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A Hard Days Night
by Michael S. Collins

Nine non-conformists were found dead in their beds this morning as part of the governments sweeping Attack on Thought. The police said the nine, who were known to have opinions, had been dealt with as swiftly and as violently as possible. An eyewitness to the event commended DCI Wilson for the Victoria Cross for his bravery in the act of the slaughter.

“It was a difficult job, but they are dead and that is what is important” said Wilson. The nation couldn’t help but agree with him, the markets were satisfied by the job done, and the Queen issued a statement of thanks for the brave mans job.

Wilson didn’t take much joy from his job, but knew it was his duty so he kept at it like a loyal subject. Loyal subjects do as their job demands, and do not question their orders in any way, not even if they seem at first glance to be contrary to the general rules of life that are focused on at every opportunity by the rulers of society. To question is to invoke criticism in one’s duties, and that is not the done thing in a polite society. It is better to do as one is ordered to do, and not to shirk duty nor responsibility, and then, if the duty encouraged to undertake is an ardous or stressful one, then, at the end of the day, to receive comfort in a loved ones embrace. The country would have no issue with that, and so Wilson found comfort in a variety of loved embraces all over the country.

DCI Wilson read his morning newspapers over a breakfast of cereal left to soak in the milk, which he dripped on the paper as he ate mouthfuls. The papers spoke highly of him, so he had bought them all to read slowly. The best bit about the job wasn’t the killing, it was the praise afterwards. What was the pointing in smothering all those people, if other people don’t turn round and say “Good job” after?

His second wife lay across a soft lounge sofa, flicking carelessly between hundreds of tv channels. She stifled a yawn, and nodded appreciatively as Wilson read aloud his favourite bites.

“Wilson achieved in one night what many government would struggle to do in a lifetime. Perhaps he can be our next government.” He read aloud with nary a smile.

He had often thought that he might, if forced, with a few handshakes and pleadings, go on to stand for a top office job in the government. But they would have to force his hand first, or at the very least, grease it with silver.

He continued reading the papers, quite happily. It was a life well lived.