transcribed documents from the above original text

Doc. 1

4 April, 21XX

Re: Case #▇▇▇▇▇▇

Dear Dr. Y. of the Commission for a National Literature,

As I write to update you about Miss Monte’s progress, I have shallow wounds on both arms inflicted by her fingernails. I mention this not because it is unheard of for a child at Refuge School to attack her therapist, but because I hope it will impress upon you my concerns regarding Maitreya’s development.

For reference, attached is the most recent of Maitreya’s readings from the Refuge School, accompanied by a transcript of our conversation. She has no problem forming a cognitive connection between the story and her parents’ unfortunate history, which we may tentatively take as a sign of the program’s success – but there are nevertheless a number of troubling aspects to Maitreya’s approach. Note she recalls the specific details of her own wartime trauma, but can no longer conceptualize the possibility of a just war, even within a constructed fantasy world. I consider this attitude a form of trauma-induced regression – the moral equivalent of her violent episodes, confused speech patterns, and thumb-sucking. The trauma she experienced in August of last year is once again the decisive factor in her moral choices, rather than the influence of the Project’s ethics-building stories.

Clearly, we have moved too quickly. I propose we slow the introduction of new principles into Maitreya’s ethical code. In the meantime, I will work with Maitreya to reinforce core national values. Once her ethical foundation is securely built, we may again progress – with patience and care – to more complex moral scenarios.

Next steps: (a) reinforce in Maitreya the value of national justice. In future lessons, push that Angelina is mistaken in protecting her children over her country, and that her punishment is deserved. (b) interpose Maitreya’s memories of her prior family situation with state-approved family dynamics. Maitreya’s foster parents must never mention the conflict, her birth family’s imprisonment, or her new family’s lack of a genetic unity. She must come to believe – even if she does not yet know that she believes – that she and her family always moved to defend the State. 

After taking these steps, you may decide that Monte’s case is unsalvageable. If so, I would much rather clean my hands of it and begin again with another subject than draw out all of the requisite unpleasantness. As long as there are enemies of the state, there will be an abundance of children in the Refuge School – as long as there is a Refuge School, we will need a method in which to introduce wrongly-educated children to the truth of national unity.

Yours in truth,

Dr. John Sanitova

Doc. 1

Mother Angelina and the Good Giant

This text has been approved for supervised circulation within the moral re-education program by the Commission for a National Literature.

One morning, Mother Angelina was hanging the laundry on the laundry line when a raven landed on the branch above her head. 

Angelina looked at it curiously. “Hello there, Raven,” she said. “Why have you come to visit me?” 

“Kaw! Kaw! Hello!” the raven coughed. “Mother Angelina, I bring a message from the good and benevolent Giant. Kr-ah!”

Angelina had heard stories about the Good Giant who made the green grass grow and brought peace to the land. But before now, she had never seen or heard the Giant, only marveled at the way its huge shadow moved across her fields like a cloud. What could such a great and beautiful giant want with the likes of her? 

“You must travel through the woods until you reach the place where the giant’s shadow stops,” the raven continued. “There you will find a great battle taking place. One of the giants is our beautiful and good giant, and you will know him by sight.  The other giant is horrid and evil. Kr-rah! Evil! The good giant needs you, Angelina, and needs you immediately, to do your part to protect our home.”  

Angelina’s terror at the mention of the evil giant was only surpassed by the joy that she felt to be summoned to help in the giant’s great cause. She told the raven that she would do whatever she could.

“Then I must tell you a secret,” the raven croaked. “If you should ever find yourself in need of help, call out the word ‘lilolil’ and I will come. But if this call ever makes it into the wrong hands, I will be finished, and the Good Giant will be in great danger.”

The messenger raven lifted off into the air, and as soon as its shadow was no longer visible in the grass, Angelina called her children to her.

“Dear ones, I must go,” Angelina said, and she held their hands tightly and kissed their soft heads. “But you will be safe here, because I will send my love back along the path, and my love will look after you.” Tearful, but with a heart made light with the joy of purpose, Angela left her children and began along the path into the woods.

At first, Angelina took much pleasure from the journey. The long summer was just beginning to bend into autumn, and the afternoon breeze was cool and welcoming. But the deeper Angelina traveled into the forest, the colder it became, until her shoulders trembled and her teeth clicked. Thick leaves blocked the sun. Hostile roots tripped Angelina, and hanging vines lashed her face.  

The farther Angelina traveled, the more bitter her thoughts became. “I am not a wealthy woman, and I am responsible for a farm and children," she muttered as she kicked at stubborn roots. "The Good Giant has a palace in the clouds and a thousand adoring men. Moreover, the Good Giant has no children, and he has no need of a yearly harvest. If he leaves home, his home will be the same when he returns – but if I leave home, the apples will fall from the branch, the grapes will rot on the vine, and my children will grow up without a mother. How could a stranger demand so much from me?"

Just as Angelina asked this, she heard a rustling in the bushes, and out stepped a stranger.

The stranger was wearing the same black scarf as Angelina, had the same long, dusty hair as Angelina, the same dark eyes, the same scar on the outside of her left wrist. Angelina had never seen her before, but she recognized her at once. 

“Are you my reflection?” Angelina asked.

“No, silly,” the woman said, and laughed. Her laugh was the dry rattle of a box full of bones. “I simply overheard. Is it true that the Good Giant is taking you away?”

Angelina nodded, but added that she had nothing against the Good Giant, who was truly benevolent.

“Oh, I have no doubt he is,” the woman replied. “But listen here. Since we look so similar, I could fight in your place. It’s all the same to the Good Giant, and you would be free to return to your farm in peace. All I ask in return is one-half of this year’s harvest.”

If she went to work for the giant, Angelina thought, she would lose all of the harvest, not only half of it – so she agreed. The two Angelinas parted ways, one following the shadows that wrestled and writhed on the forest floor, the other following her own footprints back home.

Angelina’s daughter met her at the door. The house was quiet, and uneasiness quivered in Angelina as she moved from room to room. When she came to the back of the house, Angelina saw her own white dress and her daughter’s white dress hanging from the laundry line, but her son’s white tunic had fallen to the ground. Its collar was blackened with mud, the stain as dark and final as a burial. Angelina’s heart writhed in fear. She called and called for her son, but he was nowhere to be found. 

Angelina pulled up her black scarf to hide her face, so that none of the giant’s messengers would see her and guess her deception. Then she set off into the forest once again.

For many miles she traveled, sure that the next corner would be the one in which she saw the familiar woman or some other unnatural appearance, but none appeared to her. As she walked, Angelina’s mind wandered. “Why did I listen to the raven, anyway?” she thought to herself. “I have never seen the Good Giant, and the Good Giant has never done anything for me. I was wrong to trust him.”

Just as that thought occurred to Angelina, out of the thick leaves slid a woman much older than herself. Her face was twisted and cruel, and the dark-veined skin of her left wrist tugged at the edges of a scar. Though Angelina had never met her before, she recognized the woman as surely as the sky above her and the path beneath.

“Excuse me, ma’am. Have you seen anyone else walking along the path today?” Angelina said. The woman stopped and peered into Angelina’s face. “Apart from my sister, I mean – you would know if it was her, since we are identical down to the color of our eyes and the size of our hands.”

“I haven’t seen another woman come this way,” the woman said, and her voice was the slow snapping of a chicken bone between sharp teeth. “Only you, dear. But I have seen a little boy.”

“A little boy!” Angelina exclaimed. “You must have seen my son. Please, will you tell me where he is?”

The woman considered this. “Perhaps I shall,” she said. “But information is not free. Give me one-half of this year’s harvest, and I will tell you where the boy has gone.”

Angelina didn’t know how she would support her family without the harvest, but she was now certain that something terrible had befallen her son. Without pausing to think through her decision, Angelina agreed. 

The woman pointed one twisted finger back down the path along which Angelina had approached. “Your son went that way,” she said. “Perhaps he was going home – or perhaps not. Oh, but that’s none of my concern.” She tugged her cloak about her and was gone.

Angelina hurried home. Nobody greeted her when she got to the door, and the halls and rooms were as quiet as before. In the backyard, the laundry line hung just as it had. Her own white dress was draped across it, but her daughter’s white dress had fallen, and its collar was stained dark as the world through an unseeing eye. Fear closed Angelina’s throat, and her legs trembled.

Angelina set out again along the path, determined never to make the same journey again. Her hateful thoughts were entirely directed at the Good Giant. This was all his fault, she thought. If he hadn’t summoned Angelina, she wouldn’t have left home. In fact, Angelina was certain that the Good Giant had asked her to leave just so that he could steal her children away. As that thought occurred to her, Angelina’s foot snagged in a root and she tumbled to the ground. 

Angelina’s eyes filled with frustrated tears. “Curse you, Good Giant! Curse you, curse you!” she cried, and kicked at the root.

“You won’t get anywhere doing that, dear,” came a soft voice from above her.

Standing behind Angelina was an old woman with a face like a knotted tree, a back like a curved branch, and a scar like burnt bark. Angelina had never seen her before, yet she knew the old woman intimately, and her familiarity frightened Angelina. “If you have a grudge against the Good Giant,” she said as Angelina struggled to her feet, “there are better means of taking out that grievance.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Angelina, “and if you think I’m going to trade in any more of my harvest, you’re wrong – I couldn’t give you anything if I wanted to.”

The old woman laughed, and her laugh was the tired crumbling of bones into dust. “Oh, I’m too old for tricks, dear. I only want to take something back from the Good Giant who took so much from me.”

“Fine,” Angelina said, reckless with desperation. “Tell me what to do.”

And the old woman told her. 

Three days later, Angelina stood at the boundary of the giants’ clearing, her ankle still aching from her fall in the woods. The ground quaked with the fall of their great feet, but Angelina did not tremble. “I come for an audience with the Evil Giant,” she cried, and her voice echoed between the trees and the bodies of the giants and magnified, until it sounded more like the voice of a giant than of a human being. But Angelina heard no answer from the clearing.

“Did you hear me?” Angelina repeated. “I come for an audience with the Evil Giant, and I have information that he will value very highly.”

At first Angela heard nothing, but then wings rustled and two crows dropped out of the air to either side of where she stood.

“Kaw! Very well,” one crow rasped. “Say what you will.”

“I have information,” repeated Angelina, “that will allow you to capture the Good Giant’s chief messenger. But I won’t tell you anything for free. My children have been taken by the Good Giant, and using the advantage I will win you, I need you to return them to me. If you do not give me your word that you will return them safely, I will stay silent.”

The crows bickered among themselves for a moment. Then one hopped forward. “We swear.”

“Good. Then – there is a call –” Angelina paused, suddenly afraid. Her fear embarrassed her, and she swallowed it before it could overwhelm her. “There is a call that will summon the Good Giant’s messenger.” She lifted a stick from the ground and, reluctant to speak lest she summon the giant’s raven, wrote the word in the mud.

“Excellent!” one of the crows said. “You have no idea how much trouble that bird has caused us.”

Angelina wondered if she had done the right thing. Surely she had – but then, what was this feeling? “Good. Then I will go,” Angelina said, “and you will bring my children to me unharmed.”

“No,” one crow said slowly. “I don’t think that’s how it will happen.”

“No,” the other cried, gleeful. “That’s not the way it is– kr-ak!”

“Wait,” Angelina cried, holding up her hands. “You can’t do anything to me. I told you what you wanted to know! You gave me your word!”

“We’re very thankful, if what you say is true,” the second crow said. “But we still can’t let you go free. You lied to the Good Giant, so now we know you’re a liar. And you were too cowardly to fight for the Good Giant, so now we know you’re a coward. Whatever we ask you now, we know you could be lying, and whatever we ask you to do, we know you might be too cowardly to do it. Don’t you see?”

“Believe us, we’re very thankful,” the crow repeated. “But a word is just a word.”

And before Angelina could answer, the two crows descended upon her, and the shine of their polished beaks filled her vision. After that she saw nothing else, for the birds had plucked out her eyes. 

Blind and trembling, Angelina lay on the cold earth, shaken by the giants’ battle. She did not know how long she lay there, for her sense of time had fled alongside her sense of sight. She only came back to herself when she felt three small hands closing around her arm and a soft, high voice speaking in her ear. 

“Mother, mother!” The hand guided her hand to another small, wet face, framed by cold metal. “No, don’t say anything – we know all that has happened!”

“My son! My daughter!” Angelina cried, and pressed her face to theirs. “Where did the Good Giant take you? And how did you get away?”

“Get away?” It was her daughter’s voice. “The Good Giant is wonderful! He brought us to meet you, but when we arrived at the valley of the Giants, you were not there – only a filthy woods-woman who wore your face and lied and cheated. But the Giant has taken the liar away, and everything is better now!”

Angelina reached out blindly until her hand found the metal of her daughter’s armor. “Oh, but I am no better! I have also lied, and cheated, and bargained away all the crops we had to live on. Worst of all, I have doubted the Good Giant’s benevolence – the Giant with the grace to reunite us.” 

“Mother, you have allowed yourself to be led astray,” Angelina’s son said, and his fingers traced her red cheek beneath one empty socket. When he drew his hand away, his fingers were as clean as his white tunic’s unblemished collar. “But the Good Giant has taught us many true and beautiful things, and now we can help you learn these things as well. I hope you can see more clearly, as we do.”

“I do,” Angelina said, voice trembling with sudden joy. “I do – I see more clearly than I ever have!”

As Angelina spoke, the wonderful giant raised his hand. Safe in his fist was the shape that used to be the evil woods-woman. The giant reached his arm over the valley and the woods, all the way to Angelina’s farm, its fields already reaped of their fruitless harvest. As the Giant tightened his fist, the shape of the cheating woods-woman fell in countless sparkling, silent drops like liquid stars. Wherever the woods-woman’s body fell, stalks grew new wheat and corn, berries blossomed on bushes, and wildflowers unfurled from the naked ground. Tears flowed from Angelina’s empty eyes and down her red cheeks, but they were tears of joy, because she was finally certain of the goodness of the Giant who had forgiven her many transgressions.

Doc. 3

Transcript of conversation between Maitreya Monte and Dr. Sanitova, recorded April 14, 21XX

[0.00]

John Sanitova: Maitreya, tell me what you remember from the story.

Maitreya Monte: The mother puts up the laundry line. Then the brother’s white tunic falls on the ground and turns red. There’s a raven that comes and tells Angelina to go into the woods, but that’s pretty silly, because in real life ravens don’t talk. Angelina sees the good giant, who is so big that he makes the ground shake. He tramples the green garden and Angelina’s flowers in his big black snow boots and his big machine. 

J.S. His big machine?

M.M. The metal box with the big turning feet. It moves slowly and looks around with its stalk eye. The mother hears the giant coming with his metal box, so she stops putting up the laundry line, and she kisses the brother and me on the head. She goes out into the woods to help the Good Giant, but Dad makes us go into a little room. It’s a lot of people and not a lot of air for breathing, and we’re all playing the quiet game.

[1.00]

J.S. Maitreya, Angelina hears about the giants from the messenger raven, remember? There is no big machine.

M.M. No, there is a big machine, I know it. We hear the giants fighting while we’re in the little room. The giants are dancing around outside, so the whole ground shakes. And then they take Peter from where we’re hiding and they drag him out by his arm. No, I guess Angelina didn’t go into the woods, because she’s there too, trying to get him back from the bad men. I think she pulls him too hard on accident, because he falls down. And then something else happens, I forget. My dad told me we wouldn’t have to fight at all, but he was wrong. I saw the crows. I mean, what the crows do to people.

J.S. Maitreya, remember the story about the giant? What did Angelina do in the story?

M.M. Um, I’m not sure. Something… She tells him to stay home and not to talk to the men who want to take him away, and they all hide in a room. Or she goes into the forest and she meets a woman, and the woman tells her not to trust the evil giant. She listens, and they all live happily ever after. Or… Somebody takes her to another room, another building, through the city and the forest in a big car. I go in a different car and I’m crying and crying, and someone tries to give me water and I spill it on the seat. I don’t know what happens to Angelina. I’m sorry. They put her in a school and make her read these stories – but she’s not here, because I would have seen her. The Good Giant picks her up in his giant claws and she stops being my mother and starts to become stars. I can’t reach her. I never saw her. I don’t know.

J.S. The raven comes to ask Angelina to help the good giant. Can you remember what Angelina does next?

M.M. I don’t remember that. I don’t know.

J.S. What is the first thing Angelina thinks about when she hears about the good giant?

M.M. I don’t know. I don’t like your questions. I hate the Good Giant. Stop it! Stop it!

[3.00-3.36 indistinct]


J.S. Are you feeling any better? 

[3.38-4.21 indistinct]

J.S. Maitreya, I’m just going to ask you a couple more questions about the story, and then you can go home. Do you think that Angelina’s children did the right thing when they went to fight for the good giant?

M.M. No, I can’t. Do you ever say what’s really happening?

J.S. You can’t – what?

[5.05-5.32 silence]

J.S. Never mind, that’s all right. If you were Angelina, and you heard about the good giant fighting the evil giant, what would you do?

M.M. I wouldn’t listen to the raven. I wouldn’t go into the woods. I would tell the giants to stop fighting. 

J.S. If you were Angelina’s son, what would you do?

M.M. This time I wouldn’t listen at all, I would just run and run.

Doc. 4

Timeline of the Maitreya Monte Case, 6/27/21XX - 2/3/21XX

6/02/21XX – Following a brief and decisive conflict, the city of ▇▇▇▇▇▇ becomes a property of the State.

8/27/21XX– Miss Monte’s parents, Natasha and William Monte, are detained following a resisted arrest. During the altercation, their 12-year-old son, Peter Monte, is ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ by ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ against the basement steps of their home. No official cause of death is reported. 

8/28/21XX – Maitreya Monte, alongside 304 other children of enemies of the State, are sheltered in the new Refuge School.

8/29/21XX – Demolition begins on the ▇▇▇▇▇▇ neighborhood. The Monte family home is destroyed.

9/31/21XX – Maitreya Monte moves to her first foster home.

10/02/21XX – William Monte is found dead in his cell. Though Monte’s cellmate reports hearing ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ between the hours of ▇▇ and ▇▇ AM, no official cause of death is reported.

10/02/21XX – Maitreya Monte attacks a classmate, Jonathan ▇▇, who is placed in the infirmary overnight with a superficial head wound. Maitreya begins therapy to supplement her education at the Refuge School.

10/15/21XX – Natasha Monte is found ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ where she is stationed at ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇. She had been ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ three days before. After a brief investigation, no official cause of death is reported. 

11/22/21XX – Following a violent incident at her foster home, Maitreya Monte returns to live at the Refuge School full-time.

12/15/21XX – Maitreya Monte is chosen for the Moral Re-Education Project by the Commission for a National Literature, as recommended by her therapist, Dr. John Sanitova.

1/02/21XX – Maitreya Monte moves to her second foster home. 

2/30/21XX – Dr. Sanitova reports improvement in Maitreya’s aggression and other symptoms of post-traumatic stress.

5/1/21XX – Dr. Sanitova notifies the School of a series of violent relapses, reporting that Maitreya’s progress has slowed dramatically. The cause for this development is unknown. Maitreya Monte’s case is placed under review by the Commission for a National Literature.

5/16/21XX – Following concerns about ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇, Maitreya Monte is moved from her second foster home back to the Refuge School.

7/2/21XX – The Commission for a National Literature determines that Maitreya is no longer a fit for the Moral Re-Education Project. Plans are put in place to move her to ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ within the month.

8/10/21XX – Maitreya attends her last lesson. Her teachers report that she seems subdued, but nonviolent. She is relocated to ▇▇▇▇▇▇ in the late afternoon. As she is no longer a student of the Refuge School, the Maitreya Monte case terminates here.

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