One by one, they passed through a narrow corridor, its walls grim and sterile under the bleak paleness of the fluorescent lights. As they moved, they glimpsed rooms on either side, each indistinguishable from the next, illuminated by the harsh, white glow from within.

Ivan was the first to step into one of the rooms. As he crossed the threshold, the door swung shut behind him, plunging the corridor back into shadow. The light from his room disappeared.

Next, the supervisor stumbled toward another door, his body shaking with panic. His breathing was rapid, erratic. He clutched at his chest as if the weight of the situation had finally overwhelmed him. He collapsed, breaking into a sobbing fit. The man in black had no choice but to grab the supervisor’s arm and drag him into the room, his cries echoing in the hallway. The door shut with a heavy thud.

K watched, his heart racing, as the sequence continued. He stepped forward to the last door, the final one at the end of the corridor. The air seemed to grow colder as he entered the room. Inside, the light was blinding. The room was stark and empty, save for a solitary desk and a chair facing it. Another man in black sat behind the desk, his uniform identical to the others. The door clicked shut behind K, and he was left alone with this new presence.

"Mr. Kane," the man began "Let’s stick to K.”

“Yes K is fine” K responded, “So are you my interviewer?”

“No I am your interrogator” the man looked him straight in the eyes.

“Sounds the same to me,” K sighed, “I just want this over and done with. I am tired and I haven't eaten, I’ve got work to do—

“I assure you Mr K, this will take ten minutes. After that, I’ll pass you along.”

“You are surely efficient. That assures me” then K asked “Once this is done, where do I collect my belongings? And are you going to call me a cab, let my employer know? I can’t afford to be late”

“That won’t be necessary Mr K, they are no longer needed” the interrogator paused.

“You are here because you're guilty of murder." he spoke with absolute finality.

“Murder?” K’s voice raised, full of disbelief. “What do you mean? I’m here to give evidence.”

"We require no evidence from you," the interrogator said calmly. "Your sentence has already been determined. You are a murderer."

“I’m innocent!” K protested.

"We have determined otherwise. There is no debate. However—" the interrogator glanced at his watch, "—we have nine minutes. I will answer any questions you may have."

K’s thoughts spun in a chaotic blur. "How? Why? What happened?"

"You were on the tube yesterday when a shooting occurred. A passenger was killed right in front of you."

The memory floods back to him “I remember that... I was so tired, I thought it must have been a dream.”

"The victim was shot dead. The gunman was masked, and we cannot verify his identity."

“So you suspect me, someone happened to be onsite”, K scoffed, “because you lack proof?”

“Proof is not required, we simply noticed you” the interrogator continued.

“But I was just sitting there! I couldn’t possibly be the murderer!” K reasoned, growing increasingly tired “I cannot be sitting there and shooting someone at the sametime”

“No”, the interrogator conceded, “but there were things you could have done to prevent the murder. You could have offered him your seat.”

“There were dozens of people on that train who could have done the same. Why me?”

“Because he was standing right in front of you."

K’s mind spun. "He could have chosen to stand anywhere else. Why does it matter that it was me?"

K continued, “The gunman must have planned it. Who has free access to firearms?”

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The man leaned forward, “What interested me the most, is another small detail”

“You see, Mr K, all other passengers are all either staring on their phone or they are reading a newspaper. What were you doing at that time”

“I was tired, simply tired”

“So you are thinking?”

"I don’t know. Maybe."

"We believe you were. While the others were absorbed in distraction, you were watching. You saw it unfold."

“I am tired, everyday, I felt exhausted after all the work, I don’t live in the best area and I don’t have the best pay, the journey home is a long ride, I am just tired”

"Ah," the interrogator mused, tapping a finger against the table. "So you’re exhausted. You find this all too tiring—your life, your society."

“Yes, I hope you understand…and may I have a drink or something.” K’s gaze flicked to the pot of coffee behind the interrogator.

“Of course, let me pour you some coffee” the interrogator turned around, “it will cost 30 seconds”

“Fine, I need it”

As the interrogator filled the cup, he spoke without looking back. "You know, Mr. K, this is precisely how we see it. You are dissatisfied with society."

He set the cup down in front of K.

"You’re unhappy with your role. You feel meaningless. And yet—you refuse to do anything about it."

"Your discontent," the interrogator said, lifting his coffee, "is a more dangerous crime than any other."

K scoffed, but the man continued.

"You see, the gunman—we actually know who he is. He rides the underground every day. He carried a gun and acted. His reasons, whatever they were, led him to make a choice. He resented something, so he did something." He took a sip. "But you, Mr. K, you keep your thoughts to yourself."

K downed his coffee in one go. "This is absurd. I’m not dangerous, and you clearly know who the real criminal is. Why don’t you investigate him instead of me?"

The interrogator smiled. "No, you are worse, Mr. K. You hide your thoughts, bury your grievances. That’s far more troubling. How can society improve? How can we evolve if people like you refuse to voice what they truly feel?"

“It is natural to keep what I think to myself. Because I don’t want to drag anyone else into it” K looked at the emptied cup, then the interrogator, “This is what the society taught us, isn’t it. Being polite and being considerate to another”

The interrogator exhaled, tilting his head slightly. "Yes… and no."

K frowned.

"Society teaches you to be polite, yes. To be considerate, yes. But it also demands participation. It expects you to engage, to contribute, to take a stance when it matters. And you, Mr. K, did nothing. That is why the man died."

K stiffened.

"You think, but you do not act. Not for yourself, not for anyone else. That is the real crime," the interrogator continued, "You are stuck in limbo—neither a part of the system nor outside of it. Just… floating."

K clenched his jaw. "So the ones glued to their screens, buried in their newspapers—are they better than me? Are they innocent?"

"Yes. They are absorbed in their existence. You, however, are lost in the void."

K said nothing.

The interrogator drained his cup and stood. "I’ve reached my conclusion. I have all the information I need."

He straightened his jacket. "The court will proceed. May good luck be with you."

Then, after a brief pause, he added, “I hope you can explain yourself to the judges. My job here is done. I’m simply here to prove that you’re guilty, so you’ll be moved to the next stage”

A sharp, hot surge of anger shot through K. "Next stage? What are you talking about? You’re just following orders.

The man didn’t flinch. “I am here to ensure the process is followed. What happens next is not up to me.”

“But you’re the one who decides what happens to us! You’re the one who labels us as guilty with no real evidence!” K’s voice was rising, frustration turning into desperation. "You’re telling me this whole thing is just about giving people a sentence? No matter what we say, what we’ve done?"

The man’s expression didn’t change, “You misunderstand. My job is to gather the facts, to ensure the law is carried out. If you’re truly innocent, then you will have your chance to speak your truth in front of the court. But, until then, your fate is already sealed.”

K’s chest tightened. “So, it’s all just a show then..”

The man’s lips curled. “If you want to think of it that way, sure. But the truth is, there’s no place for questioning. No place for dissent. You will be moved to the next stage. I suggest you prepare for what comes next.”

K’s pulse quickened, his mind spinning with panic and disbelief. “I need a legal representative… You didn’t even give me the option. And now, suddenly, I’m a criminal? A murderer?” His voice cracked, but he fought to keep it steady. “I’m just someone who works in an office, who takes that tube home daily at the same time! How am I supposed to be guilty of this?”

He couldn’t control the anger now, “This isn’t justice! This isn’t right!” His voice rose, "I didn’t ask for any of this! I didn’t ask for any of this!”

The man is unaffected by K’s emotions. “It doesn’t matter. The facts are clear. And the truth is, you were there. The court has decided that’s all that matters.”

K stared at him. “I won’t go down quietly. I’ll make them listen.”

The man said indifferently “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Mr. Kane. You can scream all you want. But in the end, the court decides, and your voice won’t matter.”

K stood up, grabbed the coffee pot from behind him, and drank it all down in one furious gulp.