A Blind Eye

FFFC41 The police found his uneaten breakfast on the table at the window of his hotel room. His laptop lying on the bed, opened to a blank document and the memory card missing from his camera.

These foreign reporters don’t learn thought the lead detective. This government will never allow the truth to be published. It wouldn’t have mattered if he had emailed his story because he was flagged the minute he set foot on a plane for this country. Here the internet wasn’t a super information highway, but a carefully monitored link. All communication was routed through bureaucratic sniffer software, marking keywords and pulling transgressors from moving forward. It wasn’t unheard of for messages to disappear.

You either played their game or wound up unemployed and hungry. There was no in-between and no handouts. This place was a complete mind boggle for outsiders with their freedom of speech rights. If they could have kept international relations going and at the same time put a moratorium on international travellers entering, they would. It is a place of many secrets and actions to keep them.

The idiot assigned to this clean-up had only deleted the typing and pictures from the on-screen article, not the saved copy. Should he fix this?

His life would be over and those of anyone involved if he was identified, but this wasn’t living. Servant to the only ones enjoying their existence. The world had to know of this charade.

A month later he met another traveller – alive this time. He told him that the world knew, but it wasn’t their problem, so they did nothing.

He never saw the bullet.

by Debbie Gravett © 2019.11.21

FFFC: Flash Fiction Challenge #41
Inserted Image Andrew Neel at Pexels.com
Main Image by Florin Radu from Pixabay

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