The bell tolls.

It is not a sound of peace. It is a hammer striking iron. The echo hangs in the gray air of the city. You stand in the square. Your boots are wet. The stone is cold. You wear the gray coat of the Guard. The collar is high. It chokes you.

A crowd gathers.

They do not look at you. They look at the pillar. The pillar is white. It is old. It has stood for a hundred years. Now it is broken. A crack runs down its face. Like a wound.

You are the officer. You are the law. The law is the city. The city is the law. There is no distinction. There is only the order.

A man steps forward.

He is small. He wears a brown coat. It is patched. He holds a book. The book is black. He does not look at you. He looks at the crowd. His voice is thin. It cuts the air.

"Look at the stone," he says. "Look at the break. It was not the wind. It was the weight. The weight of your silence. The weight of your obedience."

The crowd shifts.

They do not move. They freeze. They are afraid. They are always afraid. Fear is the mortar in the walls. It holds them together.

You step forward.

Your hand goes to your belt. Your hand is steady. Your heart is not. You feel the pulse in your throat. It is a trapped bird. It beats against the bone.

"Silence," you say.

Your voice is low. It is a command. It is the voice of the state. The state is you. You are the state.

The man does not stop.

"The law is a lie," he says. "The law is a cage. We built the cage. We locked the door. We forgot the key. Now we starve in the dark."

You draw your weapon.

It is a long stick of wood. It is polished. It gleams in the dull light. You raise it. You aim.

The man looks at you then.

His eyes are dark. They are deep. They are full of something you cannot name. It is not hate. It is not fear. It is pity.

Pity for you.

You lower the stick.

You do not know why. Your body obeys your mind. Your mind is empty. Your mind is full of doubt. The doubt is a poison. It spreads. It eats the certainty.

The crowd watches.

They wait. They wait for you to strike. They wait for the blood. They want the blood. They are hungry for it. They want the violence. It is easier than the truth.

You turn away.

You walk back to the wall. You stand with your back to the crowd. You face the city. The city is vast. It is cold. It is indifferent.

The man’s voice follows you.

"It is not the wall that breaks," he says. "It is the stone within. The stone within you."

You close your eyes.

You see your father.

He was a Guard. He wore the gray coat. He had the same steady hands. He had the same cold eyes. He died in the square. He died with the stick in his hand. He died because he did not listen.

You open your eyes.

The square is silent.

The crowd is gone.

They have dispersed. They have gone back to their homes. They have locked their doors. They have pulled the curtains. They have forgotten the man in the brown coat. They have forgotten you.

You are alone.

The wind picks up.

It blows across the square. It carries the dust. It carries the scent of wet stone. It carries the scent of decay.

You look at your hands.

They are clean.

They are empty.

You have let him go.

You have broken the law.

The law is the city. The city is the law. You are no longer part of the city. You are no longer part of the law. You are nothing.

You turn.

You walk away.

The streets are narrow. They are dark. The lamps are broken. The light is scarce. You move through the shadows. You are a ghost. You are a memory.

You reach the river.

The river is black. It is wide. It flows without sound. It flows without end. It does not care about the law. It does not care about the city. It only flows.

You stand on the bank.

The water is cold.

You look at the bridge.

The bridge is stone. It is old. It is strong. It has stood for a hundred years. It is like the pillar in the square. It is like the law.

You look at your reflection.

Your face is pale. Your eyes are dark. You look like the man in the brown coat. You look like your father. You look like the city.

You take off your coat.

You fold it.

You place it on the stone.

You step into the water.

The water is icy.

It bites you.

It takes you.

You sink.

The cold is a weight.

The cold is a mercy.

You close your eyes.

You do not fight.

You let go.

The river takes you.

The river takes you.

The river takes you.

The city sleeps.

The city breathes.

The city does not know.

The city does not care.

The bell tolls again.

It is a single note.

It fades.

It is gone.

The square is empty.

The pillar is broken.

The dust settles.

The wind stops.

The silence returns.

The silence is heavy.

The silence is loud.

The silence is the truth.

You are gone.

You are free.

The law remains.

The law is the city.

The city is the law.

The law is alive.

The law is hungry.

The law is waiting.

The law is you.

You are the law.

The law is broken.

The stone is broken.

The silence is broken.

The truth is seen.

The truth is seen.

The truth is seen.

The man in the brown coat is gone.

The crowd is gone.

The Guard is gone.

Only the river remains.

Only the stone remains.

Only the silence remains.

The silence is the answer.

The silence is the question.

The silence is the end.

The end is the beginning.

The beginning is the end.

The circle is closed.

The circle is open.

The water flows.

The water flows.

The water flows.