In a newsroom, dozens of phones ring incessantly as everyone speaks loudly, exchanging information of all kinds. The few rays of sunlight that enter warm the room.

At the very back, Joël has his face pressed against his desk. The sound of his deep breathing echoes through the room as no one pays any attention to him. His chest rises and falls steadily despite the surrounding chaos. While he dreams, a voice cuts through the noise and wakes him instantly.

“JOËL! … TO MY OFFICE IMMEDIATELY!”

Silence falls over the room. Joël jumps and looks around him. No one dares speak. Only the sounds of phones continue to fill the air.

His confused gaze scans the room as he searches. Who could’ve woken me up? He scratches his small beard and squints. All eyes are on him.

Whispers spread through the crowd: "What did he do?"

At the other end of the room, in the doorway of his office, the editor-in-chief stares at him, then raises his hand, signaling him to come over. Joël enters the office and quickly pulls down the blinds covering the window.

He takes a long minute to process what's happening. Why is he yelling like that?

The moment he steps through the door and sees the chief seated at his desk, he hears, “Close the door; I need to talk to you.” Joël sits in the chair opposite the desk. “Please, I’ve got a terrible headache this morning. Don’t shout, I don’t want it to get worse.”

“Did you drink again last night?”

“Of course not... I finished the hockey competition report... I worked late to have everything ready for this morning... exactly as you asked me to yesterday.” Joël pinches his eyes in frustration and glances sideways to gauge the chief's reaction.

The chief eyes him skeptically and quickly sips his energy drink. A smile creeps across his face. “You’re the one who's going to cover today’s execution at the prison. So, hurry up... and I expect perfect work.”

Joël leaps from his chair, shaking his head furiously. “Oh no, please, not another execution. I really don’t want to do this!”

“It’s decided. You’re going, end of discussion... It’s an order, Joël.”

“Please! We all know the drill. The guy cries, he whines... they put him to sleep, and he dies. It’s mind-numbingly dull...Please, I’m begging you... I’ll even wash your car if you give this to someone else.”

His only response is to throw a thick yellow envelope at him. When Joël catches it, his curiosity gets the better of him. He opens the envelope while observing the chief's reaction. Discreetly, he peeks inside. A dozen classified documents.

“I don’t have anyone else to cover this event... so you’re going.”

“The execution of the traitor? When was he sentenced?”

“Yesterday afternoon. Why?” Joël pulls all the documents out of the envelope and inspects each one. A look of surprise spreads across his face as he ignores his chief.

“They’re really going to execute him for differences in perspective?”

“If only it were just that...” Joël looks up at the editor-in-chief and tries to uncover the truth behind his words. He watches his lips move, yet no sound comes out. Placing his hands on the desk, he locks eyes with him. “What aren’t you telling me? What are you hiding from me?”

The chief buys a few seconds by sipping his energy drink. Joël grows angry and slams the desk with his hands. “This won’t be like any other execution... they planned to...”

“To do what?... How?” The chief stands abruptly and barks his response. “Go see for yourself, and you’ll understand what they planned! Do your job!” Joël stands still for a moment without saying a word. Abruptly, he stuffs the documents back into the envelope and leaves the office. As he exits, he slams the door, drawing the attention of everyone in the room once more.

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At his desk, several questions cross his mind. But one dominates his thoughts. “What makes this execution so special?” He sits at his desk and begins to sift through the documents:

* Official summary of the Southern nations’ attack.

* Official summary of the treason charges against Jeffrey by the Northern nations.

* Official summary of the heroic actions of Marko.

“Nothing exceptional. The South attacked... they were pushed back by the Northern armies. Jeffrey did everything he could to tarnish Marko’s reputation and claim credit for himself. Finally, Marko prevented the nuclear core meltdown.” He scrutinizes all the papers. “But why compile a dossier when the whole country already knows this information?” He starts rereading each sheet. After over an hour of searching, he finds nothing. His confusion grows. But when he sees the time, Joël realizes the execution is imminent. He hurriedly leaves the office and rushes to the prison.

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The evening sun begins to set, and a breeze picks up. Joël walks along a high stone wall, holding a small recorder in his hand.

His face is pale, and his eyes are slightly red. Between each word, he takes long breaths, whispering into the recorder. “It’s the first time I’ve seen so many journalists for a single execution. It isn’t like any other execution. They chose... a... a new method solely for Jeffrey’s condemnation. What a horror we all lived through.”

He stops and closes his eyes, trying to erase the images etched into his memory, but he can’t. He begins recounting the execution’s events. “They made him climb a gallows. He walked proudly, head held high. But his hands, tied behind his back, betrayed his fear. When he stood before the crowd, the executioner removed the gag from his mouth and allowed him to say one final thing... even though his right to speak had been revoked.”

He pauses briefly before continuing.

“Once he spoke his final words... They grabbed his tongue with pliers. Then, with a sharp blade... they... they cut off his tongue without anesthesia. This act was meant to symbolize the permanent loss of his right to speak.”

Joël takes a moment to try to dispel the horrific images burned into his memory.

“As he bled profusely, the executioner placed the noose around his neck. But instead of breaking his neck as is customary... they chose to do it slowly. Jeffrey suffered for a while, the poor man choking on his own blood. Then, as he began to lose consciousness, a general ordered a firing squad to open fire and end his suffering.”

Joël stops the recorder again. “Why orchestrate such a brutal execution? The punishment for a traitor is never this severe!” He paces along the wall, taking deep breaths.

“To conclude the execution, they invited all the journalists to witness the incineration of the body in the prison crematorium.”

Joël pauses for a moment of silence, recalling a specific moment. He closes his eyes to relive every second. He thinks of Jeffrey’s final words. “Before cutting off his tongue, the law allows him to say one last thing. I must admit, it is strange and incomprehensible.”

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Standing tall before the gallows, Jeffrey stares at the noose above. A single tear rolls quickly down his cheek. His hands tremble uncontrollably. Dozens of journalists rush toward him. Hundreds of flashing cameras blind him. A soldier approaches and removes the gag from his mouth.

“The law grants you one final sentence. Do you wish to say something?”

All the journalists hang on his lips, waiting to hear his words. Jeffrey looks at the crowd. Then, after a deep breath, he smiles.

“Dead men tell the best tales because they... they cannot lie. I know someone will understand these words... now, let’s finish this.” Jeffrey begins laughing hysterically, unable to control himself.

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As Joël is lost in thought, he hears a noise, a slight whistling sound. By reflex, he looks up. A shadow obscures his vision.

Before he can react, a book strikes him square in the face, knocking him to the ground. Shaking his head, he sees the book lying beside him. Surprised, he stares at it, not understanding where it has come from. Then he looks up at a window. “Run... don’t stay here! Run!” The face of a female soldier gestures wildly at him. Then she quickly closes the window and disappears behind the curtains.

Joël’s heart begins racing, a sense of imminent danger washing over him. He quickly grabs the book and presses it against his chest. He zips his jacket to conceal it.

What is happening here? He casts one last glance at the window, and there, suddenly, a man’s face appears. A high-ranking officer. A general.

A mysterious book. A woman telling me to run, and a general looking for something! I need to get out of here, fast.

Instinctively, Joël dives headfirst into a bush. He hides inside and remains still. He watches the man who has opened the window. The man scans the horizon. After a few seconds, Joël recognizes him. It’s the general who ordered Jeffrey’s execution. General Khrugel.

The general turns and asks someone inside a question Joël can’t hear. Suddenly, the general slams his fist against the window frame. His teeth clench: his fists tighten. He turns again quickly and points at someone inside. Then, in a loud, commanding voice: “Soldier, place Lieutenant Liana under arrest.”