[ WP ] `` Kill the child , it 's the right thing to do . ''

The prison guard had given me his advice now, but I still felt sickly when the breathing clump of flesh, wrapped in a teddy-bear blanket was thrust into my shivering hands. 
 It was frightening, suddenly. I could feel the heartbeat of the child, and I knew that if I held it close to my ear I would be able to hear its soft, whining, nasal breath over my harsh, anxious gasping. 
 `` Kill the child, it's the right thing to do,'' he said. `` You and your cellblock can survive. The Minister only wants one sacrifice, and we both know that it will hurt fewer people if it is the child.'' 
 I moved to unwrap the babe in my arms, but the prison guard slapped my arm through the bars. `` Do n't look at it.'' he explained, `` It'll be easier that way.'' 
 I turned around right away. I walked quickly and without hesitating towards the pit on the other side of the long hallway. I knew I needed to to it. I had to. It was n't a selfish act, I had to do it for the cell block. Besides, it would be faster for this small thing than for my mates. 
 I reached the pit on the far end of the hallway. This used to be where the administrators were going to put in a new furnace, to keep everybody in cell block 17 warm. When the Minister came to power, that idea was scrapped. Instead, he put the thing from the wasteland in it. The artificial light just below the security camera was deep enough for me to see the outstretched appendage of the thing. The other cellblocks had begun calling it the Curse, the Bottomless Pit and the Grand Mercy, but we always called it the thing. 
 We called the thing because that was as specific as you could get. It changed so often, but never for the better, so what besides malevolence could you ascribe to it? 
 I realized I had stopped. I breathed heavily still, and I felt my heartbeat in my forehead when I took my temperature. I wanted desperately to escape, to stop thinking, to stop worrying about such matters like this. 
 I could see the veins in my shaking, tough hands. The labor of the factories had made them dry and calloused. I hated the Minister with all my heart. I knew that eventually, if I survived, I might see the Minister deposed, to see him beaten and bloody like so many of my cellmates were on occasion. The Minister knew this too. He did n't care that he would die, he only cared that he could cause a lot of pain before that time. 
 I knelt at the side of the pit. I saw the child in my hands. I let it roll, off my hands, into the pit. 
 It did n't scream. 
 I ran as soon as I could force myself to stand. I ran to the cell door. It was over. The guard was n't there to console me, though. I met the cold, dark eyes of the Minister on the other side of the bars looked at me nonchalantly. His formal wear was visible underneath his bulletproof vest. 
 `` I hope you understand now,'' he said `` that everyone must make sacrifices. You must sacrifice your personal sanity for that of your cellmates. Likewise, I must sacrifice my only child to prove to you ruffians that there is something greater to strive for, and that everyone must be willing to make sacrifices for the greater good.'' 
 ________________________________________________________________ 
 
 Three weeks later, a man with a rifle found the prison. A new leader, the son of a farmer, had found us, and after some tense negotiations between the cell block leaders and the farmer's tribe, he removed the Minister from power, and cell block 23 beat the Minister to death. I cried with joy. The final sacrifice had been made, for the greater good, and we could now proceed into the certainly rosy future.
