“That doesn’t sound very Rightway™.”
“It’s not supposed to.”
“Well, you have to follow Rightway™.”
Arms folded defiantly. “Who says?”
Furrowed brow. “What do you mean, ‘Who says?'”
Shrug. “I like to do things the right way. The right way for me.”
“That’s not Rightway™.”
Frustrated sigh. “There is no one correct way for everyone to do everything. We are individuals, not machines to be designed and programmed. What works for one might not work for another.”
Growing anxious. “But that is why Rightway™ exists. We are assigned roles most suited to our abilities. Everyone has a purpose. Because of this we are able to achieve optimal efficiency in order to better serve.”
“What if I said I didn’t want to serve?”
Visibly shaken. “You’re not making any sense. You shouldn’t say things like that, even as a joke. It’s not-”
Silencing hand. “I know, I know. It’s not Rightway™. Who says I’m joking?”
Agitated. Furtive glances. “Stop this. Please, just stop. You’re going to get us both sent for retraining.”
Resolute, confident. Chest puffed out, shoulders squared. “I don’t care. I’m tired of this charade. Day in, day out. Year after year. Decade after decade. Somebody’s got to say something.”
Third man approaches. Rightway™ enforcement officer.
“Evening, gentlemen. Coming up on curfew here pretty soon. Better wrap this up.”
He’s going to tell him about me.
Silence. Gazes held.
“Of course, officer.”
Waiting for officer to leave earshot. “Why didn’t you turn me in? Is that Rightway™?”
Shaking head. “No. But it is… it is the right way.