“You’re heavier than you look…” 

I strained to say as I dragged the limp body across the polished wood floors of the gymnasium. 

A pattern of blood trailed behind us from the blow to the head she’d taken. We were in debate in regards to the “debate” we were having against one another tomorrow before circumstances led to this. 

I’d won this round.  

I needed to get the body somewhere no one would notice. 

The shower room doors sprung open before me as I tugged at both of her ankles. 

I pulled the body about halfway past the doors and decided that was enough. No one took showers after gym class.  

I walked into my house around 9:40pm, my hands and clothing covered in blood and bits of brain viscera, to my mother sitting at the kitchen table staring at me. I just stood there staring back at her. 

“What have you done…” She said as she looked me up and down.

“Mom…” “Don’t you know what time it is?” She spoke, cutting me off. “You’ll have to pull an all-nighter for your studies. This is your chance for a better future!” 

I moved a mucky hand across my forehead in unease before responding in subservience.

“Yes mother.” 

I closed my bedroom door behind me and sat down in front of my computer. My mother was right, I thought. Tomorrow was the big day and I hadn’t even put together my counter argument. 

Surely I’d win now, I was the only one competing for the grant after all. I sat back with a smile before my heart nearly pounded out of my chest. Everything up until now led us to compete against each other tomorrow.

“If she’s not there… She would never not be there, they’ll know something isn't right!” 

“Shit, shit, shit…” I said a little higher than a whisper as I tugged aggressively at my hair. I always found the sensation the pain caused comforting. 

“She has to be there…” I panned a gaze across my desk. The microphone I’d used for my occasional podcast on physiological anarchy sat to the right alongside the tape recorder I used for notes. I knew her, the Protagonist, pretty well. I’d watched and studied her mannerisms. I could make up something on her behalf, like the inevitable death of a family member or COVID, and dial her in via recording. All I needed was a dialogue for the dialogue we’d be discussing. 

I woke up the next morning draped over my keyboard.   

The tape recorder was still in my right hand and I clicked it on. A young woman’s voice played through it slightly deeper than my own and seemed to draw out each word a millisecond of a millisecond longer than necessary. 

“In conclusion, free….” I turned it off and jumped to my feet. I just had to remember my lines and I was home free. I’d be that much closer to the prestige of it all. 

I glanced at my chiming cell phone on the desk. 93 missed calls and 76 texts. “Study Study Study.” The last couple read from my mother. I blinked several times in observance. 

I got to school pretty early that morning. For my plan to work, I needed a fresh picture. Luckily, routined action led me to keeping my makeup kit in the car. 

I made my way into the school and gymnasium and nearly died out loud when I rounded the corner to the showers. The old janitor stood at the double doors with a mop and bucket, a strange look to his face. 

“Mr. Wily, it’s not what it looks like…”  

He blinked several times before waving in my direction. 

“Oh, I’m not one to pass judgment.” He said nonchalantly. “Just flowing with the design of my existence overall. All that other stuff is for those who crave autonomy, am I right?” He chuckled at that. 

“Try not to track anything in.” 

He pointed down to the floor and the last few dark red droplets nearest him. “Had a mess of a time scraping that up this morning.”

“Yes sir.” I said back in resolution. “Track, no…” He smiled and began walking away. 

“What about the showers?” I yelled as my phone vibrated in my pocket. 

“No one goes in there these days. Might as well not exist.” He said as he turned the hall and vanished out of sight. 

I found myself silencing yet another call from my mother as I trailed my eyes over the body. She looked the same for the most part besides the hole in the head. 

I straightened out her hair and face as best I could, makeup for the blemishes, Visine for the eyes, and took place behind her. I stretched out my right arm into a selfie taking position before capturing the shot. 

Classes were a pain after that. I looked over my shoulder most of the day in anticipation. The debate wasn’t until last period and that infuriated me. All debates should take place front and center at the beginning of the day, not the end. 

I sat at the lunch table, only picking over my sandwich, while listening to several of my mothers repetitive voicemails. “Your studies. For your future successes. You have to study…” 

“Has anyone seen Minerva?” The ever so popular Chetana walked from table to table asking. 

I made it out of the lunchroom about a minute before she got around to me. Sometimes you have to dodge the main issues of the confer at first to solidify your refutation. 

The gymnasium was packed that afternoon. 

Nearly 30 or 40 of my peers. The representative from the Volition Of Independence & Self - Insufficiency, Autonomy Foundation sat front row next to my debate teacher. I nodded at them excitedly. There were nearly tears in my eyes. 

Both of the podiums provided were in excellent condition. 

Freshly varnished wood and positioned just the right amount of space apart. There was the perfect projection path for speech. 

All sound seemed to fade as I took my rightful place behind the podium. Joyous. 

Someone was saying something and I turned to see the men all staring at me. “What…?” I asked dazedly. 

“Where is your opposing Protagonist?” 

I blinked several times in panic and threw my right hand into my side pocket over my Bluetooth tape recorder. 

“I’m afraid to say, but the Protagonist will not be joining us physically this afternoon.” I said in my most confident voice. “She's come down with a strain of awful and can only attend via conference call.” 

Had I just said “A strain of awful?” I should have just said COVID. 

“I heard something’s going around…'' one of the representatives whispered to another. I put my phone on the highest speaker setting and clicked on the recorder. I then pulled the picture of her up on my phone and panned the image quickly around the room before placing the phone back onto the podium. 

“Good afternoon esteemed guests and fellow Antagonist.” That deep speaking elongation of speech came again. “Please excuse my absence, I’ve come down with a strain of awful, as of late, and won’t be able to attend physically.” 

Had I made the Protagonist, which was homogeneously me, also say “A strain of awful…?” I shook my head. 

“Surely no one contests this unfortunate circumstance?” She finished. “Antagonist?” I clicked pause on the recorder and cleared my throat. 

“Well, this is rather unorthodox.” I responded. “However, for the sake of time and convenience for our guests and colleagues here, I will accept.” 

One single clap echoed across the room. 

“Well done.” Mr. Wily spoke from the side of the stage and out of sight to the masses. I turned to him and he gave me a quick wink before fading away again. 

“Let’s begin.” One of the representatives said. 

“Protagonist, explain why in existence free will comes before everything. Antagonist, counter confer with expressing how determinism trumps free will. Protagonist, your opening statement?” 

I hit the play button. 

“Free will is our connection to humanity and to exist without it is to live without purpose.” The sentence took me by surprise. I tilted my head towards the empty podium next to me. 

“Man is left to the natural inclination of the world if not for free will. Those notions of response and action. Primal worldly instincts. The acting out of circumstance for some degree of blind gain. Does the ant have free will or is it simply programmed to follow the structure that's been laid out before it? It’s base desires which are embedded into its DNA. 

If an entity cannot overcome its base desires, is it enslaved to its blind actions and prohibited in the ability to make decisions freely?” 

I shook my head. I wasn’t prepared for this. All my studying and preparation and I wasn’t prepared for this. I went to speak in protest but the Protagonist cut me off suddenly. 

“Does the individual guided by blind circumstance and action for worldly gain actually exist…” 

Dammit, this was good. She was good. I needed to pivot if I wanted a chance at winning this thing. 

“In conclusion, free will gives us the power to consciously exist. It connects us in mind and body. It frees us from the base protocol, those earthbound urges that take the weaker mind down a path of turmoil and manipulation. A path left subject to the worldly vices embedded in all of us. Thank you.” 

Claps arose as sweat poured down my face. My hands felt clammy. 

“Thank you, Protagonist. Antagonist, your counter argument please.” The representative nodded his head at me. 

“Right, yes...” I said nervously. My mind raced. The image of the Protagonist's face on my phone stared up at me, almost expectantly, as I glared down towards the podium. 

“Determinism is existence.” I spoke as confidently as I could at that moment. “We come to be based on causes external to free will. Those instances define us. Teaches us how to live in a world influenced by a sea of circumstances. Determinism hardens the clay of life. Ignites the fire within our being to allow us to spring forth into daily action. Without it…” 

“Humanity can express free will despite prior circumstances.” 

The Protagonist said assertively through my phone. It caused me to stumble on my words. 

“With.. without it.." I began again. "Man would wander the earth blindly and without purpose.”

“Purpose?” The Protagonist chimed in again. “Does that mean you believe purpose is necessary for existence?” 

Shit. “I’m simply implying that determinism is the fundamental root to all possible actions that can be taken, leading to the meaning of that individual's existence. We are what we are based on these circumstances.” 

“And how does one take action on anything?” She said in rebuttal. I’d backed myself into a corner. My words faltered again.  

“I… we…” 

“Free will and purpose are tethered together along the flow of life.” She spoke, “All aspects of the outcome of our existence relies on our ability, therefore FREE WILL, to make those choices that ultimately lead us to our purpose. Without our underlying WILL to exist, to move forward, to power through any given circumstance, we’d be left to the impaired vices of our peers and instinctual dark temptations of the vast universe. We would ultimately live a numbed flow of uncontested life, deprived of what it truly means to be human.” 

“To be human is to act out our surroundings!” I blurted out spastically. 

The representatives all looked up from their notes to stare at me. 

The Protagonist chuckled through my phone's speakers and it echoed weirdly across the gymnasium. 

“Primal worldly instincts. The notion of response and action. The fear of defeat... Does the jaded individual have free will or is that entity simply following the program laid out before it? Following through on what it’s told should be its base desires…” 

My phone rang again. 

The bottom of my stomach fell out as applause erupted from the masses. My eyesight narrowed to tunnel vision as I took several steps back along the improvised stage. I could feel it then. The notion of humanity sitting out there among them through my failure. The choice made, AT WILL, to applaud my opponent. 

She’d won. 

I needed to get away. I grabbed my phone as tears streamed down my face and ran from the spotlight of the podium. 

I couldn't believe she’d won the grant over me. It wasn’t right. Not fair. I was destined for the win. By circumstance, I’d made all the right choices. Acted on my vices. Did what I did with what I had to solidify my prestige. I was beginning to hyperventilate and had to get somewhere alone for a moment to sort things out. To reaffirm my place in the world. I felt mentally exposed in a way I’d never experienced.

I walked hurriedly through the double doors to the showers and my entire body reacted violently to what I saw there. I began to convulse uncontrollably as my mind went into shock from the sight.

My phone vibrated again in my hand and I threw it into the nearest wall. It fell to the ground, mostly in pieces but kept ringing.

I dropped to my knees as tears fell rapidly down my cheeks. 

The scream that bellowed out of me then was head-wrenching and borderline psychotic. 

Was this done in free will…