They hastily moved him into what looked to be a meeting room, which still had papers and pencils and trash from the previous meeting. At the front sat the council, and he was directed to a seat in front of them. Sitting in the middle of all of the council members was an aged man of perhaps 35 or 40 years, and he started shuffling some of his papers befoe finally finding what he sought, and then spoke.
"Please state your name."
No reply.
"I said, please state your name. For the record."
"Name, sir?" he said at last. "What name?"
"Your name, please. And do be quick about it, I'd like to be done with this as quickly as prossible."
"I have no name."
"It says here in my file that you are Richard M. Harks. Is this information incorrect?"
"If you say it is."
"The council asks for your cooperation in this matter."
"It was my christening, yes."
He was led into a fairly sized room, cieling and walls all covered in metal, and a moniter placed in the room in such a way as to discourage accidental eyes. The screen, which pulsated with a blue, green resonance and lit the room with a cold and peircing light, toward over where they sat him. The guards walked away, and the door was closed. As the light pittered and spithened across the floor, it's color changing slightly with each step it took, his eyes began to dilate. The lighting had something of a hypnotic effect on him, and now, forced into his thoughts, he felt alone. Crammed into his own head, he found nothing to comfort him. Even his memories had forsaken him, telling of joyous days long since passed, and long since forgotten. As the time drew on, he grew distinctly aware of the fact that he had not hade anything to eat that morning. Or the day before. The hunger began gnawing away at him, and now, with such sparce thoughts as these to protect him, he could not hide from it. And here he was left. Alone.
In the evening, he woke up again, and at first saw nothing. As he looked, he realized that the pulsating colored lights had ceased to run, and his eyes adjusted to the normal light again. The silver metal walls, which to his eyes had a yellow tinge to them, suddenly lit up as the door to the cell was opened. He felt the hunger inside him, but when he was actually offered food, what he saw he found repulsive, and he could not eat. Every particle of each item of food they had he knew had been bought by leeching the lives of people to serve the community. Though he needed food, he knew that he would not get it here.
The men assigned to his care hid their frustation with his disguist by disowning their involvement and responsibility
The cold spring air stung at his nose as he walked. The stinging thrilled him, invigorating him with a new feeling of life – of meaning. Each footfall across the soft, pebbled walk resonated in his ears, and each bird singing left its song impressed on his soul. He felt the wind weaving its cold, intricate web over his fingers, chilling his skin as armor perfectly fitted to his hand. As he looked blankly ahead, he could see everything around him. The trees were in perfect season with the winds, blanketing the earth with its coat of many colors. As he walked forward, he was filled with a joy he had never met before. For the first time in his life, he felt alive. He felt he was a part of something, something worth any price. And he was prepared to pay. He hardly noticed his armed escorts, or the stares of the people along the path. Their piercing eyes, blunted and dwarfed by the powerful display made by the entire universe around him, fell wasted to the ground, and the former scowl of the crowd was slowly replaced by a curious interest and awe. The anger they held against him slipped from their grasp, and they could only watch from affair as passive observers. As he walked, he saw a butterfly frolicking in the flowers, dancing through the air. As it fluttered joyfully, the fire adorning its wings burned into his vision. He could no longer look at the butterfly, for fear of defiling its innocence and beauty with his unclean heart. Yet, even as he turned away, the butterfly danced. It stayed within his vision, and each movement blurred in together, until there was no butterfly left to watch, and all that remained was a happy flurry of bright colors, blazing in the morning glow. As he boarded the shuttle which would steal him away to his fate, he looked back. All the colors that had inspired him so much had gone and fled, leaving his sight as he left their world. But, in the bleak scene which laid behind him, so brilliant and overwhelming when first he saw them, contained none of the things that had so impressed themselves upon his soul. Instead, in the landscape so insignificant compared to what it had been, there grew a rose. Amidst all the brilliance he had witnessed before, he had completely overlooked it. Now it held him, gripped his thoughts, his mind, his soul. Its thorns along its sides menacing, even in the beauty it protects. Surrounded and dwarfed by the surrounding glory, as he saw it now, he could not remember having ever seen anything so beautiful.
The door to the shuttle closed. Even though the flower was no longer there, it was all he could see. It was all he cared to see. He smiled.
The door opened again, revealing a large, circular building. He was pushed from the shuttle, and escorted through the building. They led him into a small cell on the far side of the building. They left him there.