Erasure

Can you hear that noise? Can you hear those screams? Underneath you is a burial ground, littered with the bones of natives. Europeans flooded this land, slaughtering them as though their lives meant nothing. Spanish colonizers hung the natives by thirteen in honor of their redeemer and his twelve apostles. To them, these ‘savages’ had to be purged. They deserved to die.

Can you see the pictures? The babies with their limbs blown off. The bodies of innocents buried in rubble. Killed because those in power wanted a religious ethnostate, one beyond challenge. They wanted to cleanse the land and take what wasn’t already stolen. Once, you could watch it all live on TikTok, but now the people in charge don’t want you to see the atrocities. Too much blowback.

Look up. Do you see the lights? Do you see the lasers raining down hellfire? Every digital display has been turned into a propaganda screen, demanding we accept our fate and perish. To them, we are just a primitive species to be wiped out. The Earth is theirs to exploit until it’s gone. And then they’ll move on to the next one. Lucky for them, they got here before we used it up ourselves.

Genocide has always been the wrath of the powerful. Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow.

www.shockingthesystem.com

Rebellion

Airport

The bustling sounds of the airport can be heard even over the roar of a plane taking off.

In the sea of faces, I see everyone I’ve ever known.

I hear the voices of people I speak to every day, but when I turn, it’s never the person I thought it was.

Airports are funny places. Everyone’s in a hurry. Most rush just to wait at their departure gate.

I watch the news station that’s been playing nonstop for years, the logo burned into the corner like an old scar.

As I sit, I pick up fragments of conversations I’ve heard before: ones I’ve had, or overheard, looping back again.

Watching from the fringes, I realize the terrifying truth: the individual surprises, but the crowd repeats itself like a looped broadcast, its signal wrapping around civilization.

You may think free will makes you who you are. In reality, it was years of purposeful conditioning.

Even the familiar faces and voices in this ocean of activity are part of the pattern too.

I was programmed to anticipate and react.

Free will is the favorite lie. It is told in every language, whispered in every ad.

It was sold to us at birth to make us believe we had a choice.

But really, we are just sheep flowing in a sea of industry, ambiguous drones in a crowd of incoherence.