Rhoth had no way to gauge the passage of time. His cell contained no window or clock. He could have been there for hours or weeks. His guards were far from forthcoming with information. They responded to most of Rhoth’s entreaties with a punch to the face. A request for some kind of makeshift toilet had earned him a broken nose. Rhoth was forced to remain standing in the spot in which he had first regained consciousness. His legs ached, punctured by an endless volley of pins and needles. But to Rhoth’s growing discomfort, his legs held fast. The pain in his feet became impossible to ignore. He envisioned an anvil driving them into the stone floor with ever-increasing pressure. Sweat seeped into his soles. They pruned until they blistered and cracked. Rhoth could feel the fungi invade his open wounds. He allowed his head to droop in relief until that relief became its own torture; Rhoth imagined the weight of his head snapping his vertebrae. He could no longer control his bowels. He developed a fever and numerous infections from basting in his own waste. His exhaustion was peppered with bouts of sleep so brief and restless, they were more mockery than respite.
Only Zeno’s periodic visits broke the agonizing monotony of Rhoth’s incarceration. “Why do you believe as you do?” he asked Rhoth during one visit. “Why should personal liberty be paramount? That’s not a rhetorical question. I would genuinely like to hear your honest answer.”
Rhoth swallowed and felt a hundred razors tumble down his esophagus. He answered in an anguished rasp, “It… it’s jungle law without it.”
“It’s jungle law at any rate,” Zeno countered. “As a species we have not risen as far as you like to believe. Look at how children treat each other. They identify the weakest of the pack and pounce on him.”
Rhoth’s skin bubbled with goose bumps.
“That behavior is not instilled,” said Zeno. “It’s instinctive. Did you know that if the male in certain species of seals is unable to find a willing mate, he resorts to rape?”
“Laws are…” Rhoth coughed out. “Laws are meant… to protect us from our… from our basest instincts.”
“Of course. That’s how we maintain a civilization. But we do not all adhere to those rules, do we? And those who do not adhere, we punish.”
Rhoth looked up at Zeno in confusion. Where was he going with this?
“Those who break the law…” he continued. “Do you suppose they are some aberration? A tragic roll of the genetic dice? Or do you subscribe to that antiquated and irrational idea of a ‘criminal class?’ ”
Rhoth stared at Zeno.
“Again, that’s not rhetorical. Is that what you think?”
Rhoth whispered, “No.”
“So where do you think criminality comes from?”
Rhoth’s hackles rose. His eyes narrowed. He quietly, calmly accused, “They feel powerless. Helpless. They have no hope. No options.”
“Exactly! And you understand that, I’m sure, because you’ve felt that way before. Maybe when you were still young.”
Rhoth’s goose bumps shot up further.
“But have you ever broken the law? I mean serious crimes with human victims. Ever robbed someone or committed murder?”
The defiance disappeared from Rhoth’s face.
From his pocket Zeno produced a syringe filled with a pale lavender liquid. “This is the antidote to your paralysis,” he said before producing a pistol. “And this is loaded. If I placed this gun in your hand and administered the antidote, even you could pull the trigger and kill me. It’s only you and me in here. No one could stop you. And, according to you, my murder would be an eminently heroic act. You, Meako Rhoth, would be a hero.”
Rhoth eyed the pistol and, had he not been chemically bound, would have trembled.
“But you wouldn’t do it. You know that. Why wouldn’t you do it?”
His eyes locked on the gun, Rhoth said, “Your goons.”
Zeno smiled without a trace of arrogance or sadism. “Consequences – that’s right. We all like to believe that we are enlightened beings. That we’ve emerged from the jungle wise enough to govern ourselves according to ‘the right thing.’ But you know that if left to our own unchecked urges, we would be right back in the jungle.” Zeno held the gun in the light before Rhoth. “The only safeguard against chaos is power. And the sad truth is that power always has and always will spring from the sword.”
Rhoth’s head sagged. He wished that he had the power to make himself pass out.
Zeno returned the pistol and syringes to his pockets. “It’s ironic,” he opined, “how the one species in the world capable of introspection is the one species capable of deluding itself – and so quick to do so.”
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