United World Read Count : 59

Category : Books-Fiction

Sub Category : Drama
Ryan gets on the train, he's heading home after a long day at work. "A quick reminder to passengers." The robotic voice says. "Please do not smoke." I then noticed the person sitting next to me is hold a cigarette, he immediately puts it away. "Make sure to not violate any of our regulations, those who break the regulations will be punished accordingly, and will effect your social credit score." Then the man next to me face was on the screen. It was a image, not a recording. His slowly slouched down in his seat, the other passengers starred at him, even as he lowered, if looks could kill. After a few seconds of this public shaming, the train started to move. It quickly leaves the station. As the train drove through the city, the bland apartments became more common. All the apartments are square, light brown, and each room had a light yellow balcony. The apartments had very little to make them beautiful, they were only made to be lived in, not to attract people to them, but at the same time, I see them as beautiful. The train tracks were given the minimum amount of room. The only beauty of the cities are their complexity, and you can only enjoy it when you view it from the sky. If you're viewing it from the ground, then the beauty is the pattern, how apartments all were the same size, and all were the same distance from each other, the pattern was really broken to induce a glass office building, which were always taller then the apartments, but every office looks the same. Although we are in America, their are no American flags, only other countries flags. In the middle of the city their is one American flag, and it's not even on the tallest pole, the tallest pole was reserved for the Chinese flag. This was to destroy nationalism, by destroying any relation between a person, and America. The global market is completely free, no regulations, no international courts, and money can switch hands without a single question. Almost every country has open borders, Russia, China, and Korea are the only well know countries with borders, and only one of the three has closed borders.

It took the train just five minutes to get to my city. I then began the walk home. The sidewalk is crowded, and so is the street, filled with cars, and motorbikes. I walk past a building being made by Chinese men, using equipment probably made in China. A Chinese man is running through the street with a broom, chasing a rat. The government has started an alliance with China to rebuild our cities destroyed by roits. We have adopted many Chinese policies, such as the social credit system. This has actually help stop roits, the last roit we had was a month ago, so it seem to have worked, and the rebuilding process is going along smoothly. We have imported more workers from Asia, and Africa to rebuild the city, all blue collar workers are imported, and Americans, and Europeans who immigrated here, work white collar jobs. All our management is Chinese, not asain, Chinese. China has also annexed, Twain, Japan, Mongolia, and the Philippines, but people from these countries aren't allowed to be managers, management is reserved for ethnic Chinese citizens, it's a law. The buildings towered over us, the apartment complexs felt like walls, and the glass office towers felt liks spy towers, walking through the city felt like walking through a rat maze with no roof, and the high walls made sure the rats can't escape. Every building looked a like, if their were no addresses then we wouldn't be able to tell which building was our's never mind our work place's, and our apartment's. It took me five minutes to get to my apartment complex.

I open the glass doors, and walked in the lobby, it was brick, and the floor was wooden, I then walked up the metal staircase, all the way up to the fourth floor, and went into my apartment. As soon as I got in, I grabbed a bottle of vodka, the government is trying to pass a law that makes the amount of alcohol you drink influence your social credit, but until they pass it, I'll drink as much as I want. If everything wasn't so cheap I wouldn't be able to afford anything, but the prices are slowly raising, while wages stay the same. Every store, company, and even our factories exclusively imported their materials. China has expanded into Africa, the rest of Asia, and Europe. Chinese factories produce less pollution, because now their are so many Chinese factories in the world, that the individual factory can relax. The smog caused by these factories are thinner, but it now covers most of the world. Our quality of life is slowly lowering. As global rules relax, national rules stricken. We are heading to global Communism, the Chinese factory no longer exist to export, rather to raise China's citizens quality of life. The few countries that have stayed Natoinist are slowly moving towards Globalism, and China has even built factories in Korea, which is extremely Isolationist, and who worship their dictator. Ryan lives in Michigan, and although trash fills the lakes, and smog is creeping in the sky, it's one of the cleanest places in the world. After I finished drinking, I went to bed. 

The next day, Ryan was in the train, about to head to work. A Muslim man was sitting next to him. Right before the train left, police stormed the train, and arrested the Muslim man. "Another terrorist has been caught." The robotic voice said. People cheered, I was breathing heavily, and it made me put more trust in the government. What Ryan, and the other passengers, didn't know is that he wasn't a terrorist. He was targeted for three reasons, he's Muslim, he has a below average social credit score, and he criticized the Chinese government before they took to America. He'll be sent to a continuation camp, like many Muslims, the only way for a Muslim to avoid being arrested for no reason is to have an above average social credit score, and they still may arrest you. They do this to stop terrorism; however they'll still arrest you even if you hate terrorists, because many terrorist hide the fact they're terrorists by supporting the government, and making fun of terrorists. The only reason why you are safer the higher score you have is because they have more trust in you, but you're never safe. As China expands civilization into the countryside, soon any one who the government dislikes will always be endanger of arrest, and everyone will think the person arrested is a monster who disevers it.

Ryan had finally got to work, he was sitting at a group desk with, Will, Jeff, Dave, and Bob. The office's job is to translate old book to other languages, and erase anything offensive to other cultures. Our media isn't made for our culture, it's made for everyone, or made for other cultures to make fun of us. Yesterday the office's was assigned a large project, they have to rewrite Gorge Orwell's history, the democratic socialist, will be turned into a maoist. The group was assigned 1984, they had to make it against capitalism, pro-government, but they also had to make sure it was still anti-nationalism. "What if we make Winston loyal to then government, until The Brotherhood turns him against the government, and his life gets worse." Will said. Ryan had only knew the basic plot, he didn't read the book he was give, rather some explained the plot. Ryan didn't know the name's of the main character, the countries, the party, or the rebellion, just that those are important to the story. "What if we made it about a corrupt capitalist country, and make Ingsoc the good guys, who want to impose Socialism." Dave said. "I like Will's idea." Jeff said. "I like Dave's idea." Bob said. "I like Dave's idea." I said. "So it settled." Dave said. The only reason why they're going through all this effort to be able to sell George Orwells work is because selling the culture is the only way to pay off America's massive debt, and since the government keeps spending we have to sell whatever we can, other office building are currently translating whatever is being produced right now. The only product we can truly sell to the world to pay off the debt is entertainment, nearly every American job is about entertainment, it's a never ending cycle that is speeding up.

The main idea of rewriting books is to stop the belief in deep state, the belief that the government caused certain events. Ryan hated deep state, and thought that rewriting history is a necessary evil to destroy this idea. The speakers crackled. "Attention." The manager said, the thick Chinese accent made it hard to understand. "The amount of time you work will now influence your social credit. Feel free to ask for over time." "I may want to apply for overtime, my social credit is getting low." Ryan said to himself. He had a below average credit score, this means he can't leave North America, and if he goes down by two points he won't be able to leave America's mainland, if he loses four points he'll be stuck in Michigan, and they'll heavily restrict his movement, so days they'll ban him from going to work by train just to punish him. He has cousins in Mexico, who he can never vist, not only am I stuck in America, they also have a very low credit score, associating with people with low scores, even if it's online, lowers your score, but being friends with someone with a higher score raises your score, and the longer they remain friends, the closer their credit scores become. 

"How should it begin?" Will asked. "Well, I think it should begin the same, but we just changed some parts." Dave answered. "We'll have the same intro, because the country is still at constant war, we'll just make it so the three year plan is privatized." "I like that idea." I said. They didn't pay me much mind. "We'll just make Ingsoc a company, and Big Brother is the made up Capitalist." Dave said. This rewritten book was really taking shape. Bob then hopped on the computer to type it out, he copied, and pasted the begin. "Maybe we should make the posters advertisement." Jeff said. "That's a great idea." Dave said. Bob then added a sentence saying the posters are advertisement. With that one sentence the meaning of the book has been altered, and we merely have to make it look like it's never been altered. "At this rate we'll finish within a week." I said. "We'll finish in a week, you'll be patting us on the back." Bob joked. The group gave a chuckle at his joke. It angered me, I wanted to strangle him for that. I worked an extra hour then normal, this brought my score up by one point. We didn't do anything else to the book, he had to go down to the floor below us, and make sure they edited the quotes about the book aline with our edit.

When Ryan went home, he decided to read 1984. He would drink after he had gotten some reading done. He found the book somewhat interesting, but didn't make any connections between Oceania, and America, until he got to the two minutes of hate. "We have our own version of that." He said to himself. It's called Scream at the sky. It usually takes place during work, similar to a lunch break, we sit in a theater, and watch a documentary about several nationalist leader, and all the terrible things they've done, it infuriates you, but it's not just for a moment, it's for an hour, some people stay engaged for a day, once a man permanently dyed his skin black, so he would have less in common with Abraham Lincoln. Some patches of his skin are still black to this day. "When I heard he had tried to reverse the Chinese man's laws, I knew it had to be done." He said. That part always made me mad. A Chinese immigrat temporally took over the government, and created the twelfth amendment, the one banning slavery, and Abraham Lincoln tried to reverse it. What many people don't know is their was a second amendment, that had been edited out of history, and memories about the debate of gun control is merely a dream, although you feel like it was real, their no evidence behind it.

This caused Ryan to think about the government, not like before when he saw it as something to be cherished, he was asking if it's corrupted. He closed the book, and slammed his head against the yellowish white wall. He was trying to stop himself from having these thoughts. He then grabbed the vodka, and started to drink, so these thoughts wouldn't develop. "These thoughts are a sign of nationalism, which is the greatest evil in the world, that must be wiped out." Ryan said to himself. Scream at the sky happens once a week, it could be on Friday, or Wednesday, today is Thursday.

As I walked to the train I saw people preparing the net. Suicide is still common, but it's not as common, only one person kills himself a day, not an hour; however after the Scream at the sky, a bunch of people try to kill themselves because their the same race as the nationalists, atleast one person an hour, just like the suicide rate in 2018. The only quick way to die is to jump, so before the event, they hang the net, covering the streets, and alleyways, creating a gaint trampoline all around the city, the poles that once hung foreign flags would now make sure that the net could extend outside city limits. The poles did a good job, and they surrounded the cities, so the net worked. "Why would they show something that increases the suicide rate?" My mind asked me. I punched a nearby wall to stop my thoughts from developing, but it still developed. I stopped for a moment, and repeatedly slammed my head against the wall, I slammed myself against the light brown wall three times before moving on. Nobody in the crowd seemed to care, they just continued walking. 

Right before I got into the train a guard stopped me. He was in the green uniform, he's American. "Are you ok?" He asked with a worried face. "You're bleeding." I felt my head, and he was right, my forehead was bleeding. "Yeah, I just got to get to work." I answered. "Their a private cart, let's talk about it." He then walked me way from his post, he opened a door, and I walked in. It was a small white cart, with a small square, wooden table. Their were two wooden stools. It was kinda off putting, their was a grey metal floor, and white metal walls, but the seating was wooden, not leather like the passengers chairs. I then sat myself down at the chair farthest from the door. After a moment a man in a white lab coat entered, he's Chinese. "Good morning." He said. "My name is 醫生." 醫生 got on the wooden stool. "But you can call me Doc." 醫生 continued. "Are you ok." "Yeah, i've been given the job to rewrite 1984, and it was giving me deep state thoughts, so i've been trying to beat it out of me." I said. When I said 'deep state thoughts' he looked suspicious, but when I clarified I was fighting it, his face went back to normal. "So you were being a good citizen." He said. "It's a very honorable thing to beat the deep state thoughts out." As the train began to move, my stool did too, and I had to grab on to the table, which thankfully was bolted down. "My apologies, we don't use this room often, so we never bolted the chairs down." He said. He was also holding on to the table. After a second everything settled, and the stools stud still. "Why are you having these thoughts?" He asked. "I read the book, and I found the two minutes of hate similar to Scream at the sky." I answered. "I see." He said. "Is it possible for you to work on this rewrite, without reading?" He asked. "Yes, that's what I was doing, but someone made fun of me for it, so I read the copy they gave me." "I see, well I think it would be best if you turned in your copy, and continued to rewrite the way you did before." He said. "I'll speak with your manager." "Thank you." I said. "Is their any medicine for this?" "No, well, yes their is, but i'm more of a traditionalist, and wouldn't recommend you take it." He said. Something about the way he said it made me think. "Is he hiding something." I held my head like I had a migraine. "Something wrong?" He asked. "I'm having more deep state thoughts." I said. "Try to think about something else, that'll stop it." He said. We then bonded during the train ride, and forgot it was gonna end, so when the train stopped we both fell on the floor. Doc gave me his phone number, and told me to give him a call if I have those thoughts again.

Ryan, and the Doc are leaving the train. I look, and see the yellow net hanging over us. "Looks like they've already finished their nets." I said to the Doc. "Yes. do you go to see it here?" He asked. "Yes." I answered. "Do you see it, or are you excused?" I asked. "No, I would lose to much credit, we treat our patients after the rally." He answered. "It would kill my score." I said. He looked worried for a moment. "I ment I wouldn't be allowed out of the district." Then he calmed down. "Luckily, doctors are excused from the friends law." He said. "Good." I said. The yellow net ruined my view of the sky, the net is thick, very well made, it almost resembled duck tape, but woth multiple layers, maybe three layers. "If this is so good at stopping suicide, why do we take it down?" I asked the doctor. "I think their gonna just leave it up." He said. "Cool." I said. A roof had been added to the rat's maze. I see two people put up a poster for Hillary, she's running for president again. I look at it in disgust. It has the word Change in bold letters, on the bottom third, her face is infront of the sun. Andrew Yang is our current president, he's on his second term, personally I support him, and I hope AOC is our next president. "The election is getting close." He said. "Yeah, just a year away." I said. 

We then walked into the office. I then went back to the group, and the doc went to the top floor. We then prepared to rewrite 1984. "What if instead of their being shortages, things that are in well supply are too expensive, because of Ingsoc's monopoly." Dave said. "I like that." Jeff said. Then we heard Bob work at the keyboard. "How should I introduce this?" Bob asked. "Well..." Dave paused to think. "When ever someone asks for razor blades, have them say that it's just so expensive." "And get rid of any mention of shortages, in fact talk about a surplus." Jeff added. Everyone in the group, except Bob went downstairs to tell everyone this, so they can fix Orwell's quotes. We had just finished this, right before it was time for Scream at the sky. 

As we left the building, a weird feeling washed over me, just like always. I looked at the yellow net, how some parts sagged, and the sunlight shined on it, the street floor was darkened by the net, with small squares on the road still having light. I walked among a massive crowd, all walking to the same theater. The net sagged low, sometimes I felt like my head could touch. Although it was like a trampoline, it wasn't, it was a net, and it needed to have some room to breathe, or people would bounce to the other building. I felt compelled to put my hand up so the net didn't touch me, but I fought the urge. We then walked in the theater. I got into a long line to buy some water, I had my wallet with me. The theater was nice, while the street was muggy, and shady, the theater was well lit, and had air conditioning. After a couple of minutes of waiting in line, it was my turn. "One water, please." I said. "Ten dollars." He replied. I reached for my wallet. Then I had a thought. "Wasn't seven last time?" I asked. He paused for a moment. "No, it couldn't have been." He said. I then handed the ten bucks. I then had a flood of memories of erasing history, a politician would say the price would go down, it wouldn't, and we erased the statement. I had forgotten most of the times i've done it because it's so normal to do. I didn't hit myself, this time, I let the deep state thoughts develop, although I knew it was untrue, and crazy, but I let it develop. 

The crowd walked into the theater, the screen was massive, and the projector was nowhere to be seen. Then the film started. "Their a white supremacist in the city! A white supremacist is the most likely to commit terrorism." "That's funny, I thought it was nationalist who were most likely to commit terrorism... and don't Muslim get arrested the-" The film drowned my thoughts. "And he didn't even show up to this event." It said. "Muslim are most likely to get arrested." I said to myself. A picture of a white man appeared on the screen, he had brown hair, he was wearing a grey t-shirt, and black shorts. "He's the white nationalist." It said. "I know where he lives! Follow me!" A women yelled. The crowd ran out of the building, but I sat their in shock. The video stopped, and the projector went dark. "Ryan?" The someone asked. "Doc, that you?" I asked. "Yes." He answered. "Why didn't you run out with them?" I couldn't see him in the dark, he was grey. "I don't know." I said. My deep state developed. "Well, it doesn't matter. They'll just kill him without you." He said. I was shocked by this, I lost my breath. "Good." I said, it was a reflex. "I see." He said. He then offered me a hand, I grabbed on, and pulled myself up. The lights on the floor guided me through the dark, doc was ahead of me. The darkness was flooded with light, as he held the door for me. "Thank you." I said. "Thank you." He then walked beside me. "Let's go see the flags." He said.

We walked past the angry crowd, all at a apartment complex, screaming at the sky. "I got him." Someone yelled. Their screams turned to cheers. This sickened me, it wouldn't have been to weird to see a caveman amongst them. We then went to the center of town. The yellow net blocked our view. "Maybe we should go to o#####." He said. I couldn't understand where he wanted to go. "Where?" I asked. "The office." He said. This time I could understand him. "Okay, let's go." I said. We then walked through the empty streets too the office, the crowd was probably breaking up by now, or maybe they were admiring their kill. We went to the third floor, filled woth cubicals; however the window weren't blocked, so we could see the flags. While the doc focus on the Chinese flag, I focused on the yellow net, it always caught my attention. You could see the pride on his face, but I didn't feel anything from looking at the flags, I could barely see the American flag, it was so close to the net, but the Chinese flag was high, and dry. After Scream at the sky, their's a five minutes period when people cool off. My attention drew away from the flag, and to the people jumping off buildings. Although their was a net, I think they felt like the jump would still kill them, that they could break through the net, but they couldn't. Only ten people jumped, usually it was around one hundred. During these five minutes more people try to commit suicide then the entire week combined. I tried to look at the streets, I saw many posters; however I couldn't tell who theu were supporting, because they all looked so similar. 

"Doc." I said. "Yes?" He asked. "Are you a natoinist?" I asked. "Yes, but I'm only Pro-China." He answered. I had a weird feeling, it was a weird mixture of hatred, anger, bitterness, but at the same time I felt calm, and disconnected. "Isn't nationalism the greatest evil out their?" I asked. "No." He said. "So, it's ok to be a nationalist?" I asked. "Sometimes." He answered. I paused for a moment. "I think I'm becoming a nationalist." I said. "What?!" He said in shock. "Natoinalism is the greatest evil out their." He said. "Bu-" He interrupted me. "Isolationism is evil, we need a global economy." "But I-" He interrupted me again. "Swear to me you won't become a nationalist." He said. I paused for a moment. "I swear." I said. "Good." He said, he then turned back to the window to look at the flags.

The manager walked towards us. "Ah, Ryan, I've been looking for you." He said. He then reached in his pocket. "This should help with those bad thoughts." He said. He pulled out an orange bottle with a white cap, and purple pills. "But the doc said I shouldn't take those pills." I said. Doc immediately turn to face the manager. "Is that true doctor?" He asked. "No!" Doc answered quickly. "Ryan, take three pills." He said. Doc immediately slapped it out of my hands. I didn't open it, so it didn't spill out. "I knew it!" He said. "You know very well how dangerous these pills are." Doc replied. "You got to get with the times. These pills are safe." The manager said. "Relatively." The manager mumbled this. "No their not! Their cynide for the brain." Doc replied. The manager paused for a moment. "Get out." He said. "Ryan, take those pills before going to bed." The doc left the office, walking quickly. Soon all the workers got out of the elevator, the narrow hall became crowded. The doc push through the crowd to get to the elevator.

I decided I wasn't gonna take the pills, he put his job on the line so I wouldn't take those pills. Their clearly dangerous then. This was my first victory against the government, and it will probably be my last. I put the pills in my pocket, and walked over to the group, Bob was still erasing any mention of ratoins. "Is this moral?" I asked myself. I knew we had to rewrite some books to stop racism, and deep state thoughts, but nothing is racist against 1984, and if people will draw connections to Oceania, and our government then maybe these thoughts are justified. I didn't share my feelings about this.

After work I went to the nearest trash can. "Maybe we should throw them away at a place further then here." I said to myself as I passed a trash can. I didn't throw it away in that one, I walked a little further, then throw it away. As I did this, in the corner of my eye I thought I was a security camera move, it was aiming at me. I couldn't tell if it was a private camera, or one that belongs to the government. "Pick up those pills." A robotic voice said, it came from a speaker. Now I knew it was a government camera. My heart dropped. I looked at the billboard; however it didn't zoom in on my face, it zoomed in on someone else, everyone starred at him as he bent over to pick it up. I think it's just a private camera. The government can still access private cameras, but they don't have it programed to catch criminals. "Your social credit score will be lowered." The robotic voice said. I continued walking, hoping the camera didn't turn towards me, and it was just always aiming at me. 

When I got home I prepared a drink, I looked outside, and saw it was still sunny. I looked at my drink again. "Could they be using this to control me?" I asked myself. After a moment I realized what I just said, their was no way the government could control my mind with a drink. Then I looked outside again. "You don't control me." I whispered. I then left it on the table, and went outside. I didn't know where to go, but I had to go somewhere. The crowd came to a stop. A man stepped in the road. "Jay walking is illegal, your social credit score will be lowered." The robotic voice said. "He pushed me!" He yelled. He was american, then a man ran pass me, I didn't get a good look, but I knew he was asain. "Stop!" He yelled running after him. "You'll kill my score! Please! I have relatives in Canada I need to visit!" He yelled. I heard a struggle in the crowd, then their was yelling. "I didn't do nothing!" Someone yelled. "I'm gonna sue for this!" The American man yelled. The light wouldn't change for a few minutes, and as they continued to argue I wish I had stayed home, and got drunk.

As I walked I noticed a museum. I decided to break from this crowd to join the crowd moving to the museum. A single file line formed at the ticket booth. It took a while to get infront, but eventually I did. "One ticket please." I said. "That'll be three dollars." He replied. I gave him the three dollars, but before he handed the ticket their was a bing, and he pulled his arm back. "The ticket was three dollars, and fifty cents." He said. "No it wasn't, you said it was three dollars." I said. "Just pay up." He said. I reached in my pocket for fifty cents, then he handed the ticket. 

As I walked around I realized all the paintings were terrible. One canvas only had a red line going cross the it. A crowd gathered around a banana taped to the wall. The only one I did like was a painting of red lines, all random sizes, which almost completely covered it, but their were millions of white lines too, exposing the canvas, but that was just because of the patterns, or lack of a known pattern, and my brain created one. I soon left realizing I wasted three dollars, and fifty cents. As soon as I got home I grabbed my drink, and drank it in one swallow. As I drank I looked at the net, that they haven't tooken down, guess they really are keeping it up.

When I was tipsy I asked myself. "Why do prices keep going up?" I decided to look it up. "Why are the pr-." I stopped typing. I remembered why, the government was printing more money to pay off its debt, and because of the backslash they removed all information about it. I was trapped. The government know what you're doing on your computer at all times, they're watching me live, so I had two choices, search something else, or call the hunting hotline, and tell them I'm hunting articles. I then started to put number into my phone. You can expect twenty thousand per article, many people don't even work, they just search for articles all day. "Hello, welcome to the hunting hotline." The robotic voice said. "If you are hunting articles press one. If you are hunting videos press two. If you are hunting posts press three. If you have found a article press four. If you have found a video press five. If you have found a post press six. If you had found a article, and want combination press seven. If you had found a video, and want combination press eight. If you had found a post, and want combination press nine." Once the robot was done talking I pressed one. "We'll connect you with someone so you can begin your hunt." The robotic voice said. They then put me on hold for three minutes. "Hello, sir. Please give your name, and address so you can begin your hunt." A man said, his voice was tired, and bland. Ryan gave his name, and address, then we was allowed to hunt for articles. He didn't really look, he just moved downward so the government thought he was looking for the articles. After ten minutes he left the site, and continued drinking. "I'm safe." I said to myself.

This was Ryan's biggest mistake, he was never safe, no one who committed a crime is, no matter the size. If he was caught throwing away those pills he would just be publicly shamed for a few minutes, and have some points removed from his score, but now if he's caught he'll be arrested, shamed for a weeks, and lose even more points. Not only is it possible to find the footage of him throwing away his pills, his entire day was captured on camera, so they can prove he never took those pills. The only way to get away with any crime is for the government to turn a blind eye, luckily for Ryan this crime isn't that serious, so as long as they don't get suspicious they won't go through the process of proving he never took those pills.

In the morning Ryan began his walk to the train station. "A man was walking around naked in public, covered in the blood of his social workers." The reporter said. This interested me. I looked at the public tv. "Tis the blood of government." The crazed man said. They censored his naked body, everything except the face. His face looked middle age, and he was wearing glasses. I continued to the train. The doc sat next to me. "I'm so, so, so sorry that I put your job at risk." I said. "It's quite alright." He said in his thick Chinese accent. "I've taken a new name. 医生." Doc said. You don't have to go through any legal process to change your name, or identity, it's extremely easy to change your identity,  you just got to tell people that, that's your new identity. "Alright." I said. "I'm just so sorry." He didn't respond, that made me feel awkward. I stayed quiet as the train left.

When I got into the building the elevator was empty, this is extremely rare, so I had to cherish the temporary privacy. As I walked in Bob came out of nowhere, and ruined the privacy by getting in. "I heard they got you on the deep state pill." He said. "Yeah." I replied. "Yeah, I don't like the taste of it, it's like a sour grape." He continued. "Ever since reading 1984 I've been having deep state thoughts. Good thing we're rewriting it." "Yeah." I said. I don't know why, but I always feel so isolated, but when I'm speaking to someone I feel pulled back, unless their a friend. I can talk to doc really easily, but I barely know Bob. We then made it to our floor. 

As soon as I sat down at the big table the speaker went off. "Ryan, my office." The manager said. I then got up, and went back to the elevator. It was empty again, and this time no one was going to take this from me. It was the simple things that made your day. I then walked to his office. "You wanted to see me, sir." I said. "Yes, yes, sit down." He said. "Did you take pill?" He asked. "Yeah." I said. He looked at me, he gave a dirty look. "What flavor was it?" He asked. I then remembered when I was in the elevator with Bob. "It has a weird taste, like a sour grape." I said. He looked surprised. "Ok, good, just checking." He said. "You are free to go." I then got up, and went back to the elevator, a girl was already inside. She had to go to a different floor, one above mine. I then rejoined my group.

After work I walked to the train station. I then remembered the story I heard, about the crazy guy. "I wonder what drove him made." Ryan said to himself. He then got into the train. As soon as he sat down, police ran in, and handcuffed Ryan. Two guys grabbed him, and pulled him to his feet. They walked him out of the train. "Another terrorist has been stopped." The robotic voice said. He heard muffled clapping as the police took him out of the train station, too their cop car. They threw Ryan into the back of the car. "Sorry this had to happen to you." The police man said. "Hopefully you won't go mad." They then drove off, with the sirens on.

Ryan is in a prison cell, the walls are cinderblock, and the floor is concrete. He was sitting on a weird bench, it was probably made of metal, but he couldn't be sure. He had an ankle bracklet on, chaining him to the wall. The manager soon walked in. "You think you can lie to me?" He said. "I watched your day, and didn't see you eat the pill, but when you said the right answer I thought you managed to get off camera, until I watched the elevator footage." He walked closer to Ryan, he had a blank expectation, he looked tired. "You can't lie to the government." He said. He then turned around, walked out, and the cell door automatically shut behind him. I felt like saying something, bit I was in shock, I couldn't believe he could just watch my day like that.

I sat in my cell alone for a few moments, it was like the floor was completely empty, and what little I could hear came right above me. I sat their until guards grabbed me, and brought me to a different area, one underneath where I had already been, by how long the staircase was it was probably a couple floors down. They both held me just inches from the floor, like I was floating, but I constantly felt like I would eventually touch the floor. They opened the metal door, bring Ryan into a medium size room. He was then tie to a chair. After that the guards left. A man entered the room, while the guards were in green uniforms, he was in a lab coat. "Today's your lucky day." He said as he shut the door. "We're going to give you all the answers." "Why am I here?!" I asked. He turned to me, and pulled up a chair. "That's the last question we're going to answer." He said. Ryan thought for a moment. "Who was the man covered in blood?" I asked. "He was one of our patients." He said. "They all go mad after we're done, and so will you." A chill went up Ryan's spine. "Why do Muslims get arrested for terroris- more commonly get arrested for terrorism, if nationalists are more likely to commit terrorism?" Ryan asked. "Their's a genocide against them." The doctor said. "Well, it's more of a genocide of belonging. If nobody has any community, or anything to identify with, then the only thing they'll identify with is their political party, and the government." Ryan was confused by this. "Is the same thing happening to other religions?" I asked. "No, their just the first. If someone is religious, they'll be killed, but if they jist believe in a god, but don't have that much of a connection with religion, he'll be spared." The doctor answered. He seemed tired as he said this, like he's said it one million times. Ryan sat their in shock. "Do you feel anything when you look at the flag?" He asked. "No." I said. "We did that." He said. "We killed the connection between the man, and the location, and the man with the identity of a man." I sat their in shock, unable to speak. "Well, I'll leave you here for a day." He the walked to the door. "Think of more questions, Eric." He said. "Who's Eric?" I asked. The doctor turned to Ryan. "That's you." He said confused. "Isn't it." "No." I said. He stood their for a moment. "Well, it doesn't really matter." He said. He then shut the door. The light never turn off, Ryan slept with the light on. The whole day he pondered what he ment. "It doesn't matter." He said in his head. "Of course it matters." Ryan debated with himself whether it mattered, or not, but he always knew, for some reason it mattered.

A long time later the doctor walked in. "Morning." He said. "Morning?" Ryan said. "What time is it?" "It's seven." He said. "Can I have something to eat?" I asked. "No." The doctor said. Ryan hadn't eaten all day, and was getting hungry. "When can I eat?" I asked. "At lunch." He said. "Do you have any other questions?" He asked. Ryan thought for a moment. "Has art always been this bad?" Ryan asked. "Depends." He said. "Their is no such thing as bad art, it's subjective." "Can I see art from the past then?" I asked. The doctor sighed. "I'll put an order in." He then went to a nearby computer, it was kinda like a doctor's office, but at the same time it looked like a torture chamber. It was weird to see the metal table, and square computer in a place like this. "Their, we'll have some tomorrow." He said. "Any other questions?" I sat their for a moment. "That's all I thought of." I said. "Ok, well I'll just tell you somethings." He then pulled up a chair. "Their's a secret police force called The Police of Hate, they call people Fascists, and then reveal their address, so their's no blood on the government's hands." He said. I then remembered that time at Scream at the sky, when that lady lead that mob. "They have a presence in both the real world, and the internet. We even have a bot that dox people on social media." He continued. "This is alot to take in." I said. I was shocked by this news. "Why do you show Scream at the sky if it raises the suicide rate?" I asked. "Because it's good propaganda against nationalists, and we don't truly care about the people, the only reason we put up the net is so we don't run out of wage slaves." He answered. I sat their in shock. "I'll be back another time." He said as he left.

A long time later guards came in, theor were three of them, each with a gorilla face, and the green uniform. Two walked to me, and one stood by the door. The two untied me, and carried me to the metal table in the middle of the room, close to the table with the computer. I stretch my arms to reach to the sky. "No stretching!" The guard by the door yelled. I put my arms down, it felt unnatural to do this, and uncomfortable. The door opened, as I turn to look who was here the guard screamed. "Look forward!" As if it was a reflex I did as he demanded. A tray was placed infront of Ryan, it had hotdogs, not with a bun, a stew, and a bottle of water. I grabbed a hotdog, and ate it. It was cold, and their was no taste, or texture. I finished that hotdog, and grabbed my plastic spoon to have some of the stew. It was cold too, and it had no taste ethier, it was like eating water woth tasteless meat in it, if it even is meat. I drank some water, but this time instead of being cold, it was at room temperature, it's almost like they had just thrown some things on a plate, and didn't prepare anything. As soon as I finished they took the tray way, and grabbed the bottle out of my hand, like they didn't want me to hold it. I was then retied to my chair.

As soon as the guard left, the doctor walked in. "How was your meal?" He asked. "Bland." I answered. "Good." He said. "How is that good?" I asked. "Because it's an experiment." He said, like he was excited for once. "We are trying to create food with no taste, smell, or texture. Once we're done a apple will basically be the same as a banana, and so will a watermelon." This took Ryan a step back. "Why?" I asked. "It's part of the genocide on belonging." He answered. "Soon everything will be bland, we're already seventy percent done." I was shocked. He waited for a moment. "Any other questions?" He asked. "W-why does the government insist on printing money to pay off the debt?" I asked. "They have no intention of paying off the debt, but the high inflation artificially makes their lives better." Ryan was shocked. "And, their no point of voting, their actions are pre-determined by China, and Congress." He continued. "Every country is a Chinese puppet state." "Why did you say that, I didn't asked anything." I said. "Well, Eric, you aren't asking enough questions." He said. "My name isn't Eric, it's Ryan." I said. "It doesn't matter, everyone is calling you Eric, that's all that matters." He said. He seemed a bit annoyed that I cared. "Is the social credit system part of the genocide on belonging?" I asked. "Yes, but that's not it's main job." He said. "It's main job is to create artificial tension amongst the people, so no one will pay any attention to the government, because they've been framed so a guy doesn't lose that one point keeping him on our good side." I was shock. "It helps the genocide because it forces people who don't belong to us, to pretend too, so people think that only have a relationship with their political party, or the government is normal." He continued. "But it also makes people scared to invite people to communities that the government hasn't approved, and we'll only approve those that makes people more likely to only identify with a political party." "Why do you care if people identify with a party?" I asked. "Because, both parties are in China's pocket, and by dividing everyone, but at the same time have people unknowingly agree on everything, helps us. They'll love the government, while thinking their different from everyone else."

He grabbed a wooden box, and some metal beads. "The box is the world, the metal beads are people." He said. He then poured in most of the beads. He then put in two magnets, both wired to a battery. "The battery is the government, and the magnets are politics." He said. He then flipped a small switch, and all the beads divided to connect to those magnets." For some reason some didn't go to the magnet. He then grabbed a wooden ruler. "This is the social credit system." He said. He then moved the beads that didn't move to the battery. Sometimes they would move to a magnet before being pushed to the government, but that only happened half the time. "In the real box, their are bumps, so the beads don't go straight to the magnet. The genocide on belonging is us flattening those bumps, the bumps are community, religion, and personal relationships." "Is that even possible?" I asked. I was really hyper, this was scaring me. "Yes, we did back in 2020 for a short amount of time." He said. Ryan began to breath heavily. "This is globalization." He said. He then poured more in, they all ran to the magnets. He then put it down on the table. "Any other questions?" He asked. I didn't say anything. "Well, I'll have the art here tomorrow, goodnight." He said. Nobody turned off the lights.

A very long time later guards came down, untied me, and carried me up the stair, so my feet nearly touched the stairs. The brought me back to my original floor, still it was basically abandoned. I then noticed a stand for something long, but not wide, and a bunch of boxes. I was then tied to the chair infront of the painting stand. The doctor walked in, immediately the guards put a painting up. It was beautiful, their was a table, with a bunch of people at it, all dressed in robes, and they all had long hair. "This painting is called the last supper." The doctor said. Tries formed in my eyes. "It's beautiful." I said. "It has a religious background, made for Christianity." He said. My eyes were fixed on the painting. "How could yo-" I looked at the doctor, and noticed he had a box of matches in his hand. "These matches were bought by the government." He said. He then lit one, and set the painting on fire. The heat made my eyes water. Soon men ran, and put out the fire with fire extinsators. The majority of the canvas was destroyed, the rest was horribly disformed. They then took it down, and replaced it with another painting, just as beautiful. Ryan saw beauty, then they burnt it infront of him. They went through the evolution of art, burning everything, except for modern art. They hung one paint in his room, it was a white canvas with red lines. In the museum he thought it was mildly good, but now he only reminded him of the burnings. Somehow the painting made the room uglier. They left Ryan alone in his room to soak. They didn't feed him that day.

The next day, or what possibly the same day, they rolled a tv stand over to him, and placed a tv on top. They then wired it up, and turned it on. "They've burnt all the original books." The doctor said. I was expecting this, they always burnt the bad books. They then started the video. They put all the books in a pile, poured gasoline, and burnt them, like a bomb fire. Ryan felt something for once, he never felt it was bad to burn books, but now he felt something, that he couldn't describe, a feeling in his stomach. It was like deep down, Ryan knew this isn't right. Maybe it was the information he was told that influenced this, maybe he had a change of heart, or maybe these two were unrelated, and Ryan was just having stomach pain. They soon left Ryan alone, this time they did feed him. It was the same meal, just as bland as last time, and jist like last time, as soon as Ryan finished the food, they took the tray, as soon as Ryan finished his drink, they took the bottle.

A long time later the doctor came in. "These are the last two things I'm going to tell you before answering your last question." He said. "We are trying to create the perfect race of humans, who only have one emotion, love for the global president, not the person, just whoever was president at the time." "Is that possible?" I asked. "Humans have been doing this to other living things for over centuries." He said. "Everything is ethier controlled by man, or made by man. Control man, and you control everything." He paused for a moment. "People will no longer look out for their self interest, that'll be replaced by the president's interests, Global Communism will be possible, a small group of people will control it all. A clockwork orange if you will." The doctor chuckled. Ryan was shocked, sitting their, unresponsive to what he just heard. "Next." He said. "Not everything I told you is the truth. It'll be a riddle you'll ask yourself for months, what was a lie." Ryan was annoyed by this, he was annoyed by everything that was happening. "When you first came here, you asked, why you are here." He said. "It's an experiment, we split everything so you would hate the government, now we'll try to make you love it again." Three gaurds came in, like it was planned out. 

Ryan struggled as they carried him to his cell. It was on the empty floor, they put him Isolation. The walls were cinderblock, the floor, and roof was concrete, and the was steel, to little doors, one on the bottom of the door, this brought in food, and the one in top of the door was for the guards to look in. The food was bland, it was always a stew, that had no taste, no smell, and no known temperature. At the end of the first week Ryan couldn't tell what day it was. The light never shut off, he had to sleep with the light on. Their was no bed, or chair, Ryan slept on the floor, but after the first two days, it didn't matter what the floor was made out of, he couldn't really feel it. It was like he was fussed with the walls, and floor. He had very little contact with the outside, he couldn't hear the guards foot steps, and no one talked to him. The entire time he was trying to answer the riddle, what was, and wasn't a lie. So far he saw everything he was told as the truth. He was given that stew three times a day, but he wasn't sure if they had a time to feed him, the time gap was so long, it was impossible to tell. As time passed, Ryan thought about his torture less, and less.

For a month everything continued like that, until one day, the top door slide open. "Eric." The guard said. "This bread is all your getting for the day." "Thank you, and it'-" Before Ryan could finish the gaurd slammed the slide, a minute later the bottom slider opened, bread was pushed through. It was a loaf of bread. Their was that white part of the bag, but instead of a logo it was Hillary Clinton's face, it wasn't a picture, it was a blue outline. He untied the blue piece holding it together. Ryan grabbed a loaf, he thought it was going to be bland, but it wasn't, it was bread, it had the same taste, and texture. For a moment he forgot about his torture, only focusing on the bread's taste. He finished the piece, and grabbed one more before tightening the plastic entry so it would stay together. For a week they kept giving him bread once a day, the same gaurd did it, always giving him the same message, Ryan only tried to correct him twice, but gave up, and just said thank you. He had almost completely forgotten the riddle, and the torture, only focusing on time passing. He didn't make an effort to remember, it was only a passing memory now, like his name. He no long cared about the week that started this, nor his name, he had completely forgotten his identity.

A month passed, and the gaurd stopped telling Eric the message. Eric didn't remember anything, all he could remember was his time in isolation, he didn't know his past, he couldn't even remember the first time they gave him bread, it was all just a nostalgic dream. Eric got use to the bread taste, and texture. Then one day they gave him altered bread, it was bland. Although he wasn't paying attention to the taste, he noticed it. He started punching the wall, sometimes he threw his body against the wall, this only lasted for half an hour, then he sat down. Nobody checked on him. Eric was bitter about this, he had an acid like feeling in his throat. He started to weep, the memories of his torture flooded back, tasting something altered brought them back. I remember my name was Ryan, not Eric. I begrudgingly ate the bread. He then remembered the riddle.

A long time later the slider opened. "Here's your bread Eric." The gaurd said. He began to close the slider. "It's Ryan." I said. The gaurd re-opened the slider. "What did you say?" He asked. "My name is Ryan." I said. He shut the slider, like he was annoyed. The bread then came in. It was altered again, bland. This time Ryan didn't have a mental breakdown, he just ate. As Ryan ate he tried to slove the riddle. "The only lie he told was the riddle." I said to myself. "Maybe they want to turn people into machines, but it's not something possible."

Ryan started to create a fantasy world, it was the city, but their was one difference, their were gears working away. The city was empty, the yellowish brown gears went from building to building. The sky was grey with smog, but it was hard to notice because of the yellow net. Despite the sun being blocked by smog, ot was still bright, it wasn't the lamplights, it was natural lighting. Sometimes the yellow net wasn't their, like it had disappeared, but then it came back. Eric explored the buildings. They were all mazes, on the top floor, their was no roof, smoke seemed to appear out of nowhere, going into the sky. These tower blocks were no longer bland, and ugly, they were exciting, like a brick maze. Eric would only wake from his fantasy world to eat. He had stopped correcting the gaurd about his name, he had forgot it again.

Two months later they started giving Eric ice cream, it was cold, had the dairy taste, and the texture; however they put some medicine in it without him knowing. It was a liquid version of the pill, and it was even stronger then the pill. He couldn't remember anything, except for what happened within the last hour, anything within the week was foggy, exceptionally since nothing really happened, anyone outside of the month is impossible to remember. This had an unseen side effect, since he spent so much time in the fantasy world, he could no longer tell if the real world is a fantasy to escape the fantasy world, or if the real world is real. He didn't even remember his name. When they realized this they immediately sent him to the mental hospital. Their experiment had failed, they wanted him to forget the past, they didn't want him to have short-term memory loss. They wanted him to love the government with the torture to be a foggy memory, now he was dependent on them, and couldn't form any thoughts about the government. He was given a social worker, and sent back to work.

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  • Aug 10, 2020

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