On September 14th, after having dinner early in the morning, Verak dragged his sick body to the interrogation room.
Lecter was probably really interested in coming. He arrived much earlier than Verak today. After seeing Verak arrive, the first thing he did was to smile at him and explain the reason for his early arrival: "I came here early specially to pick out the torture tools. I won't
It makes you feel too bored here."
"Okay." Verak's performance was calmer than yesterday, and he was calmly fixed on the seat by the prison guards, waiting for the test of the new day.
"Looking at you, you're looking forward to today too." Lecter was very satisfied with Verak's calm and calm performance, which he had never seen in other prisoners. He was sure that he had discovered a treasure.
"I always look forward to tomorrow." Verak took a deep breath.
Lecter raised his eyebrows: "I always look forward to tomorrow."
——
noon.
Verak was thrown back to cell 208.
Although his wounds have been treated today, the abuse today is more severe than yesterday. His neck, chest, arms, hands, and head are all wrapped with bandages. Some of the bandages are still bleeding. The new injuries add to the old ones.
The injury is no better than yesterday.
"Chris?" Keating called worriedly.
When Verak came back today, he couldn't even hum a few times in response to Keating, and he passed out directly.
"Keating, how's Chris doing?" Ross, the musician next door, asked.
Keating looked at Verak, whose chest was rising and falling weakly and whose eyes were tightly closed to hide the pain, and replied: "Still alive."
Ross poked his head out of the gap in the guardrail, trying to see the situation in cell 208. Unfortunately, he was next door and not on the opposite side. There was no way a head could pass through the gap in the guardrail. His struggles were in vain: "Why is he injured?"
He was so seriously injured and he just came back now? Is that madman Lecter so cruel now? Fortunately, I left early..."
"Be quiet and let him have a good rest," Keating said.
——
night.
Verak regained consciousness at seven o'clock. Keating asked about his situation worriedly. He told Keating what happened today, but Keating said nothing after hearing it.
When the prison guard came to deliver the meal at eight o'clock, he saw one with disabled legs and one with injuries all over his body, sitting against the wall. He could only come in and give one meal to Keating and put the other meal in front of Verak.
Verak looked at the expressionless prison guard who had been delivering meals to them on time these past few days: "Thank you..."
"Hurry and eat." When the prison guard heard "Thank you" again, the coldness seemed to have softened a little, and he warned before leaving.
Verak glanced at the lunch box in front of him, raised his hands tremblingly, and held the lunch box to his chest with both hands, but he had no strength to open the lunch box and pick up the spoon.
"Can you come over?"
Verak looked up at Keating.
Keating had just taken a bite of rice: "Come over here and I'll feed you."
It took Verak more than a minute to move less than a meter and a half to Keating's bedside. Keating took his lunch box, scooped out some food with a spoon and gently put it into his mouth.
Verak, who was injured, ate very slowly. It took him four or five minutes to finish half of his meal. He calculated the time secretly in his mind, stopped eating, and said feebly: "You can eat... ten minutes...
It’s almost over...If you don’t eat...the prison guards will...come to collect the lunch boxes..."
"I'm fine. I won't die if I don't eat." Keating continued to feed, "You don't have anything to eat at noon, and you are tortured every day. If you don't replenish some energy at night, you won't be able to survive."
Verak didn't know what to say, so he could only open his mouth silently and eat the food fed to him by Keating.
Ten minutes passed quickly, and the prison guard delivering meals came to the door.
A dark shadow shone into the prison cell, and Verak and Keating looked outside together.
The prison guard who was about to open the door saw Keating feeding Verak, and the hand holding the key paused: "...Hurry up."
After that, the prison guard looked around and left.
"Thank you..." Verak thanked him belatedly.
"Eat quickly." Keating urged in a deep voice while bringing the rice to Verak's mouth again.
It took another ten minutes for the prison guard to come over. By this time, Verak had already finished his meal, and Keating had also eaten some. Seeing that it was almost done, the prison guard didn't wait any longer, opened the door, took away the lunch box and the remaining food, and left.
"Would you like me to massage your neck?" Keating asked.
Verak, who was leaning on the bed, shook his head, still listless: "Today...he didn't use the fork...his neck is fine...he has applied medicine."
"Is it still possible?"
Verak didn't reply for the first time, and Keating only heard a weak gasp.
"It can be done." After Verak finished speaking, he lowered his head and sighed.
"Keep going," Keating encouraged.
Verak, who looked extremely tired, lowered his head and closed his eyes as if he was asleep, said for a while: "Today... I still can't take you... to take a bath..."
"It's okay." Keating didn't pay attention to this matter as always.
"Actually... I also like to be clean..." Verak smiled.
"The most important thing is to live."
"Well..." Verak remained motionless, but opened his bloodshot eyes, "Continue to tell you... the theory of equality... I talked about two chapters yesterday... today... it's time for the third chapter... everything
Those who do not want to...see the principle of human equality...should at least...acknowledge that there is...a principle of...equality of citizens..."
Although he was exhausted and had difficulty speaking, Verak still insisted on telling Keating the content of "Equality" that he had not finished yesterday after the meal.
This is not only about finishing something from beginning to end, but also about constantly telling it to himself.
It wasn't until late at night that he finished the third chapter intermittently.
"It's too late... It's too late to talk about Chapter 4... Let's continue tomorrow." Verak stood up unsteadily holding on to the bed.
"Okay, I'll wait tomorrow and rest." Keating said.
"Good night...Mr. Keating..." Verak groaned in pain and climbed onto the bed.
——
September 15th.
Verak was dragged away again by prison guards in the morning and thrown back unconscious at noon.
This time, the nearby cells were all boiling.
"The new one is not dead yet? I think he is, right? I didn't even take a breath when he was dragged past our cell just now."
"Damn it, can you use your brain? If he dies, can he be dragged back? The dead man would have been thrown into the pile of rocks outside the prison."
"Then this guy's life is really tough. This is already the third day, right? And he used to come back every half an hour. He didn't come back until noon. If it wasn't for dinner, I don't think that lunatic Lecter would be able to
Play until night."
"Keating! Damn old man! You are so cruel. You just bite the bullet against us. Can you still stand it after this young man has been tortured like this? Hurry up and tell us the location of the gold. You
It can also save someone’s life!”
"Haha, if he was a soft-hearted person, he wouldn't have had one or two hundred roommates. What do you expect him to do? You might as well hope that this young man can survive for a few more days!"
"If he is dragged out tomorrow, he will definitely not be able to come back. The old injuries have not healed yet, and new injuries are getting more and more day by day. Who can hold on?"
"We might not be able to hold on tomorrow and have to be dragged out today. Who do you think the unlucky guy will be transferred to Keating's cell next?"
——
September 16th.
At eight o'clock in the evening, the prison guard delivered dinner on time.
"Is he awake yet?" The prison guard came in and handed a meal to Keating, and at the same time looked at Verak who was sleeping on the floor.
"No, the injury is too serious, he can't hold on anymore." Keating held the lunch box and had no appetite to eat. He thought that Lecter would stop in a few days at most, and at least Verak would be given some time to recuperate.
But Lecter didn't, squeezing Verak's remaining vitality on time every day.
The prison guard stood there and stared at Verak for a while, then walked out of the cell.
A few seconds later, the prison guard returned, came to Verak's side, lifted him up, and fed him some porridge.
"You..." From first allowing time for meals to now taking the initiative to help feed him, Keating wondered why the prison guards wanted to help Verak.
"This young man is not as annoying as you. At least he can say thank you." After the prison guard finished feeding him, he took away Keating's untouched lunch box and left in a hurry.
——
September 17th.
Late at night, the prison on the underground floor was snoring loudly, but beneath it, there was always a weak but firm voice speaking, speaking to myself in the darkness and to others in the darkness.
"Suppose that no matter how unequal people are in various social classes, the penalties for misdemeanors should be the same. Will this kind of equal justice and this kind of equal punishment happen? Everyone thinks it will happen, everyone does it.
Said, and often revealed in words, people even stood on the rooftops and shouted loudly." Verak sneered, "But it is still a lie. (Note: 1)"
Keating listened silently.
"As long as the poor commit a crime, they will fall into the hands of the law or the military police even for no reason. The rich commit various crimes without being punished by criminal law, or at least do not have to fear it. This is the answer this cruel society tells us
, who will go to prison, labor camp and the guillotine...Equality in criminal law, as we know it today, is only used to cover up and hide sad inequality...How long does it take and how many sacrifices are needed to achieve this?
What about equality in terms of equality? (Note: 2)" Verak said with some intense emotions, and he suddenly paused, "... Let's stop here, we will talk about Chapter 6 tomorrow."
"Are you okay?" Keating asked.
"I can." Verak lay on the ground.
The floor was covered with the mattress he took down from the upper bunk yesterday.
After he recovered from his illness yesterday, he realized that his situation would only get worse in the future, so he simply laid the mattress on the ground. This way at least he could lie down more comfortably every day even if he passed out, and he wouldn't have to crawl up at night.
The upper bunk he can't even climb now.
"It's not an option to continue like this. Judging from your deteriorating physical condition..."
"I'm going to die at any time, right?"
"..."
"I'll tell you Chapter 6 on time tomorrow."
——
September 18th.
September 19th.
September 20th.
Every time Verak was taken away or dragged back, it began to affect the hearts of all the prisoners in the prison.
The prisoners came back at noon every day and became more and more active. They were not in a hurry to go to sleep, but stared in the direction of the interrogation room. Once Verak was dragged out alive, they would burst into cheers, and one prisoner was heard from one cell to another.
Before Verak returned to Cell 208, the news that he was alive had spread throughout the entire prison floor.
September 22nd, noon.
Verak was thrown into his bed on the floor.
Keating looked at Verak, who was covered in blood in the bandaged areas and covered in bruises in the exposed areas without bandages. This young man who could not move and was covered in injuries caused a huge shock to him, just like in "The Origin of Species"
” and “On Equality” gave him the same shock.
"Why can't he die?!" Ross, the musician next door, yelled, "Keating, what are you thinking? Is it interesting to live after being abused like this and still holding on?"
Keating ignored Ross and waited patiently until evening.
This time, even after the prison guards fed him, he didn't get better, and Verak showed no signs of waking up.
Keating watched the prison guard sigh, shook his head and left, calling Verak's name: "Chris, is it still okay?"
Verak remained motionless.
It wasn't until the lights were turned off at night and Keating was about to go to bed that he heard Verak's voice.
"Mr. Keating..."
"Huh?" Keating sat up suddenly and looked at Verak. Verak seemed to be paralyzed, and he still maintained the posture that the prison guard had put down after feeding him. Through the light in the corridor, Keating could vaguely see his tears.
Flow all over the face.
"I may...can't hold on anymore..."
Hearing these words, Keating's heart skipped a beat: "Why?"
"I'm going to die..." Verak's eyes were dazed, his dry lips were slightly open, and his throat moved up and down as he swallowed from time to time.
"You won't die." Keating comforted.
"I'm going to die..." Verak repeated.
Keating smiled deliberately: "No, no, no, you haven't told me Chapter 10 of The Theory of Equality yet."
"It...only has nine chapters..."
"But it's not finished." Keating didn't expect that the book only had nine chapters and was an unfinished work.
"I don't know what to write next...I don't know if they can succeed..." Verak's eyes were dull. He opened his eyes, but couldn't see anything. "I'm going to die...I already feel it."
arrive……"
Keating took out a notebook from the pillow and threw it on Verak's chest: "You have persisted for nine days. You said that your book was confiscated by the government. I spent nine days to rewrite nine chapters for you, but this
The notebook is less than half used.”
After being imprisoned for two years, Keating has read the books he brought dozens of times and has long been tired of them. During this time, he finally found something more meaningful than reading those books again, which was to read the books he had read the night before during the day.
What Verak said was re-recorded based on his own understanding.
"You have to keep writing," Keating encouraged. "You have to see them succeed. You have to go to jail."
There was no movement from Verak's side.
"Just one more day, Chris. Just one more day and you will succeed. Just one more day."
"At the very least, get through this night."
"You should rest, I will wake you up tomorrow."
——
Notes 1 and 2: Both are abridged from the original text of "On Equality" written by Pierre Leroux.