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Harrison Bergeron II

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The link to see the original writing is right here:

http://www.tnellen.com/cybereng/harrison.html

Chapter Text

“I don’t like strangers,” I said to the woman.
If I could, I would say that I was allergic to dogs. But now, in the year of 2092, I wasn’t able to lie. I wasn’t even able to exist as my own person.
If you know what I mean.
The woman tilted her head to listen for the beep. No sound came out of my ear.
“Why?”
“I like to sit here and write stories,” I said.
“Don’t you have a house for that?”
“Of course. But I like the nature.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. You don’t like to talk to people, yet you come to a public park, sit on a bench and write stories.” She sat next to me on the hard bench. I shifted uncomfortably in my place.

“Tell me,” she began, “why don’t you like your handicaps?”

“How did you know?” I asked, a little creeped out.

“I can see it in your face,” she replied. “You have the expression of Harrison Bergeron, the day he got shot.”

I looked at her, alarmed, then shook my head. “I’m not like him.”

The woman sighed.

Not even ten years ago, our handicaps got reinforced because of the incident with Harrison. He took off his handicaps, on the television, and took his love, and got shot while they were dancing together. To sum it up, he was a crazy guy.

I bit my tongue as the sound of a siren erupted in my ear. Just remembering that scene causes those noises.

I looked at the woman. I noticed her brown hair with streaked gray lines, wrinkles around her mouth.

“Who are you?” I asked slowly.

“My name,” she said, “is Hazel Bergeron.”

“Harrison was your son,” I realized. This time I bit my cheek as the sound of a bomb exploded in my brain. Literally. I glanced at Hazel. “What were we talking about again?” I asked.

“I have no idea,” she answered. No sound came out of her ear.

So we just sat there, watching the last leaf fall from the tree.

“Tell me,” she asked, breaking the silence, “why don’t you like your handicaps?” she then winced.

“Did you already ask me that?” I asked.

“I don’t remember. Did I?”

“I can’t remember either.”

“Then please answer the question.”

I couldn’t lie.

“I’m not able to think as I could without them,” I answered truthfully. “People aren’t able to think for themselves anymore.” I suddenly winced as a gunshot sounded in my ear. “What was I saying?”

Hazel shook her head. “I don’t know.”