Frozen

"Can you tell me why your here?" Old, slightly crippled, and therapeutically certified. These weren't traits that characterized Max. No, instead these were traits held by the man in front of him. The man held a steely gaze, sitting in his dark brown, leather chair, one leg on top of the other as if he was the superior being in the room. Of course, these were only half of the thoughts Max had for the man. His white scraggly beard, a poor attempt to seem casual, was off put by his slick white suit and dark black shoes. The man's cane leaned against the chair where he sat, as he began scribbling furiously across the notebook he held in his hand. He looked up from his scribbles with his thick rimmed glasses nearly falling off his face. Instead his glasses clung to the very corners of his big, bony nose. It was hideous to Max. "I asked you a question, young man, and I expect an answer."

Max remained stoic, hiding all form of expression from his face. He was wearing his officer uniform, finding no need to return home to change. He had heard the man ask his question of course, but he didn't care to answer. He didn't care about much anyway. He had always been like this, apathetic, without emotion. He simply cared about things a lot less than others. It was confusing at time, but it was never confusing as a cop. The rules were set out, and those who didn't follow them were arrested. It was simple and efficient. Rules changed but their enforcement stayed relatively the same, and it was this fact that drew Max to the job in the first place.

"Max, honestly, can you tell me why you are here today?" The man pushed his glasses up in an attempt to seem serious, but Max knew the truth. He had been in enough interrogations to know when a person is lying, and body language was often the most identifiable means of knowing the truth from the lies. "I'm in here because..." Max paused searching for the perfect words to sum up what he was thinking. "The court said I was mentally unfit." The man resumed his scribbles for a brief period of time before, once more, questioning Max. "Why do you believe the court stated this?" Max shrugged and responded "Cause I killed a man."

Silence filled the room, moving aimlessly around the room, and filling the therapist with an uneasy feeling. He simply let his steely gaze rest, fully attentive, on Max. "Do you believe your actions were justified?" Max leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees while clasping his hands together. "Define justified." The man squinted slightly and turned away, but it was too late. Max had noticed the action, and realized the man was not happy with him. The man continued to furiously scribble on the paper. When he finished he looked up and responded "It's very simple. Do you believe what you did was right?" Max locked eyes with the therapist "It's not about what was right or wrong, it's about what the law declared. If a man is breaking the law then he is to be arrested, and if that man attempts to harm any one then we open fire. Simple." Max leaned back in his chair keeping hands clenched, a small attempt to make the therapist believe he was angered. The man took the bait as his eyes glided quickly to my hands then back to his paper.

"The man you killed had the trigger to a bomb, and this bomb was in a boat filled with innocent lives. What you have done if they died?" Max shrugged once more "Go home, read a book maybe...oh wait, I think there was a Giants game on Fox. I think i'd watch that." The man once more scribbled in his paper, but before he could finish Max asked "What would you have done?" The man looked up at him briefly, and in that moment Max noticed his patience was thinning. "Your not here because of what i would do, your here..." Max cut him off "because of what I've done. No, i'm here because I did the logical choice in a certain situation, and now everyone decides that my character is the problem." The man chuckled and responded "Do you honestly believe what you did was the logical choice? Every other cop would have waited for backup, talked him out of it, not fire at a person perfectly capable of blowing people halfway to hell."

Max unclenched his hands, finding no use for them, as he had already successfully angered the man. "You want me to do the 'normal' action, logic is not defined by normality. It isn't defined by emotions either, and that's why I want to ask you what you would have done? What would happen if logic wasn't used? What would happen if I was like you, 'normal'?" The man was put back by this response, and his anger began to flare. However, he held it in and responded "I don't think..." Suddenly, Max cut him off "Shut the fuck up." It was said with such monotone that the man was actually surprised to hear those words. Then his anger poured out of him as he responded "You don't have the right..." Once more, Max stopped him "I have every fucking right!" This time he raised his voice to get the attention of the man, but still it was monotone. "I'm here so that you can listen and find a way to 'help me', but so far you haven't done shit. I finally have some kind of question that could maybe clear my mind up about what I did, but you refuse to answer" He paused letting the man's anger be extinguished with the reality of his necessity to hear Max out. "Maybe it's because you don't have an answer. Here let me ask you again, what would you do?" The therapist opened his mouth to answer, but Max did not allow him to answer. "You would have done the normal action right? Sit and wait, arm raised, and gun armed, but what you don't know is the response to your 'normality'. Logic isn't defined by normality, but normality is defined by logic. Let me explain, what you have done if you saw the man turn, not just with a trigger to a bomb, but a menacing grin on his face while he laughed out loud?"

He looked at the man, who was currently at a loss of words, and noticed the slight flicker of his cheek muscles. The notion had disgusted him, and, in a flimsy attempt to hide his emotions, he had let on his theoretical fear in that situation. "You would have been afraid, and don't hide it." The man had attempted to once more speak out, but to no avail. "A man without emotions does not mean he cannot see emotions. I've been in the force long enough to tell what a man is thinking. Now, lets go back to our subject. We now know what you would do in this situation, but what would the madman's response be to this action. Well, there are so many possibilities. He could have clicked the trigger, feeling no need to fear death, as he was insane, but wait. Let's say he does fear death. Did you know he was armed?" The man was simply staring at him in disbelief, and his notebook was finally closed. He was listening and that was Max's initial plan. "No, you didn't. Oh well, I guess the cops weren't necessarily required to tell you all of the information. The man had a gun, and you being afraid, would have probably shot at you, and you, already insistent on not firing, would have died because your reflexes would have been slowed by your insistence."

The man stared at Max for a long time, finally deciding that he was thirsty. He turned away, grabbing a small, glass bottle with a light brown liquid inside, from the table beside him. He took two empty glasses and set them on the table in between Max and him. "Alcohol, the minds only excuse to stop working." Max looked at the man as he ignored the comment and poured the liquid into the glasses, barely filling them. "Your not angry any more. Does this mean you understand?" The old man picked up one of the glasses and took a sip "No, I do not. Also, that one is for you. Unless your too young to drink." Max picked up the glass eyeing it carefully "Is thirty years old, 'too young to drink'?" The man was astounded and responded "My goodness, you look young for your age." Max took the glass and drank it all in one massive chug. He placed the glass back on the table replying "That was disgusting." The man chuckled and responded "Have you not had alcohol before? Are you sure your thirty?" Max said matter-of-factly "No, I have not had alcohol before, and yes I am thirty. My appearance just kinda...froze in time after twenty five. It was weird, but not many people actually care." The man responded "and how does this lack of appreciation make you feel?" Max shrugged and stood up "The same, I guess." He turned toward the door, and began to walk toward it. "What are you doing? Your time isn't up. You need to spend an hour a day here." Max simply raised his finger in the air, and dropped it. The minute that happened a tiny buzzing rang out from the clock on the table in front of the man. Max opened the door and paused, looking back at the man. "Next time try not to get angered. As I said before, logic isn't defined by emotions, but emotions are defined by logic. Rage just happens to be the one emotion that holds no logic, and it is this absence of logic that defines it." He closed the door leaving the man to think over the events that had just occurred.