Confession (2013)

The man in black stood solidly against a backdrop of torrential rain,

raising a gloved hand and smoothing back his sodden, raven-dark hair. He
stared across the road to the church, grimly determined. He was waiting
for someone.
The night before, he had had a dream. Perhaps this would be normal
for some, but to the man in black, it was exceedingly peculiar. He hadnt
dreamt for twenty-seven years. It wasnt that he couldnt remember
them, it was just that he simply did not have them. Dreams defied logic,
and logic defined his existence.
A light flicked on in a church window. The man looked at his watch.
Twenty-six past three exactly. Time to do something new.
He crossed the road, his flawlessly polished shoes clicking across the
drowning cobbles. He reached the old church door, lifted his silver cane,
and rapped three times on the wood.
The door swung open, and there stood a thin, elderly man dressed in a
smart suit.
Only the white collar around his neck gave away his
profession.
Yes? the priest croaked, with a faint Irish accent.
Im here for the confession. The mans voice was cold and calculated,
relinquishing the words with a harsh reluctance.
Ah. Right. Didnt think wed have anyone tonight, but do come on in
out of the rain the priest trailed off as the man in black stepped briskly
past him and inside, making no attempt to wipe his feet on the mat.
Lets get this over with, the man said.
Right, right, come this way. The priest bustled out through a pair of
double doors, and the man followed. He was led into a small square room,
containing a couch and large wooden screen dividing it in half. The man
looked at the screen and raised an eyebrow.
Oh, some like me not to see their face. Makes it anonymous, you see.
But I dont think well be needing that, seeing as I already know what you
look like.
The man didnt respond. There was no need. The priest had made a
statement, and it was correct. He sat down on the couch, and the priest
sat beside him.
Closer than the man normally allowed, but the
circumstances required certain changes to regime.
Name? the priest burbled.
Id prefer not to give it.
To be sure, to be sure. Well then, lets get started.
The priest produced a battered copy of the Bible and began to read.
The man let the words wash over him, only vaguely acknowledging their
meaning. He was here because of the dream, not because of some old
book that gave the weak-minded a flicker of hope in the darkness. He
hadnt hoped in years. He simply chose what he wanted and made it his.
And now we will pray silently for a few moments.
They sat there in silence.
After a minute had passed, the priest raised a hand and made the sign
of the cross. The man mimicked the motion stiffly, and then the priest
bestowed upon him a blessing that he knew meant nothing at all.
Now, the confession. You start with bless me father, for I have
sinned
Bless me father, for I have sinned the man repeated. This was what
he was here for. I possess thirty billion pounds, spread across twelve

different bank accounts across the globe, and every penny was taken
illegally.
It is said that there is nothing a priest has not heard. Up until this point,
the Irishman thought that to be true.
I am what many would call a criminal mastermind, the man
continued, gazing out at some distant object only he could see.
I acquired my fortune through multiple methods. One of the first was
through information. My organisation has been collecting sensitive data
from members of the public via the distribution of Trojan horse software for
the past couple of decades. I make my money by selling said information
on to the highest bidder on the dark web.
His face remained
expressionless as he said this. The priests face, however, was similar to
that of a goldfish whom has suddenly been told his bowl has been
repossessed.
That contributed five billion pounds. A further ten billion pounds was
earned by organising the hostage-taking of British Prime Minister Theresa
May.
The goldfish was then told that all water was now property of the
Porpoise and Dolphin Federation, and could no longer be used for
respiration without a license.
Th-that was you? the priest stammered.
Indeed. The remaining fifteen billion was a result of selling weaponry
and firearms to the group known as the Taliban.
The goldfish was finally informed that his wife had left him for a
clownfish, and his children had run away with the circus.
Bu-bu bu but
Are you ill, perhaps? the man in black asked the stunned priest. No?
Them my penance shall be?
The priest gazed around the room for inspiration, hoping against all
probability that this was a joke, or a dream or something, and he wouldnt
actually be expected to come up with penance for this.
Thirty seconds passed. The mans expression was unwavering. The
priest gulped.
Er, well, er, this is most irregular, but I think turning yourself in would
be a start.
The man did not move.
And then, er a prayer every morning for the rest of your life. Also, I
dont suppose returning the money would be out of the question?
The man did not move.
The priest suddenly felt a surge of pity for the man in black, and wasnt
quite sure why.
Look, my son, he began, laying a hand on the mans shoulder. Why
are you here?
The man met his gaze, and something close to an emotion slithered
across his face. I had a dream.
The priest waited for this line of conversation to continue.
It did not.
Are you sorry for what you have done?
The man stared at the wall. His eyes suddenly flicked left and right, and
his lips moved soundlessly. It was like he was having an argument with
himself. Most unnerving.
The man in black flinched, and he spoke. I believe so. I feel
something. I have never known regret for anything I have done, but this
feeling is something new.

Good enough for me, the priest thought bitterly.

Well then, theres the contrition to go through now. The priest told
the man what to say, and he repeated it back to him. It was long and
complicated, but its general meaning was this:
Oh My God, I am very sorry that I have sinned against you. Because
you are so good, and with your help, I will try not to sin again. Amen.
The priest in turn said something long and complicated, which
essentially meant: I absolve you from your sins. You are forgiven. But if
you do not achieve what you have told me you will, then you will be bound
by your actions forever.
The man in black left the church five minutes later. He crossed the road
and stood in the rain, letting the water run down his face and neck and
soak again into his clothes. After a long time, he reached up and removed
the black scarf he wore around his neck, revealing the white collar
beneath.
Nobodys perfect.