Cuento de Mi Id

“The Chamber”

“You know, I really don’t belong here,” said the prisoner.

“Oh really?” asked the attendant.

“Yes. There’s been some mistake.”

“Is that so?”

“Of course, it is!”

“You don’t have to shout.”

I’m sorry. I...I just get carried away at times. Especially when I see you’re about to punish an innocent man.”

“Oh, really? What innocent man?”

“Why, me, of course. I don’t deserve this.”

“You are Mark Johnson, aren’t you, of 1705 Walnut Hill Lane, Dallas, Texas?”

“Yes.”

“Then there’s no mistake. You are the person scheduled for punishment.”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant…I don’t deserve this punishment. I’ve already paid for my crime.”

“I hardly consider what you went through to be an adequate recompense for your crime, Mr. Johnson. Even if I did, I don’t make the rules here. My superiors do. They have passed judgment upon you, and it is my job to carry out their sentence. I’m only following orders.”

“Sure, just like Adolf Eichmann.”

“That’s not fair, Mr. Johnson.”

“Of course, it’s not fair,” said Mr. Johnson. “Condemned men are never fair.”

“Just step this way, Mr. Johnson.”

They entered a stone chamber. Inside was a rack.

“You’re not going to chain me to that thing, are you?” said Mr. Johnson, pointing to the rack.

“Only for a little while,” said the attendant. “Your sentence will be over sooner than you think.“

“That’s easy for you to say.”

“Please lie down, Mr. Johnson.”

Mr. Johnson did so. As the attendant began to attach chains to his hands and feet, he heard a flapping sound from above.

“You don’t have birds in here, do you?” he asked.

“You’ll soon find out,” said the attendant. “Just like Prometheus.”

“Who?”

“No one important.”

The attendant surveyed his handiwork. “Very well. Goodbye, Mr. Johnson.”

“Wait! Don’t go yet. Tell me please...What did I do to deserve this?”

“Don’t you know?”

“No.”

“You ran over a young girl.”

“Oh, that. I can explain. That was an accident.”

“So you said at your trial. Goodbye, Mr. Johnson.”

“Wait. You don’t understand. I was acquitted. By a jury of my peers.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t see.”

The flapping sound grew louder.

“It was dark,” said Mr. Johnson. “Late at night. The girl had no business crossing in the middle of the street in the first place.”

“I understand, Mr. Johnson.”

“No, you don’t. If you did, you wouldn't be doing this.”

The attendant started to leave.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“I must leave now, Mr. Johnson,” said the attendant. “I have other people I must attend to.”

“No. Wait!”

“I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Rules are rules.”

“I stepped on the brakes as hard as I could. The car just wouldn’t stop in time.”

“Goodbye.”

“For Chrissakes, the girl wasn’t even in this country legally.”

“I know.”

The attendant left the room, but not before hearing one final scream behind him.

“For the love of God!”

The attendant stood in the hallway outside the torture chamber, pale and shaken.

“Yes, Mr. Johnson,” he said, for the benefit of no one but himself. “For the love of God.”