Quick, clean, precise: these were the things that mattered.
Quick action – so none could later question his decisiveness, the want-to or self-determination that made the man he’d made himself to be. And that was, after all was said and done, what had led him to this decision. The act itself must follow without delay. No time for hesitation.
A clean cut – the kind one associates with sharpened scissors slicing through a sheet of glossy white. Or the kitchen knife drawn back then lowered with a swift flip of the wrist. Clean like the gash opened in one’s arm should said knife be sent hurling with a whoosh through air even as your thoughts are suspended and kitchen tool slices flesh. It’s of no consequence: messy aftermath.
Precise action – the mark of an expert swordsman, indeed any specialist in his field – exact incisions, guaranteed finality, spoken with cool intent backed by an army of reasons to satisfy suspicious minds. Here would be a message for once that could not be misunderstood.
In a post-coup America, an Illinois farm boy is drawn into the resistance by his brother's death. Captured, he is given a choice: betray his friends, or the girl he loves will be lobotomized.