Masquerading as a normal person day after day is exhausting.
Our Glorious Leader, Membrixel Spite, has decreed that he shall make
ours a perfect nation. And to that end, he is correcting and eliminating
the Anomalies.
If you find this after I am gone, you will know.
Not only did I fail, but I have also been found Anomalous and taken for
correction. Or execution.
Did you notice? Are you reading my words
any more? Does it even matter that I put down this record? I think I
may have stopped caring. I will be made to vanish, soon. All that
matters is that I have done this.
I am an Anomaly. And no
matter what Our Glorious Leader says, I matter. I think. I feel. I laugh
and cry. I may not Fit In, but I matter. And with that much treason in my heart, I shall give you the history as it is not written in the authorised books.
It
began with concern, of course. Concern that we, the citizens of our
great nation, were not healthy. And who could blame Our Glorious Leader?
Many of us were fat. Many of us were lazy. But the lazy people were not
fat. And the fat people were not lazy.
Convenience and cheap food was plentiful for those who had no time to cook.
It
began with good intentions. Mandatory salads. Caloric control. And a
slow but steady reduction in portion sizes. And finally, when nothing
worked, the fat poor were sent to work camps. Where they sweated all day
and ate thin gruel.
And the people were happy.
Next was the
concern for the mentally ill and the physically incapable. What help
the government deigned to afford was never enough. And they were, in the
end, rounded up too.
The people never saw them again. But they were still happy.
Our
Glorious Leader needed perfect soldiers, after all. And if you could
not be a perfect soldier, you had to be a perfect service worker. Making
sure our brave soldiers could continue the good fight.
Then came
concern for the infertile. Making them have babies. Making people who
could not afford infants to have infants. And then taking them away into
the state orphanages when inspectors found their accommodations
lacking.
And the people were not very happy, any more. Not all of them. But by then, it was too late.
Our
Glorious Leader is Concerned for you. You should not be doing the
things you do. They are Anomalous. You don’t want to be an Anomaly.
Anomalies get rounded up, for the good of our great nation.
In
way, I’m lucky I’m a girl. As long as I keep my head down and stay
quiet, they don’t pay me much heed. All I need is to keep making babies
and hope that they don’t catch my genes.
But that isn’t enough.
Something must be done.
There
are people found Anomalous now, who used to be Normal. The definition
of Normal is shrinking. Soon… our glorious nation will be in a genetic
bottleneck. Our Glorious Leader has gone too far,
Which is why I’m going to try killing him tonight.
Whoever you are, wish me luck. We all need it.
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