What makes us human?
What gives us life?
Are we born, endure worldly hardships, and grow up only to be toyed with like mechanical playthings in the end?
The so-called life.
The so-called human life.
The so-called being alive.
Is it merely to endure a fate akin to a curse, to ultimately face a tragic end?
Cultural base instilled deep within, Deputy Commander Faber couldn't help but tremble as these questions, like mournful cries, emerged from the depths of his heart while he gripped his gun.
As a revolutionary, he believed he was prepared for death, and had even seriously envisioned being killed by bullets, pierced by bayonets, blown up by hand grenades, burned by fire, or being hanged publicly. But to be treated like cattle after death, to have one's brain removed… such morbid, utter trampling of human dignity chilled even the guerrillas accustomed to death.
