Arson K

A whisper stands out against the cool, still night in cell block 6B. “H-h-how did I g-get m-myself into th-th-this?” it says. The voice belongs to the only one left conscious at this hour- Carson Kin, also known as the Arson to few people besides himself. He sits on his rotting cot, holding his bleeding head in his hands. He only recently returned from the latest interrogation, and it didn’t go as well as anyone expected.

A voice in his head answers back, one he recognizes as his ex-wife, Margaret.

“You left me with our kids and ran off into enemy territory like an idiot, that’s how.”

“I remember it differently, Marge,” He coolly replies in his mind.

They were both right, as this was exactly the type of incident everyone has their own version of, and with no communication of it to taint their stories, each stuck to their own tale.

Carson Kin was a dull man. He worked in the sales department at a fairly successful shoe corporation. He had a wife and three children and no hobbies to speak of. He didn’t enjoy music, or television, but would pass his free time reading the warranties of each household product to ensure his average paycheck was put well to use. At parties, he was the person who would force his way into conversations with others, who quickly felt uncomfortable and made quick excuses to escape his company.

He had only one unique and defining characteristic, but it was one he shared with very few. He was completely fluent in Pig Latin. Of course, the same could be said of any kid found on a public elementary playground- it’s one of those skills children find fascinating and work to develop but later leave it behind for bigger and better things. But Carson was different. When he spoke normally, he had a stutter. When he spoke Pig Latin, however, he could speak quickly, effectively, and to the point. He spent most of his childhood speaking solely in what he called his native language and still used it whenever he had to get a point across and didn’t have time for his mouth to catch up with his mind.

When Carson and Margaret first met, they would speak this way. When the time came to pop the question, Carson dropped to one knee and said with passion, “Argaretmay. Illway ouyay arrymay emay?” to which she replied “ESYAY, ARSONCAY!”.

None of this explains how Carson arrived in cell block 6B, a prisoner of war against the Brazilian army, most of which was now headed by the self-aware robots who had taken over most of the American continent. That is much simpler to explain- Carson had a breakdown one day. Just one bad day too many at the office. He told his wife he had to clear his mind but didn’t say where he was headed. The plan was to pass time on Easter Island, but he was captured at a Chilean airport and taken to the Brazilian prisoner camp. He was boasting of his knowledge of American plans to stop the robots to a fellow passenger when he found himself surrounded by metal men. The memory still made him shudder all these months later.

Carson suddenly noticed light filling his cell and saw the ominous red eyes of a CobraBot glaring from a crack in the door. “PRISONER 4302E, COME WITH ME.”

“Akemay emay.” Carson found one thing to amuse himself- the robots understood every language except one. The language Brazilians were unaware existed. They thought his Pig Latin was nonsense and by now most of them ignored it.

He went along with them anyway and soon found himself somewhere unexpected. It wasn’t his usual interrogation room; it was a studio.

“PRISONER 4302E, WE KNOW YOU ARE CLOSE TO THE LEADERS OF YOUR COUNTRY. THEY WILL MAKE ATTEMPTS TO SAVE YOU.”

Wow, how original. They wanted to do a hostage video. Carson almost rolled his eyes, but an idea burst into his dull mind… an idea that just might save the world from these CobraBots.

They sat him down and pointed guns at his head, the whole cliché, and started filming. They gave the usual threats- nuclear attacks, planes falling from the sky, more pop up ads. Carson waited for the moment he knew people would start turning away from the broadcast over all American channels, and then he shouted his hastily crafted speech.

“Eoplepay of Americayay. I amyay Arsoncay Inkay. Ethay Eadquartershay of ethay obotsray isyay inyay Aranapay. Endsay acidyay ithway oppercay. Otslay. Ityay illway ustray emthay. Eway ancay illstay inway!”

The robots managed to cover his mouth, but he fought to pull them off and added before they could turn off the camera: “Argaretmay. I illstay ovelay ouyay. I amyay orrysay.”

The message cut.

But it was already over.

Arson K saved the day.