—Please, sir. I beg of you! Don’t kill me!
No! No! No! Don’t talk to me. Don’t put this on me. He’s the one holding a gun to your head. He’s the one pulling the trigger. I’m as much of a victim as . . . I’m not doing this.
—I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you pitch yourself. Tell the Samaritan who you are. Tell him why he shouldn’t choose you.
—I . . . I don’t want to die! I just— Please!
—This is fucking pathetic. Why do you want to live? Do you have children?
—Me? I— No, but that’s not— Please!
—No kids. You’re off to a bad start here, my friend. What do you do for a living? Why does the world need you? There. How’s that for a setup? If you can’t do anything with that, then you fucking deserve to die.
—I’m an . . . architect. I design homes. Homes for people, for families.
—All right, all right, stop this. I’m about to shoot myself. Let’s see who you’re up against. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Catch a tiger by the toe. Why would anyone do that, catch a tiger by the toe? You know what the real lyrics are, don’t you? If he hollers, let him go. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. My mother told me to pick the very best one, and that . . . is . . . YOU! Get up, sir. Up. Up. Up.
Oh, I love a man in uniform. Oh my! He has a stick! I bet you want to beat me up with that stick of yours. Now, stick man, tell us why— Why are you mumbling? Are you fucking praying? I got news for you, son, whatever god you’re praying to can’t save you. Only Samaritan can. I like saying that. Samaritan can. Reminds me of that song, the . . . Never mind. I think he’s one of yours, Samaritan. Are you? One of his? Are you a Muslim?
—Yes.
—I knew it! They don’t mind? You being a Muslim? I’m guessing you work security here.
—Yes, sir. I do. Twelve years now.
—A Muslim security guard. Maybe that’s why they didn’t give you a gun. Don’t take this the wrong way, stick man, but weren’t you supposed to protect these people? I hate to break it to you, but, from what little I’ve seen, you kinda suck at this. Hey, what do I know? That baton might be heavier than it looks. I’ll give you the same chance I gave boring man over there. Do you have anything to say to save your life?
—Yes. I don’t know you, sir, but you look like a good man.
Please don’t do this. Please don’t talk to me like I’m the man in charge.
—I know you’ll do the right thing. I very much want to live. I have a wife—
—I have a wife, too!
—Shut the fuck up, boring man, you’ve had your chance. I gave you a chance to speak and you said: “I—I just—I don’t—d—d—d—.” Live with it, or don’t live with it. . . . All right, I’ve had enough of this. Samaritan, pick someone before they both start saying they save kittens and take care of orphans.
I can save someone. I can do this. It doesn’t mean I want anyone to die. It doesn’t mean anything. I choose who lives. I save someone. I choose life.
—Tick-tock.
How do I choose? I can’t decide who is more worthy of living. That’s not for me to decide. I— It needs to be fair. How can I be fair when neither of them deserves this? No one deserves this. That much I know. . . . I can flip a coin.
—Do I need to count to three again? You know what happens when I count to three. . . .
No. I can’t flip a coin. That’s horrible. I need to choose. But I don’t know anything about these people. I don’t know anything about either of them. That’s not true. One is an architect. That’s . . . I don’t know if that means anything. The other is a security guard. That’s what he does. The man in charge is wrong about him; he couldn’t have done anything. Not against six armed men. He would have got himself killed, maybe a lot more people. He did what he had to do. He doesn’t look like a coward. Stop it, Idir. You don’t know the man. He is a security guard, though. He chose that job. He chose to protect people. No one can ask a man to be courageous with a gun to their head, but he must be courageous. He chose a life of protecting people.
—Last call, Samaritan!
He can still do that, the security guard. He can save people now. He can save the architect.
—ONE!
I’m ready. I can do this.
—Don’t make me kill them both, Samaritan!
Just say the words, Idir.
—Stop! I’ve made my choice.
—Finally! And the winner is?
Say it, Idir. SAY IT!
—Kill the guard.
5.
IN THE CONTROL ROOM, Deep thinks of his father as he watches the security guard fall on the larger screen. Laura turns the volume down on the simulation. She pulls out a granola bar from her bag, gets up, and goes to the coffee machine. The BVA kills are set at fifteen-minute intervals to accommodate the employee breaks in the government CBA.
—Do you smoke? You should go now if you do.
Deep doesn’t smoke. He doesn’t drink, either, except for the occasional limoncello soda his sister-in-law makes when she visits. He digs through his backpack and pulls out an apple.
—Coffee?
No coffee, either. It makes Deep anxious, and he has plenty to be anxious about already. He isn’t really good at small talk, and apparently neither is his supervisor. He takes a bite out of his apple. The sound of his teeth breaking through the fruit is incredibly loud in the awkward silence. Laura seems to notice his discomfort and looks away. Deep chews as quietly as he can.
He should be preparing for his evaluation, studying, something. But he doesn’t know what to do. He’s as prepared as he’s ever going to be. He knows the BVA manual by heart. He’s also too nervous to study. He’d just stare at his notes and worry even more because he’s not really doing anything. No. The best thing he can do is think about something else.
He gets up for a second to take his phone out of his pocket. No messages. Same news as this morning. The minister of defence left his laptop at a cafe. There was nothing of national interest on it, except for the naked pictures of his aide. The nation had a lot of interest in those. Some rude jokes about adultery. Deep doesn’t find them funny, though he does smile at one of the caricatures. He checks his social media feed. More jokes about adultery. Someone eating an entire jar of peanut butter in under a minute. Eighty-one likes for the pictures of Deep’s cat drinking in the toilet then licking his girlfriend’s face. He’s never got eighty-one likes before.
He takes another bite. Laura lets out a small sigh without looking. Deep throws the rest of his apple in the waste basket. Laura asks why he did that. For a moment, Deep thinks she might feel bad for making him self-conscious enough to throw the fruit away, but then he realizes there’s a compost bin at the door. He picks up the apple from the bottom of the waste basket and walks it to the appropriate container.
Deep looks at the time on the corner of the screen. His leg is shaking out of control. Soon, his supervisor will leave the room and Deep will run the rest of the BVA without her. His final evaluation. If he succeeds, the job will be his. Four weeks of vacation, paid sick days, sabbaticals every five years and a very nice salary to boot. The secrecy surrounding the BVA means this is one of the best-paying jobs in government, certainly the best desk job for someone with a major in psychology.