Fiction
Our Guillotine
by Yuri Lobunov
This work was first published in Milky Way, 21st Century.
Björn often recalled with horror the moment when a ridiculous suspicion gave way to a nightmarish realization – the first time he saw that soulless monster looming over civilization.
The fog lifted reluctantly, lazily releasing the outlines of building bases, but still holding the rooftops captive. Björn was drinking his second cup of coffee on an open terrace, absentmindedly watching a foreign city wake up – just like any lazy tourist. It seemed to him that something dark was showing through the milky veil above his head. To give himself a thrill, he even fantasized that it might be something tangible, something denser than the play of the rising sun’s rays with the retreating night clouds.
Still stealing glances upward, Björn suddenly realized that there was something there – dark, gigantic, man-made. Behind the low clouds, he could clearly see the straight edge of some kind of structure. Then the wind tore away the remaining fog curtain in a single motion, and Björn stopped breathing. Something utterly alien now covered half the sky. His mind could only grasp individual features of the monstrously colossal construction – blued metal, rows of enormous rivets, tangles of pipes as thick as houses.
A titanic structure hanging overhead could not help but inspire awe – but only Björn felt any. He cautiously looked around at the other people, but the appearance of the terrifying steel monster out of the fog concerned no one. Everyone just went about their business.
“Well? What do you think?” a voice came from the next table. A charming man of about forty with a neat haircut was clearly pleased with Björn’s bewildered expression. “It makes an impression, doesn’t it?”
“But… what is it?”
The man paused, stood up, gazed at the celestial structure for a moment, and then sat down at Björn’s table.
“It is our pride. Our guillotine. Unfortunately, we rarely have visitors, and I’m always pleased to see that the guillotine can still astonish. Yes, everyone talks about it, but few have actually seen it.”
“Everyone talks about it? But I’ve never heard—”
“Nonsense,” the man waved his hand. “The whole world talks of nothing but our guillotine. Ah, I haven’t introduced myself. Jean. And I may add that I have the honor of being connected with this marvel.” He raised his index finger toward the sky.
At that very moment, something flew out of the belly of the angular giant above and plunged downward. In the distance, a crash rang out, followed by screams. A cloud of either smoke or dust rose above the tiled roofs.
“My God, what was that?” Björn barely managed to utter, paralyzed by a wave of horror.
“An excellent vertical strike! That’s how it works,” Jean explained cheerfully. “Don’t think my gesture caused it – just a coincidence. The guillotine always works on its own; that’s its charm.”
“And down there… did people die?” Björn asked in a trembling voice.
“Not at all. No people were harmed. The guillotine only fights extrems.”
“Against whom?”
“In other countries they are called different things – rioters, freethinkers, fanatics, radicals – but none of those words quite capture the full meaning. ‘Extrems’ – you must agree, the word itself exudes their madness and ruthlessness. Extrems are those who are against our security, against our guillotine.”
“And the guillotine kills them?”
“People are killed. Extrems are eliminated.”
“The guillotine eliminates those who are against the guillotine?”
“Don’t oversimplify. The guillotine provides security. And they are against security. You’re in luck – you can see for yourself. I am one of those who ensure the guillotine operates, and my workday starts in five minutes. Come with me, I’ll show you everything. And perhaps you’ll tell people abroad how well things are arranged for us.”
The support structure occupied an entire city block. Mighty, riveted from thick sheets of polished metal, it looked like the very embodiment of reliability. Inside began a wide staircase with low, comfortable steps and a wrought-iron handrail. Footsteps caused no vibration whatsoever – the construction was monolithic, unbreakable.
The third landing ended in a dead end. Jean rattled his keys, pushed against the wall, and a well-hidden door swung open. He entered first and beckoned Björn to follow. Beyond the door stretched a dimly lit corridor. When his eyes adjusted to the semidarkness, Björn noticed that the walls were covered with a brownish crust. Rust flakes crunched underfoot, and sometimes his foot sank so deep that he feared he might drop through to the floor below.
“Behold the corridors of power,” Jean said, theatrically spreading his arms. “People envy officials all over the world; they think we live well. But we, like everyone else, give the best to the people – the facade of power is always pleasing to the eye. On ourselves, we can economize. This is nothing. Wait until you see the way to the very top.”
Indeed, at the end of the corridor an ascent began – but now via a narrow, long-unpainted ladder. Corroded spots had been crudely welded over with rebar, and in place of metal steps there were rough planks haphazardly wired to the ladder.
“What a career ladder, eh?” Jean tossed over his shoulder as he climbed briskly. “The higher your status, the higher your workplace. Weaklings need not apply. The top brass – true titans. But who appreciates it?”
“Jean, won’t you get in trouble for showing a tourist all this?”
“Everyone thinks our system is very closed. But here’s your proof that it’s not. We want all the peoples of the planet to observe us and learn from our experience. Sometimes we even invite observers on purpose. Come on, higher!”
After half an hour of energetic climbing – Jean still breathing easily, Björn soaked with sweat and barely dragging his legs – they reached a spacious platform.
“This is the heart of the guillotine,” Jean said, bursting with pride. He pointed to a far wall studded with rows of small colored light bulbs. “See? Not one is lit. The self-monitoring system. If anywhere in the guillotine there’s a malfunction – if something or someone does something wrong – an indicator lights up immediately, and a signal goes straight to the top. And then everyone’s in trouble. But that happens very rarely; we do keep order, after all.”
Björn stared intently at the wall of bulbs. From it, a thick bundle of cables – as thick as two men could encircle – ran toward the ceiling, suspended from rusty brackets. But before reaching the hole in the wall through which it presumably should have passed, the bundle ended in a ragged broom of severed wires in mismatched insulation.
“Jean?” Björn called out cautiously. “Jean, what is that?”
“Oh, we have our little perks,” Jean said with a modest smile. “They don’t pay us much, but sometimes the position offers a way to make up for it. Copper is expensive, and the guillotine is huge. The management looks the other way when it comes to our modest side earnings – without that, nobody would work here. Before my last vacation, I cut these cables and was able to take my family to a very decent hotel for two weeks.”
“Jean, but… the self-monitoring system is deactivated? It doesn’t work?”
“Of course it works! It can’t not work. I already told you – this is the heart of the guillotine. Just imagine if everyone did whatever they wanted and management never knew. That would lead to chaos. It’s too terrible to imagine. So as soon as any of those bulbs lights up, there will be real hell to pay for everyone.”
“How can they light up if all the cables are cut?”
“Look, I’m a technician, but everyone has their own area of responsibility. Sorry, but I’m not responsible for the heart – I’m responsible for the brain of the system. Come on, higher!”
Another short scramble up rickety ladders, and Jean led Björn out onto an open platform. Water sloshed underfoot in rusty puddles; somewhere above, in the belly of the guillotine, the wind howled. Under an awning stood an astonishingly complex control panel. Björn rushed toward it, passing Jean.
What had looked like a supercomputer from a distance turned out, up close, to be a huge board made of weather-split plywood. Keyboards, monitors, indicators, and dials were printed on sheets of paper, carelessly glued overlapping each other. In the upper right corner of each sheet was a stamp: “Approved,” a round seal, and a flamboyant signature.
“This…” Björn’s voice gave out. “This is it?”
“All the operational information,” Jean nodded. “The supercomputer of our guillotine. Compact, reliable, requires no electricity. We have to save resources, you know. Extrems won’t wait for the budget to be approved.”
Björn turned slowly. All around was only rust, holes, rotten boards, and paper decorations. He instinctively sought support and leaned his hand on a rough handrail. The metal crunched like a dry bone.
Björn managed to jump back, and as if in a dream or in slow motion, he saw it – the handrail broke away along with an entire section of flooring. Half a meter of rusty iron, concrete debris, and rotten planks tumbled downward. Down on the ground, there was a crash.
Jean approached, looking upset.
“Now we’ll have to wait. Sit down away from the edge, and I’ll quickly write a report about the system activating and the elimination of… Could you please take a look – how many did you crush? One… Two… Do you see anyone else? Two extrems.”
Björn felt as if he had lost consciousness. But he could hear, somewhere below on the ground, a child crying. Nearby, on the rusty platform, Jean calmly wrote a report about the elimination of those whom the falling chunk of the fake guillotine had just killed.
“People died?” Björn whispered, not recognizing his own voice.
“I told you,” Jean said peevishly, not looking up from his writing, “the guillotine doesn’t kill people – it eliminates extrems.”
“But… why were those people extrems?”
“Hey there, foreigner, the guillotine doesn’t make mistakes. You saw the main computer – it knows everything. If it triggered, then they were extrems.”
“What if next time I drop a piece of rusty metal on your head?”
“Impossible. The system doesn’t make mistakes. These are the foundations – you can’t fool them.”
“That plywood with paper glued on – that’s ‘the foundations’? An all-knowing computer?”
“Appearances are deceptive, Mr. Björn. What matters is the content. The system is reliable. Tested by time. Every corpse is another proof of effectiveness. The system works. You see victims? That means there were extrems. And if there were extrems, then the guillotine has saved us again. Simple logic.”
“And you’re not afraid that something will fall on your head too?”
“Afraid… We are all afraid, but we’re afraid of something else: ending up in the guillotine’s computer. Then – it’s over. So everyone tries to talk less and think even less. If you don’t think, everything will be fine.”
“Jean… but it’s soaked plywood, not a computer.”
“You’re wrong. When everyone knows the computer exists – it exists. Even if it doesn’t. The important thing is that no one doubts it. And doubters – the guillotine will identify them. Everyone is always afraid to think, so they won’t suffer for a careless thought. It works.”
“Tell me… Have you never wanted to leave this job?” Björn asked as they clattered down the rusty ladders.
“Of course not! It’s close to home. In the morning I feed the cat, drink my coffee, walk five minutes – and I’m at work.”
“That’s not what I meant. Doesn’t it ever seem to you… that you’re doing something wrong?”
“Now, that’s uncalled for. No one will ever suspect me of that. I know the instructions by heart, I have a whole stack of certificates. They even gave me a medal ‘In Honor of the Decade Celebrating the Twentieth Anniversary.’ And that comes with a pension bonus.”
“But you’re a human being. You have a conscience.”
“I do. I feed it every evening. Better than most people do. And I plan to feed it when I retire. Our guillotine is wonderful.”
Down below, Jean lingered for a moment, locking the door into the guillotine’s support. When he turned around, Björn was already far away. But Jean still shouted after him:
“And tell them the truth about us – tell everyone you can! It’s important for people to know about us and about our guillotine – the whole truth!”