The Fail-Safe Switch: And How I Became A Traitor

I am sitting on a chair but chained at the ankles next to a steel table with only a paper cup of water. A windowless room as it is deep underground, the walls are a dirty white with poorly cleaned off blood splatter stains. I am somewhere in the belly of the Department of Foreign Regime Change. Alone at this moment with my only companion, a security camera in the corner of the ceiling. I am being accused of betraying my country but I am no spy. I've never worked for any government in my life. I am just a photographer who had been caught in the middle of an information war. The photographs I took are incriminating and my government does not want the public to see them.