"I Had to Be Able to Tell Myself That I Tried"

"No," you say.

"Then why run?" he asks.

"I had to be able to tell myself that I tried. That I didn't march in here and let myself be a ****."

He sits down in front of you. He's closer to eye level than you, though you still have to look up a bit. "What do you gain from that?" he asks.

"I don't know. It's hard to put into words."

"I think I only need one word for it. Pride. You think you're too good to be at the bottom of the ladder. Am I right?"

"Everyone is too good for the bottom of your ladder," you say, with more passion than you should have said it. "I mean, slaves aren't even people to you."

"Yes you are," he says. "You've been lied to. A lot. You've spent your entire life being fed anti-Imperial propaganda by your rulers and Terran 'benefactors.' I implore you, before you let yourself fall into the pit of inconsolable despair that new slaves find so alluring, wait a bit. See if you hate your new life as much as you think you will. We are not a cruel people. We do not want you to suffer, but serve. If you are a good servant, you will prosper."

"I don't want to be given treats for being a good pet," you say.

"I never used that word," he says. "Terran values are perverse. You've been taught that there's nothing more in this world than striving and stretching for personal gain and glory. That to have anything, you must have it at the expense of someone else. But that's not true, and it never was." He puts a hand on your shoulder. "You're not a victim of the Empire. You're a part of it, now. It's not crushing you under its heel. You are its foot. A foot does a lot of hard work. It gets dirty, and doesn't always get the appreciation it deserves, but a body without a foot is crippled. You are as much a part of the Empire as I am, as His Glory the Emperor is, and as a part of the great Imperial body, you share in all its glory."

"That's cute," you say. "You should have been a poet."

"I'm going to choose to take that as a compliment," he says. "Now, all of the other slaves on your bus have already been processed. Now that you're awake, I'm going to take you out of here to be processed as well, and starting when we leave this room, you'll be punished for talking back to your betters. Do you understand?"

You say nothing.

"Do you understand?" he asks.

"I do," you say.

"Good," he says.