Free The Day The Sun Fell From The Sky by Amelia Gold

was more than capable of killing someone but chose not to?
    “What made you change?” I ask him.
    “I didn’t. Change.” His expression sours a little. “I never wanted to kill anybody.”
    “Then what made you leave?” I ask him.
    “When this campaign is over, no one (and I mean no one) can be allowed to tell what happened. For those of us in the campaign, we either shut our mouths or we meet the same fate as our captives. I don’t plan on keeping my mouth shut.” He smiles.
    “Will it end?” I ask him, uncertain.
    “Our neighbours have stopped trading with us so I imagine that eventually they will have to stop this campaign if they don’t want the economy to collapse.” He replies.
    “What was the mission for you?” I ask him my journalistic interest piquing. “The guys at the top knew what they wanted the campaign to do. What did you think it was all about?”
    “I didn’t. Think.” His voice is angry again – with himself. “You’re not really supposed to think about it. You just do it.”
    “So you’re saying all of this craziness is the result of people just not thinking?” I ask him.
    No offense to him but I don’t buy it. You have to be aware, however unconscious, that killing a whole bunch of people is just wrong.
    “It’s hard to explain. ” He tells me. “And I know we will get no sympathy for it, but when I was in it, it was easier not to think about it. If I had given it any thought, I would have developed insomnia.”
    “But you were not against it? I mean getting rid of the Knax. If you didn’t have to see with your own eyes what was being done to us, you would not have objected to it.” I keep pressing because I am trying to understand.
    “If I told you I wasn’t prejudiced against you, I would be lying. But there’s a difference between hoping that someone will go away and actually wanting them dead.” He replies.
    “Not that big a difference though. I mean where could we go if everyone wants us to be somewhere else?” I laugh.
    “It’s a bit different to what you think it is.” He tries to explain. “You think that it was all planned from the beginning: Alright let’s get rid of these people. But you’ve got to understand that no one can give that kind of order. What’s more, no one can control what people will actually do with that kind of order.”
    “So you’re saying that it just got out of control?” I ask him.
    “In a way, yes.” He replies. “If I told you that everyone has a killer inside them, would you agree?”
    “Yes.” I nod.
    “Okay, what stops you from killing?” He asks.
    “I don’t want blood on my hands.” I reply.
    “That’s one way of looking at it.” He smiles. “We think of death as this majestic thing. That’s why most people don’t know how to deal with it. But when you see too much death. When you strip away everything you’ve been told about death and you see it for what it is, it becomes surprisingly easy to kill.”
    “I wouldn’t go that far.” I counter. “I’ve killed as well. It doesn’t make me want to shoot everyone I meet.”
    “You’re not in a situation where you have to shoot everyone you meet. And that was just one person that you killed. I’ve killed a lot more.” He confesses.
    *_*
    Iv and Hash have taken it upon themselves to document the Aurora – the name that Hash has given to this period of our history from my comment about the sun falling out of the sky. When we were in it, there was not enough information. Now that we’ve somehow managed to get ourselves out of it, there is too much information.
    Hash and Pav won’t let me do any “fieldwork” so I spend most of my time working with Iv, sorting through every piece of intelligence that comes our way with regard to the Aurora. We go through newspaper clippings, online articles (downloaded from a nearby internet café), personal artefacts and private correspondences. It’s very different to what you would normally consider to be a