"Here. Smoke away the screams, American".
The man flicked a cigarette onto the table. Deacon Jackson looked at it warily, with tired eyes, then decided he hadn't been captured by these people just so they could poison him. He scrabbled it into his cupped hand and lit it with an offered match. He exhaled, adding to the smoke-wreathed state of the small, dingy room. He didn't remember much. There had been fighting, and alot of noise. And blood, too. Lots of blood...
He looked at his hands. The outlines of his fingernails were etched scarlet. He shuddered, and put them under the table where he wouldn't see them. His mouth was dry, but he spoke anyway.
"Why am I here?" he croaked. The figure, lost in the purple shadows beyond what little light the ceiling-lamp, paused and stared at the wall, his back to Jackson.
"Why am I -"
"It is not... well. It is important, but it is not currently," the man's thoughtful voice slowed like grease, "not currently to your benefit. You are here to learn, Mr. Jackson, and so are we". The figure turned on his heel and paced to a corner. Deacon glanced around, and realised he couldn't see any door, or even a window. He groaned. The man snapped around with a voice like a scalpel.
"Deacon Jackson, my name is Stanton. You may answer the following questions with a yes or no. Do you follow the news?" He asked. Deacon nodded.
"Yes".
"Then you know who you have been fighting?"
"Confederation of Recognised Europe and the People's Republic of China," Deacon answered automatically.
"And you are fighting for...?"
"Liberated States of America, sir". For a second, Jackson didn't know why he'd said 'sir', until he realised that 'sir' had always followed 'America'. His brows knitted. "Liberated States of America," he repeated, like a mantra.
Stanton sighed. He rested his knuckles lightly on the tabletop and stared at Deacon until he shifted in his seat, chewing his cigarette nervously.
"Deacon, you're right. And wrong". He paused, before scratching his neck and continuing, "You're fighting no less than every other major country and international group in the world". He ticked off his fingers as he spoke. "The United Kingdom and the CRE. New Industrial Russia. The People's Republic of China. The North African Alliance. The Australasia-Pacific Alliance. The New States of the Middle East. The list goes on".
Deacon's mouth hung slightly ajar, before he blinked slowly.
"Y-you're wrong," he managed to stammer out. Everyone knew it was an unprovoked attack for America's raw resources. It wasn't their fault if the rest of the world had fucked up too badly in the past to manage now. He said as much to Stanton, whose eyebrows arched in amusement.
"You know, I almost never get tired of it". His eyes hardened. "Almost never". He suddenly seemed to be weary, and his hand came up to rub his forehead. He walked slowly round to the back of Deacon's chair and gripped it in two hands. He leaned next to Deacon's ear and whispered one word.
"Propaganda".
Deacon bit his lip.
"No," he said, "You're wrong. After they lost the oil wars, the CRE got mad, and they attacked us. We're just looking out for ourselves, we-"
"No!" Stanton almost shouted it. "Do you want to know what happened? Time for a history lesson, American!
"In the early part of this century, your country was the only global superpower. All of Europe united was only just strong enough to hold enough political sway to stop you dominating the world. In 2025, there was a huge economic crash, borne of a worldwide shortage of resources, and you hoarded what you had. During that time the American Nationalist Party managed to get themselves into power. Do you realise just how quickly they got there, and what methods they used?" Stanton shook his head sorrowfully. "Let's just say there's a reason the LSA doesn't have any opposition parties any more. The other countries saw all this, but the ANP pulled off a clean coup, and it was all... propaganda. Anyway. That's all in the past. Try convincing one of the current generation of Americans that any other party ever existed now. Hah". Deacon gripped the table legs tightly. This couldn't be true, this was just more lies by outsiders. They were raised to hate us, we all saw their classrooms.
At least, we all saw what the Institution showed us. He managed to find his voice as Stanton tapped his fingers softly on the table.
"But what about all we've been told by the inst-"
"Ah, the institution," interrupted Stanton smoothly. "From where a great nation is pulled around by a chain of lies. Yes, it's quite unbelievable how easily they did that. The Institution is simply the American Nationalist Party, renamed and made slightly more palatable. They fucking glitter, don't they? This is the same ANP who reintroduced the isolationist policy. The same ANP who banned all international trade to and from America, making it the poorest it's been in years. "The business of America is business", somebody once said. It isn't any more. The business of America is war now". He kicked a chair sullenly. "It's cost the world... quite a lot, Deacon. Over two million lives, for starters. And you know how it all started? For once, you're right. It was the oil wars, but what started as 'liberation operations' quickly became nothing more than mass raids on resources. You took and you took and left some countries in ruins, and for what? A few more plastic cups. Another car. Another couple of... well, you're probably unfamiliar with radios now. I suppose they took them all. Oh God, if you knew what went on then. But it's all over now. Civilization spat you out, purged you from the east. Damn, but the sands ran red. I fought there, you know". His voice softened for a moment. He seemed to come back to himself, and finished at a brisk pace. "From there we forced you back to your own country, and we've been fighting ever since. We don't hate Americans, we hate your government. And that's why I'm here. Maybe you should consider, Jackson, why you're here". He turned and walked out the room, through a door set into the wall, which Deacon heard lock behind him.
And all Deacon Jackson could do was stare.
I'm really not very good with English as most of you have guessed, but i think this piece reads pretty well. I wouldnt know what to crit in it, but maybe someone else could? I think it deserves atleast one post before slipping onto the second page, even if it is Flippy. ;)
Sounds interesting... and bizarre.
Proper formatting would get more feedback, since it's actually not the easier text I've read, especially because of my crappy english.
I believe that many people wouldn't even try to decode this formatting. So it's not only about what or where you write, but also how it looks like.
It feels like a piece of much bigger story. Which - I would surely read.