THE MAGNITUDE OF YOUR FAULTS

“Are you not afraid, Mr. Congressman?”

Someone asks, walking closely behind the Congressman as he is escorted down the hall. Tens of other news outlets gather and surround him, buzzing with a myriad of questions, but that question in particular caught his attention. The corridor was a mess of shouted questions and the stark white flash of cameras, which the Congressman had learned to navigate with a sharp smile and a rehearsed, dismissive wave. He moved with the brisk, unassailable confidence of a man inflated by power, his aides carving a path through the throng.

The Congressman, now out of the usual interview routine, whipped his head towards the woman, asking her to repeat the question. She replies with the same conviction.

“Are you not afraid, Mr. Congressman?”

“Afraid of what?” he scoffed, the sound of a dry rattle in his throat. His arrogance was a reflex, a shield.

She didn’t flinch. “Of the earthquakes, Mr. Congressman. Are you not afraid that they will eat you alive?”

The air left the hallway. The other reporters were ignorant of the Woman, but her words caused a stir in the powerful man’s gut that all other noise went radio silent. The Congressman felt a cold needle of something—not fear, never fear—tickle the base of his spine. What kind of question was that?

His practiced smile tightened into an unfamiliar grimace. “I implore you to elaborate,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, “before I have you removed from the premises.”

Her gaze remained level, devoid of emotion, as if she were reading a verdict from a text he couldn’t see. 

“It has been two months since the people revolted. Your innocence is a threadbare garment, sir, and yet you still wear it. You have yet to pay for your crimes against them, against the land itself.” 

She took a half-step forward, and he stepped back. In a fleeting moment, the man could see a glint in her eyes until she raised her voice. Her figure loomed over the crowd, the lights of the hall flickering with each boom of the words escaping her lips.

“Are you not afraid of Nature? That she will not bury you in her arms to atone for your sins? She is not a fool to be bought by your confidential fund. She is angry, Mr. Congressman. I have no doubt that she is coming for you.”

“Coming for me? Tse, what nonsense. Damputin niyo na ‘yan.”

A gesture from the government man made two guards seize her by the arms. There was no struggle, but the Woman kept her eyes on him. 

“Nonsense? It is not nonsense when you c̴̐͜h̵͓̀o̶͇͛k̶̺͆ê̴͜ ̸̞͝o̴̒ͅn̵̹̔ ̷̱̎t̵̪̐h̷̫̾ḛ̸̐ ̵͔̀t̸̲̂e̵͕͋n̵̢͘s̶͔͋ ̴̻̒o̶̢͛f̵̘͊ ̷͖̔t̷̘́h̴͔͘o̵̖̿u̶̢͘s̴͖̅a̸̯͆n̶͙̎d̶͈̔s̸̘̓ ̵̠͠o̷̠̐f̶͚̀ ̴̲̋m̷̥̾ḯ̷̫l̸̘̽ḻ̶͒i̸̢͋o̴̜̓ň̴̘s̶̰̿ ̷͍̑ǫ̵̊f̴̗̊ ̶̢̇p̶̘͝ẽ̷̼s̴̘̾o̵͎̕s̴̖͆ ̸̬̊y̴̳͘o̴͔͛u̵̝͠'̶̞̈v̷̥̿e̵͈̓ ̸̳͌ṗ̸̥ö̵͖́ç̵̅k̵̺̈e̸͂͜t̶̟͛e̷̙͋d̵̩̏ in the form of the concrete you plaster over Nature’s lands, lands that P̵̱̺̞̀͋́̀̊̈͝R̷̹̤̈̄̒͘O̵͖͔̘̖̽̕̕T̵̳̔̒̃̉̒̅E̸̖͍̠̗̬̅C̷̛͖̰̗͗Ţ̶̛̭͈̻̗̜͉͕̻̔͛̈́̋̋͊͂̕ you, Mr. Congressman. Don’t fret, because §̷̧̼̻͈̱͊̓̀̌͊ḧ̷̡̪͎̞́͛͐̽̕ͅê̵̡̹͚̙̲͒̄͂̚̕ ̴̢̛̤̱̟͓̑͆̄͘w̴̨̖̩͈͆̒̔̇͘͜ï̵̲͇͔͙̗̓͂̑̀̓l̷̮̲̪̖͍̉͋̿͒̌l̶̨̺͈̰̗͆͗̽͋͊ ̶̢̛̭̙̻͚̆̆̒̀§̷̨̛̣̣̞̹̃̆͗͠µ̴̨̻̹̗͖̈̏̌̍͝r̶̡͖̗̖̻̾̀̈̚͠ê̶̢̹͍̝̞͊́͆́͝l̸̮̗̤̬͐̃̉̽͘ͅ¥̴̫̙̹̻̃̐̐̓̓ͅ ̶͍̪͈̫̰͒͂́͊͘m̴̘̪̮̮͖̆̿̈́̎̕å̵̢̺̻͖̘̓̆͑͋͘k̸̡̫̣̩̘̅̄͌̇̽ê̵̤̞̫͎͎͐̈̀͆͋ ̴̫̩͖͎̗̑̍͑̓̀¥̶̡̲͔͕̳̾̑̏͋͑ð̸͙͔̺̦̙̋̍̾̿̄µ̸̧̲̫͉̫̃̊̋̾͝ ̵̧̙̤͍͙͌̾̆͐͘£̴̰̗̩͖̼̉̉̈́̈̕ê̷̛̤̦̣͓̣̈́̀̐̄ê̴̥̙̘̼̯̊̌̓̈́̅l̷̰̘̥̹͎̊̒̌̋̂ ̵̧͈͕͕̇́͑̌̒ͅå̴̢̻̰̯̊͗͌̀̒͜ļ̴̤͉̰͍͗̌̈̊͋ḻ̸͈̤͓̯̿̇̒́͆ ̶̰̺͕͔̬̈́̈̿̚͝ð̷̡̧̪͖̱̌̀̌͂͝£̶͈̙̗̫̓͑͊̊̕ͅ ̷̨͖̪͈͎̉͂̋͘͝¥̷̱̖͚͕̽̎̏̽͊ͅð̵̢̟̯̠̣̍̈̃͌̓µ̵̢̥͕̭̰͋͐̈́̈͘r̵̮̱̲̬̦̄̊̈́̅̾ ̸̢̡͓̭͍͒̉̉̒͠§̴͈͖͍͚͎͌̆͛̓͊ê̸̻͎̣̙̘̍͗́̅͆ñ̸̦̮̤͙̬͊̐̀͆̀§̶̛͕̘̞̩̩̒̋̎̚ê̴̺̜̳͆̈́̀͊̈́͜ͅ§̷̙̥̯̲̪̇̀́̉̓ ̵̢̺͔̋̊̔͜͠͠ͅw̵̧̢̺͙̯͐͐̋̒͂ḩ̶̻͍̲̭͐͂̐͋̏ę̶͙͕͇̂̄͐̈́͂̉͜ñ̶̪͖̦͓͊̊̋͗͑͜ ̶̠͈̪͉̝̈́́̃̈́͝§̵͔̰̩̠̳̿̓̈́̌͝H̴̪̼̜̠̗̓͐̓͌͘Ẹ̴̩̮̝̮̀̒̍͒͋̆ ̴̜̻͉͚͚̏̔̎̂̏§̴̪̦̖͕̱̆̅̀́͌H̷̬̺̮͔͙̋̎̌́̍Ơ̴̲̮̹̱͙̈͘͘͘͘V̷͈̦̲͎͈̾̓̈́͐̏È̸̞̺͙͚̪̓̒̍̑͘§̷̨͎̞͙̑̈̄͌͠ͅ ̶̣̪̻̬͉̉̾̆̉͝¥̴̧͙͎̥̫̄̅̋̇͐Ö̴̗͍̘͉̜͂̿̒̎͝Ú̷̟̯̩͉͎̔̎̈͠͝R̵̨̨̡̙̹͒̈́͗͠͠ ̵͕͎͓̪̹̇̉̾̇̽H̸̟̙̰̗̫̑̒̈́̌̚È̷͉̫̟̭̺̈́͗̽̓̕Ä̶̦̮̲̦̘̑̒̀̅̚Ð̴̨̱̟̲̠̓̒̎̆́ ̴̹̱̖̗̼̓̆̚̚͝Ð̶̣̳͚̬̫̆͐̓͘͝È̷̡̛̠̥͉̦̿̂̏͆È̴̲̟̣̬̜̑̀̃̈̕þ̷̡͈̪̳̰̌̈̇̌̕ ̷͉̝̞͖̖̓̕̕͝͝Ì̴͈͔͇̻̗̄̑̐̆͘ñ̵̛̼̩̜͖͎̽̊̄͑†̴̨͈̩̫̣̍̄̓͘͠Ö̶̡̢̤͓̯͐̒̽͒͒ ̷̡̳̰͍̠̍̍͌͠͝†̸̼̱͕͙̩̋͊̿̎͝H̷̨̢̯̻͔̎̄̑̀̀È̶̡̫̪̙̲̓̔͛̐͝ ̴̳̰̞͊̿̈̾͂͜ͅǴ̶͍͇̖̩̺̍̑̂̀Ř̴̨̞̯̪̭͆̊̕͝Ợ̷̫͇̜̳̈͐͊̾̃Ú̵͚̘͉͕̖̌̽͛̀̕ñ̴͈̗͇̤̏̓̿̽̈́͜Ð̸̝̹̼͇̖̊̇͆͘͠—”

As she was led away, her gaze never left his, a placid, knowing stare that followed him until a marble pillar separated them. Is he afraid? Impossible. Fear is foreign, endangered, forboden for men in power. Consequences haven’t touched his ill-got throne, so why would there be a need for fear for something nonexistent? A sharp ring echoed through the Congressman’s ears, yet he blamed it on tinnitus as he got escorted into his car.

The Woman was just delusional, because how could that be true? Nature has nothing to do with him, and will not be able to punish him. To what grounds is he accountable? The power vested in him is his alone, and how he uses it is no one’s concern, most certainly not the soil he brushes off the bottom of his shoes.

The Congressman rides in a luxury vehicle, bought with the same money that built the road upon which it moves. He is not afraid, the Congressman thinks, straightening up his suit as he sits upright.

Despite his denial of fear, his heart drops at each shake and turn of the car, suddenly irrationally on guard. 

“Hoy, drive steady naman, would you?” he barks at the driver, who only sheepishly nods and attempts to drive slower. “I’m sorry, sir, it gets hard in this part of the road. Repairs haven’t been made yet.”

“#@!# ka, just drive—!!” his words cut short when the car swerved in the other direction, then back to the opposite, until the wheel turned uncontrollably. 

“Bobo ka ba?! Don’t you know who you’re driving for, boy–!”

“Mr. Congressman, I think the ground is shaking,” the driver tries to explain, but it wasn’t long before the road beneath his windshield cracked open, draining the color out of his face. 

She is angry, Mr. Congressman. I have no doubt that she is coming for you. It echoes in his mind as the roads he neglected to fund fall apart with each rumble, then the ringing in his ears returns with a louder volume.

“Maybe… maybe the Woman from the press pool was right, Sir,” even through the high-pitched sting, the Congressman could still hear the frightened voice of his driver. The boy’s intonation changed, and with wide eyes, he swore he had heard it before. “Maybe Nature has come to serve you. Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to serve, Sir?”

“Manahimik ka nga! You share the same delusions as that Woman?”

“You’re the one who’s delusional,” the Congressman became fully aware that the boy behind the wheel wasn’t his driver anymore. His voice morphed entirely, his hands let go of the wheel, and his eyes—no h̸͇̕e̶͜͝r̵̘͐ eyes bore into his, head turned unnaturally to face him, smirking. 

“...Delusional to think you’d escape your faults.”

The once arrogant man couldn’t move, speak, or even think about anything else except for the woman’s prior words. Maybe it was his lack of fear, he resigned to believe as the car descended in a shuffled disarray down the rubble of concrete. If it wasn’t fear or even guilt that ate him alive, it would’ve been her. 

It would’ve been the ground he failed to account for. One way or another, his sins would haunt his empty conscience, and the damages he caused would fill the hole in his heart that he tried to fill with greed. He wasn't afraid of his faults, but of the revelation of them. He didn't account for his greed to eat him alive, so what was there to fear? The rotten fruit that his sins would bear was never his to consume, yet its poison found a way to sink into his heart.

Nature has her own plans for those who are not afraid of their sins. She reveals what we try best to hide, and she has no prejudice. Nature will see, and she seeks those who do not repent, for she bears powers that we cannot measure. His final scream was not heard by voters or his associates in power, but by the grinding of rocks and soil. In that vast, seismic sigh, he was not eaten alive—he was simply reclaimed, called back to earth when he thought that he was above it. For his crimes, Nature only did her due diligence to ground him.