Flawed. Cecelia Ahern

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      Before I was born, there was a great recession in this country; banks folded, the government collapsed, the economy was ravaged, unemployment and emigration soared. People were blindsided by what had happened, and the leaders were blamed. They should have known; they should have seen it coming. It was their bad judgement, their bad decisions that had led to the country’s collapse. They were evil; they had destroyed families and homes, and they were to suffer. They were the morally flawed people who had brought about our downfall.

      As a result, anyone who made the smallest error in judgement was immediately punished. These people were publicly ridiculed, held up as examples of failure and forced to resign. They were named and shamed. They weren’t criminals, but they had made bad decisions. Society demanded leaders who would not have to learn from hindsight – leaders who would not make mistakes in the first place. No second chances, no sympathy, no explanations allowed nor required. Anybody who had made mistakes in the past couldn’t take leadership roles in the future. And as hundreds of thousands of people marched on the government, it was decided that any person who made any error of judgement was to be rooted out of society entirely. Hindsight would be a thing of the past. Everybody would always – always – look ahead before it was too late, no mistakes made.

      Could perfection be bred? Many ways to achieve this were tried and tested and what the government eventually settled on was Crevan’s Guild and its Flawed brandings. No matter what you do, your Flawed title can never be removed. You hold it till death. You suffer the consequences of your one mistake for the rest of your life. Your punishment serves as a reminder to others to think before they act.

      I’m taken to a holding cell in the basement of Highland Castle and guided to a desk upon which sits an information pack containing all the information about the Guild that I need to know. It has a chapter dedicated to the rules you must adhere to, living as a Flawed. It even has a comprehensive section on the searing of the skin: the process and how to treat your brand afterwards. I slam the pack closed and look around.

      The holding cells are pleasant; they are newly renovated. There are four in total, two on each side of the room, separated by a walkway in the centre and enclosed by bulletproof and soundproof glass. According to the information pack, the glass represents the transparency of the system, but I feel it is to prepare us for the lack of dignity coming our way and the invasion into our lives. Each cell contains a table with four chairs, a single bed, a bathroom, and some randomly placed chairs should the desire for a holding-cell party take me. Everything is painted in earthy tones, to make us feel like this is the most natural place in the world.

      Of the four cells, I am the only occupant. The two opposite me are empty, the one beside me has been recently occupied – I can tell from the clothes, the items of belongings scattered. I assume this person is in the courtroom now, awaiting his or her fate. The bathroom, thankfully, has solid walls, but it has been made so small that you can barely spend a minute in there before feeling suffocated. It is where I ran to cry, though I may as well have stayed here and done it in full view because my tear-stained face and red eyes are a giveaway, and there’s nobody here to see me anyway.

      I have not had the opportunity to speak with anyone yet, to analyse, dissect and discuss what has happened. I was registered at reception by a nice lady in a Whistleblower uniform, who introduced herself as Tina, and then I was brought to this room beneath the Clock Tower, where the Guild has its offices. I know this from watching trials on СКАЧАТЬ