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The latest Enforcers are call the New Strain. Born out of an Idea from the Supreme Power Lord who's so Tormented he can never Sleep, the enforcers are injected into Hyper activity until they drop dead. Dropping Dead on the job is also the new badge of Honor. Vacant souls line up for this latest Glory, praised by the Propagandists and Blessed by their mothers to be Good citizens. To admit they're Lunatics would be to admit our entire Society is lunatic.
The stories are horrific. Some recruits die Instantly with the first Injection. It's a rite of passage to survive it followed by a Ceremony of celebration. Those who die are privately sneered upon for not having what it takes; too Human. The Indoctrination is both mental and physical - even enforcers outside of the New Strain fear these Maniacs. Anyone caught finding life Precious is considered Weak and Inferior. Hell's hand reaches out from the Old World.
The Supreme Power Lord trolls among the troops to inspire them to even less Sleep. He fills their heads with Grand Visions that they are the ruling elite to be hailed by History. They do Savagery in the Name of right, playing this principle to the hilt. "He who Questions least is the greatest Patriot." This New Strain hates their enemy who Rests, rousting them in the night to Chambers without light or sound. Though they know the injections Shorten their life, the enforcers feel they have an Advantage over Ordinary souls who still seek sleep.
As the Green Zones shrink with each Passing day as the Overlords proclaim a Reversal of that will happen if only we would Support them and the police Hounds are given ever greater rule to protect Hoarding the dwindling resources there is no Place one can go and feel safe while connected to Reality even in the most ensconced green zone Bubbles. This is also true at the opposite end of the Spectrum.
Driven by Boredom I ventured into the Wasteland just to see what I could See. That's when I saw the first of the Blown Bridges. This made no Sense to me. Is everything built to be Unbuilt? Is that Progress? How can a man make a Difference in a world like that? What work can have Meaning if its ultimate fate is to be reversed? Then I recalled a Story I'd read of art torched by the Power gods because it Reflected "poorly" on us.
Of course, if we continue our Death Trip to complete self-annihilation it's hard to Imagine anything speaking more Poorly of us than an extinct world.
Only the very Outer bridges were gone and an Uncomfortable feeling settled on me I couldn't quite connect. I felt this for several days before I met an Outlyer drifter more familiar with the Waste lands than I. He said they had to blow the Bridges to hide the growing Pollution. If the Green Zoners knew pollution was on the way to destroy their bubble then they'd have to change their Way Of Life - the Worst fate of all. The power gods decided the Toxins must be Hidden at all costs in order to preserve their Moral standing.
"But the pollution still comes anyway in the end if it's not stopped and kills their 'way' regardless!" I protested.
The Drifter shrugged because he'd never seen the Point of life to begin with. I surely do Wish I could know why I am stuck with this Knowledge for all the good it does on a Dying planet I cannot change. But even as I longed for Ignorance, the dots suddenly Connected for me. This is all part of a greater Communication Breakdown.
Bridges literal and Spiritual must be Destroyed to prevent Our truths from reaching us. This isn't a Functioning society, it's nothing but a gigantic Cover Up. As we hurl towards the end we Desperately smash Mirrors whether in Art or in Nature. Death is protected in the Name of preserving life. No place is safe, even in your Head.
"Why do I breathe? Where can I go?"
His eyes could See but did not see me as I rushed to his side. He'd staggered under a tree to find rest but the turmoil in his soul was Forbidding peace. Hollowed with black Emptiness were his Eyes, blinded by untold years of despair. He heard my voice as a Distant sound, as if we were on two sides of a fence. His body was scabbed bloody, Poisoned from within by the Factory Grind. I had no answers on how to Heal him.
"The Gears must keep turning!" Like a Knife slowly penetrating his heart, this had been drilled into him with relentless 24/7 brainwashing fed over loudspeakers. His Life was to be used up and thrown away, a legal Slave in the eyes of his Masters. Above the Workers was a glass ceiling that served as a floor by the higher ups who watched and Orgied themselves like Vampires. "I know it's Wrong but Please let it last for One more Day," moaned a woman of the Realm.
She knew not what she Asked - but she should have. In the Old World slavery was in the open for all to see. We Outlawed it as a classification but obviously not as a Practice. What Shudders me most is a slave Descendant oversees the factories and is more Ruthless than ever before. The Burn Out told me the wheels of Society were greased by the "Screams of Dreams." They were Whipped with threats of Banishment to the Dead Zone. Life lost all Point, living and dying the Same. It was, he said, like being Buried alive. This perhaps, is the greatest Dirty secret of the Green Zones.
Mercifully, he started to Slip away from this World. What dreams have we been Cheated of? I Knew then at that Moment. We cheat ourselves of Dreams that could Save this planet. As the final Light departed from his being I could see that his hopes were Our hopes and I could not help but think that our once Glorious outpost would become nothing but a Wasteland from end to end.
It's almost as if our Soul and the Environment are connected. As one grows Blacker so does the other. Like Clouds before a storm or a tree's emerging blossoms we know what is to happen next if not exactly When. So I Wonder: what is there to fight for? I struggle to stay afloat in an Endless sea in every direction. Am I hoping Land will appear, parting the waters in instant Salvation? It seems that must have been my thought process...
A cancer of Fear spreads with our Stubbornness. In the Green Zone, I'd be considered a Prophet of Doom, reviled without mercy or thought; instant Savagery. But for now, it is they who are the center of power who can effect Change. But change they do not seek. They too see the darkening Sky as polluted as our soul. Red with Rage, their faces yet deny what they See with their eyes, Straining to suppress the truth, Maniacal in this false pursuit hoping that the more they do to Prove the lie the more true it must be. The ground Vibrates with their Fanaticism.
So where do I Turn? Do I save a life today to see it Washed away tomorrow by the inevitable Waves of death rising higher each day? Demons from on High determine our fate. They wear the Last of the fine linens as they hail to the cheering crowds that the Sky - and our Soul - is no matter and that they (and Only they) will bring back the Sun as before, go back to Sleep, all is well. What a nightmare. It invades my sleep, Sapping my sanity - as intended. I live in a universe of emptiness, forever falling.
How perverse we have Become. Saviors do not Save, liars Lifted Higher, Anarchists keep Order, Destroyers build the Future, Science solves the Soul, Deception warrants Worth, Predators accuse their Prey. Every day we are less Convinced of our Survival but it is the most convinced who are the Loudest. These things I must let Swirl around me, Centering myself within, Letting Go of the world. It is Sad to see us die. It is Horrific to see us die. It is our Choice to die. The wreckage of this planet will stand Testament to nothing.
