THE VILLAGE STORY BOOK
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
" MINISTRY OF DISINFORMATION", A short story by Tony Sandy.
I looked at the sign over the door, which said Department of Disinformation and in brackets underneath (go away, we don't want to help you).
I walked in.
'Yes, can't you read?'
'I can but I needed some information.'
'Take a seat.'
'But there isn't one'.
'That's your first indicator then.'
'But the government -'
'What, you expect us to help you with the truth? This is a government office. We need to know the truth but you don't. We have to protect the public from the truth and ensure that military secrets are kept for your own safety.'
'Isn't that for us to decide?'
'Don't be so crass, so naive. What do you know about what our enemies are doing? If we went around letting everybody know what we were doing, the Russians or the Chinese would take advantage of the situation and gain an advantage over us, technically or militarily. I suppose you are one of the these New Age or hippy types, thinking that if we all knew everything, then everyone in the world would be safe and everything would be hunky-dory. Don't you read the papers? Don't you remember Salisbury? Would you want scammers to know your bank details?'
‘No.'
‘Well there you are then.'
‘What about the official secrets act? What's the point of that?'
‘Trust.'
‘What about when people can't be trusted?'
‘Then we have it in writing that once they could and if they deny a connection to us, we can prove that they are lying. Greed or resentment can get the better of anyone, turning them into traitors but of course that works both ways – with ours and with their agents.'
‘Are you telling me the truth about any of this?'
‘How would you know and how would you find out for sure, after all this is a disinformation centre?'
‘Good point.'
‘Besides none of this is anything but obvious and in the public domain, even if not everyone reads the newspapers or watches television, connects with social media etc. I haven't told you anything that I would have to shoot you in the back for as you left the office, have I or at least not yet.'
Realising that I would get nowhere, I walked towards the door, glancing over my shoulder. Unbeknown to me, the guy behind the desk's finger hovered over a button that would have locked the door, obstructing my departure.
‘Smithers.'
‘Yes, Chambers.'
‘Did you get a good shot of that gentleman's face?'
‘Yes.'
‘Is he known to us?'
‘Not as a troublemaker. A teacher.'
‘Ah. Worth keeping an eye on then.'
‘Could be.'
‘Keep me informed.'
‘Certainly.'= .
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PLUS A FLASH FICTION PIECE by TONY SANDY
THE PRISONER*
What had I done? I never did find out.
There I was, thrown in this cell and never
let out. They wipe my mind every night,
so I can't remember who I am and the
governor ignores my pleas, like I don't
exist.
How many years have I been here? Where
did I come from? Nobody seems to know
or care: Here I am and here I seem to stay.
In the early days I managed to get out but
they hunted me down and dragged me
screaming back here.
Bloody people! Call this a care home!
*(dedicated to Aunty Bunty)