I don’t know why I just said that. I don’t need to prove myself to him. I should just keep my mouth shut and let him win. What am I thinking? He’s not winning anything. There’s nothing to win, nothing to be gained here. I don’t seriously expect to convince him of anything, and even if I did, he would still be… what he is. Why did I take a stand on a theoretical question? Maybe it’s not him I’m trying to convince.
—Fine, give everyone the same rights. That wasn’t the question.
He’s right. You must treat everyone the same, equally. Why did I feel the need to argue with him about this?
—Do you treat everyone the same, Samaritan? Regardless of—what was the first one? Sex? I’ll tell you right now, Samaritan, you don’t. Ever told a man his trousers make him look thinner? Told your son his outfit was too revealing? Do you allow yourself an opinion on whether he should work or stay at home when he grows up? I don’t think you do.
I don’t care what he thinks of me. I don’t need to show him that I’m a good person, but maybe…
—How about your wife? Do you love your wife? Would you still love her if she was born a man? Think about it. Same person, same… history together. You meet her, same place, same day. You do the same things together, develop the same feelings. Then you find out she was born with different plumbing. Would she still be your wife? How open-minded are you feeling right now?
Maybe I need to prove it to myself. Maybe there’s a part of me that wants, needs to preserve whatever sense of self I have, a part of me that wants to get out of this with my morals unscathed.
—Let’s talk about race. You said you’re from Iran. How many Arab friends did you have back home? Age? Whatever. Religion, well, you know you don’t treat every religion the same. I’m pretty sure you’d have reacted differently if I’d walked in here screaming Allahu Akbar. I guarantee you the folks outside the building would have.
Maybe… that’s why I didn’t choose.
—You can fool yourself into thinking you’re this great unprejudiced, moral being, but you can’t fool me. I know you, Samaritan. I know you better than you know yourself. Think of your son kissing another man, breathing heavy while he grabs the man’s cock.
Did I get someone killed just so I could take the moral high ground? Am I so petty? I’m not a killer. I know that. I don’t need to prove myself.
—Uh-oh! I might be wrong, Samaritan, but I think your friend there is a goner.
My friend? Baseball Cap. Is he dead? His eyes are still open, but he’s not moving. I should check on him. The man in charge won’t stop me. He wants me to know if he’s dead. He wants me to know I couldn’t save him…. I can’t feel a pulse.
—And? No? I’m sorry, Samaritan. It looks like you wasted a perfectly good shirt.
No heartbeat. Silence. Emptiness… I did what I could. I did. There was no way to save him. He would have died sooner without my help. I tried. That’s what counts. If I hadn’t helped… The man in charge would have picked someone else if I hadn’t helped. He’d be toying with that other person instead of me. I don’t care. I don’t regret it. I won’t regret trying to help someone. I made that choice. Me. I chose to help.
—Tick-tock, tick-tock. One minute to go. Wanna do one more question before we get back to work?
Play along. Make him think he owns you.
—Yes, sir… Question nine. In what year was slavery abolished in the British Empire?
—I know that, it’s— Wait! I’m being rude. I should give you a chance to answer. Do you know?
—I think it’s 1833.
—Correct! Except for whatever the East India Company was doing. Had to keep that trade going. Did you know that for a good twenty-five years before that, you couldn’t buy or sell people, but you could still own them? Imagine that. “Honey, I think we should sell Jules. NO! That would be barbaric! Now go plough the field, Jules, or you’ll get the whip.” But not you, though. I bet you’d have treated your slaves real well, Samaritan.
I don’t care what he says. I don’t care what he thinks of me. I can choose to help people. I may not be able to save everyone, but I can make sure as few people die as possible, even if it means doing what he says. The man in charge. He said it himself. He is doing the killing. I only choose who lives. It may not feel honourable, but I can help. I can save lives.
—Fifteen minutes already! Damn! Time flies when you’re having fun. Are you ready, Samaritan? We have work to do.
I am ready. I can save one person by playing his game. Saving one person is more important than my ego, whatever feeling of guilt I may have. Life trumps feelings. I choose life.
—Let’s see…. How about… this guy right here. Yes, you, sir. Come on up.
—Please, no! Please! Please!
He is doing this, not me.
—Good! You want to live! Then you’ll be happy if he doesn’t pick you! You know I don’t decide. He does!
He’s pointing at me.
—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?