“Prisoner number 156, Sam Goodman, is that right?” The executioner verified over the information as a man strapped on a gurney was pushed into the room.

“Yes, and this man will be using the ‘sweet dreams’ pill.” Said the warden, standing by the door with a young doctor, who was clutching to his briefcase too tight. “Since the Old Doc is out today, his intern will take care of the examination.”

The young man held out his hand to the executioner, “William Hunter, pleased to meet you, sir.”

The executioner frowned as he shook hands, ”You are shaking quite a bit, my boy. First time seeing an execution?”

“I’ll take him to the lab.” the warden walked towards an adjacent room a few steps away, “Follow me, Mr. Hunter, and let’s watch a movie.”

While the technicians were setting up the equipment, William said to the warden. “Sir, if I may ask, what crime has this Sam Goodman committed?”

The warden was watching through a glass window in front of them, where the execution team was inserting needles into the prisoner. A weird helmet was placed on his head, connected to the computer in the lab through wires.

“Killed his wife and hid her body in the barn. You know that the penalty for uxoricide is death. Doesn’t suit his name at all, I guess.” The warden took out a cigarette, remembered that the room was a non-smoking area, and stuffed it back into his pocket. “Why, do you know him?”

William let out a laugh, “He is an old friend of mine. Often see him on the farm nowadays. A pretty nice man he is, and good to his wife.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Hunter. People do change as they grow. Not that our nature is innocent anyway, is it?”

Unable to stand the sympathetic atmosphere, William quickly locked his eyes to the already-starting computer screen below the window, “Speaking of that, sir, could you remind me again what I should do in the execution process? I thought we’d use an electric chair before I entered the room.”

The screen finished loading and was filled with snowflakes. In the other room, the team seemed ready with their preparations. The warden leaned towards the window and nodded. The execution was set to go. 

“Alright, Mr. Hunter, your job is very simple. After the movie is over, you need to check if our protagonist is dead or not.” The warden continued as the team brought a plate and a glass of water to the prisoner. “Our people will give him two little pills— their names are too complicated, so we just call them ‘sweet dreams’— and then the movie will start.”

On the other side of the window, the prisoner had swallowed the pills and fallen into a slumber. At the same time, the computer screen started flashing; a few seconds later, the beautiful scenery of a farmhouse appeared. William gasped, and the warden laughed at his embarrassment.

“This is what we called ‘movies.’ The prisoner will see a retrospection of his life—a much better life—edited by the pill. You see, the pill shows him what his life could be without the homicidal impulse. It mostly views memories through rose-colored glasses, but it’s effective.”

Mr. Goodman spent his childhood happily on the farm, where he met a merry girl and befriended her. They grew up, got married, and inherited the farm. However, his wife became familiar with a worker on the farm and was indifferent to him day by day. He heard them talking and laughing happily in a bar, where his drunken wife shared many private secrets with the worker. Mr. Goodman burst in between them, had a deep talk with this man, and somehow successfully made him feel guilty. The worker left, leaving Mr. Goodman with his sleeping wife. He carried her back to their house. When the woman awoke, she was ashamed of her previous behaviors and pleaded for forgiveness. After this incident, they lived happily ever after and had two children. The movie ended at the scene where both of them were lying on hospital beds and holding their hands, looking into each other’s eyes wistfully as their breaths gradually stopped.

The snowflakes returned to the screen.

“What is that?” The warden murmured indignantly, slapping his hand on the table. “That result of a love affair makes me sick! How can anyone be satisfied with that?”

Beside him, William remained silent. The warden soon realized his lack of reaction and turned at him, asking with concern, “Are you alright, Mr. Hunter?”

William shook his head. His face was clouded with doubts. 

“May I ask, Mr.Warden, how much of the retrospection we saw is made up by the pill?”

“Well, it depends. If the crime is too severe and the root of evil was planted early, half of the scenes might be fake. Why ask?”

“Because,” And William’s voice became serious, “Sam Goodman and his wife grew up in the city. I know it because we lived in the same neighborhood before I moved to another city. They only came back to the farm after inheriting it from his father. ”

“That is definitely weird since these scenes are so vivid in his memory.” says the warden nonchalantly, already missing his cigarette , “I suppose he’s probably not strong enough to put a body in a hay roll. Those city dwellers are too lean for that, Ha!”

William didn’t react to the joke, either. “A hay roll? Sam never keeps hay rolls in his barn! He feeds pigs! I’d bet he never even learned how to make a hay roll!”

The warden rolled his eyes. He wondered if a falsified memory mattered at all. Either way, it’s not as if the man could do anything about it. Sam was already a corpse.

“Anyway,”said the warden, shaking the thought from his mind, “I think we need to go check on our good old Sam over there.” He stood up and walked to the door, unbothered by the death he just witnessed. William, shakened, had to follow him.

The execution team was busy taking the needles off of the prisoner. William listened to his heartbeat, checked his breath, and watched his pupils under the light. At last, he turned around, a bit dismal, “He’s dead.” Sam’s dead.

When he stood up and decided to give his friend one last look, his eyesight fell on the face and he gasped, “Man, he was smiling with tears!”

Both the executioner and the warden laughed, “Now, see, that’s the ‘sweet dreams’ we’re talking about. You laugh, you regret, you cry, you accept the dream as a reality, and then you die. It happened with all the prisoners here.” The executioner put a hand on the doctor’s shoulder, “Now, let’s get ready for the next execution.”

“Prisoner number 157, ready for execution.”

The executioner leaned over the strapped man on the gurney and whispered into his ears:

“Good night, Mr. Smith, and sweet dreams.”