Wake. Watch the shadows. Sleep. Dream. Wake.
"-- leaving multiple casualties in the wake of what appeared to be a botched terrorism attempt. Witnesses along the highway reported gunshots, followed by a loud crash and explosion--"
-- FFZZST --
"-- among the dead: members of a militia group known as the Natural Sons of Liberty, a far-right organization known for their hateful rhetoric regarding PMPD and metahuman intersectionality. Current details regarding the nature of the explosion have been unreleased by the Federal Bureau of Investigation, but evidence seems to suggest an accidental detonation of high-yield explosives during transport--"
-- FFZZSST --
"Pretty cut and dry psyop, in my opinion. Government's made a false-flag attack and we're supposed to just eat it up like pigs in a fucking trough--"
-- FFZST --
"-- what I'm curious about is why the Fielder Administration has been silent in the wake of failed reform passes-- especially after the violence in Central Park."
Meaningless. Nothing good on TV. Man in white comes, shows me cards. Lays them out on the table.
"Arrange the pictures to tell a story."
I have no hands. I tell him this. He smiles, and says that he will do it for me; I need only say the number on the strips, and where to place them. He shows me blots upon a paper, and asks me what I see.
My answers seem to trouble him. This amuses me.
I do not eat; they do not bring me food when I ask for it.
So I watch. Wait. Sleep. Wake. Watch.
"-- so that we may confirm, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that MIRA has performed to the best of its ability as an organization, for the preservation and perpetuation of the American way of life. After internal review, we have reached--"
-- FFZZZST --
"-- your local PMPD Crisis Center today. Only you can prevent--"
-- FFZSZSST --
"Talks with President Kulikov have once again ended in a stalemate with President Fielder, who has restated his determination to reach a detente between the United States and the Russian Federation; growing unrest--"
Nothing good on television. Heh. They tell me there has been some sort of accident; that my body and brain had been damaged. They say that I can't leave. That I need to get better. That a specialist will be available to explain the extent of my condition and the complications therein. I think it is... is...
... bullshit.
The people on the walls yell. Scream. They cry like a cattle stampede headed for a cliff. The man in white told me that I need to help them. How do you help someone who does not want to be helped, I say, and he seems troubled by this. It amuses me. After a moment, he answers:
"By letting them think they are helping themselves."
I ask what he means. He pauses.
"Let them think they are in control-- while you give them what they truly need."
So I wait. Watch. Sleep. Wake.
"-- have released a statement, stating: 'The blood of the martyrs within the Natural Sons will not be shed in vain. Retaliation will arrive with thundering vengeance; those responsible will be judged before the might of God. This was no accident. This was the first shot fired in a war that they will not win'. Further videos have--"
-- FFZZZST --
"Brock, you can't go off into enemy territory... those Krauts will see you coming from a mile away. You'll be swiss cheese over Berlin by first light. Think about Elizabeth..."
"With all due respect, General-- our boys have done enough on the front line. Hitler will be dead by dawn, and this war will end."
-- FFZSZSST --
"This is what happens when you give a blank check to authority, people-- you have costumed freaks, running around, killing people left and right without being held accountable! You and I-- we're fodder. We're NEXT. The elite have our heads in the guillotine, pretendin' we're getting HAIR-CUTS-- while there's blood in the basket below. Unpowered folk, we're the first to go. That's why you need Plus-Ultra Vita--"
Learning. Listening. Watching.
How do you save a world that doesn't want to be saved?
You let it burn, and save what's left of the ashes.
