it began; From fancy dinner parties, to council appointments, to the secret opposition meetings... All catalysts that created the man facing trial, after the council had cut off his hands... A man who just might spend the rest of his days in captivity.
"Do you claim responsibility for the epidermic the Lord unleashed on us and seek mercy?" Sir Blackwell, the presiding judge, asked the heavily scarred man, who was, or what was left of Ugo's father.
It all came down to this, Ugo thought, 'the acceptance of defeat'... There was no point in fighting against an insurmountable opponent or circumstance... A man who cannot swim would still drown no matter how hard he fought. He needed to grab the lifeline they were giving him. The council did not want him dead. After all, he did not ask his followers to run into the 'darkness'... An action that left them insane – dangerously insane; so violent, that they had to be put down. Still, in the years, he had chaired the opposition they had grown more radical, challenging the council's decision to let the 'darkness' be... And when the council had taken him into custody, extreme followers knowing fully well what would happen, led a protest into the 'darkness'.
"You had allowed the devil use you to ruin lives," Sir Blackwell had said on the day of the amputation, "and now, you will face the punishment alone."
And now, several months after, both men sat face to face, once again the focus of an intrigued audience, dancing the same old dance... 'Dances' that was what Ugo thought of the council's pseudo faux hearings. There were only two moves; they roar, you cower... Any other thing would be begging to be maimed. The hearing was not a means to an end, but an end in its own right...
The hall was silent, an apology expected; But when Ugo's father did speak, his words would be so vile, so defiant, that Sir Blackwell nearly heeded the council's advice to order the man's tongue cut off... But this he feared he would regret.
As security agents hauled Ugo's father away, he kept speaking blasphemous words against the council's supremacy... Words that caused an uproar, words that made Ugo wish the council would just kill his father already... An opinion he knew was not appropriate but not the less implied to his mother later as they hurried home after the case.
"Your father loves you," his mother said on under the giant nuclear powered lamps that stood in for the sun and moon... "It saddens him that you refuse to see him." 'Comments' Ugo suspected were false, like the cards she wrote every birthday and passed off as from his father... "And boy do I feel loved."
"Enough of the cynicism!" His mother warned.
"And enough of the lies!" Ugo countered; buoyed by burning tension. They were alone on the ghostly street, everyone else enjoying the town hall's spectacles.
"How dare you! His mother spat. "I am doing everything to help this family, and here you are giving me attitude! Do you think it was easy getting Blackwell to be lenient on your father? To beg the council to pardon him!? Do you know what I had to do?" Words she spoke before she could take them back...
"You are fucking Mr. Blackwell..." Ugo said more to himself than his mother... And when his mother said nothing, he imagined the two together... 'Did he demand? Or had she offered?' Suddenly, he saw the fifty something year old widower n a new light; virile, flawed and strangely 'exciting'... "I would stay at Maggie's house tonight," Ugo declared.
"Just right! Run off and do the same thing you criticise me for!"
"Excuse me?"
"Aren't you marrying the 'dumb' girl for her father's standing?"
Ugo stared hard at his mother. His marriage was indeed a transaction, but one of mutual respect... Maggie wanted to have kids with him, while he needed her family's reputation to have a chance at a good life, given the scandal that had hit his family; Yet, Ugo felt stung by his mother's words. Maybe, he was just as pretentious as his parents... 'Maybe'....
"Mute... She's mute... Not dumb," Ugo said, before leaving his mother alone... 'Progressive,' was what he thought himself; trying to survive in a world within a 'world'; Not 'sentimental', what he thought his parents; trying to fix things that were already too broken... And time, he believed, would prove him smarter than his parents.
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