![2.jpg](https://steemitimages.com/DQmYWG7q8C9u52t1upxpA1EsTGxvLwD2g2yTua33ewRYy6p/2.jpg)

I'm posting up the chapters of this uncompleted book as I hope the Steemit community might offer up its criticism (which would, in turn, force me to finish it, honestly). Started in 2008, this was my first foray into novel writing and was my undergraduate thesis required to graduate. The story is about an executioner in the not-too-distant future. Executioners are highly trained individuals with extensive educations built to help them execute their prisoners in the exact same manner that the prisoner's victims died. This is called the law of retaliation or _lex talionis_; you may know it better as "eye for an eye."

Because I was also getting my degree in philosophy, I wanted to explore the ethics involved. While I feel I'm a better writer now and could certainly expand most of this book, I also really enjoy criticism as I'm usually too close to the work to see what's working and what's not (though in this case, there's plenty that I feel is not working). So please...feel free to criticize the work if you'd like, but be constructive about it. Simply saying "this part isn't good" doesn't tell me much; don't hesitate to tell me why it's not good or offer up possible alternatives to make it better.

Thanks in advance!

***

Previous Sections/Chapters:

_Part I_
[Chapter One](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-chapter-1) / [Two](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-chapter-2) / [Three](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-chapter-3) / [Four](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/tgjcj-the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-chapter-4) / [Five](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-chapter-5) / [Six](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-6) / 
[Seven](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-7) / [Eight](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-8) / [Nine](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-9) / [Ten](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-10) / [Eleven](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-11) / [Twelve](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-12) / 
[Thirteen](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-13) / [Fourteen](https://steemit.com/writing/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-14) / [Fifteen](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-15) / [Sixteen](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-16-the-end-of-part-i)

_Part II_
[Chapter One](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-11) / [Two](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-2) / [Three](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-3) / [Four](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-4) / [Five](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-5) / [Six](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-6) / 
[Seven](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-7) / [Eight](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-8) / [Nine](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-9) / [Ten](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-10) / [Eleven](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-11) / [Twelve](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-12) / 
[Thirteen](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-13)

***

My math was right, I was sure of it. I had calculated the passing of time properly and even erred on the side of it being earlier than it was, but a week had passed with no word from Father Josef. I had begun sweating more and feeling my muscles cramp up upon waking every morning. I felt less like a man and more like the spring-loaded trigger of a mouse trap, ready to pounce on the first thing that kissed against my existence. As such, I focused on my heart rate and my breathing and made attempts not to wonder why he hadn’t shown up yet. He had seemed so genuine, so friendly. I wasn’t sure why he would go back on his word, especially knowing I was so close to my last day. 
	
Focus on nothing and everything. Think black. Think thick, pitch black and wallow in it as if struck by a muting fever…
	
Sick! Yes, he must’ve gotten sick. But surely he would’ve at least sent word to let me know he wouldn’t be coming? It felt like he would possess and exhibit that kind of social grace, even to a prisoner. I latched onto this idea and then brushed it aside, not content that I had found the answer, but forcing myself to believe I had found the answer. 
	
Stop it, I kept telling myself. He’ll come. He must because he promised. Focus now. Slow down everything. Breathe in – breathe out. Focus. 
	
There were now two of me, fighting over the rational, logical part of my brain. Like arguing children trailing behind a mother running errands, they screamed louder and harder at each other with every passing day with no clear way to stifle the noise. It had started as a quiet din, a whisper along the walls every so often, but had recently grown to a constant wave, a chorus of voices, all singing in different keys at different speeds. My meditations had been less frequent and felt shorter every time. 
	
Breakfast came cold that morning as usual, but as the tray slid through the slot, a note fell out from beneath it, folded thin and on material thinner than wax paper. I immediately sat on the floor with my back to the opaque glass and pretended to eat while my trembling hands lifted the note off the floor. Black ink bled through the folded parchment and I opened it up to a message either quickly scrawled or by someone with terrible penmanship:
	
_“You don’t know me, but I know you. Whatever happens, act as normal as possible. You will have to trust me, though you do not know me well enough to do so. Swallow this paper with your meal and let no one see it.”_
	
No signature, no indication of who the letter writer was, just an exercise in blind faith. My hand had stopped shaking and what hunger I might have had disappeared. I forced myself to swallow the cold scrambled eggs on my plate, discretely tearing the already tiny note into thin strips and placed them on my tongue with each successive bite. I could feel the paper dissolve on my tongue quickly as the black taste of ink gave my taste buds something new and different to process. It was acrid and foul beneath the flavorless mass of eggs and I chugged the accompanying water greedily. 
	
With the note gone and the meal half-eaten, I slid the tray back through the door slot and waited for the guard to return for the pick-up. A half hour later, the sound of boots clomping along the floor came closer to my door and I knocked, having heard him grab my tray. 
	
“What do you want?” the gruff voice on the other side asked indifferently.
	
“I was wondering if Father Josef was coming back today or not. He had mentioned another visit today or yesterday, but as of yet hasn’t show up.”
	
“No idea.” He began to walk away and I remembered I needed another book. Something thick this time, something to keep my mind off the ominous note. 
	
“Excuse me,” I shouted through the door slot. “Could I get another book, please? Maybe something around 800 pages or so?”
	
I heard a grunt from the other side of the door as the boots disappeared around the corner. It was probably too much to ask that the book be delivered by the end of the day, but the note had calmed me rather than added to my already unraveling grip on things and I sprawled myself out on my bunk, put my hands behind my head and stared at the ceiling, quickly plummeting into a much needed nap. 

***
	
I awoke to a lunch or dinner tray (I knew not which) being taken from my door slot. The plastic tray clanged across the metal surface in clumsy or uncaring hands and I sat up slowly, wiping the crusty sleep from the corners of my eyes. My stomach gave an angry rumble and I rubbed it instinctively, as if the motion would somehow quiet the gurgling and sate my appetite. Alright, I thought to myself. No lunch for sure, and possibly no dinner depending on what time it was. Super.
	
A knock came an hour later and the door to the cell swooshed open. A guard I had not seen before held a thick book in his hands and wore a look of indifference. He stared at me as I sat on the bunk and tossed the book onto the floor in front of me and said “Not that you’ll have time to finish it.” He closed the door before the book had even hit the tiling and I screamed out a sarcastic thanks while shaking my head in wonder. 
	
The book was bound in a deep maroon hard cover. The gold embossing had been worn away over the years and the spine was practically screaming for the pages to stay in place, but the glue had loosened in parts as well. The pages themselves had yellowed like smoker’s fingers and the smell of old came wafting up to shock my nostrils into full awareness. It was the most unique smell I had experienced since being brought down here nearly a year ago. 
	
I opened the cover and several pages slipped out, the glue holding them in having dissolved over time and frequent use. A grin spread across my face as the title jumped out in bold from the first page – ‘A Fine Balance.’ I remembered reading this back in school so many years ago, but found myself forgetting the overall premise as I laid down on my bunk to begin reading. 
	
Thirty pages later, my door slid open again and I figured it was Father Josef coming to visit me during the late hour. I sat up slowly, finishing the last sentence on the page and then earmarked it with the top corner. I turned around to see the voyeuristic guard of the last few weeks. His entire body shadowed the doorway and I could see the metal gurney behind him, shining in the dim light of the hallway. His face was still and emotionless and when he spoke this time, his voice was even and confident. “Get up. You’re going for a ride.”