Dystopia Unravelling, pt. 1: By Ropes, Through Dirt

The process begins by isolating the paranoia, and then the paranoid themselves. Paranoia meant fear, fear meant mistrust, mistrust meant opposittion, and opposition meant liquidation. My sentence was not read to me, or even given to me as printed record; rather, it was nothing to me but an icy conglomerate of green letters on a foreboding black screen.

This place they have brought me to; this is the place of wailing, the place of the gnashing of teeth. This is the place where you get to take your last breath before the big plunge. At least they were polite, in a cold and mechanical fashion; there was some modicum of etiquette among the backstabbers, as if they were doing me a favour.

They established power through international bank manipulation; after carefully extrapolating possible outcomes, massive pools of debt were formed leaving nations to fight over the scraps from the masters table. After the onset of of the first multinational weapon strikes, the technocrats seized control of the remains of the shattered nation-states and established the grid line. With the first Cerebral Templar Extractor Devices being implemented, the very concepts of identity and the subconcious was smashed, replaced by duty. Refusal to comply resulted in a trip to the science hospital; at least that's how I got here.

The steely facade eruption in cascade of white light. Drawing my nose from the mud, I struggled to see through the chaos.

Freedom. Christ, is this really happening?

My legs moved of their own accord, pumping like pistons. Interceptor units largely ignored me as they focused their firepower towards the small contigent of chaosmongers attempting to inflitrate the politcal re-education wing of the hospital through force. My only thoughts we of outside as I raced towards the fissure in the containment wall. As I felt the hot breath of gunfire strafe the barbed wire snares behind me I threw caution to the wind, leaping wildly through the breach...