Remember, remember the fifth of November, the Gunpowder treason and plot. I know of no reason why the Gunpowder treason should ever be forgot.
They eradicated some cultures more thoroughly than they did others. No Tamla and no Trojan. No Billie Holliday or Black Uhuru. Just his master’s voice every hour on the hour.
They got things under control. But then they started taking people away … all the black people and the Pakistanis. White people, too. All the radicals and the men who, you know, liked other men. The homosexuals. I don’t know what they did with them all.
I believe in strength. I believe in unity. And if that strength, that unity of purpose demands a unity of thought, word, and deed then so be it. I will not hear talk of freedom. I will not hear talk of individual liberty. They are luxuries. I do not believe in luxuries.
Her name is anarchy! And she has taught me more as a mistress than you ever did! She has taught me that justice is meaningless without freedom. She is honest. She makes no promises and breaks none.
They were ordinary people, and they were prepared to torture a stranger to death, just because they were told to by someone in authority. Some of them said they’d even enjoyed it. I think I enjoyed what I did at the time. People are stupid and evil.
You see, there are two possible motives here. Not one. The first motive is revenge. He escapes from Larkhill and vows to get even with his tormentors. The Parliament bombing and the other stuff is just a smokescreen. The whole exercise was an elaborate, chilling vendetta. That’s the explanation that I find the most reassuring, funnily enough. Because that means he’s finished now. That means it’s over. The second motive is more sinister. Like I said, everyone who could have identified him is now dead. What if he’s just been clearing ground? What if he’s been planning something else?
“Perhaps you don’t sort of fancy women. But, like, there’s nothing wrong with that. Or perhaps…”
“Or perhaps I’m your father?”
It’s your basic unwillingness to get on within the company. You don’t seem to want to face up to real responsibility, or to be your own boss. Lord knows, you’ve been given plenty of opportunities. We’ve offered you promotion time and time again, and each time you’ve turned us down.
I understand that you are unable to get on with your spouse. I hear that you argue. I am told that you shout. Violence has been mentioned.
We’ve had a string of embezzlers, frauds, liars and lunatics making a string of catastrophic decisions. This is plain fact. But who elected them?
We shouldn’t have to live like this!
Strength through purity. Purity through faith.
But it was my integrity that was important. Is that so selfish? It sells for so little, but it’s all we have left in this place. It is the very last inch of us, but within that inch we are free.
“Sign that statement. You could be out inside three years. Perhaps they’d find you a job with the Finger. A lot of your sort get work with the Finger.”
“Thank you… but I’d rather die behind the chemical sheds.”
“Then there’s nothing left to threaten with, is there? You are free.”
“You say you want to set me free and you put me in a prison.”
“You were already in a prison. You’ve been in a prison all your life.”
“Shut up! I don’t want to hear it! I wasn’t in a prison! I was happy! I was happy until you threw me out.”
“Happiness is a prison, Evey. Happiness is the most insidious prison of all.”
“Thank you. Thank you for what you’ve done to me.”
“You did it all yourself. I simply provided the backdrop. The drama was all your own.”
Uncaring fate? It is said there is no question that can be formulated that you cannot answer. Tell me this, then: Am I loved?
Noise is relative to the silence proceeding it. The more absolute the hush, the more shocking the thunderclap. Our masters have not heard the people’s voice for generations, Evey. And it is much, much louder than they care to remember.
You know, you’re quite a successful young man, Conrad. If your success wasn’t entirely due to my efforts, I might even fancy you.
Because if I’m going to crack this case, and I am, I’m going to have to get right inside his head, to think the way he thinks, and that scares me.
I look at this mad pattern, but where are the answers? Who imprisoned me here? Who keeps me here? Who can release me? Who’s controlling and constraining my life, except … me?
“Did you think to kill me? There’s no flesh or blood within this cloak to kill. There’s only an idea. Ideas are bulletproof.”
Because you were so big, V, and what if you’re just nobody? Or even if you’re someone, you’ll be smaller, because of all the people that you could have been, but weren’t.
I’m following my own orders now. And getting out before everything blows. Perhaps you should, too. Goodbye, Dominic. Take care, lad.