Hello...

Do you know about the Inner Circle? Do you even know what’s going on in the Ministry?

I have no idea what you’re talking about... These people don’t really ask for my opinion. And why would they...

What? You’re the Wise Leader!

And what does that mean? The Wise Leader is an image, nothing more.

You are the Father of the Nation, the Leader of the Great State. The Conscience, Mind and Honor of Our Era!

Ugh... I want to tell you a story. It’s hard to believe, but once - a very, very, very long time ago - I was a teenager. Fantasy books were incredibly popular at the time. Kind of like fairy tales for adults... Have you ever read anything like that?

Those kinds of books are banned. They say that every citizen must build a real life, not live in fantasies.

Well, when I was young, these books were everywhere. And the hardest part was finding the good stories among all the rest. My friend told me the simplest way of identifying the bad ones.

You have to read the description on the back. And if you come across a sentence containing more than three words that start with a capital letter, the book is most likely rubbish. This technique still works almost a hundred percent of the time.

I hope you now understand why I'm quite sick and tired of all these Wise Leaders, Consciences, Minds, and so on?

You just lie here while injustices happen all around you? In your own name?!

What can I do? I have long been just a tired old man who can’t even move more than a hundred steps away from these machines.

Would you like to hear how I became the Wise Leader?

I was an aspiring theatre actor when the revolution started. I mostly played small parts - the most humiliating experience I ever had was portraying a corpse for three hours. Seems ironic now, doesn’t it?

So, the revolutionaries stormed the theatre during one of those shows and shot dead every actor for “worshipping bourgeois values”. They left me alone, seeing as I was already acting dead.

A week later, I encountered them again on the street. They were shocked - they must've remembered my face.

Then someone yelled, “It's a miracle!”, and before I knew it, I was put on a pedestal to give a speech.

Either out of fear, or relief, I got carried away with it. Turns out I was great at making rousing speeches!

Within a fortnight, I was the face of the revolution! And, as you can guess, it became my job to speak someone else's words from a stage, inspiring and motivating others.

I was a nobody. And I remained a nobody. Just an echo.

At least now I don't have to play dead anymore. As you can see, I already look much deader than any corpse.

What is all this? Why are you here? What are the organs in those tubes for?

I'm over 100 years old. They continue to transplant failing organs into me and keep me hooked up to life support.

The worst thing is, nobody cares what I want. When they don't need me, they put me in an induced coma.

When they do need me, usually to record yet another propaganda video, they raise me from the dead.

Why? Wouldn’t it be less trouble to use lookalikes?

We had those for a time. But they all wanted something: money, women, or just to get drunk all the time… After a couple of unfortunate incidents, it was decided to just go back to the one person who already accepted his fate long ago.

I'm not blind. I'm easily replaceable. They just don't want to go to the effort.

You said you had a request of me?

I understand that asking this from a stranger is too much. But there might be no other chance.

I'm so tired. I'm so sick of myself... So many years have passed, and I'm still the same soulless talking machine...

I want you to kill me.

What?!

Kill me. I beg you. Stop this meaningless agony. After all, so many people have been deprived of their organs to support my life.

And I'm just a scratched-up turntable playing the same record over and over again.

Unplugging me is pointless; those life supports have a great many safeguards. Just take a pillow…

Kill me, friend. Do the right thing. End my suffering…