18th June, 2017

09:30 PM

The night was closing in but it was getting brighter. I could hear the sirens of the patrolling car. The nights are safe but they are not alive anymore. We have the words but not the right to express. Machines are supposed to be the friend of the human kind but it has blessed us with the curse of security.

Chaos is the driving force of life. Chaos is like the ripples caused by a stone dropped in a pond. It disturbs the whole system and brings a sense of life throughout the residents. A perfect world is a beautiful life, beautiful but still a lie.

 

I make 35 grants a week. This is enough for me to make sure I stay alive. There are certain rules that we need to follow in order to stay out of jail. And I am sure I must have broken a lot of them.

So how am I not in trouble? I fear my so called freedom may not last for so long.

So should I be concerned? Human beings are losing their will but I have traded a possible bright future for my will. I do live in a run down slums but these slums are the only place where some of the left overs of humanity reside.

 

What an irony! The only place where the residue of humanity is alive is the inferior part of the today’s system.

 

Today was an another usual day. I spent another day working at the industry without asking any questions. We arranged a farewell ceremony for the 60 year old Russel who was retiring today. The poor fellow lost his wife 3 years ago and his only son is staying abroad. I worry for the old man but I know that wont be enough.

I went to the Krusty as usual to spend the evening. The food was boring as usual but that is all I could afford. I still owe 70 grants to Bob, owner of krusty but he lets me spend time there. I ran some errands for Marvin, he is the oldest man around. I am sure he is going to pass away in coming few days but I am surprised to see how successfully he has maintained his sanity for all these years. He used to be a renowned artist a long ago but the machines changed everything. He still paints sometimes but putting them on display is a punishable offence. I picked some colors, few paint brushes, couple of sheets and some prescribed medicines. He relies more on medicines than food for survival. To be honest, these medicines are only providing him with enough life support so that he can carry on with his paintings.

 

Read : Dystopian Chronicles 2