In an isolated house we live, two elders and myself, as well as a visiting relative around my age. The elders rest and watch, as we maintain the home and garden; a daily list is provided to both of us. The summer afternoon had become dreadfully hot, even with the shadows of the trees, but luckily my chores were almost complete. In the garden I worked alone, as they mostly kept inside, until she burst out of the back door and approached. With anger in her voice, she had questioned why I had done half of her list; I had done no such thing as it wasn’t allowed. She insisted that I had betrayed her, and that now we would both be punished. She pleaded for me to admit guilt, to take blame, which would set her with lesser punishment, but I had no words, no explanation. Tears had begun to flow down her face and I saw the elders in the doorway in the distance, both with cold expressions. I could feel my heart tremble and body grow weak from their piercing eyes. She fell to her knees, hands over face to cover her hysterical crying, and I stood up to approach the elders, leaving her in the garden. Although I towered them, I felt like a child. Still silent, still gazing, they held out a thin tablet, with bullets indicating every action that we had done; a list that proved their monitoring, their cameras. I see my name upon multiple entries, and details listing unapproved actions that I had committed. I am at a loss for words. One puts away the tablet in his deep and long robes. I try to make sense of the situation, of what occurred at those times, of that day, of that girl, of these elders, of this place. My mind panics; I close my eyes. I hear the voices of the day, in the past, as I see myself acting out the tasks alone, in third person, with a posture unfamiliar to me, with a presence unknown to me, but it is me. No, it is someone else. Another person acting as me, living in me, as I now hear another voice welcome me to this home, my body, that shelters many others.
... of Silent Life 