I am on a ladder, shoving documents onto the top shelf, hiding them under other books. There are soldiers with guns all over the library. Demanding specific documents be removed and handed over. One approaches me, still on the ladder, and demands we hand over the Census CDs from earlier than 1990. The same CDs that stopped working the week before. They've infiltrated the software, not just come in person demanding we turn over documents.
Once they've removed whatever government information they are trying to suppress, we are loaded onto a bus. The bus is full, are they all from the library? I'm not sure, but the buss is full. We stop for gas, and get out, stretch our legs, buy supplies. It does not feel like we are prisoners. We continue on our journey, to where we're not sure. We make another stop and this time and the military brass and the suit who have been on the bus with us, get off. They speak with one of the soldiers off the bus. He gets back on big gun in hand. Somehow, we know, he's been ordered to kill us.
But he doesn't. What we do to convince him not to kill us is unclear. Instead, they are going to break our hands. Just one hand each.
We're no longer on the bus, but waiting, huddled on the floor of an empty building. They take 3 of us at a time into a room. Use a hammer, smash a finger at a time, while the rest of us sit outside and listen and wait for our turn to come. Through all of this, I somehow manage to sleep. When I wake, Chip is there with me and he has brought me different clothes. He says he knows how much I like the ones I'm wearing, and he doesn't want them ruined by the blood. And I know then, I'm ready, I'm prepared knowing they're going to break my hand in such a way, I know I'll probably never be able to use it again, or at least not for a long time. And I decide, or rather, I know, I will give him my right hand. And it feels surreal because my left hand was always the less important, the extra, the helper. And in half my life it still is. But without my left hand, I wouldn't be able to shoot my bow.
And I prepare to give my right hand over to the hammer.