The next moments were in complete silence. Then the interrogator spoke:
“Your time is up, Mr. K. Thank you for spending these precious ten minutes with me. I’m afraid I must attend to our next visitor now.”
His words were punctuated by the sudden blare of an alarm. Without a word, the interviewer calmly reached over and silenced the noise.
The door creaked open, and another man in black appeared in the doorway. He didn’t speak a word as he moved toward K, pressing his hands firmly against K’s back, forcing him to stand upright. Both hands gripped K’s wrists with such force that K couldn’t even move on his own will.
The man shoved him forward. K stumbled. He didn’t know where he was going, but he was being pushed into an unknown destination.
They reached a massive door, its size imposing as it slowly opened. Beyond it stretched a giant room, filled with a sea of faces, all turned downward, staring at the floor in unison. The silence in the room was suffocating, broken only by the echoes of their footsteps on the cold floor. As K’s eyes adjusted, a sense of unease washed over him. The faces were vaguely familiar, though his mind couldn't quite place them. Then it clicked—these were the tenants. The people he had seen in passing, in the halls of the building, perhaps. Now, they were all here, watching, silent witnesses to whatever was about to unfold. They are all in their undergarments, just like himself.
A pair of eyes met him briefly from the crowd—Ivan and the supervisor, both standing at the back, their heads lowered. Their expressions mirrored the same confusion and helplessness that churned in K’s chest. But before he could fully process the sight, his attention was snapped to a raised platform at the far end of the room.
A tall, imposing figure stood on the podium. The man’s eyes locked onto K, his voice boomed, amplified by the acoustics of the vast room.. “Mr. K,” he began, “I am the judge, and I will therefore listen to your statements.”
“Your… greatness?” he hesitated, unsure of the proper way to address him. The word felt hollow in his mouth, foreign and wrong. “I… I was here mistakenly. I am innocent. Please, I don’t belong here.”
The moment the words left his lips, doubt crept in. This was a farce. What was he even clinging to? He already knew the outcome—he had been told. The other accused stood in silent acceptance, their verdicts long since passed. They had faced their interrogators, just as he had, and now awaited the inevitable. And yet, something in him resisted.
Perhaps this judge was different. Perhaps, if he followed the procedure, he would be let go. The men in black had said as much. Just cooperate, and everything will be fine.
“Mistake?” The judge’s voice cut through his thoughts. “No one is here by mistake, Mr. K. We are all guilty in our own ways. Whether you admit it or not.”
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For a moment, K was speechless. Then, driven by something raw and defiant, he asked, “Does that mean you are guilty too?” His voice wavered.
“Yes,” the judge replied without hesitation. “I would be guilty if I failed to perform my duty as I have been instructed. Now, let us proceed.”
A bitter laugh escaped K’s lips, “You’re not performing your duty if you don’t even gather evidence or sentence the right person.”
The judge’s cold stare remained unmoved. “Mr. K, you are guilty of looking into empty space when the crime occurred, while all other passengers stared at their phones. The man’s death could have been prevented if—”
“I heard that already. “ K cut him off, You think I am guilty because I think, and keep it for myself…”
"Yes, you were thinking, and thinking, as we’ve determined, is dangerous." the judge replied
“This is all nonsense”
The judge remained unfazed. “We also detected that you looked at an official anti-staff abuse poster in the underground station.”
"So what? I looked at a poster. Is that a crime now? What is that added to anything"
"We noticed you laughed at it," the judge’s tone remained even. "Such thinking—mocking, undermining—is dangerous. It reflects criminal tendencies."
K’s voice turned more defiant, "So, I’m not allowed to think for myself? I’m guilty because I thought?"
“We are simply investigating the reasons for your sentencing. Your innocence is irrelevant.”
K clenched his fists. “So I am innocent, and you’re just looking for an excuse to condemn me?” His voice cracked with anger.
The judge sighed, "We are following the rules, Mr. K. This is how this court operates."
“What kind of court is that?” K scoffed “You don’t gather evidence, you don’t find clues”
“There were clues,” the judge corrected him. “But gathering clues takes time. Time is scarce. And so, the court has ruled: Everyone here is guilty. This is the only reasonable conclusion."
He carried on, "Tomorrow, there will be more murders. More crimes. More trials. But trials require rulings, and rulings require time. We do not have time. So, we erase. It is efficient."
They didn’t need justice; they just needed efficiency.
“I refuse to take all your nonsense”
“Still there is nothing to be debated about. You are sentenced to death and you should simply accept what will be coming”
“Justice, I require justice” K shouted “You lots are a bunch of clowns! CLOWNS!”
Just why am I even here? A thought settled deep in K’s mind,Was it because he had simply allowed things to happen? Had he let them strip him of his name, calling him ‘K’ instead of Kane, letting them dictate his reality? Perhaps the sentence was right after all. Perhaps his very existence was a crime.
He is the one allowed himself to be sentenced, as he played by their rules, yes he is the murderer, not to the unknown man, but of himself, he murdered a man called Kane, Kane Abbot.