The Farm

March 5, 2013 § Leave a comment

I don’t like this short but I’m posting it anyway

The temperature might have increased a degree or two. It wasn’t too uncomfortable but more or less noticeable. The two men continued, arguing precious time, discussing what had become a three-day inquiry.
Man one: “Why do you dislike the idea?”
Man two: “I suppose I grew up in a different time than you.”
Man one: “You’re not that much older than me.”
Man two: “And how much that time makes a difference.”
Man one: “The Farm is a great place for him to be. He can work and live out the rest of his days without having to pay any bills. He has no kin to care and provide for him yet is healthy enough to work.”
Man two: “It’s wrong to support this.”
Man one: “I’m not arguing if it’s wrong or not. I’m simply looking at the criteria. He’s facing foreclosure. He doesn’t have living relatives. He’s healthy. What else can we possibly do?”
Man two: “This criteria we must base this on, who determines this? Is it truly right of us to hand down this man a sentence of servitude if only to satisfy a sustainability quota?”
Man one: “Research has shown that in order to optimize our resources…”
Man two: “Fuck your research. There has to be a better way.”
Man One: “There isn’t and you know this. You’re just too damn stubborn to admit it.”
The judge entered the room. “Is the Jury ready to deliberate?”
Man one: “Are we ready?”
Man two looks at Man One. Tired and incapable of persuading his last man, he surrendered.
Man two: “Yes.”
The two men and the rest of the jury walked into the court room. The old man sat with his head burrowed in tranquility.
“We, the jury, find Mr. Gaston incapable of providing for himself. He is to be sent to the Farm and remain there until contact from next of kin or death.”

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