Someone must have been telling lies about Josef K.: he knew he had done nothing wrong but, one morning, he was arrested. As he switched off his computer and prepared to leave the house, there was a knock on the door and a man entered. "Who are you?" asked K. The man did not reply directly, but told K. that he was under arrest. "Arrest?" asked K. "By whose authority?" The man explained that he came at the order of the Governor, who was unhappy with K.'s blogging.
The Governor was man who held great power over him. "What have I done wrong?" asked K. "That's something we're not allowed to tell you." Another man entered and added, "Go into your room and wait there. Proceedings are under way and you'll learn about everything all in good time. Meanwhile, you'll stop blogging, if you know what's good for you."
"I've done nothing but tell the truth on my blog," explained K. "He admits it," said the first man. "Make a note of his confession." "He doesn't have the Governor's authority to tell the truth on his blog," said the second man. "He'd have done much better to write a totally uncritical blog, saying 'More kudos to the Governor!' every time his master did something remotely praiseworthy."
"What will happen to me?" asked K. "We can't tell you that," said the first man. "Any punishment will be entirely voluntary, although of course you won't be able to escape it. We can't even tell you how long it will last, as that's a secret known only to the Governor."
"People were complaining," said the second man. "Who were they?" asked K. "We're not allowed to tell you," replied the man. "Just accept your punishment without resisting." "Well, it will give me an opportunity for prayer and reflection," said K. "I know the Governor doesn't go in for that sort of thing, but I do find it helpful."
An opportunity for prayer and reflection.
"Look," said the first man. "Will you stop bringing religion into everything?" "You might consider the case of Tina B.," said the second man. "She blogs, but she follows a totally uncontroversial liberal secular agenda. As a result she is worshipped as a demi-goddess. Nobody ever told her to shut her Kuchenloch."
"We're not here to help convicted criminals," added the first man kindly, "but let me tell you something. You made the mistake of blogging under your own name, so that your enemies could track you down. Now you're in deep trouble. Why, you didn't even password-protect the most controversial posts."
K. was reminded of the case of the famous blogger Bruvver E., whose passion for the truth was legendary. Nobody knew or cared who he was, apart from an obsessive man in the South of England, who had run up a huge telephone bill by phoning up random people called Eccles and screaming "Aha!" at them.
Mr E.C. Cleese? Aha! Your secret is out!
"Will I see the Governor?" asked K. "I must plead my case. After all, I was merely pointing out certain dangers that threaten us all." "See him?" asked the first man. "Of course you can't see him. He has issued a statement saying you are guilty, and that is final. Just accept that his high status means that his decisions can't be questioned." "You should have appealed to his vanity," said the second man. "Even if his own writings might be rejected by Bryony G. as being too banal, you must always praise him."
K. became silent - for a long time...