Challenge #01602-D141: Farewell Letter
[TITLE: Constant vigilance or endless confusion.] One of those sayings that are only too true, put your own spin on this one. --
Knitnan
They say, It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you. They say, pesimists are rarely disappointed. They are frequently right about this sort of thing. They really are out to get me. And I am very rarely disappointed in my expectations. Any day, they will find me. They will do horrible things. It's what they do.
When I get caught.
I know someone knows. Someone, somewhere, knows that I am not who I seem to be. I can feel them watching me. Noticing my mistakes. Knowing that I am not correct, according to the whims of our nation. Someone knows, and will tell. And they will get me.
I know I strive. I know I attempt to do everything right. But I know that it's wrong. It has to be. I'm flawed. And doomed to die. Doomed to become... one of the Used.
I could never say it out loud, never to any living thing, never in a confession booth... but I am not a man. I look like a man in very aspect, but I am not. I am one of the Others. The ones that the men use to keep this nation populated. They are vital, and protected, and not free.
The beautiful ones, I have seen. In the homes of the elite. In the advertising for the proles. They walk and talk and look beautiful, and bear the sons of the elite... but they are property. They don't even own the clothes they wear.
As for the ones that are not beautiful... I work in the factory where they are processed. I see what they do to the rest. Their unnecessary flesh is cut away and their ability to talk is taken away, and they are taken to the bod houses where men indulge themselves until those bods are growing a new man.
They are cared for during that time, but not at many other times. I don't want to be one of those. I don't think they would make me to be what I know myself to be. They'd just kill me.
I don't want to die.
I don't want to be a Used.
But I hear stories from the Outworlders. They have their Used free to be people. They call them 'women' and they can do anything an elite is free to use. These women do not come down to our great nation. I can guess that they don't want to be Used.
My only hope is to get a ride to the Outworld. It's treachery to want to leave, but... I have to.
It doesn't matter what my name is. You won't care. You'll probably burn this book once you know.
My real name is Doe Jacobs. And I am leaving Greater Deregulation. Any way I can.
[AN: Please keep your prompts OUT of the firkin title for your prompt thread in my forum, thanks. It's an utter pain in the butt]
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