The Trial of the Century

He got up one morning to think of himself as captured. He did not know why or by whom. He was not allowed to see a lawyer or a judge. He was taken to a dark and dirty room where he was interrogated by two men who wore black suits and hats. They asked him questions that made no sense, such as "What is your name?" and "Do you confess?" He answered truthfully, but they did not seem to listen. They accused him of crimes he had never heard of, such as treason, blasphemy and murder. They showed him documents that were supposed to prove his guilt, but they were written in a language he could not understand. They told him he had no rights, no witnesses, no evidence. He was guilty until proven innocent.

He tried to protest, to reason with them, to demand a fair trial. But they ignored him or laughed at him. They told him he was wasting his time and theirs. They said he had no chance of escaping his fate. They said he was doomed.

He spent months in prison, waiting for his trial. He did not know when or where it would take place. He did not know who would judge him or what would be the verdict. He did not know if he would live or die. He lived in fear and despair.

He received visits from his family and friends, but they were brief and cold. They did not seem to recognize him or care for him. They acted as if he was already dead. They blamed him for his situation and for bringing shame to them. They told him he should confess and repent. They told him he deserved his punishment.

He also received visits from strangers who claimed to be his lawyers or advisers. They offered him their services and their sympathy. They promised him they could help him win his case or reduce his sentence. They asked him for money or favors in return. But they were all liars and cheats. They did not know anything about his case or the law. They only wanted to exploit him and his misery.

He realized he was alone and helpless. He had no allies, no supporters, no defenders. He had no hope.

He finally received a summons for his trial. It was on a Sunday morning, at an unknown location. He was escorted by two guards who did not speak to him or look at him. He was taken to a large and crowded hall where hundreds of people were waiting for him. He did not know any of them. He did not know why they were there or what they wanted from him.

He was led to a wooden platform where a microphone stood. He was told to speak and explain himself. He looked around and saw a row of judges sitting behind a long table at the other end of the hall. They wore black robes and masks that hid their faces. He did not know who they were or what they thought of him.

He opened his mouth and tried to speak, but no words came out. He felt a lump in his throat and a pain in his chest. He felt dizzy and nauseous. He collapsed on the floor.

He heard a loud voice announcing the verdict: "Guilty!"

He heard a loud applause from the audience: "Bravo!"

He heard a burst of loud laughter from the judges: "Ha ha ha!"

And that's how it all began.

* * *

He woke up again in his bed, sweating and trembling. It was all a nightmare. A terrible nightmare.

He looked at the clock on his bedside table. It was 6:30 am on Monday morning.

He got up and got ready for work.

He worked as a clerk in a bank.

He had a normal life.

He had done nothing wrong.

Or so he thought.