Echoes of Truth

"Date: 06/13/2079. Time: 10:10. File number: 698278. Defendant's name: 698278. Crime: Producing and spreading false news, undermining the unity and solidarity of the state, and slandering the Holy Leader."

The case details were read aloud, and a weak, muffled voice began to speak.

"Dear people of X. Once again, we gathered for an important case. The defendant, 698278, who was recently apprehended, has been found guilty of spreading countless lies against our Holy Leader and his esteemed colleagues since the Dark Years. As you know, lying, and undermining state unity are among the greatest sins condemned by God, especially when targeting a great leader. However, I want to remind you once again, that God has blessed us with the most merciful leader, who has granted everyone the right to seek forgiveness. Now, we shall begin the Purification Court of the defendant, 698278. Defendant, are you ready to admit your quilt and apologize?"

This was the first time I’d been addressed since entering the freezing courtroom. As the thick black blindfold was lifted, I tried to grasp what was happening, but when it was finally removed, I thought I'd gone blind. I was still swallowed by an endless darkness.

It must have been the drugs, I thought, or the endless interrogations I’d endured over the past weeks. But it was probably neither, because moments later, my vision slowly began to return, and shapes started to form.

I froze.

What is that? I thought. There was a giant man in front of me.

Was that real? Had the drugs finally driven me mad, I wondered? Could be; I knew they’d done it before. But after a few seconds, I realized that wasn’t the case—at least, not for me. As my eyes fully adjusted, the world around me came into sharp focus.

The 'giant man' was actually a strange podium, rising with hundreds, maybe thousands, of people. It resembled the lecture halls I’d seen when education still held value, but instead of sloping backward, the levels were stacked vertically, forming a towering structure of men in suits.

So this was the courtroom I’d heard about so many times. I was standing within a wooden frame, flanked by two men in white uniforms with concealed faces. A web of cables was attached to my body, and in front of me, a strange, deep emptiness stretched out.

"Respond to the judge!"

A sharp pain throbbed in my head. The judge, I thought. Which one was he? And what was I supposed to say? It wasn’t easy to pick out one thought from the billions swirling in my mind for years. As I scanned the faces in front of me, all with the same unreadable expression, one man at the top of the giant shape caught my attention.

His gaze seemed fixed on something behind me, evident from the slight tilt of his head. My eyesight, dulled from years of hiding, couldn’t make out his face, but I sensed something unsettling about him.

I turned and glanced at the wall. Of course, I thought. A giant poster of the president.

It was the one president had made ten years ago when he took charge after covering up all his crimes, promising to "bring democracy to the country." He'd ordered it to be displayed everywhere, and anyone who didn’t show proper respect for it was arrested and imprisoned.

The Purification Courts were the final step, and I knew many had ended up there. TV channels claimed that 'confused' individuals were 'purified' and reintegrated into society, but no one really knew the truth. The president silenced anyone who spoke out against him, and with all opposing views suppressed, the news became meaningless. As one of the few who had tried to speak the truth in a society of parrots, I understood this better than anyone.

I didn’t bow my head. I wasn’t here for that. I’d already made my decision years ago, and I could predict the outcome. This was probably my last chance to speak, and I was going to use it to shout the truth.

When I turned, I knew exactly who I was facing.

"Lower your head, defendant! Know your place!" the judge commanded.

Where is this man? I thought. Then I saw him: a small man with a microphone, wearing a faded and torn judge's robe, barely recognizable. He was sitting at the very bottom of the podium, right at the foot of the giant man. I wasn’t surprised.

“The recordings and witnesses show you committed severe crimes to undermine the state's integrity, continuing until your capture. We will review your actions, and you will have the chance to defend yourself. As everyone knows, freedom of thought and the right to defend oneself are cherished rights in our country, upheld by our Holy Leader.”

Freedom of thought, huh? I thought, suppressing a laugh. But when I glanced at the crowd sitting to my left, labeled ‘Audience,’ something stopped me. It was my mother.

When the president began imprisoning journalists and opposition members, I had to hide. At first, my mother visited, but eventually, the visits stopped. I never asked why, and after I moved, we never saw each other again. Twelve years, I thought. It had been twelve years since I last saw her. I spent those years believing justice would prevail and that one day, I'd reunite with my mother and loved ones. But after all this time, this was where we met: the Purification Courts.

Don’t worry, Mom, I wanted to say. Everything will be fine. But I couldn’t make a promise I knew I couldn’t keep.

Do not let it distract you, I told myself, thinking through my plan. Then I repeated the phrase that had sustained me for weeks, months, and years: “You can never know when and where a single piece of truth can destroy a whole lie.”

As I stared at my mom, she slowly turned her head. Considering my condition, it must have been difficult for her to look at me, I thought. Still, I was feeling a strange unease settle in my chest.

“Our Holy Leader has given everyone the right to be reborn and cleanse themselves of their sins," the judge continued. "What you need to do is admit your crimes, repent, and sincerely apologize."

Sincerely... I knew what that meant.

"Do you know what the wires connected to your body are?"

I swallowed. I'd heard many things about the Purification Courts. It was the president's greatest weapon, labeling those with moral values as "sinners in need of purification," all while reinforcing his image as a merciful leader. You would be forgiven if you apologized sincerely, but punished if you failed to do so. The punishment was clear, though no TV channel openly discussed it. Still, a few people, risking their lives, managed to bring the truth to light.

A high-tech lie detector, right beneath the giant man, was the vital organ of this court. One day, the president celebrated the invention of this machine on television, with a team of 50 engineers who had created it. Just one week after the celebration, the whole engineering team died in a tragic fire.

What I couldn’t understand was how, with hundreds of spectators at every trial, no one spoke out. This meant no one was protesting these decisions. There must have been protests, I thought. And he must have covered them up, too. Could people really stay silent while their neighbors and families were being eliminated? But if the public had reacted, would we have reached this point? I silenced the voice inside me.

All they needed was to hear the truth one more time.

I was about to speak, but the judge continued, “The wires will show if you're lying or truthful. The one around your neck will punish you if you persist in your sins.”

 I traced my hand over the thick cord around my neck. The deep void in front of me now made sense. Medieval, I thought. I wasn’t surprised. I was waiting to hear something about the wires on my temples, but the explanations stopped.  

“Do you understand everything, 698278?'"

The judge spoke so calmly, it was as if he were reciting cheap lines from a cheap play. He didn’t waste any time and looked at the pile of papers in front of him.

"Crime One: You worked for a newspaper, which was later purified and renamed 'Only the Truth.' You wrote defamatory articles accusing Our Holy Leader of various crimes. All of your former colleagues testified that you made these false accusations and wrote baseless articles. Do you admit your sins?"

As I listened, I remembered a warning my friend had given me while we were writing down the president’s crimes on small papers to spread to the people: "We’re doing this today, but if you ever get caught, don’t protest. No truth is more important than your life. Especially in this country, for these people." He had been caught two years ago. I wondered what he had said in court. Had he lied?

I won’t do that, I said, looking at the president fidgeting at the top. Even if I couldn't topple this giant, I wouldn’t be one to support it. I took a deep breath, looked at my mother and said,

"No. I do not accept any of the charges you’ve made. I only wrote the truth." My words caused a strange hum to rise in the courtroom.

"Pardon?" the judge said, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you saying you still believe our Supreme Leader is..." He tilted his head back as if it might snap, then brought his hands together, as if to apologize for what he was about to say, "...a thief and a liar?"

"I’m not saying I believe that," I said. "It is the truth!"

"If there is no evidence, then there is no truth to speak of," the judge said, his eyes narrowing as he stared me down.

"Yes, right now there’s no evidence because you destroyed it all. All the evidence you destroyed clearly showed how much of a thief the president is!" I turned to the audience. "You witnessed everything, too! Please, open your eyes—"

A sharp pain suddenly shot through my head, making me lose every word I had in my head.

I hadn’t expected this. It felt like a sword driving through the center of my brain, shredding everything inside. When I opened my eyes in pain, I saw something in the president’s hand, extending toward me. It looked like a remote control. With a grim face, he whispered something to those around him, and the whispers spread downward, the last reaching the judge.

"Very well. The interrogation is over," the judge said. "Since you persist in your slanders, you’ve lost your right to free speech. We’ll move directly to the purification session. Your mind is filled with poison and lies, so we’ll now tell you the truth. This is the last grace Our Holy Leader has granted to you."

I was still writhing in pain. I looked at my mother. She was listening to the judge, her hands folded over her chest.

"After each piece of information, I will give you a chance to speak, and you will apologize. Don’t try to say anything else. You won’t be able to, even if you want to," the judge added. As he finished speaking, the courtroom was bathed in bright red light. I tried to shield my eyes with my hand but couldn’t stop staring at my mother. How could she look so calm?

“When you claimed Our Holy Leader is a thief, you cited his golden palace and vast wealth, accusing him of stealing from the people. The truth is: The possessions of a nation’s leader reflect the reputation of the state. Our Supreme Leader has made these expenditures for the good of the people, not for himself. Moreover, a real citizen should even be willing to go hungry for the sake of their country."

The judge spoke so quickly that it made me anxious as I waited for a chance to speak. Finally, when he paused, I was about to respond, but instead, he continued. " When you claimed…” I was stunned. He was repeating the same words over and over. After the tenth repetition, he turned to me. "Do you admit your mistake and apologize?"

“Now!” I told myself, taking a deep breath and bracing for the pain, I opened my mouth.

"I'm sorry."

I paused, not believing my ears, then repeated,

"I'm sorry."

 I covered my mouth with my hands. What was happening? No matter what I said, all that echoed in the courtroom were these two words. A terrible fear gripped me as the judge's words made sense: “Don’t try to say anything else. You won’t be able to, even if you want to.” As I touched the wires on my head, I saw the lie detector flashing harsh red lights.

"It’s not accepted," the judge said. "You are not sincere." Then, he began reading again.

"You claim the president violated and changed the constitution. However, the truth is: The president has amended and improved the outdated and flawed constitution for the benefit of the people, which makes it a blessing for us, not a crime."

After the tenth repetition, he asked again.

I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to scream at the audience, at my mother, “I’m not apologizing! You know I’ve done nothing wrong! Why are you looking at me like that, mom?”

 But instead, a series of apologies kept pouring out of my mouth.

All my hopes of using this court as my last chance to speak the truth were shattered because I couldn’t control the words coming out of my mouth anymore. So, when the judge asked for the third time, I opened my mouth and said, “God damn you.”

The words I heard no longer surprised me.

After each of my responses, the room would fill with a blinding red light and a disturbing sound. It felt like this sound was only bothering me, as the audience watched with relaxed faces. I tried not to look at my mother’s side anymore; a voice inside me told me that if I did, I’d break down.

The same cycle repeated: the judge listed the crimes the president had committed and I had reported before, explaining how they were not crimes and highlighting the greatness and innocence of the president. After each one, he would turn to me, asking me to apologize. And with each time, the red light flashed, and he moved on to the next item.

"Your apology will not be accepted unless it is sincere," the judge repeated.

As I stood there, I struggled to understand the point of this absurd interrogation. They knew I had always chased the truth, as a journalist, no matter what. They knew I hadn't changed my mind, which was why I was here. So, what was the purpose of these pointless explanations and demands for an apology, knowing it wouldn’t change anything?

Without waiting my turn, “End this nonsense", I said.

The judge laughed: "Don’t bother trying to say anything else. Whatever you say, you will only be able to apologize. I told you."

A light flickered in my mind and I looked at the audience.

They knew, I thought. They knew they were controlling my voice. My eyes scanned them quickly. None of them wore wires.

As the judge spoke, I kept watching them and noticed something I hadn’t before. After each sentence, they nodded in perfect harmony, with the same confident demeanor—my mom included.

"Our Holy Leader has never had journalists or opposition figures executed. They are sinners sent by the devil." Up and down. "Our Holy Leader has never filled government positions with relatives. Each person earned their position through intelligence." Up and down. "Our Holy Leader has never silenced free speech. The shut-down channels and newspapers were spreading fake news." Up and down.

Again and again.

This wasn’t for me, I thought.

This interrogation, this “purification,” was never meant for me. It had never been. I lifted my head and looked at the little man at the top, and another truth became clear. It wasn’t you either. This wasn’t your creation. Not yours alone. Why had it taken me so long to see that?

The questioning continued at its relentless pace. I wanted to laugh, but only tears fell from my eyes. The lie detector, the rows of men before me, the deep void—none of it mattered anymore. I kept staring at the audience, at my mom. I was feeling something break inside me. As if someone had ripped away something I had hidden and nurtured inside me for years, leaving me alone with a vast emptiness.

They nodded after every word, their faces now holding a strange expression. Not pity, not hatred. It was more like, “You deserve this. Let’s see what happens now.”

“Defendant 698278. Do you admit your crime and apologize?”

Defendant 698278, I repeated.  698,278 times this court had convened, 698,278 people judged, 698,278 praises for the president’s mercy, and... 698,278 nods.

Up and down.

Then I started laughing, uncontrollably, hoping it would fill the emptiness inside me.

 “You’re not sorry, are you?” the judge said with anger, after finishing all his lines.

“No,” I replied. Actually, “I’m so sorry.”

I prepared myself for one final step. There was only one thing left to do. For myself. For what I believed.

Forgive me, God, I said. "I am so sorry." And, I closed my eyes.

However just as I lifted my foot to take a step, a sound filled the entire hall.

It was applause.

 I was taken aback and opened my eyes. Everyone was standing and clapping, and the entire courtroom was bathed in green.

Idiots, I said as I laughed harder. Bunch of idiots.